Reading Marian Coman is like travelling, travelling back in time to your own childhood. It will trigger your memories, it will send you back to a world of fantasy, a world that you forgot it was inside you. But, the children in Marian Coman's stories live a twisted fantasy, a fantasy where the standard rules of a happy childhood are broken. Instead of a safe playground imagine a darkened space between grey communist blocks. Imagine concrete, concrete everywhere. Imagine dust, a lot of dust covering everything. And then imagine death. Because behind the greys blocks children misteriously die. However, in spite of all that concrete, of all that dust, of all the greyness, oranges get to be thrown out of the window for all those children that snow fight. "Juicy, ripe and sweet" oranges.
A scene from "Fingers" where the child-narator throws oranges out of the balcony is probably one of the best part in Marian Coman's stories, because it emphasizes the way children lived the Communist period. About Communism people wrote hundreds of novels, shared hundreds of experiences. However, there is not so much told about how children lived, how children felt, how children lived as children in the first place. Children did not know about the lack of freedom of speech, about the death of those against the Party, but they knew that there were no oranges or chocolate, or not even electricity. "Some of them, the little ones, didn't even know what such a fruit looked like." This sentence seems to me to sumarize what Communism meant for those little children playing behind the blocks.
Even though Marian Coman's stories advertise themseleves as fantastic, they are more than that, they show the broken generation of children of the Communism period.