voyage to kazohinia summary

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   From the Reviews : "Despite its wit and intelligence, the late Szathmári�s dystopian cult classic (originally published in Hungary in 1941) flounders in a sea of details. (...) There�s no shortage of ponderous material, but by failing to create memorable characters (or, in the case of Gulliver, recreate), the author has not produced -- as Swift before him did -- a timeless classic, but an intermittently interesting artifact." - Publishers Weekly " Voyage to Kazohinia is labored and repetitive, burdened with an excess of detail. A good editor could have improved it greatly. You can't help feeling that it must have been enjoyable to write, because the author takes evident pleasure in his elaboration of his imaginary societies. It is less enjoyable to read. The ingenuities, piled up one on top of the other, become wearisome." - Allan Massie, Wall Street Journal Please note that these ratings solely represent the complete review 's biased interpretation and subjective opinion of the actual reviews and do not claim to accurately reflect or represent the views of the reviewers. Similarly the illustrative quotes chosen here are merely those the complete review subjectively believes represent the tenor and judgment of the review as a whole. We acknowledge (and remind and warn you) that they may, in fact, be entirely unrepresentative of the actual reviews by any other measure.

Notes about the Reviews and the Book's Reception :

       Originally published in this English translation by Corvina in Hungary, Voyage to Kazohinia was finally brought to the US by New Europe Books in 2012, and they managed to get some decent attention for it.        A variation on Gulliver's Travels , transposed to the mid-twentieth century, the book is also of note as a leading Esperanto text -- there is even some debate as to whether or not Szathmári originally wrote the novel in Esperanto, though it seems most likely that it was written in Hungarian and only translated into Esperanto).

About the Author :

       Hungarian author Szathmári Sándor (1897-1974) was also an enthusiastic Esperantist.

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Szathmári, Sándor

Entry updated 12 September 2022. Tagged: Author.

(1897-1974) Hungarian engineer and author whose Gulliver utazása Kazohiniában ["Gulliver's Travels in Kazohinia"] ( 1941 ; final rev as Kazohinia 1957 ; trans Inez Kemenes as Kazohinia 1975 ; trans rev vt as Voyage to Kazohinia 2012 ) [for details see Checklist] is a complex, scathingly comic Satire on twentieth century versions of Utopia . Composed as a Sequel by Other Hands to Jonathan Swift 's Gulliver's Travels ( 1726 ; rev 1735 ) (for further examples see Gulliver ), it presents Gulliver's bewilderedly straitlaced and culture-bound account of his experiences on the Island of Kazohina after his ship sinks in a storm. He first encounters the Houyhnhnm-like Hins, who inhabit a seamlessly and emotionlessly egalitarian Utopia with highly advanced Technology , including moving sidewalks and other forms of Transportation and Communication . There is no money; there are no classes; Hins cannot comprehend the nature of lying. Their nature, and the uniformitarian world they inhabit, represent a homage to – but more forcibly a Parody and critique of – enlightenment rationality. Because a trick of Evolution has made it impossible for human minds to generate causeless self-reflections (which is to say noise), Hins have, as a result, no art forms, because everyone perceives the same reality. There can be no conflict, because there can be no discrepancies in the Perception of things.

Gulliver cannot grasp the benefits of enlightenment – Sex for instance, is uncluttered by norman human noise – and can see only the deadened flatness of this world. He therefore asks to be sent to the reservation where the Behins are confined. Their society, a conspicuously dreadful Dystopia , is the mirror reversal of the other, behaviour being governed by verbal tags, insane distinctions, ideas which are held to savagely because they have been believed for centuries. Though the reservation is fully serviced by the dispassionate Hin, a crazed (but recognizable) capitalism creates artificial scarcities out of plenitude. Behins starve to death outside the walls of stuffed granaries. The Behins are clearly a Satire on the flagrantly self-destructive nationalisms and Religions and fetishes of the twentieth century world; but Gulliver cannot comprehend that these Yahoos are portraits of him and his beloved Britain. In the end, he escapes, having learned virtually nothing – the complex interactions between author, narrator, and observed worlds closely refect Swift's own (sometimes misunderstood) technique in Gulliver's Travels . Kazohinia is an important mid-century example of its form, a between-the-wars text with echoes throughout of aftermath despair and premonitions of things to come. Some apparent echoes of Aldous Huxley 's Brave New World ( 1932 ) seem coincidental, as that book was only translated into Hungarian after Kazohinia had been composed. [JC]

