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Biblioteka Europy Środka #9
Budapest 1900: A Historical Portrait of a City and Its Culture
“John Lukacs is in many ways an old-fashioned chronicler, an “impressionistic historian” as he himself says at one point, evoking with considerable artistry the vibrant colors, pungent smells and melancholy undercurrents of his native city. . . . Budapest 1900 is a special book–an eloquent tribute to a city by an urbane man of letters.” –Ivan Sanders, The New York Times Book Review
304 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1988
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About the author
John Lukacs
63 books116 followersLukacs was born in Budapest to a Roman Catholic father and Jewish mother. His parents divorced before the Second World War. During the Second World War he was forced to serve in a Hungarian labour battalion for Jews. During the German occupation of Hungary in 1944-45 he evaded deportation to the death camps, and survived the siege of Budapest. In 1946, as it became clear that Hungary was going to be a repressive Communist regime, he fled to the United States. In the early 1950s however, Lukacs wrote several articles in Commonweal criticizing the approach taken by Senator Joseph McCarthy, whom he described as a vulgar demagogue.[1]
Lukacs sees populism as the greatest threat to civilization. By his own description, he considers himself to be a reactionary. He claims that populism is the essence of both National Socialism and Communism. He denies that there is such a thing as generic fascism, noting for example that the differences between the political regimes of Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy are greater than their similarities.[2]
A major theme in Lukacs's writing is his agreement with the assertion by the French historian Alexis de Tocqueville that aristocratic elites have been replaced by democratic elites, which obtain power via an appeal to the masses. In his 2002 book, At the End of an Age, Lukacs argued that the modern/bourgeois age, which began around the time of the Renaissance, is coming to an end.[3] The rise of populism and the decline of elitism is the theme of his experimental work, A Thread of Years (1998), a series of vignettes set in each year of the 20th century from 1900 to 1998, tracing the abandonment of gentlemanly conduct and the rise of vulgarity in American culture. Lukacs defends traditional Western civilization against what he sees as the leveling and debasing effects of mass culture.
By his own admission a dedicated Anglophile, Lukacs’s favorite historical figure is Winston Churchill, whom he considers to be the greatest statesman of the 20th century, and the savior of not only Great Britain, but also of Western civilization. A recurring theme in his writing is the duel between Winston Churchill and Adolf Hitler for mastery of the world. The struggle between them, whom Lukacs sees as the archetypical reactionary and the archetypical revolutionary, is the major theme of The Last European War (1976), The Duel (1991), Five Days in London (1999) and 2008's Blood, Toil, Tears and Sweat, a book about Churchill’s first major speech as Prime Minister. Lukacs argues that Great Britain (and by extension the British Empire) could not defeat Germany by itself, winning required the entry of the United States and the Soviet Union, but he contends that Churchill, by ensuring that Germany failed to win the war in 1940, laid the groundwork for an Allied victory.
Lukacs holds strong isolationist beliefs, and unusually for an anti-Communist émigré, "airs surprisingly critical views of the Cold War from a unique conservative perspective."[4] Lukacs claims that the Soviet Union was a feeble power on the verge of collapse, and contended that the Cold War was an unnecessary waste of American treasure and life. Likewise, Lukacs has also condemned the 2003 invasion of Iraq.
In his 1997 book, George F. Kennan and the Origins of Containment, 1944-1946, a collection of letters between Lukacs and his close friend George F. Kennan exchanged in 1994-1995, Lukacs and Kennan criticized the New Left claim that the Cold War was caused by the United States. Lukacs argued however that although it was Joseph Stalin who was largely responsible for the beginning of the Cold War, the administration of Dwight Eisenhower missed a chance for ending the Cold War in 1953 after Stalin's death, and as a consequence the Cold War went on for many more decades.
Lukacs sees populism as the greatest threat to civilization. By his own description, he considers himself to be a reactionary. He claims that populism is the essence of both National Socialism and Communism. He denies that there is such a thing as generic fascism, noting for example that the differences between the political regimes of Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy are greater than their similarities.[2]
A major theme in Lukacs's writing is his agreement with the assertion by the French historian Alexis de Tocqueville that aristocratic elites have been replaced by democratic elites, which obtain power via an appeal to the masses. In his 2002 book, At the End of an Age, Lukacs argued that the modern/bourgeois age, which began around the time of the Renaissance, is coming to an end.[3] The rise of populism and the decline of elitism is the theme of his experimental work, A Thread of Years (1998), a series of vignettes set in each year of the 20th century from 1900 to 1998, tracing the abandonment of gentlemanly conduct and the rise of vulgarity in American culture. Lukacs defends traditional Western civilization against what he sees as the leveling and debasing effects of mass culture.
By his own admission a dedicated Anglophile, Lukacs’s favorite historical figure is Winston Churchill, whom he considers to be the greatest statesman of the 20th century, and the savior of not only Great Britain, but also of Western civilization. A recurring theme in his writing is the duel between Winston Churchill and Adolf Hitler for mastery of the world. The struggle between them, whom Lukacs sees as the archetypical reactionary and the archetypical revolutionary, is the major theme of The Last European War (1976), The Duel (1991), Five Days in London (1999) and 2008's Blood, Toil, Tears and Sweat, a book about Churchill’s first major speech as Prime Minister. Lukacs argues that Great Britain (and by extension the British Empire) could not defeat Germany by itself, winning required the entry of the United States and the Soviet Union, but he contends that Churchill, by ensuring that Germany failed to win the war in 1940, laid the groundwork for an Allied victory.
Lukacs holds strong isolationist beliefs, and unusually for an anti-Communist émigré, "airs surprisingly critical views of the Cold War from a unique conservative perspective."[4] Lukacs claims that the Soviet Union was a feeble power on the verge of collapse, and contended that the Cold War was an unnecessary waste of American treasure and life. Likewise, Lukacs has also condemned the 2003 invasion of Iraq.
In his 1997 book, George F. Kennan and the Origins of Containment, 1944-1946, a collection of letters between Lukacs and his close friend George F. Kennan exchanged in 1994-1995, Lukacs and Kennan criticized the New Left claim that the Cold War was caused by the United States. Lukacs argued however that although it was Joseph Stalin who was largely responsible for the beginning of the Cold War, the administration of Dwight Eisenhower missed a chance for ending the Cold War in 1953 after Stalin's death, and as a consequence the Cold War went on for many more decades.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 53 reviews
October 15, 2017
Author John Lukacs starts with a description of the funeral in 1900 of the painter Mihály Munkácsy. The huge size of the man's funeral and its elaborateness, Lukacs suggests, says much about the high esteem in which the city held its artists. Such reverence for the artist simply does not exist today. Lukacs then goes into a brief history of each of the city's 10 districts. (There are 23 today.) I enjoyed the descriptive writing, the architectural assessments, the overview of city planning in general (especially when augmented with photos from the web). The sophistication of Budapest at this time is truly stunning. It's the little Paris on the Danube, though distinctly Hungarian in its culture.
My interest in the book grew from reading Gregor Von Rezzori's novel, Memoirs of An Anti-Semite. That astonishing book showed me how very little I know about Eastern Europe, especially the states along the Danube. Lukacs shows us how Pest, once smaller than Buda, grew to dominate the city we know today. He marshals a lot of statistics, and is always careful to show how Budapest stacked up against the other major European cities in 1900. For that is the year he views as the city's high water mark or richest elaboration. We are briskly taken from the tiny Celtic settlement to Rome's establishment of Aquincum on the Buda side--for some reason the Romans did not often cross the river--to the Magyar settlement in 896, the Mongol invasion of 1241, the establishment of the royal seat of the Hungarian kings in the 14th century, the conquest two centuries later by the Ottoman Empire, and the reconquest 145 years later by the Hapsburgs.
There is one laughable passage in which Lukacs suggests that the lack of police evidence of homosexuality means that there was none. This is attributed to the stark masculinity of the local culture. The intimation being, I suppose, that all homosexuals are effeminate. Now, if that isn't bias I don't know what is. Funny, in this one instance he neglects the evidence of neighboring Danube states, a comparison he uses frequently at other times. The author resorts to some cheerleading in Chapter 5, "The Generation of 1900," for Hungarian arts and culture. One finds instances of inflationary prose like this on page 106:
I find it ridiculous to claim that the citizens of an entire metropolis are without certain basic human psychological traits. Recommended with keen reservations.
PS: Lukacs's comments about Casablanca, directed by Hungarian Michael Curtiz—which he calls an "imbecile movie"—angered me. Granted, the picture's far from perfect. The sets, for example, seem cheap and flimsy and the writing can be stilted. But it's Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman for God’s sake! Their performances alone diminish the flaws, if they don't annihilate them altogether.
My interest in the book grew from reading Gregor Von Rezzori's novel, Memoirs of An Anti-Semite. That astonishing book showed me how very little I know about Eastern Europe, especially the states along the Danube. Lukacs shows us how Pest, once smaller than Buda, grew to dominate the city we know today. He marshals a lot of statistics, and is always careful to show how Budapest stacked up against the other major European cities in 1900. For that is the year he views as the city's high water mark or richest elaboration. We are briskly taken from the tiny Celtic settlement to Rome's establishment of Aquincum on the Buda side--for some reason the Romans did not often cross the river--to the Magyar settlement in 896, the Mongol invasion of 1241, the establishment of the royal seat of the Hungarian kings in the 14th century, the conquest two centuries later by the Ottoman Empire, and the reconquest 145 years later by the Hapsburgs.
There is one laughable passage in which Lukacs suggests that the lack of police evidence of homosexuality means that there was none. This is attributed to the stark masculinity of the local culture. The intimation being, I suppose, that all homosexuals are effeminate. Now, if that isn't bias I don't know what is. Funny, in this one instance he neglects the evidence of neighboring Danube states, a comparison he uses frequently at other times. The author resorts to some cheerleading in Chapter 5, "The Generation of 1900," for Hungarian arts and culture. One finds instances of inflationary prose like this on page 106:
Whether optimists or pessimists, the people of Budapest, even in this bourgeoise period, were expressive. They wore their minds, if not their hearts, on their sleeves. Their concerns, problems, strengths and failures were evident in their conscious expressions of all kinds, rather than suppressed or submerged on subconscious levels.
I find it ridiculous to claim that the citizens of an entire metropolis are without certain basic human psychological traits. Recommended with keen reservations.
PS: Lukacs's comments about Casablanca, directed by Hungarian Michael Curtiz—which he calls an "imbecile movie"—angered me. Granted, the picture's far from perfect. The sets, for example, seem cheap and flimsy and the writing can be stilted. But it's Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman for God’s sake! Their performances alone diminish the flaws, if they don't annihilate them altogether.
July 8, 2022
Budapest is a city of particular beauty and grace; a friend of mine, visiting Hungary for the first time, called Budapest “a fairy-tale city,” and indeed it truly does have a certain magic to it. And historian John Lukacs captures, in a vivid and engaging manner, a particularly magical time in the life of Budapest, in his 1988 book Budapest 1900.
Lukacs, a history professor who taught for decades at Chestnut Hill College and wrote over 30 books during his career, was Hungarian by birth, and therefore it is understandable that he was interested in composing Budapest 1900 as A Historical Portrait of a City and Its Culture (the book’s subtitle).
The book begins with a description of how the death of painter Mihály Munkácsy in May of 1900 was commemorated by a funeral on the scale of the one that Paris gave for Victor Hugo; Lukacs, who finds Munkácsy to be an artist of limited talent at best, writes of the funeral that, “As so often in the history of Magyar intellect and art, worldwide fame was one thing, true merit another; and the two would rarely correspond” (p. 8). That dry, mildly irreverent outlook on Hungarian life and culture at this crucial point in the life of Budapest is characteristic of the book.
Budapest was not the capital of an independent Hungary in 1900; Hungary was then part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. But in contrast to its status as a conquered province after a failed 1848 revolution against Austrian rule, Hungary in 1900 was a powerful junior partner in the empire, under a system known as the “dual monarchy.” Within that context, Budapest grew and thrived as a city, and became a center of innovation in artistic, literary, and cultural fields.
Part of the charm of Budapest 1900 is the way in which Lukacs takes us behind the scenes of that thriving, dynamic fin-de-siècle time. We learn, for example, that “In 1900 in Budapest the painters’, sculptors’, and architects’ habitual coffeehouse was the Japan on Andrássy Avenue” (p. 10) – something that I thought about while visiting a comparably famous Budapest artists’ hangout, the New York Café, when I lived in Hungary in 2011.
Lukacs captures well the peculiar strain of melancholy in Hungarian life at a number of points throughout Budapest 1900, as when he writes that “The deepest, the truest sound of Magyar prose is not than of a canting and chanting violin; it is that of a cello” (p. 12). Such a finding might be surprising to Budapest visitors who find that a violin-heavy live band is an inescapable feature of almost every traditional Hungarian restaurant in the city; but there is nonetheless much truth in what Lukacs says.
