One of the ten books in Penguin’s new Central European Classics range The Elephant is a collection of short stories by the Polish author Sławomir Mrożek. Published first in 1957 they were written at a time when Poland was governed by Soviet implemented Communism and it is this ideology which looms large over the majority of the book. Written in the deceptively simple style common to fables, Mrożek satirizes the regime by examining its absurdities and following them to their (il)logical conclusions. The use of this simple style adds to the feeling that the ludicrous events are unavoidable, they are introduced without comment and in punchy sentences and instantly become incontrovertible facts of the world each particular story inhabits.

Comparisons to the work of Franz Kafka are inevitable, with both writers dealing with seemingly senseless and unexplained situations thrust on unquestioning protagonists, although Mrożek seems more attracted to the ridiculous than to the menacing, and the rich comic aspects of his writing are sometimes reminiscent of Roald Dahl. Literary similarities aside, the defining feature of the stories included in this collection is their brevity. The longest is 13 pages, the shortest only one, and most of the others weigh in at about three. This never feels like a weakness of imagination, or a lack of nerve, but is rather a testament to the potency of their content that they can do so much in such a small space. Many of the stories function almost like anecdotal jokes, with the setup, amusing enough in its own right, giving no clue to the final pay-off. Indeed, one of the chapters, titled ‘Golden Thoughts’, is comprised of strange puns and aperçus, for example: “Suicide: when a man puts a pistol, instead of the telephone, to his head.”

Given how short they are, it is difficult in a review to discuss much of the content of any given story without revealing a key twist or plot point. However, it is worth summarising the story ‘Children’ as it seems to offer something of a metaphor of, and explanation for, Mrożek’s own approach to writing. A group of children build a snowman, for which they are then reprimanded by a series of authoritative adults for the perceived jibes it contains: the carrot-nose angers the newsagent who also has a red nose (“Frostbite, not drink,” he explains), the method of construction using three snowballs of decreasing size is libellous because “it’s crystal clear what they meant. They wanted to say that in our Co-operative one thief sits on top of another.” Having had their innocent fun mistakenly perceived as political dissent and personal attack the activity ceases to be enjoyable for the children. So the next day they go out and build an identical snowman, but this time the carrot-nose is a direct attack on the newsagent, the three mounds are a representation of the “Co-op”. Thus an identical activity to the previously innocent one has become tinged with a political awareness which makes it not just fun but meaningful. In just this way Mrożek’s stories would be well worth reading as simply joyous and beautiful pieces of silliness, even if they had no particular didactic or moral function. The fact that they do only serves to make the whole experience even more rewarding

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