Sándor Szathmári

born Gyula, Hungary, Austro-Hungarian Empire: 19 June 1897

died Budapest, Hungary: 16 July 1974

• Voyage to Kazohinia (North Adam, Massachusetts: New Europe Books, 2012 ) [rev vt of the above: revised trans by Inez Kemenes alone: pb/András Baranyai]
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A page-turning dystopian classic that stands alongside Brave New World and Gulliver's Travels.Voyage to Kazohinia is a tour de force of twentieth-century literature--and it is here published in English for the first time outside of Hungary. Sándor...

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PART ONE GULLIVER AMONG THE HINS

Chapter one.

I can assure the Reader that now, having returned from Kazohinia and looking back to my sufferings among the Hins and particularly among the Behins , I am of completely the same opinion.

Thus may I mention, not by way of excuse but by way of explanation, that on this occasion, apart from my accursed adventurous spirit, it was the protection of Great Britain and Christian civilization that prompted me to travel anew. And I ask the educated Reader whether there is a more worthy calling for a British subject than to serve under the Royal flag the elevated ideas of mankind and Christianity against their sworn enemies.

Possibly the circumstance that my voyage to Kazohinia led me to hitherto entirely unknown territories and afforded me such extraordinary experiences as no fellow-being had previously undergone also deserves some appreciation. In particular my becoming acquainted with the Behinic disease, however, raised my hopes that my travels had not been in vain and that by describing my experiences I should be able — in proportion to my humble faculties — to perform some service to my country and to medical science.

I am perfectly prepared for the Reader to accept my narrative with an occasional shake of the head; I therefore mention in advance that in the course of my work I have always striven to describe everything with the strictest objectivity.

Should, however, some parts of my book still furnish opportunity for doubt I shall not be unduly surprised. Kazohinia is so remote from my country and European civilization that both the customs there and particularly the Behinic disease are completely unknown to us, and had I not seen them with my very own eyes I would possibly not believe that they exist and that they. are indeed as they are.

If now, having compiled my accounts of this voyage, I nevertheless publish them all, this proves only my devotion to the objective truth which, faced though I was with the inevitable doubts of the Reader, prompted me to describe these definite facts.

Mankind, redeemed of his sins, was writing "one thousand nine hundred and thirty-five" when the government of His Majesty came to the conclusion that, in all probability, we should have to wage war with Italy.

To the educated Reader I possibly need not explain in detail that the differences of opinion had arisen as a result of the actions directed against the Ethiopian people.

It is beyond doubt that Italy entered this action with the intention of extending her territories — an action which an English gentleman can take cognizance of with a measure of respect, even if perpetrated by the enemy. And lest the Reader should accuse me of partiality, I hasten to add that this was appreciated by every decent inhabitant of Great Britain.

Especially were we deeply impressed by the enthusiastic generosity of the Italian prelates as they sacrificed money, valuable crosiers and bejewelled crosses of gold on the altar of the country in order that incendiary bombs, bayonets and even tanks be purchased for the noble purpose. We were all deeply impressed by the spirited pastoral letters in which they did not cease to encourage, with patriotic words, the shepherds, farmers, fishermen, fishmongers, grocers, piemen, icemen, longshoremen, ginger-bread makers, candle-dippers, beggarmen and thieves alike to go to the front and spread culture and the true Christian virtues among the Blacks, while they would ceaselessly implore the Saviour and the Virgin of Loreto in devout prayer that the grace of Heaven should succour those bearing arms for a noble cause.

At the same time we willingly recognized the heroic feats of the Italian soldiers whose death-defying courage and other honourable virtues might well be followed as an example by every loyal British subject of character, naturally under the Union Jack, and against the Italians. I repeat that as regards the how of the matter there was no discord between my country and Italy; it was merely the why of it which provided a basis for disagreement.