Lukacs also brings to the writing of Budapest 1900 his thoroughgoing knowledge of the often tragic history of Budapest and Hungary, as when he states that November is the saddest month in Budapest’s civic life and then gives his reasons why:
The greatest tragedies in the history of modern Hungary – the execution of thirteen martyred Hungarian generals after the collapse of the War of Independence in 1849; the collapse of the ancient monarchy in the defeat of the First World War in 1918; the collapse of the deeply torn and divided effort to free Hungary from its deadly alliance with Hitler’s Reich in 1944; the collapse of the great national rising in 1956, centered in Budapest – all happened in October or early November. For Budapest in 1900, the last three of these great tragedies were still unknown. (p. 12)
Lukacs also comments well on what makes the Hungarian language unique among the languages of the Old World, as “the Magyar language is an orphan among the languages of Europe. It does not belong to the great Latin, Germanic, or Slavic language families. Mostly because of this, Hungarian literature had no echoes, no reverberations, no reputation beyond Hungary” (p. 15), and those Hungarian writers who did achieve an international reputation did so only by ceasing to write in Hungarian for Hungarian audiences. As an example of this problem, Lukacs brings up the examples of three major writers from 1900 Budapest – Tamás Kóbor, Ferenc Körmendi, and Gyula Krúdy – and I must admit that, while I lived in Hungary for six months, and tried to learn all I could in that time regarding Hungarian life and culture, I have never heard of any of these writers. Az én veszteségem (my loss).
At times, it seems almost as if Lukacs wants to psychoanalyze the Budapest, and the Hungary, of the year 1900. Considering the influence that Freudian theory wielded in Vienna at that time, Lukacs observes that “Long after 1900, Freud’s influence in Budapest was slight”, and then goes on to offer this explanation – one relating to the peculiar qualities of the Magyar language as mentioned above: “One of the reasons for this is the declarative character of the Hungarian language and of Hungarian habits of speech. There is this odd contradiction of the Hungarian temperament: a deep masculine reserve, but without the inclination to hide one’s prejudices, loves, and hates” (p. 24).
Lukacs’s appreciation for the city of Budapest is evident, and many Budapest residents would no doubt agree with Lukacs that “The Turks who ruled Buda for a century and a half (from 1541 to 1686) brought with them little that remained enduring, save for two things: roses and baths” (p. 36), both of which are very much in evidence in the Budapest of today. His descriptions of the various districts of Budapest are likely to be evocative for Budapestians and visitors alike (my favorite district of the city is the 11th, home to the historic Gellért hotel on the west bank of the Danube).
Budapestians will already know that Budapest, before 1873, was three separate cities – Buda and Óbuda (“Old Buda”) on the heights west of the Danube, and Pest on the flatlands east of the great river. What visitors may not know is how different the cities were from one another, as when Lukacs remarks that “Buda (and to some extent Óbuda) was largely German-speaking, conservative, Catholic, and loyal to Habsburg rule” (p. 70).
But once it became one city, Budapest grew with astonishing rapidity, and displayed a degree of social mobility that might have seemed impossible in other parts of Hungary.
Lukacs captures well the chaotic nature of Hungarian party politics of that time, with a look forward toward the disastrous chain of decisions that would propel Hungary and its senior partner Austria into the blood and tragedy of the Great War. A nationalistic movement that despised liberalism – a movement whose growth showed only too clearly the uncertain position of the Jewish minority within Budapest and Hungary – grew steadily in strength during the early 20th century. The impact of such movements would become only too clear during the two world wars.
A final chapter, titled “Since Then,” takes the reader through the turbulent century that follows 1900: the Great War, with Austro-Hungarian defeat followed by the 1920 Treaty of Trianon that deprived Hungary of two-thirds of its pre-war territory; the Second World War, where an alliance with Nazi Germany led to Nazi occupation, with all the horrors of the Holocaust unleashed upon the Jewish population of Budapest and Hungary; the establishment of a pro-Soviet regime during the post-World War II years, and the 1956 revolution against that regime.
Lukacs wrote Budapest 1900 in 1988, at a time when tourists were returning in droves to Budapest. Hungary was still a communist country then, but was one where the regime was not as harsh as in other East Bloc countries like East Germany or Romania. When Lukacs wrote in 1988 that “a new chapter in the history of Budapest has begun” (p. 224), his words were prophetic; within one year, Hungary would make the transition to democracy, creating the first lasting break in a 40-year-old Iron Curtain.
Budapest 1900 is well-illustrated, with a wealth of photographs that brought back vividly to my mind the facets of Budapest that make it one of my favorite cities. It reminded me of how much I enjoyed living in Hungary in 2011, and it makes me want to revisit Budapest someday.
Lukacs, a history professor who taught for decades at Chestnut Hill College and wrote over 30 books during his career, was Hungarian by birth, and therefore it is understandable that he was interested in composing Budapest 1900 as A Historical Portrait of a City and Its Culture (the book’s subtitle).
The book begins with a description of how the death of painter Mihály Munkácsy in May of 1900 was commemorated by a funeral on the scale of the one that Paris gave for Victor Hugo; Lukacs, who finds Munkácsy to be an artist of limited talent at best, writes of the funeral that, “As so often in the history of Magyar intellect and art, worldwide fame was one thing, true merit another; and the two would rarely correspond” (p. 8). That dry, mildly irreverent outlook on Hungarian life and culture at this crucial point in the life of Budapest is characteristic of the book.
Budapest was not the capital of an independent Hungary in 1900; Hungary was then part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. But in contrast to its status as a conquered province after a failed 1848 revolution against Austrian rule, Hungary in 1900 was a powerful junior partner in the empire, under a system known as the “dual monarchy.” Within that context, Budapest grew and thrived as a city, and became a center of innovation in artistic, literary, and cultural fields.
Part of the charm of Budapest 1900 is the way in which Lukacs takes us behind the scenes of that thriving, dynamic fin-de-siècle time. We learn, for example, that “In 1900 in Budapest the painters’, sculptors’, and architects’ habitual coffeehouse was the Japan on Andrássy Avenue” (p. 10) – something that I thought about while visiting a comparably famous Budapest artists’ hangout, the New York Café, when I lived in Hungary in 2011.
Lukacs captures well the peculiar strain of melancholy in Hungarian life at a number of points throughout Budapest 1900, as when he writes that “The deepest, the truest sound of Magyar prose is not than of a canting and chanting violin; it is that of a cello” (p. 12). Such a finding might be surprising to Budapest visitors who find that a violin-heavy live band is an inescapable feature of almost every traditional Hungarian restaurant in the city; but there is nonetheless much truth in what Lukacs says.
Lukacs also brings to the writing of Budapest 1900 his thoroughgoing knowledge of the often tragic history of Budapest and Hungary, as when he states that November is the saddest month in Budapest’s civic life and then gives his reasons why:
The greatest tragedies in the history of modern Hungary – the execution of thirteen martyred Hungarian generals after the collapse of the War of Independence in 1849; the collapse of the ancient monarchy in the defeat of the First World War in 1918; the collapse of the deeply torn and divided effort to free Hungary from its deadly alliance with Hitler’s Reich in 1944; the collapse of the great national rising in 1956, centered in Budapest – all happened in October or early November. For Budapest in 1900, the last three of these great tragedies were still unknown. (p. 12)
Lukacs also comments well on what makes the Hungarian language unique among the languages of the Old World, as “the Magyar language is an orphan among the languages of Europe. It does not belong to the great Latin, Germanic, or Slavic language families. Mostly because of this, Hungarian literature had no echoes, no reverberations, no reputation beyond Hungary” (p. 15), and those Hungarian writers who did achieve an international reputation did so only by ceasing to write in Hungarian for Hungarian audiences. As an example of this problem, Lukacs brings up the examples of three major writers from 1900 Budapest – Tamás Kóbor, Ferenc Körmendi, and Gyula Krúdy – and I must admit that, while I lived in Hungary for six months, and tried to learn all I could in that time regarding Hungarian life and culture, I have never heard of any of these writers. Az én veszteségem (my loss).
