I single this one out because I read it for the podcast, and it was very hard to do for new-to-me reasons. There was the usual technical side of it — I couldn’t have read it without Bogi Takács‘ generous help with Hungarian pronunciation — but also the emotional side of reading a story about being hyphenated, alienated, that was not my own story but kissing-close to it, reversed, aslant. It was difficult to read such a personal, vulnerable, intimate account without the usual patina of fiction between it and me — it was very hard not to feel like I was usurping Dora’s voice as I read some of myself into it.
I hope you’ll read it, or listen to it, or both. Any errors in pronouncing the Hungarian (and there are definitely at least 2 obvious ones I couldn’t fix) are of course my own.