The 1980s Short Prose

Lecturer Cristina Furtună, PhD

“Valahia” University of Târgoviște
Faculty of Political Sciences, Letters and Communication
Letters Department

Abstract
Lost identity is the self-search engine in a world just as unstable and devoid of
personality as the creatures that populate it. The huge gap between what the heroes, the writers’
alter egos, want and what society offers them triggers identity crises and provides temporary
solutions.
The exploitation of the theme of lost identity consists in the detachedly ironic, ludic and
even parodic component of the search for the self.
Love becomes the saving solution in a grey existence, a way to find one’s lost identity,
which all the 1980s characters search for obsessively.
Their life is an incoherent, disorderly movement. They are weak souls, without
personality, mentally dependent on the others’ reactions.
They aspire to love, friendship, warmth, they are on a quest to find themselves through
others because they are lonely. This weakness of the soul emerges from a fragile social macro-
status. A society in which values are inverted generates confused states and the writings which
depict such characters are, in fact, a plea for the deeply human dimension of a derisory existence
and a wake-up call for a state of affairs.

Key words: anguish, confusion, inverted values, incoherence, disorder.

"Prose of the '80s - as stated by the acclaimed theorist Gheorghe Crăciun - was not a
prose of half-truths and did not rely its effects on the snitches (the so-called “rats” or "lizards") or
allusions to faked bravery1. Keeping in contact with everyday reality of the time was possible by
1
Gheorghe Crăciun, foreword to The 80s Generation in Short Prose, Pitești: Editura Paralela 45, 1988, p. 7.

1
means of the literary text, through writing. Thus, it becomes obvious that the representatives of
this generation simply chose the path of aesthetics, of narrative and stylistic strategies as a form
of protest and as a means of self-discovery and fulfillment of the creative self. That is why their
work broke new ground as an experimental and deeply original writing at that time. The
emphasis was placed on writing rather than on current themes as they sought ways of escaping
the harsh reality at the level of aesthetics. During those years, literature knew superior levels of
refinement and highly sophisticated textual subtleties. Nevertheless, the 80s model in literature
still bears the marks of its times and the imprints of the social, political, cultural, and existential
context that has now disappeared, although easily readable through the lines of the text."2
Although the Romanian literature contains very few direct allusions to the precarious
state of the society in the '80s, contemporaries can find a whole and exact picture of their lives
behind the secondary characters - ordinary people or marginalized intellectuals, in hybrid
settings. Every piece of reality was mirrored between the lines, from student hostels, apartments
in dirty blocks, small and cramped flats to the anxieties, frustrations, and deprivations.
Postmodernism inherited the critical dimension in relation to reality and oneself from modernist
aesthetics. However, dealing with the common, trivial daily life is best possible through literary
experience.
Intertextuality is one of the techniques of textualism, alongside metatextuality, self-
referentiality, fragmentation, and collage. The writers belonging to the 80s literary movement
used intertextuality to different extents and with varying degrees of difficulty in their writing.
The term was created and used in structuralist criticism 3, and it refers to the interdependence
between literary texts, starting from the opinion that a literary text is not an isolated
phenomenon, but the absorption and transformation of other works. Here our reference is mainly
to written texts because, for the '80s writers, "it is not the text that is the world, but the world is
perceived as a huge text. The writers no longer believe in a zero milepost of literature: according
to them, everything has already been written4.

2
Gheorghe Crăciun, foreword to The 80s Generation in Short Prose, Pitești: Editura Paralela 45, 1988, p. 7.

3
Mircea Anghelescu; Cristina Ionescu; Gheorghe Lăzărescu. Dictionary of literary terms, Bucharest, Editura
Garamond, 1995, p. 129.

