As a young, inexperienced István struggles to find his footing amongst his savvy peers, he eventually seeks to use Masculinity as a Defense Against Powerlessness. Faced with social and sexual humiliation in the aftermath of his inability to perform sexually with the girl from the housing estate, he is emotionally primed to accept the deeply inappropriate sexual overtures of the older woman who lives next door. His illicit affair with her thus becomes a compensatory act: a secret sphere in which he can reclaim a sense of sexual agency. 

However, their first few interactions together establish The Transactional Nature of Human Relationships as a foundational theme. When István agrees to participate in the affair, he is rewarded by an inner sense of sexual validation. Yet even though he gains some emotional and physical satisfaction, he soon learns that such exchanges rarely take place on an equal footing. When his mother’s neighbor exploits his naiveté for her own purposes, strategically grooming him and gradually escalating her sexual abuse, he soon internalizes the lesson that he has very little power over what happens to him, and his silent inertia and listless agreement to exploitative situations will prove to dominate the rest of his life. 

The detached, third-person limited perspective serves to emphasize István’s alienation, dissociation, and emotional immaturity, and this effect is intensified by his almost unthinking acquiescence to any suggestion made by the people around him, no matter how inappropriate these suggestions may be. The prose is clinical and sparse, documenting events and sensations without interpretive language, and this stylistic approach is intended to mirror István’s own inability to process or properly respond to his experiences. Punctuating this mindset is the blandness of his most frequent response, “okay,” which appears so often in the narrative that it soon becomes a motif with multiple meanings that shift treacherously from moment to moment. For example, when his neighbor convinces him to try kissing her “properly,” with open mouths, this exchange ensues:

“Do you want to do it again?” she asks.

“Okay,” he says.

They do it again and while they’re doing it one of her hands brushes against his erection, which is pushing out the fabric of his trousers.

[…]

Embarrassed, he pulls away from her.

“What is it?” she says, trying to take his hand.

He’s already on his feet.

“What is it?” she says again. “It’s okay.”

It’s not okay, he thinks, looking down at her.

She disgusts him. Without saying anything else, he leaves. (12)

In the first instance, the word “okay” indicates his acceptance of the situation, but the second time it appears, the neighbor is trying to reassure him that his physical reactions are nothing to be ashamed of. Most telling, however, is his unspoken internal reaction to the situation—“It’s not okay”—for although he leaves the room, he never fully voices the “disgust” that he feels. The characters’ resumption of their sexual activities a few days later suggests that István remains essentially powerless to mitigate or end a pattern of behavior that simultaneously repels and excites him. 

Notably, his affair with the neighbor originates not from mutual attraction but from a service he provides—carrying her groceries—for which he is initially rewarded with dessert and later with sexual intimacy. Although she is careful to ask for his consent with each new activity that she suggests, the narrative’s stark, minimalist style suggests that István approaches the entire matter with the sense that these interactions are inevitable, not something to which he can or should object. The dysfunctional nature of this arrangement deepens when he begins to harbor affections for her despite his initial disgust and trepidation, and the essentially transactional pattern of the pair’s interactions is fully revealed when István unsuccessfully tries to transcend these limitations by declaring his love for her. The moment he attempts to introduce this idea, she rejects him outright, declaring, “I don’t think you understand the situation” (31), and her abrupt withdrawal from his life underscores her view of their arrangement as a contained, mutually beneficial exchange, not a romantic bond. This formative experience teaches István that all relationships are fundamentally conditional, and the harsh lesson drastically impacts his worldview.

After his first time having sex, the narrative reports that “He thinks it’s strange that he doesn’t feel any different, that nothing seems to have changed” (21). This emotional flatness suggests dissociation—a psychological defense against unprocessed confusion and shame. This narrative distance is most prominent during scene in which István causes death of his neighbor’s husband. The account remains rigidly locked into a dry recitation of the physical events, focusing on the sound of the man’s head hitting the handrail and the sight of spilled plant soil. No explicit emotion is mentioned, and István’s internal state is conveyed only through his shaking legs and slow, dazed retreat. This technique paints the narrative world with his shock and vividly conveys his amoral worldview, lending credence to his later doubt about his own intentions.

Years later, as István finally leaves the juvenile detention center and tries to reclaim the drifting threads of his life, his struggle to find legitimate work introduces his lifelong preoccupation with The Illusion of Social Mobility. The economic landscape of post-communist Hungary is one of limited opportunity, as indicated by superficial markers of capitalism, like the Tex-Mex restaurant where Noémi works, which fail to provide substantive advancement. István’s own options are starkly limited to dangerous illicit activities like smuggling or institutional enlistment in the army. His lack of social standing is also emphasized when Noémi rejects him for an older, English manager whose foreign status and professional position represent a stability that István cannot offer her. Ultimately, István’s decision to join the army is an act of resignation: an admission that the only viable path forward is to surrender his autonomy to a state-controlled system.