At times, it seems almost as if Lukacs wants to psychoanalyze the Budapest, and the Hungary, of the year 1900. Considering the influence that Freudian theory wielded in Vienna at that time, Lukacs observes that “Long after 1900, Freud’s influence in Budapest was slight”, and then goes on to offer this explanation – one relating to the peculiar qualities of the Magyar language as mentioned above: “One of the reasons for this is the declarative character of the Hungarian language and of Hungarian habits of speech. There is this odd contradiction of the Hungarian temperament: a deep masculine reserve, but without the inclination to hide one’s prejudices, loves, and hates” (p. 24).
Lukacs’s appreciation for the city of Budapest is evident, and many Budapest residents would no doubt agree with Lukacs that “The Turks who ruled Buda for a century and a half (from 1541 to 1686) brought with them little that remained enduring, save for two things: roses and baths” (p. 36), both of which are very much in evidence in the Budapest of today. His descriptions of the various districts of Budapest are likely to be evocative for Budapestians and visitors alike (my favorite district of the city is the 11th, home to the historic Gellért hotel on the west bank of the Danube).
Budapestians will already know that Budapest, before 1873, was three separate cities – Buda and Óbuda (“Old Buda”) on the heights west of the Danube, and Pest on the flatlands east of the great river. What visitors may not know is how different the cities were from one another, as when Lukacs remarks that “Buda (and to some extent Óbuda) was largely German-speaking, conservative, Catholic, and loyal to Habsburg rule” (p. 70).
But once it became one city, Budapest grew with astonishing rapidity, and displayed a degree of social mobility that might have seemed impossible in other parts of Hungary.
Lukacs captures well the chaotic nature of Hungarian party politics of that time, with a look forward toward the disastrous chain of decisions that would propel Hungary and its senior partner Austria into the blood and tragedy of the Great War. A nationalistic movement that despised liberalism – a movement whose growth showed only too clearly the uncertain position of the Jewish minority within Budapest and Hungary – grew steadily in strength during the early 20th century. The impact of such movements would become only too clear during the two world wars.
A final chapter, titled “Since Then,” takes the reader through the turbulent century that follows 1900: the Great War, with Austro-Hungarian defeat followed by the 1920 Treaty of Trianon that deprived Hungary of two-thirds of its pre-war territory; the Second World War, where an alliance with Nazi Germany led to Nazi occupation, with all the horrors of the Holocaust unleashed upon the Jewish population of Budapest and Hungary; the establishment of a pro-Soviet regime during the post-World War II years, and the 1956 revolution against that regime.
Lukacs wrote Budapest 1900 in 1988, at a time when tourists were returning in droves to Budapest. Hungary was still a communist country then, but was one where the regime was not as harsh as in other East Bloc countries like East Germany or Romania. When Lukacs wrote in 1988 that “a new chapter in the history of Budapest has begun” (p. 224), his words were prophetic; within one year, Hungary would make the transition to democracy, creating the first lasting break in a 40-year-old Iron Curtain.
Budapest 1900 is well-illustrated, with a wealth of photographs that brought back vividly to my mind the facets of Budapest that make it one of my favorite cities. It reminded me of how much I enjoyed living in Hungary in 2011, and it makes me want to revisit Budapest someday.
October 17, 2007
My family is from the Budapest area and left around the time of World War I. I was in a bookstore one afternoon and stumbled across this book which I thought might provide an interesting glimpse of what my great great grandfather's life was like. If you're interested in Budapest, this is only English language book I know of that covers this time period. And it's remarkably good, you can almost smell the market streets and hear the murmurs from the cafe bars...
January 17, 2008
This is one of the best books on a cities I have ever read. Lukacs does a great job describing Budapest as it was in 1900. By comparing Budapest with Vienna and Paris at the same time in history he helps put Budapest in it historical contact. Likewise by and contrasting it with the Budapest of today the reader becomes aware of the many changes the city has gone through over the passing of time.
January 14, 2022
The Colors, Words, Sounds of chapter one embraces you, gives you a twirl and sits you down in a Budapest coffee shop to view the city as the new century begins.
Author Luckacs does not provide a picture, rather he paints a portrait, each chapter provides another brush stroke with the people, politics, artistry, architecture and troubles that make up this ‘little brother’ to Vienna and the other great European capitals.
In a mere 226 pages he has a lot to cover. Fleeing Hungary as an adult just as the communists were taking over after World War 2, he came to the United States and became a professor of history, quite an accomplishment.
With that background he has a lot to draw him into digressions. Trying to restrict himself to Budapest, it is difficult for him to not combine the history of the country and the region. If there is one slight fault, he has to continual tell you that he is holding back for the sake of the focus of the book. A city map and a variety of pictures help paint the scene.
One of my Grandfather’s left the countryside on his way to the USA in 1906. He paused in Budapest, what a wonder it must have been to him, and it gave me a glimpse into the era,
A great read that has me more curious about the country and the author’s works.
Author Luckacs does not provide a picture, rather he paints a portrait, each chapter provides another brush stroke with the people, politics, artistry, architecture and troubles that make up this ‘little brother’ to Vienna and the other great European capitals.
In a mere 226 pages he has a lot to cover. Fleeing Hungary as an adult just as the communists were taking over after World War 2, he came to the United States and became a professor of history, quite an accomplishment.
With that background he has a lot to draw him into digressions. Trying to restrict himself to Budapest, it is difficult for him to not combine the history of the country and the region. If there is one slight fault, he has to continual tell you that he is holding back for the sake of the focus of the book. A city map and a variety of pictures help paint the scene.
One of my Grandfather’s left the countryside on his way to the USA in 1906. He paused in Budapest, what a wonder it must have been to him, and it gave me a glimpse into the era,
A great read that has me more curious about the country and the author’s works.