4
Nicolae Manolescu. Prose of Tomorrow. in: România literară no. 52. Bucharest, 1893, p. 9.

2
 Following this thread, the Romanian writers of the 80s integrate into their own work
various quotations from history, philosophy, sociology, newspaper fragments, insert journals,
found manuscripts or letters. The result is a fragmented epic discourse in which temporal order is
reversed, the chronology of events is weary, and the multitude of viewpoints is supported by
alternations of verb tenses, overlapping narrative levels, and various stylistic registers.
The prose writers of the 80s fully make use of irony, playfulness, satire, and grotesque,
reaching the level of sarcasm and cynicism because, as Cristian Moraru noticed, "the ironic
language attacks not only the emphatic and tabooed logorrhea of official speeches but also the
utopian self-assuming evasiveness, even though in the opposite sense... Irony here plays the role
of a textual adjusting system, saving polysemy, symbolic depth, and the aesthetics of the work,
to finally ridicule dogmatism, denounce the other 'truths,' falsely pretentious in the consciousness
of their alleged eternity5.
To better observe how humor is approached in Romanian postmodern prose, our study
will further approach Ioan Groșan’s narrative works. As far as this writer is concerned, the most
important literary critics of the '80s -such as Eugen Simion6, Nicolae Manolescu7, Ion
Negoițescu8, Gheorghe Perian9- all agree upon one thing: Ioan Groșan is a genuine humourist.
An exhaustive analysis of his work cannot but take into account this indisputable quality.
The short narrative, even very short (the critic Nicolae Manolescu calls it a sketch), which opens
the volume "The Cinematic Caravan", has a neutral title - "A Wonderful Morning for a Short
Story." As we will further demonstrate, the title creates false dashed expectations for the reader.
In fact, this is the very place where Ioan Grosan’s hidden source of humour lies. The comic
situations arise from the classic mismatch between what we expect the text to render and what it
truly depicts.
"A Wonderful Morning for a Short Story" recalls a short story, an occurrence taking
place on a beautiful morning, or perhaps the beginning of a fruitful day for someone who, sitting
comfortably in an armchair, attempts to write a short story. But it is not like that. The narrative

5
Cristian Moraru. Towards a New Poetry. ITn: Gheorghe Crăciun (ed.), CCG 80, p. 29.
6
Eugen Simion. Romanian Writers of Today, vol. IV. Bucharest: Editura Cartea Românească, 1989.
7
Nicolae Manolescu. Post-war Romanian Literature. Manolescu’s List, vol. II. Bucharest: Editura Aula, 2001
8
Ion Negoițescu. Contemporary Writers. Pitești: Editura Paralela 45, 2000.
9
Gheorghe Perian. Postmodern Romanian Writers. Bucharest: Editura Didactică și Pedagogică, 1996.

3
starts abruptly, interrupting any moment of reverie, with a "stunning" 10 dialogue, as Nicolae
Manolescu names it.
“Short prose… as far as I understand…” says the manager of the local GOSTAT, leaning
lazily on the carriage’s backseat. We can take you to see the rabbits, but certainly, there is not
much for you to get out of them… while the pheasants are a different kind of thing, they are
more… how should I say….” And he searched for a suitable word for a moment, then dropped it,
and snapped his fingers instead11.
Confusion grows as we realize that the dialogue is perfectly authentic and the reader
expecting a text full of juicy humour is bewitched by the realism of the events.
A young writer and editor wants to write a short story "of three pages, maybe three and a
half." His companions, the director of GOSTAT, and Marț, his assistant, decide that the most
appropriate plot for his story would be pheasant hunting. Still so, the pheasants are not included
in the story. Instead, here comes a majestic stag from behind the trees. Not having a hunting
licence, the director cannot shoot at it, so he ends up hunting crows.
Although the text is very neatly constructed, leaving a strong impression of authenticity
and reality, at the same time, little by little yet in the opposite direction, the text is undermined,
deconstructed, devalued, ridiculed. The young man comes to watch a pheasant hunt because
"with pheasants, it's another kind of thing, there is something more to it..." 12. He cannot write
about stag hunting because "you see, it's something much more than this... it overcomes my
initial intentions..."13. The director cannot shoot the stag because he doesn't have a hunting
licence: he tried to write "a short story, three or four pages, following a hunt," 14 but he doesn't
have a gift for it, and so on. And the examples of taking the entire narrative construction to bits
can continue.

10
Nicolae Manolescu, Post-war Romanian Literature. Manolescu’s List vol. II. București: Editura Aula, 2001, p.
292.

11
Ioan Groșan.O dimineață minunată pentru o proză scurtă. În vol.: The Cinematic Caravan. Bucharest: Editura
Cartea Românească, 1985, p. 15.
12
Ioan Groșan. A Wonderful Morning for A Short Story In vol.: The Cinematic Caravan. Bucharest: Editura Cartea
Românească, 1985, p. 15.

13
Ioan Groșan. A Wonderful Morning for A Short Story In vol.: The Cinematic Caravan. Bucharest: Editura Cartea
Românească, 1985, p. 19

14
Ioan Groșan. A Wonderful Morning for A Short Story In vol.: The Cinematic Caravan. Bucharest: Editura Cartea
Românească, 1985, p. 17.

4
 Ioan Groșan's humour is much finer and more subtle. It does not only stem from the out
of the ordinary, fickle proximity of the short story to pheasant hunting (which eventually turns
into a crow hunt) and the novel to stag hunting. The writer points to the increasing attempts of
many contemporary critics to label the major literary themes into a limiting structure so in the
end what we have are two rigid categories: the major themes reserved for novels and the minor
ones present in short stories, such as novellas, stories, or sketches.
Another subtle reference is made to the totally mistaken conception of lesser writers
thinking that a short story can be written in a fixed number of pages: "I thought you were able to
hunt anything," said the young editor, closing his notebook. "So I can. But only with a licence.
Besides, you wanted pheasants. What can I do if they are nowhere to be found? Can't you write
this stuff about the stag?" "Well, I could," said the young editor, "but, you see, it's something
much more... it more than I intended..." "I understand, I understand," said the director,
pondering. "How many pages did you say it ought to be?" "Three pages, three and a half..."
"Good," the other brightened up all of a sudden. "Let's go somewhere else, and if nothing pops in
there, I'll give the whole thing up. Let's go!"15
In this way, the reader’s dashed expectations are shattered, the inter-game between the
narrator and the reader is in perfect postmodernist atmosphere, the characters and dialogues are
plausible, with the only exception of the stunning nearness of two elements belonging to
completely different fields (literature and hunting), which generates a mild, bitter-sweet humour
that ensures the pleasure of reading. What is attractive in Ioan Grosan’s work is a subtle, light
humour, an air of freshness, and a certain awareness of the text. Everything stops at the level of
the game, a game of sentences, of meanings and of characters. He doesn’t aim at revealing
deeper meanings or approaching forbidden truths.
"Ioan Groșan's prose is simultaneously acclaimed for its humorous quality and its serious
tone,"16 says critic Nicolae Manolescu. But one cannot but notice that this quality is a common
feature of all literary works under discussion. This is because the urban or rural environment,

15
Ioan Groșan. A Wonderful Morning for A Short Story In vol.: The Cinematic Caravan, Bucharest, Editura Cartea
Românească, 1985, p. 19.

16
Nicolae Manolescu., Post-war Romanian Literature. Manolescu’s List vol. II. București: Editura Aula, 2001, p.
293.

5
immersed in monotony and disinterest generated by a linear and routine life, does not bear acute,
dull grayness as it should.
Another short prose writer is NICOLAE ILIESCU.
"In Nicolae Iliescu’s literature, textualism reaches a peak," literary historian Dumitru
Micu states17. Indeed, his stories can serve as a model for a detailed analysis of postmodern
textualist techniques found in the writings of the '80s generation. Authenticity, narrative
interpolations, quotations from renowned authors, reference to self, and the pleasure of playing
with the text offer an enjoyable reading experience in Iliescu's narratives.
In the story "Far away, on Foot," self-referentiality is complete. The author-character,
Nicolae Iliescu, speaks about the novel he is going to write, a novel made of "ten or fifteen short
stories"18 with the same name as our story. The text renders its own conventions and ridicules the
rigidity of literary canons. Eventually, the author includes a bibliography that has nothing to do
with the story itself:
"BIBLIOGRAPHY:
William Shakespeare. 'Sonnets and Poems,' Minerva Editions, 1974
Dr. Harald Thum. 'A multidimensional novel - Gunter Grass, The Heel,' in Tribuna Magazine,
1980 Robert Musil. 'Three Women,' Univers Publishing House, 1970
Julio Cortazar. 'The End of the Game,' ELU Publishing House, 1979
I.L. Caragiale. 'An Easter Torch,' Minerva Editions, 1971
Mihai Eminescu. 'Literary Prose,' Romanian Academy Publishing House, 1977."19
In "Carte Blanche," the two characters in love, both teachers, read "Paris Match," speak French,
reply to each other using quotes or wise thoughts:
"Do you know the Bible?"
"Egy megtalat kony."
"You always have a word like an old bridge."20

17
Dumitru Micu. Romanian Literature in the 20th Century. Bucharest: Editura fundației Culturale Române, 2000, p.
319.

18
Nicolae Iliescu. Far Away on Foot, în vol. omonim. Bucharest: Editura Cartea Românească, 1983, p. 13.
19
Nicolae Iliescu. Far Away on Foot, în vol. omonim. Bucharest: Editura Cartea Românească, 1983, p. 14.
20
Nicolae Iliescu. Carte blanche. În vol. Far Away on Foot, în vol. omonim. București: Editura Cartea Românească,
1983, p. 17.

6
 Their love is but a pretext for inserting side-narrative sequences in the text: a talk in a
hotel room, a class of Romanian language at school, a phone conversation from the countryside
with Bucharest, a decision of the Appeal Committee. The beginning and end are the narrative
framework, meant to open and close a patch of the characters' lives, recorded chaotically and
sequentially:
"I head forward. I open the massive door. I enter.
You head forward. You open the massive door. You enter the hotel lobby shyly.
You exit. You close the massive door. You go forward.
I exit. I close the massive door. I go forward."21
The present tense verbs, personal pronouns in the first or second person, emphasize the
ellipticity of the text. What matters is not the theme of the text, but the form, the outfit that words
wear. The same split text, the same epic coherence shattered by the introduction of passages
from the characters' diaries referring to strange names, also appear in the excerpt entitled "The
Bread Machine."
"Marcu Dobre watches the road, frowning. Marcu Dobre steers the car's wheel to the
hoarse sounds coming the radio on the car’s board. Marcu Dobre honks the horn. Marcu Dobre
looks in the rearview mirror. Marcu Dobre moves his gaze to another mirror placed right in the
middle of the windshield. Marcu Dobre wonders if the old man wearing the black hat and fur
coat showed him the ticket. The smell of gasoline from the back of the car doesn’t stop. The buzz
does neither."
"I was in a not-so-large room,
about double the size of my living room.
A tall, elegant man who introduced himself
as a 'dramatic chronicler' brought stands with dresses. On
One stand there were dresses made of melted fabric, and on the other one
There were dresses made of twill, 'Lee Cooper,' vividly coloured.
He smiled at me and helped me undress. He had
long fingers, and when he put them on my back,
I shivered. I got naked,
completely naked, and what was strange was that I didn't have
21
Nicolae Iliescu. Carte blanche. În vol. Far Away on Foot, în vol. omonim. București: Editura Cartea Românească,
1983, p. 17

7
 the faintest feeling of embarrassment" (Dorina Gheorghițan, commuting legal
consultant).
"You see, it was on a Sunday, or at least so I think, because
my wife had just prepared some food, and some friends
had come over, bringing two green 8x4 deodorant sprays.
And while we were talking and smoking non-filter 'Pall
Mall' and menthol 'Salem,' now telling jokes
then having a drink, I felt the urge to drive
our friends' car. I jumped over the balcony like in
a cape and sword movie and landed directly in
an 'Alfetta' (Șerban Iulian Grăsoiu, 35 years old, commuting doctor)."22

In the end the text sabotages its own established order by alternating the epic sequences
with diary entries. The reader has his horizon of expectations deceived again. Instead of the
expected internal monologue, a fragment from the Train Schedule comes before our eyes. What
we get is a perfectly absurd text, with the author emphasizing it by labeling this fragment as a
"motto."
Cinematic sequences, multiple beginnings employing different characters replying to one
another incoherently- are variations on the same theme of playfulness, also used in the story of
"Sunday's Dagger." The epic thread has its own laws obeying the author's sheer will, as critic
Eugen Simion noted23.
The rigid instance enforced by the author is ridiculed exactly through this disorder,
intertextual indiscipline which casts a touch of unseriousness on the narrative discourse. The
mild ending reveals what the essence of Nicolae Iliescu's writing is—the enjoyment of the
playful game.
"So, someone sets up something, also someone sets up something beautiful, subject-predicate-
complement-attributive, and all the other words stringing on a rope tied at both ends to express
rest after effort. Certainly, for you, the reader, this sentence can be psychoanalyzed, but I

22
Nicolae Iliescu. Carte blanche. În vol. Far Away on Foot, în vol. omonim. Bucharest: Editura Cartea Românească,
1983, p. 128.
23
Eugen Simion. Romanian writers of Today, vol. IV. Bucharest: Editura Cartea Românească, 1989, p. 639.

8
couldn’t care less; I feel here and now a great pleasure, stringing words and words, determining
their mass and specific weight."24
Another writer I have chosen is Mircea Nedelciu.
Mircea Nedelciu, a gifted writer and an important literary theoretician of the 1980s, wrote a
prose that can be used as a case study for all postmodern techniques. His narrative is like a
"divine comedy" – as Carmen Mușat so beautifully called it – "of overlapping and intertwining
voices, writings, genres, and literary species in an extremely alert narrative discourse."25
In the short story "8006 from Obor to Dîlga," the author's sharp ear captures the
commuters’ colourful language in short sequences:
"8006 finally finds its most suitable place and gets more and more replenished. Gioni
crouches and groans quietly, without any ostentation this time. He raises his hand and pulls down
the compartment window. After throwing the cigarette butt with a flick, he gazes at a pillar of the
platform roof. Hundreds of people swarm on the platform. Most of them are known to Gioni S.
He gets out of the toilet, a little more lively and less sleepy, looks at the sky, the few stars still
unlit, the faint red behind the twenty poplars' siren. Suddenly, he jumps to the window, gets his
head out, and yells:
“Sup, you, lazy bastard!”
‘Curse you, jerk!'
Gioni sits back and says, “Dirtbag!”
“Dirtbag”, Piti agrees, the one sitting to the left of Gioni S. Nea Jenică is sitting to the
right side and he seems to be sleeping. In 8006, the prince is respected and feared."26
The platform, the train compartment, and the city are literary settings presented to the
reader in a unique, playful, amiable, and literary manner by means of cinematic sequences. As
one character says, "Clearly, he (the narrator) sees the world cinematically."27
The alternating narrative plans, the kaleidoscopic sequences, are techniques of
intertextuality fully exploited by the author. It's not the occurrence that matters here, but the way
it is told, the discovery of the pleasure of playfulness in the text with provocative delight.

24
Nicolae Iliescu. Sunday’s Dagger. În vol:, Far Away on Foot, în vol. omonim. Bucharest: Editura Cartea
Românească, 1983, p. 144.
25
Carmen Mușat. Strategies of Subversion. Pitești: Editura Paralela 45, 2002, p. 241.

26
Mircea Nedelciu. 8006 from Obor to Dîlga. In vol. Short Prose. Bucharest: Editura Compania, 2003, p. 49.
27
Mircea Nedelciu. 8006 from Obor to Dîlga. In vol. Short Prose Bucharest: Editura Compania, 2003, p. 57.

9
 "He leans forward and snatches a wheatgrass root, which he throws as far as possible,
beyond the fence, in the ditch next to the road. He takes a few more steps to the other end of the
vineyard. Sight is the most noble of the human senses, you are going to tell yourself when you
get there. It rules over the other ones, it controls and perfects them. You are going to see those
grapes and examine their infinite hues; you are going to return the next day only to notice the
changing of those hues.
By simply glancing at them, you will get their taste, aroma, and smoothness. You will be.
You will be through this glance (...). He gets a job at I.C.M. 1 Bucharest in September '69, but
Gioni Scarabeu and the work on the building site, what else can be added? 8006 stops, like a
goodwill character, at all the barracks. Gioni starts winning. Step - says Piti, step – says the
doctor, step- says Gioni, too, alight, scout’s honour to Mr. Hoștea. Gioni catches the cards
thrown by the dwarf in the air and controls them: "So you had the opening, Mr. Piti? See not to
get your stuffed mole's skull split!"28.
In “The History of Bakery No 4”, the text reveals itself and the author uses the "visible
toolkit." Narrative layers unfold one after another - Corporal Bobocică’s diary comes after the
narrator's commentary, and as a second level of combination, as a game of commentary, another
observation turns up. It is a comment on the comment, a comment to the third power, a piece of
the intertextual puzzle:
"Please note how the text is aware of the circumstances of its own elaboration."29
Here the narrator takes a step forward:
"But still, who was Corporal writing these lines for? Did he target a specific reader?"30
The collage technique, the insertion of passages apparently unrelated to the text is one of
Mircea Nedelciu's strong points. A fragment of Willy Brandt's speech delivered in front of the
United Nations General Board, went on with a quote from the book written by professors M.
Neșarovic and E. Pestel, Mankind at the turning point, these being the type of sequences that
spoil the coherence of the epic thread. Nevertheless, their insertion in the text is not randomly
made, but they are part of the combinatorial game that the reader must discover himself.

28
Mircea Nedelciu. 8006 from Obor to Dîlga. In vol. Short Prose Bucharest: Editura Compania, 2003, p. 51.
29
Mircea Nedelciu. Î The Story of Bakery no. 4 n vol. Short Prose,Bucharest: Editura Compania, 2003, p. 84.

30
Mircea Nedelciu. The Story of Bakery no. 4 nr. 4. În vol. Short Prose,Bucharest: Editura Compania, 2003, p. 91

10
"Obviously, we also sense a kind of indifference on the part of G.P. to something we generally
call war. This can have only one explanation: CORPORAL G.P. OF THE ROMANIAN ARMY
IS ALREADY PARTICIPATING IN THE THIRD WORLD WAR. Let's put it clearly: in 1973,
before the United Nations General Assembly, Willy Brandt - Nobel Peace Prize laureate - stated:
“From a moral point of view, there is no difference whether a person is killed in war or
condemned to die of starvation because of other people’s indifference”. According to UNESCO,
between 400,000,000 and 500,000,000 children suffered from starvation and malnutrition in
1973. (...). So, the third war is already on the way."31
The same play of textualist techniques, implied dialogues between narrative sequences in
which quotes and the author’s interventions are intermingled, challenges the reader in Foreman
Ilie Razachie Gets Involved.
Our character has an artistic spirit, he won the quiz show with the theme "Great Masters
of Romanian Literature, also he is an amateur wedding photographer, epigram writer, he recites
from Eminescu, Topârceanu, organizes cultural evenings on Sadoveanu at the festival "Cântarea
României," tells "anecdotes about ... women."32
In spite of his numerous qualities, the author ridicules his character throughout the
narration:
"Defending himself from dogs using his briefcase rather than any other cudgel, now on
the verge of retirement, traveling through the villages around Bacău, Foreman Ilie Razachie is,
whatever we might say, a man of culture."33
Irony is not a new technique for postmodernism. Stemming from the modernist
movement, it is enriched, emphasized, and exploited to the maximum, being given a specific
function. Here, Foreman Ilie Razachie’s qualities have a specific purpose - the condemnation of
official dry speeches, empty and meaningless, the grotesque boasting of party activities that used
patterned language - grammatically incorrect and repetitive to obsession.
In the fragment The plot (of the novel) "Black money", the epic discourse is fragmented
into a smart game. The insertion of journal sequences, written in French, into the main epic
thread, the narrator’s comic comments and the quotes from the book by Prince Shang, written in
31
Mircea Nedelciu. The Story of Bakery no. 4 nr. 4. In vol. Short Prose,Bucharest: Editura Compania, 2003, p. 97

32
Mircea Nedelciu. Ilie Ilie Razachie Gets Involved In vol. Short Prose Bucharest Editura Compania, 2003, p. 292.

33
Mircea Nedelciu. Ilie Ilie Razachie Gets Involved In vol. Short Prose Bucharest Editura Compania, 2003, p. 97.

11
the 4th century BC by Shang Yang, or references from Mircea Horia Simionescu’s, “The
Purpose or the Cause”34, all these are the ingredients of a delightful reading. Faithful to his
principle: "the reader - a new character," Mircea Nedelciu attempts at assembling these narrative
sequences to complete the bookish mosaic he puts forward.
"Is it possible for novelty to make its old counterpart seem ridiculous, but also vice versa.
What forces, then, should we rely on: those that make it easy for mankind to stand up against
hardship or those that push it forward? -Hey, guys! - said the president of the fan club. He
grabbed the other half of a huge magnifying glass from his desk where bizarre objects were piled
up.
If you had listened to a recording of the conversation, the long period of silence that
followed would have been a reason for concern. Yet, for those present, the long series of gestures
was made up according to a strict pile, in a natural continuation of the sentence which seemed to
have finished. They stood silent, observing."35
As can be noticed, for Mircea Nedelciu, narration is an endless exploration into the limits
of the text, an inexhaustible juggling with various narrative plans - fictions or sequences cut from
reality, planned to keep the reader's consciousness awake.
This article attempts to be an analysis of Romanian literature from the 1980s. An
exhaustive approach would have far exceeded the limits of the genre under study-which is short
prose.

References:
1. Anghelescu, Mircea; Ionescu, Cristina; Lăzărescu, Gheorghe. Dicționari de termeni
literari. București: Editura Garamond, 1995.
2. Crăciun, Gheorghe, prefața la Generația 80 în proză scurtă. Pitești: Editura Paralela 45,
1988.
3. Groșan, Ioan. O dimineață minunată pentru o proză scurtă. In: Caravana
cinematografică. București: Editura Cartea Românească, 1985.

34
Let us not forget that the 80s generation of writers own solid general knowledge which they purposedly make
use of to challenge the reader into the cultural act of reading and to avoid leaving him indifferent and reckless
35
Mircea Nedelciu. The plot (of the novel) „Black money”. In vol. Short Prose, Bucharest: Editura Compania, 2003,
p. 331-335.

12
4. Iliescu, Nicolae. Carte blanche. In:Departe, pe jos, the homonymous volume. București:
Editura Cartea Românească, 1983.
5. Iliescu, Nicolae. In:Departe, pe jos, in the homonymous volume. București: Editura
Cartea Românească, 1983.
6. Iliescu, Nicolae.Pumnalul de duminică. In: Departe, pe jos, in the homonymous volume.
București: Editura Cartea Românească, 1983.
7. Manolescu, Nicolae. Literatura română postbelică. Lista lui Manolescu, vol. II.
București: Editura Aula, 2001.
8. Manolescu, Nicolae. Proza de mâine. In: România literară nr. 52. București, 1893.
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