Mátyás Sárközi

Mátyás Sárközi

MÁTYÁS SÁRKÖZI (Budapest, 1937), writer, journalist, settled in London towards the end of 1956 as a Hungarian refugee. Within a few weeks after his arrival he became a student of St Martin’s School of Art, studying book-illustration. Later he became employed by the BBC’s Hungarian Section. Since 1990, he has been spending part of his time in Budapest and writing for and appearing in the Hungarian media. His latest publications include Csé. Cs. Szabó László életműve [Csé. László Cs. Szabó’s Oeuvre] (Kortárs Kiadó 2014), Levelek Zugligetből – Tamperdü [Letters from Zugliget – Tamperdü] (E-book, Kortárs Kiadó 2016), and ’34,’44,’56 – PLUSZ. Elbeszélések és egy beszélgetés. [’34, ’44, ’56 – PLUS. Short stories and a conversation] (Kortárs Kiadó 2016)

EXTRA HUNGARIAM – ON THE INTELLECTUAL LIFE OF THE HUNGARIAN EXILES AFTER 1956

Extra Hungariam non est vita, si est vita, non est ita – stated a Hungarian scholar three hundred and fifty years ago in a Latin dissertation. The much-quoted sentence has been interpreted in more than one way. Ardent patriots maintain that outside Hungary there is no life whatsoever, just as there is no life (perhaps) on Mars. Others would translate these words differently: “All right, there is no life outside Hungary, but if there is some kind of life there, it is

ON PARADE – A VIGNETTE FROM 1956

We gathered at the side of the parade ground because we wanted a good laugh. The British regiment has a rather peculiar feature. It marches at double speed. The band provides a madly fast beat, and these boys – fine strapping lads – march to it as if they were

ZOLTÁN SZABÓ: AN OUTPOST IN THE WEST

When ten thousand Hungarian refugees first set foot on British shores after the crushing of the 1956 Revolution they found out to their great disappointment that an important factor was missing from urban life in this otherwise hospitable country. There were plenty of pubs and tea rooms but no espresso

FROM ZUGLIGET TO LONDON

Zugliget presents a rather curious geographic formation on the edge of Budapest. With its hillocks and dales it shares a certain similarity with the Austrian Tyrol. Half-way up the hill stood my mother’s little cottage, where I lived from the age of twelve, when we lost our villa due to