So I wasn't sure if I wanted to include a reader response for this. My specific issues with this collection of vignettes (or slices of life) “– winner of the Erich Maria Remarque Peace Prize – ” (jacket material) were:
(1) that the pieces are very short and, while
thematically connected, don't reach deeper, leaving fleeting impressions of “people,
scenes, aspects” (p. 4) rather than
a fuller grasp of what happened in 1993;
(2) they are concerned with the Yugoslav war
which I never knew about until last year – that I still don't really understand
because I have no background about it other than what Croats have told me (that
it was essentially a territorial dispute which I think is an
oversimplification) – but at a remove (I can say this having no experience of
war);
(3) the first (“One: Unavoidable Details of Biography” [pp.
1-8]) and last (“Three: Who will be the witness?” [pp. 189-195]) parts have one story each written in the
second person, while most of the main (second) section (“Two: A Reconstruction of Events” [pp. 9-188])
moves between first (11/27) and
third person (16/27) – and all of them from the perspectives of men;
(4) you don't find out until p. 84 (cf pp.
107, 183) that Chetnik (pp. 16, 21, 38, 54, 61) and Chetniks (pp. 23, 25, 41,
66, 78, 80, 84, 106, 109, 111-113, 128, 135, 137, 140, 147, 163, 182-183,
186-187) – later, “Chetnik beasts” (p. 104) – refer to the Sebs which, while mentioned only in the
second part, has 10 stories – “Cactus” [pp. 11-18]; “A Ring” [pp. 31-35]; “Bosnian
Hotpot” [pp. 43-50]; “Trout” [pp. 71-75]; “The Communist” [pp. 89-96]; “The Gardener” [pp. 115-121]; “Declension”
[pp. 149-153]; “The Photograph” [pp. 155-159]; “Blind Man” [pp. 167-172]; “The
Bell” [pp. 173-176] – that include no reference at all, though direct (pp. 15, 17,
21, 25, 28, 34-35, 39, 47, 54, 78, 84, 87, 89, 93, 106, 115-116, 163) or
indirect references (pp. 22-24, 27, 29, 38, 51-53, 60, 62-63, 69-70, 74-75, 80,
83-88, 94-96, 101-102, 104-105, 107-113, 115-117, 124-125, 129, 132-135, 144,
146, 149, 157, 159, 164, 170, 176, 178, 180-183, 186, 191-195) to the war
figure throughout the collection except
in the first part;
(5) Ammiel
Acalay’s “Everyday History” (pp. vii-xvii) doesn’t contextualize the collection
– much less explains what made these “war stories of a kind entirely other than
the ones people were used to reading” (p. xv) – or offer even a broad overview
of the war.
But the writing is good which makes
for a quick read. The language is also rich, but on whose credit – Miljenko
Jergović’s or Sela Tomašević’s – I can’t answer. However, I wanted more – maybe
expected more – out of Sarajevo Marlboro (2007/2006)
than what I got. You, too, might feel the same if, like me, you’re ignorant of
the experiences of war and, specifically, the contexts of the Yugoslav war.[1]
[1] Or maybe the experience
itself is still too raw for those directly affected by it to engage with it
more intimately which would create the space for outsiders to understand it
better; to answer this, though, you need a broader engagement with contemporary
Bosnian literature.
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