June 23, 2022
Bár én a magyar kiadást olvastam, amely némiképp eltér az angoltól, John Lukacs műveltsége és tájékozottsága nem hagy kétséget afelől, hogy egy hiteles képet fog kapni az olvasó, aki veszi a fáradságot, hogy elolvassa ezt a kormetszetet. Engem leginkább az építészeti és várostörténeti fejezete ragadott meg a könyvnek, de mind a társadalmi rétegződés, mind az iparosodás tendenciái igen jól lekövethetőek. Az irodalmi és főképp a politikai életet bemutatni hivatott fejezetekkel voltak fenntartásaim, egy ponton már csak pártok, nevek és ideológiák egymásra dobált halmaiból állt a történet, úgy hiszem, ott azért érdemes lett volna kissé feldúsítani az írást az adatbőséget ellensúlyozandó. A kötet eleje rendkívül inspiráló, a tavaszi virágok illatát Budáról hozó szél képe és számos már-már lírai megfestése a kornak bizony igen nagyban elüt az utolsó fejezetek száraz politikai összefoglalásától, ezért kiváltképp ajánlom a Budapesttel megismerkedni kívánó olvasókkal a kötet első 2/3-át, gyorsan rá fognak érezni a kiegyezéskori Budapest hangulatára, ismerősként köszöntik a Márványmenyasszonyt vagy a régi Városház teret. Roppant alapos bibliográfia igazítja útba a téma iránt érdeklődőket a kötet végén, a fejezetek között pedig számos korabeli budapesti fotón láthatjuk a hétköznapok életképeit. Remekbe szabott kis könyv!
June 17, 2009
The author is too close to his subject to know when he is providing a glimpse of the time and place and when he is descending into impenetrable minutiae. But he does provide glimpses in and amongst the minutiae, so the book is worth reading for anyone who has more than a passing interest in Budapest or Austria-Hungary or Central and Eastern Europe.
The books is also full of such unfortunate blanket statements as "Hungarians are good listeners", and one often has the sense that descriptions of Budapest in 1900 have more to do with the author's romantic and poetic vision than with anything else. Finally, he often expects the reader to simply take his word for something -- e.g. "X is the best prose writer in Hungarian -- or in Europe -- of the 20th c." without giving any reason other than his utter confidence in his judgment to believe that to be the case, since, unfortunately, X has not been published in English, but then of course how could he be since Hungarian is utterly untranslatable? Sigh.
The books is also full of such unfortunate blanket statements as "Hungarians are good listeners", and one often has the sense that descriptions of Budapest in 1900 have more to do with the author's romantic and poetic vision than with anything else. Finally, he often expects the reader to simply take his word for something -- e.g. "X is the best prose writer in Hungarian -- or in Europe -- of the 20th c." without giving any reason other than his utter confidence in his judgment to believe that to be the case, since, unfortunately, X has not been published in English, but then of course how could he be since Hungarian is utterly untranslatable? Sigh.
February 21, 2020
An excellent account of life in Budapest at a time of intellectual and economic ferment across Europe. Hungary was an embedded part of the powerful Austro-Hungarian Empire with Dual Monarchy. Hungary's territories stretched far and wide, all the way to the Adriatic. Budapest was a city with some of the best utilities and accommodations of the day. Picture a city on a winter evening with quiet streets without cars and with gas streetlights casting a warm glow on the evening walkers. Budapest apparently had as many as six hundred coffeehouses at the time, which were somewhat stratified by occupation, ethnicity, and status. Many books and works of art were created wholly on a coffeehouse table in those days. Imagine street level flats with warm fireplaces alight in the evening and visible to the passersby. Opera and concerts available almost every evening for a little as a few pennies. Professor Lukacs has written several important books, and I think this one is the place to begin an acquaintance.
September 25, 2007
i read this book back in 92 before i went to live in hungary. i don't remember much of this book, just the history class i took in budapest. i think the book gave me a little bit of background, but not much. hungary is an intense place to live because you live in all its history visibly. it's all in the buildings the music etc..
November 10, 2013
I've read and re-read this book. I love it because it describes the world my parents were born into, a world so very different from my own.
September 28, 2023
the last thirty pages were so unreasonably painfully good and this book would get an easy five stars if the whole thing had been like that but alas. but also, if you have ever hidden in a cellar from the nazis you can kinda write whatever and however you want forever
August 7, 2007
Bought for my free Delta trip to Budapest (don't forget to vote at www.delta.com/challenge - team name "AWESOMEST BROTHERS") This book was fairly dull and mostly a pain to read. It provided some pleasant and interesting moments, but if I wasn't traveling to Budapest as I read it, I doubt those moments would hold up.
August 28, 2012
I agree with some of the other reviews here: this book, while undoubtedly well-researched, is thinly sourced and at times highly speculative. (How do we know how pleasant the smell of the city was?) That said, the book won me over the more I read. It manages to be a highly readable snapshot of a city while giving an in-depth view at the social undercurrents of late 19th century European life.
October 9, 2015
El clásico sobre la ciudad más bella de todas las que atraviesa el Danubio. La radiografía de una época, una clase dirigente y una cultura mitteleuropea. A Lukacs se le escapan algunos temas o profundizar en determinados aspectos, pero es una interesante aproximación a una ciudad en un momento culminante.
January 20, 2013
While focusing on one city and a small sliver of time from the distant era of empires and the creation of nation states, the author weaves a fascinating tale that captures the changing demographics and shifting cultural climates that impact the character of Hungary today.
August 2, 2015
Budapest 1900 documents the city in considerable detail. It is clearly a labor of love John Lukacs. I was surprised to discover the intellectual quality of Budapest in 1900. It is a valuable glimpse into the vanished world of yesterday.
April 12, 2020
This detailed discussion of Budapest culture might be very interesting to someone who was already familiar with Budapest or the people discussed in the book; as someone who has never been there, I found it less engaging.
March 21, 2012
A wonderfully evocative look at Budapest in the year 1900. Not confined to a narrow perspective though. Excellent. I cannot wait to visit!
August 11, 2011
This book offers a cultural history of early 20th century Budapest. Very detailed and well-written, and quite interesting, even for someone with a limited knowledge of Hungarian history.
August 16, 2011
great portrait of budapest at the turn of the last century. read most of this before visiting the city in 2010 and gained a good feel for the history of the place.
May 15, 2019
''In 1900 Budapest was the youngest of the great metropolises of Europe (perhaps, expect for Chicago, of the world). In twenty-five years its population had trebled and its buildings hade doubled, and the city was pulsing with physical and mental vigor.''
This quote (the first line in the introduction) sums up the city of Budapest and its life around the year 1900. It sums up the backdrop for the whole book. John Lukacs portrays a city in rapid motion, unlike its twin capital Vienna (these are very alike on some aspects, but infinitely different on others) it is a city that is born around 1900. Vienna already had its identity, the great burst of artistic and creative talents (Klimt, Schiele, Bahr, Musil and many more) could be described as the ripe fruit of the centuries old capital of mitteleuropa. Budapest wasn't even a city before 1873 when three provincial cities merged into one. Budapest had its zenith in 1900, Vienna had already had many great zeniths, for Budapest these years of prosperity is something truly special. Whose remains all those who visit Budapest walk on.
