Original children’s books
Marton followed up “Zelle 7 wieder frei” with a series of skilfully written children’s books, including “Die Dreihäuserkinder” (“The children from Dreihausen”), 1935, the incredibly successful urban adventure story “Stop Heiri – da dure!” (“Stop, Heiri – this way!”), 1936, and the autobiographical “Jimmy, Jacky & Jonny, die Zirkusbuben” (“Jimmy, Jacky & Jonny, the circus boys”), 1941. The aforementioned “Gunaria”, which likewise appeared in 1941 (under the Büchergilde Gutenberg publishing label), also had a personal twist to it. However, “Gunaria” will ultimately be remembered as an exquisitely allegorical homage to democratic Switzerland – the country that finally made Marton a citizen in 1940, albeit without allowing the author to change his name to the more Swiss-sounding “Georg Martin”.
Alpine masterpiece
But Marton’s masterpiece came in 1943/44 with “Jürg Padrun”, a novel that won the Büchergilde award. “Jürg Padrun” is the high-water mark of 20th century Swiss-centric literature, written by an author whose desire to belong gave him the determination and stamina that others lacked. Jürg Padrun, an 18th-century forest ranger in the Engadine village of Avrona, sounds the alarm when he realises that the trees above the village are diseased. Braving prejudice from villagers, he fights to restore the forest. Padrun dies in the inevitable avalanche, but the forest saves the village. With its slightly archaic, rhapsodic tone, its remarkable fusion of Ladin and German verse and prose, and its tension-filled narrative, Jürg Padrun is a thrilling epic of unique charm. The academic rigour with which Marton describes the various practices and terms associated with Alpine life takes the edge off the occasional moment of pathos. He goes into further detail in an accompanying glossary, adding his own illustrations for good measure.
But even this most fervent declaration of love for Switzerland failed to engender the response that Marton hoped for. The author eventually gave up writing for good due to personal struggles and a lack of critical acclaim. By the time he died on 18 June 1958 at the age of 53, he was as good as forgotten.
Jenö Marton’s antiquarian books are available at libraries.
Charles Linsmayer is a literary scholar and journalist in Zurich.
‘Cell number 7 is still free!’ Wolf Georg was not even listening anymore. The word ‘cell’ was all he needed to understand. The cells were hidden behind these small lattice windows. Wolf Georg had never heard of lattice windows, because he had never come across them until now. Resistance was futile. He could see no way out. It was a cruel realisation. And it was humiliating for him – a companion’s companion, a friend’s friend, brother’s brother and father’s son – to be passed around like a piece of livestock. ‘Follow the head warden.’ Wolf Georg followed the man out.
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