As their motive for the Ethiopian action, the Italians put forward their desire to liberate the Ethiopians from the yoke of the Amharas and to spread culture. The obvious untruthfulness of this — with all due respect — must prompt every sober-minded and better educated person to laughter if he has even but a passing knowledge of the diplomatic phrases customary in other countries when they wish to gloss over the essence of things and thereby mislead the uninitiated observer.

I have no wish to slip into the error of partiality in the way of travellers who are not above a disproportionately ostentatious display of the glory of their country in the guise of scientific description; I believe, however, that with all modesty and due respect to foreign states I might mention that adoption of such a perspective is an error a British subject would never commit. In my country it is well known even to the less educated that the devoted but noble work of liberating the peoples of the tropics has always been a heartfelt duty of Great Britain. Sufficient proof may, I feel, be found in the many colonies from South-East India to the Boers, whose peoples were set free from oppression at the cost of heavy battles.

And, much as an English gentleman is left cold by the material aspect, I cannot conceal my opinion that, apart from the cause of culture and freedom, Italy, in making her decision, may have been influenced, possibly unconsciously, by Ethiopian coffee and oil-fields.

This is why the government of His Majesty, having made sanctions against the Italians, came to the decision to launch a defensive war against Italy. With this end in view and to ensure peace and balance of power in Europe, several divisions were urgently posted to Egypt with aeroplanes, tanks, flame-throwers and incendiary bombs, while battleships were despatched to the Mediterranean Sea accompanied by torpedo-carrying destroyers and submarines.

These actions were of course received with strenuous counteraction by the Italian press. They asserted that, apart from the reasons mentioned, my country's actions had perhaps been influenced by the desire for gain and that she was begrudging a needy people the few oil-wells and mines which did not even approach the sphere of Italy's interests, and would not even have been mentioned had not the British become involved.

The Reader may by now find the political details tedious but it is my strictly determined intention to adhere to the objective truth and always to raise my humble voice in protest whenever unmerited blame is cast upon my country, its navy, its aeroplanes, its tanks, and in general on any of our splendid establishments that distinguish noble man from the beast of prey.

Thus, so as not to lose the thread of my story, it happened at that time that His Majesty's heavily armour battleship "Terrible", riding at anchor in Chinese waters, was despatched to the Mediterranean and in its place an old tub, the worn-out cruiser "Invincible", was sent to fly the Royal colours and represent the rightful interests of my country with its presence. The task of the "Invincible" was not at all easy as my country's interests were strongly threatened in the Far East by the danger of Japanese expansion; even some sections of the Chinese people were in rebellion against the concession belts representing culture and civilization, and it was on account of these interests that the "Invincible" had to be stationed at Shanghai.

My country was resolved to secure a European-type civilization in the East, too. The conflict with Italy, however, did not then permit it, which opportunity was thoroughly utilized by Japan who herself began to spread civilization in northern China, in full concord for the time being with the Covenant of the League of Nations and my beloved country.

The "Terrible" was replaced by the "Invincible" for a further reason, too; this was that if the Japanese sank it the damage would be comparatively insignificant and the case would not require consideration as hostile action. Although this intention was a strictly confidential naval secret, it nevertheless leaked out to the crew, and, as a direct result of this, several requests for transfer were received. These requests were turned down by the Admiralty, whereupon many people deserted.

The government was compelled to resort to other methods as it was to be feared that the forced personnel would jump ship in Shanghai.

Accordingly double salary was promised together with life insurance for a high sum.

At that time I was serving aboard the cruiser "Trafalgar" as surgeon, and having returned home one day I made mention of the matter to my wife.

My wife, who was the paragon of the faithful partner in marriage, as well as a good mother, and who as a zealous and chaste spouse had never ceased to rouse me with her frequent advice and urgency in my duties as a husband, immediately grasped the situation and enjoined me not to hesitate in having myself transferred immediately to the "Invincible". With zealous words, she explained that in Shanghai I should have no expenses, nor should I be in a position to spend my afternoons with my frivolous friends in the club and prodigally waste my money at dominoes, but would instead be able to send it all home for the support of my beloved family. I should have no need for anxiety for them, as to what would happen in the case of my death in action as, apart from the pension, the life insurance would be sufficient for her and the children to cherish my memory as befitted my rank.