For anyone who wants to understand Budapest and Hungary at large this book is compulsory reading! It is particularly relevant now that Hungary has occupied a larger role in media and European life. Terms such as xenophobic, authoritarian or eastern are increasingly thrown at Hungary in the media in our times. These terms do not build any understanding. At best they are simplifications, at worst blatant lies.
I wanted to write that Lukacs is a great writer, but as I just read that he passed away just tree days ago this is sadly not the truth. But he most definitely was! I read Budapest 1900 in less than seven days, and for a book containing small footnotes at almost every page it is telling of how immersive the book is. I never found myself bored, or confused. His world of 1900 is living, sad, funny, bizarre (the politics of 1900 is possibly an even larger clown show than in current times). Yet this reverie into the past and nostalgic reminiscences of a time gone is not what I take with me. It is the relevance of Budapest 1900 today. Not only is the Budapest of today built on, and still retains a lot that first came to be in the turn of the century, it also explains a lot about the conflicting Europe of today.
I could write more about this book and my thoughts about it, about brilliant contemporary luminaries such as Ady, Bartók, Lechner, Krudy and many more largely unknown and underappreciated figures outside of Hungary. I think I have put my main thoughts into words. The sparkling of zestful details and the art of portraying Budapest around 1900, its inhabitants, atmosphere and lessons Lukacs does beautifully in his book!
4.5
This quote (the first line in the introduction) sums up the city of Budapest and its life around the year 1900. It sums up the backdrop for the whole book. John Lukacs portrays a city in rapid motion, unlike its twin capital Vienna (these are very alike on some aspects, but infinitely different on others) it is a city that is born around 1900. Vienna already had its identity, the great burst of artistic and creative talents (Klimt, Schiele, Bahr, Musil and many more) could be described as the ripe fruit of the centuries old capital of mitteleuropa. Budapest wasn't even a city before 1873 when three provincial cities merged into one. Budapest had its zenith in 1900, Vienna had already had many great zeniths, for Budapest these years of prosperity is something truly special. Whose remains all those who visit Budapest walk on.
For anyone who wants to understand Budapest and Hungary at large this book is compulsory reading! It is particularly relevant now that Hungary has occupied a larger role in media and European life. Terms such as xenophobic, authoritarian or eastern are increasingly thrown at Hungary in the media in our times. These terms do not build any understanding. At best they are simplifications, at worst blatant lies.
I wanted to write that Lukacs is a great writer, but as I just read that he passed away just tree days ago this is sadly not the truth. But he most definitely was! I read Budapest 1900 in less than seven days, and for a book containing small footnotes at almost every page it is telling of how immersive the book is. I never found myself bored, or confused. His world of 1900 is living, sad, funny, bizarre (the politics of 1900 is possibly an even larger clown show than in current times). Yet this reverie into the past and nostalgic reminiscences of a time gone is not what I take with me. It is the relevance of Budapest 1900 today. Not only is the Budapest of today built on, and still retains a lot that first came to be in the turn of the century, it also explains a lot about the conflicting Europe of today.
I could write more about this book and my thoughts about it, about brilliant contemporary luminaries such as Ady, Bartók, Lechner, Krudy and many more largely unknown and underappreciated figures outside of Hungary. I think I have put my main thoughts into words. The sparkling of zestful details and the art of portraying Budapest around 1900, its inhabitants, atmosphere and lessons Lukacs does beautifully in his book!
4.5
March 15, 2017
This really is the most astonishing book. The author is a professor (now emeritus) of history at John Hopkins, but he regularly abandons many or most of the conventions of academic historiography. This is not a criticism — one cannot fault a book by the standards of a genre to which it has no intention of belonging. But it's worth remembering that this is a very strange work.
Some hint that this is not quite a typical academic work comes in the daring dedication: 'Dedicated to Monsignor Béla Varga, A God-Given Incarnation or what is Noble and Best in Magyar Humanism' (I assume the Hungarian text next to it is a direct translation). Béla Varga was a Catholic priest and politician of agrarian-conservative and anti-Soviet leanings, who like Lukacs spent the Communist period in exile in the United States. That sets the tone for a book that was written in the late 20th century but seems generally to belong to a different era.
This is not really history in the conventional sense. It's a book of memory, but memory for an era of which the author can have had no personal experience. He was born in 1924, a quarter of a century after the era he describes. This is memory born of study, not experience, but no less emotive for that.
One can almost image Lukacs exclaiming, like Waugh's Charles Ryder that, his theme is 'memory, that winged host that soared about me one grey morning of wartime'.
One can imagine this for a few reasons. To begin with, Lukacs' prose style is ever bit as purple as Waugh's. He has self-consciously cast himself in the mould of a 19th-century belle-lettrist. Even by this standard, however, he can be fairly overwrought. Take, for instance, this passage:
Other generalisations of an equally jaw-dropping nature pepper the pages. My favourite is the lapidary pronouncement that 'the Hungarian mind inclined toward psychosis rather than neurosis'.
There is clearly much that is absurd about this. Indeed, there is little that isn't. But there is more to the book than its absurdities. Lukacs is an erudite guide who generally manages to organize his material well. His biases, which are always worn on his sleeve, are fundamentally liberal and humane. With occasional lapses, he is not blindly nostalgic. Nor is he a jingoist: although unabashedly patriotic, he is also unabashedly cosmopolitan and disdainful of narrow provincialism.
His style, however mannered, is always enjoyable. Indeed, it is enjoyable in no small part because it is so mannered. One is reminded of Fowler who, whilst warning in the strongest terms against needless archaism, concedes that 'There are, indeed, a few writers—Lamb is one of them—whose uncompromising terms, "Love me, love my archaisms", are generally accepted'. Lukacs must surely join Lamb in this company. Not every reader will love either his archaicisms or him, but those who are at least prepared to put up with both will be richly rewarded.
Some hint that this is not quite a typical academic work comes in the daring dedication: 'Dedicated to Monsignor Béla Varga, A God-Given Incarnation or what is Noble and Best in Magyar Humanism' (I assume the Hungarian text next to it is a direct translation). Béla Varga was a Catholic priest and politician of agrarian-conservative and anti-Soviet leanings, who like Lukacs spent the Communist period in exile in the United States. That sets the tone for a book that was written in the late 20th century but seems generally to belong to a different era.
This is not really history in the conventional sense. It's a book of memory, but memory for an era of which the author can have had no personal experience. He was born in 1924, a quarter of a century after the era he describes. This is memory born of study, not experience, but no less emotive for that.
One can almost image Lukacs exclaiming, like Waugh's Charles Ryder that, his theme is 'memory, that winged host that soared about me one grey morning of wartime'.
