The Diary of Geza Csath

by Géza Csáth, Arthur Phillips (Introduction), Peter Reich (Translator)

An acclaimed neurologist widely viewed as Hungary's first contemporary author, Geza Csath was also a morphine addict who shot and killed his wife before killing himself. The diary begins as a clinically graphic depiction of Csath's conquest of dozens of women - from chambermaids to aristocrats - during his tenure as a doctor at a Slovakian health spa in 1912.

Genres: Nonfiction, Biography, Diary, Hungary, Hungarian Literature, Autobiography

178 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1989

About the author

Géza Csáth (born József Brenner; February 13, 1887 – September 11, 1919), was a Hungarian writer, playwright, musician, music critic, psychiatrist and physician.

Reviews

[Lucysnow1851 · Rating 5 out of 5]

Hungarian medical doctor, writer, playwright, musician, music critic, psychiatrist, rapist and Morphine addict. This diary was written in the summer of 1912 while Geza was working at a Spa away from his sweetheart Olga. His struggles with different forms of Morphine and his sexual behavior (both consensual and non) make this book a fascinating read. He was the lovable deviant who even as he is premeditating his crimes, you still like him or at least feel sorry for him. The description of his end, which isn't in the book is a great example of his life:

He married Olga Jónás in 1913. In 1914 he was drafted into the army, and at the front his drug problem worsened so much that he was often sent to medical leave and was finally discharged in 1917. He tried to quit and become a village doctor. His condition further worsened, he became paranoid and by this time his addiction was the central problem of his life, significantly deteriorating his personal relations. In 1919 he was treated at a psychiatric clinic in a provincial hospital, but he fled and returned to his home. On July 22nd he shot and killed his wife with a revolver, poisoned himself and slit his arteries. He was rushed to hospital at Szabadka, but later managed to escape again. He wanted to go to the Moravcsik Psychiatric Hospital, but upon being stopped by Yugoslavian border guards he killed himself by taking poison.
--Wikipedia

[Jim · Rating 5 out of 5]

In the last days of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Géza Csáth was a colorful and rather unsavory character. As a young intern at a Slovakian spa, he made love to all his most presentable female patients while dosing himself with increasingly large doses of morphine and opium. His The Diary of Geza Csath covers the years 1912 and 1913, while he was still a marginally viable person. A few years later (in 1919), though married to his sweetheart, he shoots her to death and, a few weeks later, dies of a drug overdose.

Throughout the diary, he dreams of a life when the drug monkey is not on his back:

12.15 a.m. Today I begin a new era in my life. I must give up my M[orphine] habit for good and relegate use of P[antopon, an opiate] to rare instances. In the last two days, there have been symptoms indicating that my system craves a serious increase in dosage. I must therefore put an end to the perilous game.

But, alas, he never does. He continues to promise himself to stay clean, but sinks deeper and deeper in his drug-filled morass.

A very sobering book.

[Meaghan · Rating 4 out of 5]

My god, what an asshole. I wanted to smack Csath all the way through this book. I don't understand how he was able to sleep with so many women -- his patients, his patients' daughters, IN THE EXAMINING ROOM for crying out loud -- without contracting all sorts of nasty diseases. But I couldn't get enough of this. It was like watching a train wreck. Or the Jerry Springer show.

[Sam · Rating 4 out of 5]

Vile. Misogynistic. Desperation. Morphine. Rape. Pain. Misery. Suffering. Amongst the cruelty lies a perverse honesty. Not every book needs to be morally good. Art addresses problems, doesn't solve them. Drug addiction, irrepressible lascviousness, degeneration and debauchery, these are all parts of life, melancholy-inducing as they may be, they must be written. Artefacts of our barbarity. How else will the aliens know why we self immolated as a species.

[Plumb · Rating 3 out of 5]

The first half is marked by condoms, vaseline, kisses, and cruel games with women; the second half with morphine, vomiting, excrement, paranoia, decrepitude, and lists. The first half was much more entertaining to read, and presented a ruthless bastard of a man who went from woman to woman and expressed his sociopathic coldness openly, and often, and also clearly enjoyed writing about his rotten ways in his diary. It was humourous, in that way that awful things somehow are. His callousness and petty nature had strong comedic timing, and I'm sure he was well aware of it and took pride in it. The second half is bitter, grim, and unravelled into degeneration and addiction. It was not so enjoyable to read.

