The Writing Retreat(6)

But the plan doesn’t work. In a last-ditch attempt, Kata tries to cast another spell with the witch’s spell books. Eliza’s soul enters the body of a hunter in the woods nearby. Kata and Eliza continue their love affair in Eliza’s new form. Eventually, Kata catches Eliza casting another spell to jump into Kata’s body. She must decide whether to save herself by destroying Eliza or to sacrifice herself for her friend’s existence.

Vallo wrote the book while her own best friend, Mila, was dying of stomach cancer.

“I couldn’t believe it when she got sick.” Vallo picks at a sugar-dusted molasses cookie. “She was so tough. Always the one who wanted to rebel. She loved stealing lipstick from the store. Teasing boys. But I think it’s because she felt safe. Secure. Her father was a rich man, a lawyer.” Though Vallo and Mila were neighbors in Budapest, and both Jewish, they came from vastly different economic backgrounds. Vallo’s father worked in a factory while her mother was a seamstress. The family struggled under Soviet rule and the ongoing economic depression.

“They were older,” Vallo says of her parents. “My mother had me at forty, which I think was an accident. And they were always financially struggling. They worked a lot and expected me to take care of myself, even when I was very young. So I’d entertain myself with books. There was a used bookstore nearby they took me to and there was such a variety to choose from. Nancy Drew, Dostoyevsky; I read it all. And when I got a little older, I would steal from my mother’s purse and buy books myself.” She leans forward, conspiratorial. “That’s when I was able to get what I really liked. The pulp. Mystery, horror. And to my delight, these were the books that had the most sex in them. Hurray! Real sex, I mean, not those stupid romance books with soft embraces in the moonlight.” She rolls her eyes. “That didn’t appeal to me at all.”

Vallo’s known for the “real sex” in her books. “Devil’s Tongue” is considered an early queer classic, with explicit sex scenes that later caused the Hungarian government to censor it.

Vallo has always remained private about her relationships, but has been romantically linked to men and women. However, she has always denied a sexual relationship with Mila.

“I’m so sick of talking about that fucking book,” Vallo says suddenly. She smiles. “You want to talk about ‘Lady X,’ don’t you? The flop? Everyone does.”

Vallo published her second book six years after “Devil’s Tongue,” when she was 25. The book—a more subtle haunted house story about a poor Hungarian family mirroring Vallo’s own—was widely ignored. Her “Devil’s Tongue” fans were disappointed and called the book tedious and slow. For a time, it seemed Vallo was a one-hit wonder.

Then came the dreamlike “Lion’s Rose” four years later, in 1993. Critics hailed it as a return to form. The novel concerns a female gardener who is dying of AIDS. She finds a flower that can give her everlasting life—but only if she stays in the garden. Vallo’s two latest books, “Polar Star” and “Maiden Pink,” are formed around similar themes: changing bodies, the constant whisper of death, the thrill and brutality in sexuality, the intimate connections between women. “Polar Star” (2002) is a quieter and sweeter book, despite its disturbing premise: two elderly women who own a bed-and-breakfast invite one’s young niece to join them in their annual ritual of killing and dismembering a male guest.

The lags between Vallo’s books have expanded; her next, “Maiden Pink,” didn’t come out until 2014. This story centers on a college student who becomes drawn to her professor, a woman with a seemingly supernatural connection to a long-dead poetess. At once a sexually charged love story and an over-the-top murder mystery, like most of Vallo’s books it’s hard to put down.

As Vallo prepares to welcome four unnamed young female writers into her estate for a monthlong writing retreat this winter, one could wonder whether her focus has shifted. Is she going to become a mentor, outwardly facing and fostering talent, instead of disappearing back into her reclusive writer’s life?

“Oh no.” She winks. “I’m always working on something new.”



A text popped up from Sharon, my boss. Where is the Madison proposal???? I need it for the meeting!!!

Shit. I’d totally forgotten about the all-hands-on-deck meeting for one of my projects. Somehow I always managed to block out my work life the second I walked out the glass front doors. I never would’ve expected that I’d be at the same publishing company for six years, having risen up the ranks from bleakly underpaid editorial assistant to bleakly underpaid associate editor. Wren had pushed me to pursue another career even as she’d left to become the beauty editor at a tiny media start-up that had, against all odds, succeeded.

Now Wren was making bank and traveling and wearing designer clothes, all while I was stuck at a failing publisher under a domineering supervisor.

I wanted to ignore Sharon, who’d been freely using my personal cell since I’d stupidly given her my number at a conference in Ohio. But I couldn’t, if only because I didn’t want to let down the other members of the team. So I texted back the location of the files while I felt Roza watching over my shoulder, disgusted at how quickly I responded to Sharon’s demands.

I stared at the ceiling, half listening to the English accent–tinged confessions coming from the TV. Ursula’s innocent question came back to me: How’s your writing going?