One can imagine this for a few reasons. To begin with, Lukacs' prose style is ever bit as purple as Waugh's. He has self-consciously cast himself in the mould of a 19th-century belle-lettrist. Even by this standard, however, he can be fairly overwrought. Take, for instance, this passage:
It is not only that the owl of Minerva that flies at dusk; it is also that the best writers of Hungary, living in Budapest around 1900, had autumn in their hearts. The instruments of their internal music were not springtime violins, or the summery bravura of the gypsy bands whose music in the summer mixed with the crunch of the gravel and with the clanging of the dishes in the open-air taverns and restaurants. The deepest, the truest sound of Magyar prose is not that of the canting and chanting violin; it is that of a cello.
Other generalisations of an equally jaw-dropping nature pepper the pages. My favourite is the lapidary pronouncement that 'the Hungarian mind inclined toward psychosis rather than neurosis'.
There is clearly much that is absurd about this. Indeed, there is little that isn't. But there is more to the book than its absurdities. Lukacs is an erudite guide who generally manages to organize his material well. His biases, which are always worn on his sleeve, are fundamentally liberal and humane. With occasional lapses, he is not blindly nostalgic. Nor is he a jingoist: although unabashedly patriotic, he is also unabashedly cosmopolitan and disdainful of narrow provincialism.
His style, however mannered, is always enjoyable. Indeed, it is enjoyable in no small part because it is so mannered. One is reminded of Fowler who, whilst warning in the strongest terms against needless archaism, concedes that 'There are, indeed, a few writers—Lamb is one of them—whose uncompromising terms, "Love me, love my archaisms", are generally accepted'. Lukacs must surely join Lamb in this company. Not every reader will love either his archaicisms or him, but those who are at least prepared to put up with both will be richly rewarded.
February 6, 2025
A historical portrait of a city and its culture
A friend kindly lent me this book while we were visiting that interesting city last month. It makes a good start, as it describes how Budapest's population had trebled and its buildings had doubled in number between 1875 and 1900, and how the city was "pulsing with physical and mental vigour" (p xiii). The author attempts to compensate for the comparatively large amount of interest that has been shown in that period in the life of Vienna, Budapest's sister city in the Austro-Hungarian Empire but, while there's a lot of detail presented about things like the number of telephones and coffee-houses, and the city's role in the development of the first electric locomotive, I found my attention beginning to wander during the account of the inhabitants of the city.
The peg on which this part of the book is initially hung is an account of the elaborate funeral of a internationally famous Hungarian painter who'd died early in that year; the fact that I'd never heard of him, or - more damagingly - almost all of the artists, writers, musicians and politicians that are subsequently paraded through these pages is - of course - a failing in me rather than them, but the contrast with contemporaneous Vienna is apparent.
Ironically, I found my interest reawakened towards the end of the book, where the subsequent history of the city is briefly sketched in: this includes an account of the savagery of the Russian troops against the civilian population following the end of the siege of Budapest in February 1945. The fact that Hungary had reluctantly been drawn into the war by the Germans the previous October serves to make this (if possible) still more bitter; moreover, the author has personal experience of life during and after the siege, which is compellingly put to use in his writing here.
To wish for more of this aspect of the story is probably to wish for a different book, but I think it'd be one that I'd - regrettably - find more interesting than this one.
Originally reviewed 30 September 2011
A friend kindly lent me this book while we were visiting that interesting city last month. It makes a good start, as it describes how Budapest's population had trebled and its buildings had doubled in number between 1875 and 1900, and how the city was "pulsing with physical and mental vigour" (p xiii). The author attempts to compensate for the comparatively large amount of interest that has been shown in that period in the life of Vienna, Budapest's sister city in the Austro-Hungarian Empire but, while there's a lot of detail presented about things like the number of telephones and coffee-houses, and the city's role in the development of the first electric locomotive, I found my attention beginning to wander during the account of the inhabitants of the city.
The peg on which this part of the book is initially hung is an account of the elaborate funeral of a internationally famous Hungarian painter who'd died early in that year; the fact that I'd never heard of him, or - more damagingly - almost all of the artists, writers, musicians and politicians that are subsequently paraded through these pages is - of course - a failing in me rather than them, but the contrast with contemporaneous Vienna is apparent.
Ironically, I found my interest reawakened towards the end of the book, where the subsequent history of the city is briefly sketched in: this includes an account of the savagery of the Russian troops against the civilian population following the end of the siege of Budapest in February 1945. The fact that Hungary had reluctantly been drawn into the war by the Germans the previous October serves to make this (if possible) still more bitter; moreover, the author has personal experience of life during and after the siege, which is compellingly put to use in his writing here.
To wish for more of this aspect of the story is probably to wish for a different book, but I think it'd be one that I'd - regrettably - find more interesting than this one.
Originally reviewed 30 September 2011
December 24, 2024
"Vienna may have been neurotic; Budapest was not. there were plenty of troubles, dissatisfactions, shadows, darknesses in the life of the city; but there was, as yet, no definite desire to break with the past and no self-conscious doubts about the future. Within Magyar pessimism there is the sad music of the futility of human endeavors, but none of that Germanic Angst: the tone is often melancholy, but the appetite for life -- including the material pleasures of words, sounds colors, taste and touches -- abounds. The Hungarian mind inclines to psychosis rather than to neurosis..." (24-5)
"[The Jewish population] was unusually large, having grown fro m16 percent in 1872 to 21.5 percent in 1900. Karl Lueger, the selectively but definitely anti-Semitic Mayor of Vienna, allowed to deliver himself of the epithet 'Judapest' on occasion. (His dislike of Hungarians was stronger than his dislike of Jews.)" (95)
"The Hungarian mind (as again Szerb wrote, elsewhere), 'tends to monologue, rather than to dialogue.' This tendency does not, as is otherwise often the case, mean the monopolizing of conversations, since Hungarians are, by and large, good listeners. But this habit of the monologue, and the consequent and virtual absence of dialogue, has had disastrous political consequences. Hungarians are not a voluble people, except in their public speeches and statements." (109-10)
"[T]he growing movement of hearts and minds was from the 'Left' to the 'Right' rather than the other way around; from an old liberalism to a new awakened nationalism; from tolerance to intolerance. They should have remembered the warnings of the old monarchist and conservative Franz Grillparzer, the Austrian playwright and poet, in 1849: that 'progress may mean the progress ... from humanism through nationalism to bestiality." (194)
"[The Jewish population] was unusually large, having grown fro m16 percent in 1872 to 21.5 percent in 1900. Karl Lueger, the selectively but definitely anti-Semitic Mayor of Vienna, allowed to deliver himself of the epithet 'Judapest' on occasion. (His dislike of Hungarians was stronger than his dislike of Jews.)" (95)
"The Hungarian mind (as again Szerb wrote, elsewhere), 'tends to monologue, rather than to dialogue.' This tendency does not, as is otherwise often the case, mean the monopolizing of conversations, since Hungarians are, by and large, good listeners. But this habit of the monologue, and the consequent and virtual absence of dialogue, has had disastrous political consequences. Hungarians are not a voluble people, except in their public speeches and statements." (109-10)
"[T]he growing movement of hearts and minds was from the 'Left' to the 'Right' rather than the other way around; from an old liberalism to a new awakened nationalism; from tolerance to intolerance. They should have remembered the warnings of the old monarchist and conservative Franz Grillparzer, the Austrian playwright and poet, in 1849: that 'progress may mean the progress ... from humanism through nationalism to bestiality." (194)
November 11, 2022
I started reading this book in September 2022 and even though I put it aside many times, I returned with desire because it truly describes the History of Buda and Pest, the Danube and the culture like a series of Paintings. It's just too bad that it's outdated and he is not alive to create a more modern outlook and Portrait of Budapest.