The lofty words of my gentle and loving spouse as well as the call of my adored country prompted me to petition my transfer to the "Invincible", which I duly received within a week.

After another week we sailed. My wife bore the pain of parting with the strength of spirit becoming to a patriotic woman. She did not even accompany me to the port lest she should cause me unnecessary grief, but to ease her aching heart, she hastened to the dressmaker to try on the dress she had ordered for the tea-party, which was to be given by Mrs. E. Palmer the next day but one, from my first double salary.

The sailing incidentally took place quite without ceremony. On October fourth but half an hour after embarkation, the "Invincible" weighed anchor, and after three cheers and some cap-waving we put to sea.

Already on the eighth we were passing through the Straits of Gibraltar. After another four days we reached Malta where we took on coal, oil and fresh water but we continued our voyage. On the fourteenth we arrived at the Suez Canal through which were moving several Italian troop-ships accompanied by some torpedo-carrying destroyers and the battle-cruiser "Il Duce". This had earlier been called "Libertà" but had then been renamed due to the the demand of a grateful people liberated from the oppression of the old regime, to which the leader — with all his modesty — could not turn a deaf ear.

Both we and the Italian battleships expressed our joy at the meeting in the most courteous forms. We each hoisted the flag of the other nation, dipped our own, and fired salvoes partly to convey our friendly greetings and partly to show the other that we had ammunition.

I do not want to bore the Reader by describing the details of our voyage on the Red Sea — though particularly around Aden we enjoyed a magnificent panorama; I will rather continue from the point at which we reached the Indian Ocean.

Our route led widely south of the Equator as it was necessary for us to reach our destination discreetly if possible, so we tried to avoid the sea-lanes of regular liners. Our next port of call was to be Singapore, which we had to reach by sailing round the island of Sumatra.

We had been cutting through the waves of the Indian Ocean for eight days and already believed that we should arrive in Shanghai safe and sound. The captain was quite prepared for our ship to be an example of true British tradition so he had two sailors put in irons in solitary confinement and another was threatened with court-martial. This was because they had not polished their buttons properly and had shouldered arms negligently on parade.

Everything was in perfect order. The guns were polished, the hull repainted; in the end we managed to look as formidable as if we had just come out of dock after being completely refitted.

At about seven o'clock in the evening I was standing beside the gun-turret on the middle-deck. Near me my friend, a lieutenant-commander, was contentedly rubbing his hands and from the crew's quarters some drawling singing could be heard to an accordion and castanet accompaniment. It was some old song they had learned in Barcelona. (Lest the educated Reader should accuse our honest staff of officers of laxity I hasten to add that at that time the Spanish Civil War had not yet broken out, and consequently my country had not then signed the Non-Intervention Pact.)

Suddenly, without any warning, I felt a violent thrust. The screw-propellers pulled back our ship with full counter-steam; confused shouting and running about could be heard.

I looked around in fear, and understood everything in a flash.

From the distance a long streak was drawing nearer and nearer at an incredible speed. For an instant I faintly hoped that it would perhaps pass by the prow, but in vain. I had time only to throw myself on the floor in the recess behind the gun and the next second a terrible force hurled me against the opposite wall and the detonation almost deafened me.

My head was humming from the blow, I was only able to crawl out on all fours. My friend the lieutenant-commander lay near me, laughing uproariously.

"The blockheads... The blockheads..." he spluttered. "They surely believe they've made a lucky hit! We've played a fine trick on them!... It was good to have the ten-inch ones swabbed!... One must burst!"

He would have continued but in the meantime died, while I endeavoured to drag myself quickly towards the stern which was as yet out of the water.

One of the crew threw some lifebelts into the lifeboat after us; another managed to throw in some forty pounds of tins, but then we hastened to get launched and row away as fast as we could lest the wash of the ship should swamp us.

I do not wish to concern the Reader with excessive detail. It can be imagined how we spent the following pitch-dark night down in the Southern hemisphere, far from every sea-lane, and the significance it had for us when at two after midnight we received no answer to our shouts any more and had to conclude that we had lost contact with the other boats.

