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Preface -
French-English Translation
Although Constantin Roman casts himself as an observer or perhaps
even as an anti-communist militant he remains above all an artist.
His work, From Dracula to Ceausescu, the un-sung voices of Romanian
Women, be it a narrative, a study, or a homage to the Romanian
Woman reflects wonderful talent.
At the outset, the inspiration for the book seems like a crazy idea
that of Matisses painting Blouse Roumaine,
graduating onto Picassos paintings influenced by this recurring
theme, in several different variations, whilst juxtaposing these artists
against the sombre backdrop of the second world war, echoing the voice
of Matisse in such an overwhelming fashion, and after, progressively
projecting back in time towards the Mythical Woman the overpowering
presence of the Romanian Culture that brings us page by page to the
tales of some amazing women, all the more surprising in the context
of Romanian Communism and Post-Communism, such a marvellous feat,
one which the author had accomplished well.
The introductory pages hit the perfect pitch. They are sober, the
author knowing how to lend the body, structure and lightness of the
Romanian Blouse itself, folklore, beauty and colours that dominate:
a Romanian blouse, of ancient design, of a pale, very soft blue,
a blouse embroidered with old ochre stitches, which must have belonged
to a princess. The Cantique of Matisse invokes a
dream, the painters dream, whilst the author himself beguiles
the readers in joining in a dance, through his amazing roll call of
Romanian Women.
His is an audacious choice in its simplicity, through which he provides
us with the opportunity to meet and see, alphabetically, the Woman
within Romania and the woman in exile. Moreover, the thematic index,
further enables the reader, should he so wish, to play with rearranging
the sequence of names, should a particular preference rest with performing
artists or perhaps the performing political movers and shakers. The
reader is therefore free to follow a more global path by cross-correlating
the history of their life.
Let the readers lose themselves in the labyrinth of names, starting
with that of Gabriela Adamesteanu, the very much alive novelist and
publisher of Revista 22, the intellectual weekly of liberal
persuasion, or perhaps stay in the company of the celebrated folk
singer Maria Tanase, or that of Elizabeth von Wied, the poet Queen
who wrote under the nom de plume of Carmen Sylva and who was the spouse
of Carol I. All these refreshing insights hold the reader under a
powerful spell.However, the real delight that confronts the reader
comes with the very knowledge, a rigorous and precise knowledge: each
biography is complemented by carefully chosen quotations and also
by extremely useful bibliographical references. Constantin Romans
regard for thoroughness, in combination with his restrained style,
leaves the reader with an open field. It is therefore left up to the
reader as whether to smile at the thoughts of Mady Cancicov
And the solitude: do you know what it means to forfeit ones
solitude?, or rather to be moved by the International Communist
militant Ana Pauker, or to decide whether to dip into the novels of
Oana Orlea. Indeed it is the readers choice in eliciting a meeting
with contemporary women like Marta Petreu, a very much accessible
philosopher, who may be ready to start and why not? a dialogue
with the reader.
Yet it is somewhat difficult to close the book with the passage of
Sabina Wurmbrand, the missionary of the Underground Church, who knew
well the political prisons.
Constantin Roman invites us for a walk, during which he enjoins past
and present alike, in a brisk coming and going of the narrative. It
is a narrative that cannot suddenly end, but rather one which compels
us to start all over again and revisit. It is a truly wonderful gift,
a very happy surprise indeed of an inherently original book, which
haunts us like the persistent music of those Romanian womens
voices.
Prof. Catherine Durandin
Institut National des langues et civilisations orientales, Paris
17 décembre 2002.
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