The artist Marek Zulawski, translation & Polish-British culture

Hi,

This week, I've translated my father's reflections when looking at his three weddings. Three is a lot, isn't it?

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And in the night, I heard the sound of weeping.​

'Two Lovers' by Marek Zulawski, 1961

So all the difficulties and obstacles are finally behind us. Our wedding will take place on your name day, Maria.

I’ve invited the guests and gone over the music with the organist. I’ve bought the rings. Martyn Goff, my friend of thirty years, will be my best man. Old Dr Czajkowski, your fellow countryman, will play the part of the bride’s father and walk you into the church. I’ve ordered a few cases of champagne, because after the ceremony there’ll be a party at the studio.​

I don’t want to leave anything overlooked. This is my third marriage and this time I want to play my part properly. I want you to remember how it was, to be able to one day tell people you had a “great” wedding.

I also want to pay off my debt to the other women whose feelings I brushed aside. I want to drive away the ghosts of joys I neglected, hearts I hurt, raptures I held back. How was it with my first marriage? I hardly even remember… I married Imogena in a futile, too-late attempt to keep her from leaving.

In that cold empty registry office, there was only my brother Julek and Józek Retinger. We stumbled our way through the English phrasing. Afterwards there was a little reception in our studio that nobody came to. Julek and Józek, half-starved back then on Rupert Street in Soho, ate all the snacks and cheese sandwiches Imogena had prepared. I had no appetite. And in the night, I heard the sound of weeping.​

I married Halinka in a spirit of bravado and irony. I was 40. My anti‑snobbery at the time came down to despising all hints of ceremony. Two hours before the appointment, I rang her from town and said that if she really wanted to get married, then she should turn up at the registry office on Harrow Road at such‑and‑such a time. In a rush, on her way there, she bought herself a thin wedding band and a small bouquet, talked two office colleagues into being witnesses, and came. What happened afterwards — I’m not even sure. I think she just went back to that office where she worked just after the war for a short time. It was 1948.

It won’t be like that now. Third time lucky. 

This time, Maria, I won’t neglect a thing, I won’t hurt your feelings. I’ll do everything a young woman might hope for on a day like that. For our honeymoon, we’ll go to the Aegean Sea as soon as the weather turns warm, and right after the wedding I’ll send beautifully printed announcements to all my relatives and friends scattered around the world. I want to leave you nothing you could hold against me. Third time lucky. 

Rituals deserve respect. The parts we take on have to be played flawlessly. One mustn’t botch it. 

Woe betide the bunglers, the jokers, the pranksters — they all carry the memory of their mistakes and stupid jests with them for the rest of their lives.

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Has anybody noticed a film about Krystyna Skarbek has been released?

Krystyna Skarbek was an Allied spy during WWII, and the inspiration for Vesper Lynd in the James Bond books and films. For years, Poles, especially British Poles, have said that the story of this super spy would make for an amazing film. It turns out that film has finally been made, and was even released a couple of months ago. 

You can watch the trailer here - it's shot to look like a TV movie unfortunately, but it might still be entertaining. The trailer features Malcolm McDowell of Clockwork Orange fame, but I'm betting he's in it for two minutes, tops. Fun fact: the actress playing Skarbek is Roman Polanski's daughter Morgane.

If you'd like to learn more about Skarbek, I recommend this article: The Polish Jewish Countess Who Became Britain's Finest Secret Agent

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That's all for this week. Many thanks for reading. If you want to support the newsletter, please forward it to a friend or donate here.

Adam

Adam Zulawski

TranslatingMarek.com / TranslatePolishMemoirs.com / Other stuff

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