Working my way through the free Esperanto ebooks at my disposal, on the train to Leicester this weekend I started a story called “El la vivoj de Esperantistoj” by someone called V. Stankievic. I had no idea what I was letting myself in for, but I’d forgotten to pack one of the more traditional books that I’m currently reading, and it seemed like a good way to pass an hour. I finished it off last night, more out of obstinance than anything else, and a slight curiosity to see whether it was actually for real, or just very heavy irony. If I wanted to be mean, I could make the point that it appears to have been published in Germany in 1896 and thus expecting heavy irony was a bit unrealistic of me. (On a wild tangent, I once had a German friend who, as the closing line to a bitter argument, exclaimed at me in a very reproachful manner, “I have been many things, but at least I have never been ironic!”) Sure enough, it turned out to be a story utterly devoid of irony. Reading it was kind of like watching a train wreck and thinking, “Please make this actually not be for real..!” (more…)