Silvia Cinca

Biografie şi Bibliografie

For the Romanian novelist, being put to the pitch of contemporaneousness meant shaping, with the means of large prose, the major conflicts of the society they lived in, or, for the sake of dignity, incompatible with the civic and aesthetic compromise, left, with the goal of scrutinizing it (as paradoxically as it may sound), and giving it back all its moral and manners. It is historically notorious the fact that the real Romanian literature of the period between 1947 and 1989 has been made outside the borders of the country (et pour cause), speaking both geographically and linguistically. To tell the truth, the Romanian novelist living in Romania couldn't possibly have revealed the ways of the society they belonged to, loved, and created within - a society haunted by the totalitarian delirium. That mission needed sharp nibs as soldiers. Or, such kind of nibs were to be found only out there in the free world. One of them was certainly Silvia Cinca. It is a fact that, among the writers in exile and within the Romanian borders, Cinca is the most profound, with her extremely studied constructions, and the most daring of all. I say "daring" and I mean it, for, regardless of the distance, when scratching the skin of a dictatorship whose ideological certitude still throb within the body of its aggressiveness, the risk taken is even bigger than when pricking it from the inside. "It is a long arm, the arm of Revolution" used to say the servants of the state terrorism. Under those circumstances, the incisive word of Silvia Cinca, her ruthless Romanian radiographs made to the totalitarianism, and her stubbornness in calling a spade a spade, all these make the author of The Stroke the most lucid Romanian novelist of the last decades of the twentieth century. If it were only for Scream and Comrade Dracula (about which I have written at the proper time), and the novelist's brethren in the country would have been dearly avenged for the silence imposed on them by the marionettes of the red hegemony. But fortunately, Silvia Cinca's repertoire exhibits a large range of titles, which make us again friends of the freedom of the word, and honor us.

I am bound to add a few words about Silvia Cinca's last book in Romanian Language The Stroke. And all because the optimism, the narrative force, and the lexical pirouettes adorning the peremptory discourse of her previous novels and non-fiction works, are now given shape within the pages of the present book through a transcendental meditation whose signum teaches us about the sudden anesthesia of destiny. The unexpected shapes the elementary truths of the daily existence of the main character, who carries out a sort of metaphysical journey (that is to be met also in other recent works of the author), where reality replaces fiction, and fiction turns into the triadic expression of the simple truths that are life, death, and love. By reading through The Stroke, we get the impression that Silvia Cinca is entering us into the meanders of an ancient tragedy, under the disguise imposed by the circumstances of the contemporary drama.

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