We rowed to and fro until dawn and when the sun rose saw nothing but water and more water.

One old sailor repeatedly asserted that there was in those parts a sea current which we had slipped into and by our stupid dodging about we had become still more deeply enmeshed.

I bitterly cursed the foolhardy impulse which after so many trials and tribulations had driven me to sea anew and I beseechingly prayed to the all-merciful Lord of Heaven to rescue me but this once more, and I should never put to sea again.

The only thought that relieved my despair was that my admirable wife and family would inherit my heroic name which, cut in a stone together with many others, would proclaim on the main square of Southampton where foreign citizens should place the wreath. After the reconciliation even the Minister of Naval Affairs of the state that had had us torpedoed would stand before our monument and pay tribute with zealous eloquence to the heroism with which we had drowned in the sea. This thought inflated all of us with pride. We realized that a true English patriot cannot expect more from life and with heads erect we awaited our destiny and sang before we were due to perish.

Our preserves gave out on the fourth day. At noon we opened the last two tins, drank after it the last sip of fresh water and prepared for our glorious death.

At twilight, however, we were lucky enough to be caught in a storm which grew more and more violent. Eventually it so raged that not even the oldest seamen could remember anything to compare with it, and I myself could only compare it with the monsoon that overtook us on my voyage to Brobdingnag off the Molucca Islands.

Everybody put on their lifebelts with sinking hearts and half an hour later, when our boat was already being swallowed by the billows, I decided to try my luck with my lifebelt round my waist.

In another half-hour the storm had blown over, and taking advantage of the opportunity I tried to fasten myself with the strings of the lifebelt.

Thus did I spend the night. The sufferings of this night would, I believe, be unnecessary to describe in detail. When day dawned I saw nobody around me, but to the even greater pleasure of my faint heart the coastal line of an island appeared before my eyes at a distance of some two miles.

Gathering the rest of my strength I began to swim. My arms were reinforced in the knowledge that a stone inscribed with my name would proclaim my death as a hero, and, what is more, even though I should live, I should never see my beloved wife again.

After a desperately hard struggle lasting four hours I succeeded in reaching the shore where I immediately collapsed from exhaustion and sank into a deep sleep.

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Voyage to Kazohinia

Sándor Szathmári Inez Kemenes (Translator) New Europe Books ( Jul 3, 2012 ) Softcover $16.95 ( 368pp ) 978-0-9825781-2-4

“I have been watching your country … and have to admit that in many respects you are perfect … What a person of culture cannot endure is that you live without heart, without the salt and sense of life.” So complains Gulliver, oft-shipwrecked hero of Voyage to Kazohinia in a new translation by New Europe Books. Having borrowed his hero from Jonathan Swift, Sándor Szathmári presents us with a contemporary set of travels through a society so “perfect” it is almost inhuman.

At first, this new land of Kazohinia is agreeable to Gulliver: he is surrounded by the peaceable, attractive Hins, who prove willing to absorb him into their technologically sophisticated society. Yet after only months, Gulliver despairs: the culture is so alien that he is perceived as insane. What he mistook for perfection is empty of what defines him. The Hins lack understanding of love, hate, monogamy, music, and art. They have no money or government, no sense of parenthood or family. Not only do they lack these things—they dismiss them as unwelcome and destructive concepts.

Indeed, Gulliver’s doctor tells him that to seek “nonexistent” things like beauty, entertainment, and literature is to “attribute value to the unnecessary” and that “nothing but damage can come from cultivating non-existing things, because we ourselves live in the existing world.” Of love, his teacher says “the fact that we loved somebody implied that we had to behave more harmfully to all those we did not love, so love itself was kazi—entailing conflict, contrast, hunger, and decay.” ( Kazo is a Hin word that refers to that which is unproductive and irrational.)