The diary ends with Dezso Kosztolanyi writing the story of his decline: how he murdered his wife with three bullets and then killed himself with a dose of poison (his second suicide attempt after killing Olga; first he took poison and slit his wrists, but was rescued. He escaped the sanitorium again afterwards and was successful). A tragic end for a talented and intelligent man with a sadistic soul who seemed to leave a pile of shit everywhere he went.

[Sanja Vasic · Rating 3 out of 5]

Dnevnik Geze Čata u izdanju LOM-a i prevodu Save Babića podeljen je na 3 dela i to na: Beleške o letu 1912. godine, Dnevnik i Beleške za D. Dnevnik možemo posmatrati i kao dramu u 3 čina koja prati intimne misli mladog obrazovanog čoveka odraslog na razmeđi 2 veka, stasalog u dvojnoj monarhiji čiji život je obeležen upotrebom opijata koji će mu razoriti um i odvesti ga u ludilo, nasilje i preranu smrt.

U prvom delu dnevnika pratimo život talentovanog pisca, muzičara i marljivog lekara koji je dobio nameštenje u banji preko leta u koju odlazi zajedno sa rođakom Dežeom Kostolanjijem. Nakon prvih dana u banji provedenih u marljivom opremanju ordinacije i upoznavanju sa dužnostima i stalnim pacijentima sledi jedan period posvećen bludničenju prekidan povremenim kajanjima i odlaskom u posetu devojci Olgi i njenoj poseti banji. Tokom ovog perioda povremeno koristi pantopon. Leto 1912. banjskog Kazanove obeleženo je opisima žena koje su mu zapale za oko ili koje su tražile njegovo društvo uz povremene zapise o zdravstvenom stanju pacijenata koje je lečio i analizom socijalnih interakcija i veza kojima je bio okružen u banji. Njegovom oku ne promiče nijedan detalj na ženskom telu, naravi i manirima. Zapljusnuti smo opisima svakog ženskog tela s kojim je došao u dodir bilo da ga je ono neodoljivo privlačilo ili odbijalo. Primećuje se da jedino svojoj devojci/verenici Olgi ne nalazi fizičkih mana ili da su mu one dražesne i da je jedino ona u stanju da mu pruži potpuni višestruki užitak. Leto prožeto raznovrsnim užitcima bliži se kraju i nazire se jesen u dnevničkom zapisu u kom priznaje da je prvi put uzeo dozu kada mu je kolega saopštio da je nazreo prve simptome tuberkuloze kod njega. Upravo mu je ta bolest uvek u podsvesti i redovno je primećuje svuda oko sebe, progoni ga po njegovom sudu.

Drugi deo knjige jednostavnog naslova Dnevnik odvija se nakon povratka iz banje u jesen 1912. i zimu 1913. godine. Nasuprot razigranog perioda leta nastupa otrežnjujuća jesen života i polako se nazire zima i smrt razuma. Redovi za redovima dnevnika ispisani su uredno vođenim uzetim dozama i efektima droge na organizam. Primetna je želja za vođenjem čistog života oslobođenog zavisnosti ali i pored detaljno isplaniranih doza radi olakšavanja oslobođenja od morfijuma plan se nikad ne ispoštuje do kraja. Zavisnost počinje i da boji njegov odnos sa verenicom. Na trenutke mu deluje da je Olga hladna i distancirana a onda opet uviđa svoju zabludu i svestan je da mu je opijum pomutio razum i da ona i njegovi prijatelji pate zbog njegove zavisnosti. Ni u jednom trenutku mu odvikavanje ne deluje kao nemogućnost i brojni neupesi ga ne obeshrabruju. Nižu se taksativno navedeni planovi za život u kojima do tačnina uređuje svoj svakodnevni budući dan i život koji ostaju samo mrtvo slovo na papiru.