Of course, it says in the title that it is 1900 The description of a funeral filled with pomp, glamour and colour of the day where such things as the School of Blind Children stepping forward to sing and the grand old man of Hungarian literature, Mór Jókai lifted his hat as the procession passed along Elizabeth Ring. The funeral of Mihály Munkácsy (1844-1900) was another giant funeral in Budapest. Mihály Munkácsy was a Hungarian painter. He earned international reputation with his genre pictures and large-scale biblical paintings.
In 1900, Lukacs says, in Budapest, the painters', the sculptors' and architects' habitual coffeehouse was the Japan on Andrássy Avenue. ... Summer was hot, hotter than Vienna, sultry at times, broken by tremendous thunderstorms, but almost never damp.
The second half or probably latter two-thirds is written like a travel guide indicating all the Hungarian writers and painters and a blurb about them.
"The West ... the Danube enters traditional Hungary at the westernmost village of Deveny. Lukacs writes lines of the most famous poem of twentieth-century Hungary:
"Shall I break through below Deveny/With New Songs For New Times?" 1906 "
Of course, it says in the title that it is 1900 The description of a funeral filled with pomp, glamour and colour of the day where such things as the School of Blind Children stepping forward to sing and the grand old man of Hungarian literature, Mór Jókai lifted his hat as the procession passed along Elizabeth Ring. The funeral of Mihály Munkácsy (1844-1900) was another giant funeral in Budapest. Mihály Munkácsy was a Hungarian painter. He earned international reputation with his genre pictures and large-scale biblical paintings.
In 1900, Lukacs says, in Budapest, the painters', the sculptors' and architects' habitual coffeehouse was the Japan on Andrássy Avenue. ... Summer was hot, hotter than Vienna, sultry at times, broken by tremendous thunderstorms, but almost never damp.
The second half or probably latter two-thirds is written like a travel guide indicating all the Hungarian writers and painters and a blurb about them.
"The West ... the Danube enters traditional Hungary at the westernmost village of Deveny. Lukacs writes lines of the most famous poem of twentieth-century Hungary:
"Shall I break through below Deveny/With New Songs For New Times?" 1906 "
October 5, 2022
The title is more descriptive than you might guess. It is a book about Budapest - its geography, architecture, politics, art, people, and zeitgeist - in the year surrounding around 1900. Zeitgeist isn't the perfect word, but Lukacs didn't write an encyclopedia entry. The first chapter is the highlight of the book: a literate, poetic, ingenious attempt to cut directly to the heart of Budapest as an organic milieu. (That this is no textbook chapter should be clear from the attention he gives to the passionate qualities of the men and women, especially the women, of that time and place.) It's a warmly humane introduction, flashing with enough evocative sentiments that I read it twice. The following chapters are less metaphorical and artistically expressed, but do their part to flesh out this living image of a city.
The book concludes with internal unrest and collapse culminating in the siege and desecration of Budapest in the second World War. Reading the first chapter again, in light of what was to come, draws a clear picture of what was lost in the 20th century.
The book concludes with internal unrest and collapse culminating in the siege and desecration of Budapest in the second World War. Reading the first chapter again, in light of what was to come, draws a clear picture of what was lost in the 20th century.
May 6, 2022
This is an excellent, although detailed, introduction to the rise of Budapest. I read it primarily to learn more about the environment that gave birth to the tremendous flowering of Hungarian genius (albeit much of it in exile) in the first half of the 20th century. I had not known until reading this that Budapest was essentially a late nineteenth century city. It grew like many American cities, drawing ambitious immigrants from its hinterlands. It had an excellent and compulsory education system, with a high literacy rate and secondary school teachers with doctorates. It developed during a time of national consolidation in Europe. Among other things, this generated a multi-lingual population as many residents spoke both Hungarian and another language. The book explains the cultural geography of the city, contrasting Buda and Pest. So there is a lot to learn in here.
February 26, 2023
Man, does this author love Budapest or what? Not in a way that feels like they're covering everything with a rose tint or misrepresenting how things were. Just that a person would have to love something this much to do such in-depth research. Like, at one point as he was talking about the rapid growth of the city, he got so in the weeds that he dropped specific data on how many mailboxes there were in 1860 or something compared to 1900.
This was a nice change of pace for me since I've been reading a lot of fiction to start off the year. It's rather niche, which I think is fun, but that might not appeal as a "general audience" vibe. Some sections were a little dry, and I probably won't remember many (if any) of the names he dropped, which is probably because I never knew how to pronounce any of them so they're not sticking in my brain (whoops).
This was a nice change of pace for me since I've been reading a lot of fiction to start off the year. It's rather niche, which I think is fun, but that might not appeal as a "general audience" vibe. Some sections were a little dry, and I probably won't remember many (if any) of the names he dropped, which is probably because I never knew how to pronounce any of them so they're not sticking in my brain (whoops).
August 9, 2020
The book is an interesting look at the people and events at an approximate time that helps to focus on a transformative period in the history of Hungary. One learns quite a bit about Budapest and its culture. I bogged down on some of the literary names that I had not heard of before. Parts of the book are quite dense with information and reading went more slowly. The book was published in 1988 so the last chapter which highlights post WW2 and Communist occupation ends before the fall of the Berlin Wall. The map and B&W photos provide historical relevance. I visited Budapest for 2 days in 2019 at the end of a Danube River Cruise and the book brought back good memories. I hope to visit again someday with a little deeper understanding of the history.
April 20, 2024
I’m giving this book two ratings. —5stars for Eastern European historians and Hungarians— 3 stars for the causal reader. As a causal reader, I found the detailed descriptions of Buda and Pest daunting. A detailed map would have helped. Also the lengthy list of politicians, artists, musicians, and writers were meaningless. When I skimmed through the lists I did obtain a great overview of what the life was like in Budapest in the years around 1900. The layout and the editing could have been better. Intermittently the font/size of one sentence was slightly smaller. This alteration interrupted the flow of reading.
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