The late Sándor Szathmári was a significant figure in Hungarian literature and was also known for his participation in the Esperanto movement. Of his writings, Szathmári is best known for Voyage to Kazohinia , which has appeared in several printings under varying names and was also one of the few novels ever published in Esperanto. Whether the author espouses the depthless perfection of Kazohinia, or cautions against the pursuit of such utopian constructs (and their technology), has been debated by not a few scholars. Indeed, Szathmári seems to laugh at both Gulliver’s Great Britain and the world of Kazohinia. Each have their ridiculous aspects. But whatever his ultimate goal, Szathmári succeeds in forcing readers to confront the ways citizens of societies accept as truth those precepts that define and enable the society’s existence, even at the expense of the individual.

Reviewed by Leia Menlove Summer 2012

Disclosure: This article is not an endorsement, but a review. The publisher of this book provided free copies of the book to have their book reviewed by a professional reviewer. No fee was paid by the publisher for this review. Foreword Reviews only recommends books that we love. Foreword Magazine, Inc. is disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255.

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9780982578124

Sandor Szathmari

Steerforth Press

24 July 2012

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Voyage to Kazohinia

Sándor szathmári, trans. from the hungarian by inez kemenes. new europe (random, dist.), $16.95 trade paper (360p) isbn 978-0-9825781-2-4.

Reviewed on: 04/09/2012

Genre: Fiction

Other - 226 pages - 978-0-9825781-3-1

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Voyage to Kazohinia Paperback – July 3, 2012

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This classic dystopian satire has been compared to the likes of Brave New World, Gulliver's Travels and The Wizard of Oz. Voyage to Kazohinia is a tour de force of twentieth-century literature--and it is here published in English for the first time outside of Hungary. Sándor Szathmári's novel chronicles the travels of a modern Gulliver on the eve of World War II. A shipwrecked English ship's surgeon finds himself on an unknown island whose inhabitants, the Hins, live a technologically advanced existence without emotions, desires, arts, money, or politics. Soon unhappy amid this bleak perfection, Gulliver asks to be admitted to the closed settlement of the Behins, beings with souls and atavistic human traits. He has seen nothing yet. A massively entertaining mix of satire and science fiction, Voyage to Kazohinia has seen half a dozen editions in Hungary in decades since its original publication and remains the country's most popular cult classic.

• Print length 288 pages
• Language English
• Publisher New Europe Books
• Publication date July 3, 2012
• Dimensions 5.5 x 0.76 x 8.4 inches
• ISBN-10 0982578121
• ISBN-13 978-0982578124
• See all details

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Editorial Reviews

"A page-turner for both the adult as well as the adolescent reader, Voyage to Kazohinia is a classic waiting to be discovered by every literate person. This newly translated and profoundly transformative novel ought to be taught in high schools and colleges across the English-speaking world. " --David Mandler, PhD, English Teacher at Stuyvesant High School, New York City

"Massively entertaining! . . . Make room for the new Gulliver. He has brought home news out of Kazohinia." -- Gregory Maguire, author of Wicked and Out of Oz

“Written in 1935, Voyage to Kazohinia is a strikingly postmodern and open-ended dystopia that rightfully belongs among the twentieth-century classics of the genre. And it is unique in being less a strident political cautionary tale than it is a brilliantly mordant reflection on government, reason, and language.” ―Carter Hanson, Associate Professor of English, Valparaiso University

“[A] dystopian cult classic. . . . Gulliver washes up on the island of Kazohinia, which is populated by bizarre inhabitants . . . whose sense of morality and society force [him] to reconsider his own understanding of life, love, and death.” ―Publishers Weekly

“Highly entertaining. . . . Readers familiar with the classic Swift satire will find much to admire here, but those unfamiliar with Gulliver’s Travels should still have a good time.” ―Booklist

"A satire on our world of power politics... clever and inventive." -- Allan Massie, The Wall Street Journal

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• Publisher ‏ : ‎ New Europe Books; First Thus edition (July 3, 2012)
• Language ‏ : ‎ English
• Paperback ‏ : ‎ 288 pages
• ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 0982578121
• ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-0982578124
• Item Weight ‏ : ‎ 15.3 ounces
• Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 5.5 x 0.76 x 8.4 inches
• #16,242 in Fiction Satire
• #50,699 in Classic Literature & Fiction
• #98,225 in Literary Fiction (Books)

About the author

Sándor szathmári.

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