Literary Imagination Advance Access originally published online on September 18, 2008
Literary Imagination 2008 10(3):345-351; doi:10.1093/litimag/imn056
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© The Author 2008. Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of the Association of Literary Scholars and Critics. All rights reserved. For permissions please e-mail: journals.permissions@oxfordjournals.org
Lili
*Daniel Torday, English House, Bryn Mawr College, 101 North Merion Avenue, Bryn Mawr, PA 19010, USA.
| The first 150 words of the full text of this article appear below. |
The last time I was in Budapest, I spent a week of nights in a bar with a girl named Lili. She was a friend of my cousin Istvan, and immediately after I met up with her my second night in the city, she told me a story about the poet Endre Ady.
"At the turn of century, the last, Ady was our greatest poet," she said. "He was born with twelve fingers, but they removed the extras. They say that an extra finger is good—good—"
"Luck?" I said.
"Luck," Lili said. She had a tawny Magyar face and black hair. Her two front teeth were crossed in front of each other as if they were jockeying for attention. She smiled a thin-lipped smile that lit a diminutive flicker of blue flame in her eyes.
"We read poems in school," Lili said. "I hated them. There was one of the
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