Poslednji unos u drugom delu dnevnika datiran je 12. marta 1913. godine pred početak proleća ali kao što ćemo videti u trećem, najkraćem delu knjige naslovljenom kao Beleške za D. proleće nije nikad nastupilo i zavladala je večna hladna zima. Nasuprot prvom i drugom delu dnevnika gde čitamo zapise jedne optimistične, vesele osobe koju upotreba narkotika povremeno baci u okrilje depresije i zabluda sada vidimo da je taj stisak neprobojan i da više nema nade ni želje za slobodom od supstanca. Srce i um su okovani večnim ledom a poimanje realnosti je trajno pomućeno. Više nema ni nade da će dočekati lepu starost poput čika Pište koji je sačuvao polnu moć i da će izgraditi uspešan i ispunjen život. Njegov um prepljavljen je mislima o ženinoj neveri na više frontova i čak ga ni rođenje deteta ne može smiriti i uliti mu nadu u novo proleće zbog ubeđenja da je dete plod i dokaz Olgine prevare. Krivica za sunovrat njegovog života u njegovim beleškama pripisana je u potpunosti ženi a ne opijatima. Ugašena je ljubav prema Olgi a time i prema životu.

[Stephen · Rating 3 out of 5]

Gripping journal by a preening gynecologist/addict as he circles the drain. From early 20th century spa culture in regions around Budapest to the jaded, self-absorbed musings on his relationship with his future wife, Csath's memoirs read like a louche suicide note to masculine hegemony. You hate him and love him at the same time — he is bright, talented, and vital, but forgives himself every transgression, from a romp with a parlor maid to his gradual upticks in his daily opium doses. This is a deeply human chronicle that merits praise as we watch the inevitable rationalizations of the luxuriant stripped of moral constraints. Call it a cautionary tale but admire the glow of the embers as a man allows his genius to burn to ash.

[Nirvana · Rating 5 out of 5]

We are fascinated by terrible people, and terrible people are most fascinating in their own words.

Even better if said terrible person happens to be a brilliant writer.

[Mia Kovač · Rating 3 out of 5]

There is a saying: "Separate art from an artist", usually used when an artist was a piece of sh1t. Well, when it comes to a diary, that cannot be applied. I started reading with zero knowledge of who Csath was (except that he was an addict), and I wanted it that way, so I can base my opinion of him on my own (through his writing). After 12 pages I had to google him, because I couldn't believe what I was reading. Then everything made sense... yes he killed his wife, yes he was unfaithful (even though he never seemed to notice that), yes he was a doctor, but didn't really cared for his patients. The way he saw and used women was horrendous. You can tell this was his diary because of the way he spoke of the things he had done (probably thinking how nobody is gonna read that anyways).
There is a slight mention of his need for success (not as a doctor, but as a writer), and in the end he got what he wanted...he is successful now (after death), but also everyone knows what kind of monster he was. I bet he wanted to be praised, but people are now disgusted by him. I guess he got what he deserved.
The reason I'm giving this book 3 stars is because it was an interesting read. It truly shows the struggles and delusions of an addict. It also showcased how different the times were in 1912/13 regarding medicine and how doctors operated. I mean he was an active addict who still worked for gods sake! And the way he treated his female patients (in the examining room!!!) is now, thankfully, forbidden. He would have most definitely been locked up.

This book made me grateful that today I can at least go to the doctor and not be sexually assaulted, because today females are also doctors.

[StoreSusan · Rating 5 out of 5]

I completely forgot I had signed up for this website and thus also forgot to log when I finished this book.

This is legitimately the most fucked up thing I have ever read, it fucked me up mentally for weeks after I had finished it, and whenever I think of what I read in it I shiver.

To put it simply: Seriously disturbing and endlessly fascinating.

[Góczán Judit · Rating 5 out of 5]

Belebújni egy ember bőrébe, úgy, hogy rajtunk más "ruha" van, más kor, eltérő életkor, nagyon különböző tapasztalatok. Megérteni az embert, a gondolatait, a viszonyait - vagy éppen elutasítani az elfogadhatatlant. Vajon a számunkra milyen helyzetet hoz a sors és hogyan tudjuk megoldani?

[?0?0?0 · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was my second time reading this. It held up, but didn't do much other than remind me precisely of the book I remembered.

[Antonina · Rating 1 out of 5]

Po co?

[Margarete Maneker · Rating 3 out of 5]

As Deszo writes in Csath's obituary, "I must resign myself to the idea that life is not as it portends."

[Alina · Rating 2 out of 5]

Well, seems that sometimes being out of the ordinary can seem so boring. Women and drugs, women and drugs, women and drugs...