You titled your bibliotherapy course “Me and the Other, in each other’s reflection”. How did you structure the six sessions with the thirteen students who signed up for the course? 

I chose short texts in advance that would work well for the sessions and support self-reflection. Everyone read them on the spot, then we talked them through together. I looked for pieces that could deepen self-awareness and at the same time open space for the group to explore prejudice and stereotypes. 

For example, Timea Turi’s Women’s Bags — which claims they always contain a photo, a few ultrasound images, a guitar string and dental floss — gave students a good starting point to talk about their own experiences of gender stereotypes and how these patterns appear for men as well. After all, as the poem says, “Men don’t need bags; if they need to put something away on the go, they ask the woman to pop it into hers…” 

We also discussed short stories by Heinrich Böll and Anna Mécs, as well as Dezső Kosztolányi’s A Happy, Heartbroken Song. The group really enjoyed Pere Calders’s Catalan story Subtle Invasion, which is genuinely funny. 

One might naively think that reading is a wonderful thing in itself, and that simply reading a good poem or novel has a therapeutic effect. 

Yes, that’s true — if I could, I’d prescribe it to everyone, just like bibliotherapy. But bibliotherapy is a group method, not an individual one: 6–10, sometimes 12 people sit together, read a text and discuss it guided by the facilitator’s questions. Sessions also include experiential exercises, drawing, drama-based tasks or creative writing. During the process, participants listen to one another and really pay attention — their reflections influence each other. They work as a community. Those first honest, unfiltered reactions right after reading are always fascinating. 

I try to choose texts that highlight the prejudices and stigma present in our society today. In this series, one of the topics that came up through a specific text by Judit Berg was homelessness. We often don’t realise it, but even in everyday situations, our thoughts can be shaped by preconceptions. 

The sessions follow a certain arc; my aim is to keep the relationship between the individual and the “other” at the centre. Exploring identity and strengthening empathy can be valuable for everyone. The sessions aren’t like literature classes — they’re much more relaxed, as bibliotherapy is a creative, art-based method. Through discussing literary texts, participants get closer to understanding themselves and their environment. Creative writing is also part of the work. 

Are participants capable of this? 

Here it’s not like a writing seminar, where the quality of writing matters. That’s irrelevant. What counts is sharing personal experience, which then leads to conversation. When someone condenses their feelings into a text, it’s wonderful — and there’s never any aesthetic expectation. 

Did the students enjoy it? 

Yes. Some attended every single session and later said they had a really positive experience. Of course, a few dropped out along the way. Bibliotherapy can be used in many settings: not only in education, but in libraries, children’s homes, healthcare institutions, hospice care and even in prisons. In my experience, people in detention are also open to it. It’s a useful and effective method in many situations and environments. 

As far as I know, there’s a Hungarian bibliotherapy association too. Looking through the membership list, I noticed almost all the members are women, and as I understand it, women read far more than men… 

I think this is linked to broad social stereotypes. Still, I see progress — just like with self-awareness in general, more men are interested these days, and it’s no longer seen as embarrassing. If I realise during a session that a particular text doesn’t resonate with the group, it’s worth adjusting the plan and choosing something else. It’s important to respond to the group’s needs and stay flexible. The setting also matters; it’s best when the space feels private. 

Why did you start working with bibliotherapy? 

I teach Hungarian at the Lauder Javne Jewish Community School, and I love teaching. I feel lucky because Hungarian is a conversational subject, so I can get to know pupils’ thoughts and feelings far more easily. A physics teacher has fewer chances for that in class.  

After many years of teaching, I felt it would be good to study again, to renew myself, so bibliotherapy was a natural choice. I enrolled in the postgraduate bibliotherapy programme at Pázmány Péter Catholic University, where I received excellent training over two years and gained a lot of experience. As part of the experiential modules, we took part in many bibliotherapy sessions, and I went through a long process of self-reflection. The exams and writing the thesis were similar to my earlier studies at ELTE, where I completed my first degrees. 

Finally: what would a bibliotherapist recommend from their own reading? 

I recently finished Imre Bartók’s Damien. Brilliant. At the moment I’m reading László Krasznahorkai’s newly published novel The Security of the Hungarian Nation. 

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The initiative is one of the library activities that supports student well-being and integration, fostering a sense of community. 

Katalin Török