Jacek Dehnel (born 1980 in Gdańsk, Poland) is a Polish poet, writer, translator and painter. He studied at the Warsaw University's MISH College (Interdisciplinary Individual Studies in the Humanities) and graduated from the Polish Language and Literature faculty. His first collection of poems was the last book recommended by the Polish Nobel Prize winner, Czesław Miłosz. A prolific author of ten books of poems, five novels, a few collections of short prose, columns and essays, Dehnel has also translated works of (among others) Philip Larkin, Henry James, Edmund White, Francis Scott Fitzgerald, J.M. Coetzee. His own works were translated into over a dozen languages – in Georgian only one novel is available (Lala, Intelekti, 2022, translated by Miranda Gurgenidze). Together with his husband, Piotr Tarczynski, he writes a cycle of vintage crime novels under the pen name Maryla Szymiczkowa. Dehnel has been awarded literary prizes that include the Kościelski Award and the Paszport „Polityki” and nominated to many others.

Lala

(excerpt)

But first I have to tell you about the ring. My mother, as you know, had a lot of lovely jewellery. And when I went off to Warsaw… that’s a point, do remember that your mother’s to give you some smart clothes to take with you… when I went off to Warsaw, she gave me a beautiful ring, an antique made in Amsterdam, with a large sapphire surrounded by tiny diamonds, so I’d have something for grand outings. So I only wore it for special occasions, and guarded it with my life. Until one day after returning from a ball, at the writers’ union, I think, next morning I looked in my little jewellery box, and the ring wasn’t there. I could remember taking it off the night before and putting it somewhere – on the table, on the chest of drawers? I’d been so sleepy – and the ring had vanished. One servant started looking for it, so did the other, we shifted all the furniture and shook out pockets – nothing. Finally I went to the post office and sent a telegram to Kielce: “Something terrible has happened. Lala”. The reply comes from my mother: “What’s wrong? Pregnant or sick? Mama”. I went back to the post office: “I’ve lost my sapphire ring. Lala”. And another reply: “So what, silly, is your finger getting cold?”.

Translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones