Witold Gombrowicz (1904-1969), a playwright, philosopher, novelist and intellectual, was born on 4 August 1904 in Maloszyce, a small village in central Poland, to landowner parents. In 1911, his family settled in Warsaw, where he entered law school, going on to study in Paris. The law, though, held no interest for him as a profession and he returned to the Polish capital to become a functionary in the city’s courts. His first published work, a collection of short stories entitled Memories from the age of immaturity (later renamed Bacacay), appeared in 1933. It was followed two years later by his first play, Ivona, princess of Burgundia. In 1937, the great success of his novel Ferdydurke brought him to the forefront of contemporary Polish literature. Shortly before the outbreak of World War II, he travelled to Argentina, where he remained until the war was over. However, he was not welcome in his homeland after 1945, and stayed in Buenos Aires for twenty-four years, working as a bank clerk and publishing under a pseudonym in various newspapers and magazines. He also wrote the novel Pornography and began a play, Operetta, during his time in Argentina. In 1963, he left the country for good and moved to Vence, in the south of France, where he remained until his death in 1969. From the mid-1960s onwards, he began to be translated and his works became available in a number of countries. In 1967, Gombrowicz was awarded the Formentor International Prize for his novel Cosmos. Shortly before his death, he was interviewed for a book that was later published in English as A kind of testament. In it, he spoke of how vitality is more important to creativity than any kind of form or system. He criticised rationalist Western thinking, exposing its moral decadence, while the absurdism in his plays and prose is presented with insight, humour and humanity.

 

A short list of his plays:
Ivona, princess of Burgundia, The mariagge, History [Operetta].

 

The times have become too shrewd, the fig leaves have withered. All we have left is honesty. (Ivona, princess of Burgundia)

 

The future is a dark well, time is an enigma.
History is without a face! (Operetta)