OTHER SLAVIC LANGUAGES.

Fruchter, Barry ; Volkova, Bronislava ; Schubert, Peter Z. 等

Croatian

Mario Susko. Versus Exsul. Stamford, Ct. Yuganta. 1998. viii + 111 pages. $12.95. ISBN 0-938999-12-5.

Versus Exsul is broadly organized in two parts. The first, "Four Sections," is a selection of the major Bosnian poet Mario Susko's work arranged in a procession toward the present; "Gravitations, 41" (1982), "Physika Meta" (1989), "The Book of Exodus" (1991), and "A Handbook of Poetry" (1994) are represented in equal measure at eight poems each. The second part, "Exsul," balances the work numerically, at thirty-two poems, but dominates it metaphysically.

As the modern history of Bosnia is part of our collective memory, we are compelled to participate in Susko's unpacking of that memory. So when we read in the "pre-war" nook "Physika Meta" that "there's something in those heads / that come to a table / as if they refuse to acknowledge death," the pathos of the dead fish and pig served at the festive board interfaces with the poignancy of the living at the table of survival, and the disembodied hand, eye, and nerve of "The Book of Exodus" blaze up into faceless but human malevolence and paranoia. By the time we reach the bullet-sharp images of "A Handbook," we are in the presence of "those / that do not know how to forgive" and to whom it is therefore questionable that forgiveness may be given. We have entered a critique of history as obsession with "nouns / of that which was there sowed as verbs."

The last poem of "A Handbook" and the first of "Exsul," "But the Truth," are companion pieces with an expanse of war, time, peace, and exile in between. Night after night the poet and the land devour each other, exchanging matter and energy under the veil of unconsciousness and the fog of war. In "But the Truth" the exile is being represented as a mere victim, seized upon as "a valuable witness. To what?" The track of "Exsul," it then appears, recapitulates the pattern of the whole, with its twisting, digging, unlayering. But as we approach the end, we are "rewarded" with a "return" to the scene of war, this time through a zoom lens which enlarges the subject's former self, who suddenly, seeing the body thrown in the refrigerator van, "knows the war was nowhere else but where [he] stood." The most naked scene of all, in "Coming Around," saw the dead brought into the house (in Tate's memorable phrase), where near the abundance of party food the exile stands with a loaf, wondering "how many days [he] could give if [he] sliced it flawlessly."

There is a steady and relentless power in Versus Exsul. We are slowly pulled through a Universe of Pain all the more vivid than Rilke's for being firmly here on earth, in the senses of People Like Us, "as if pigeons could be the earthly spies of eagles." Above all it is the experience of thinking, ceaseless as a bodily function, that links Versus Exsul in all its disparate parts, its distant lands, its stages of memory-thinking as the condition of breathing.

Barry Fruchter

Nassau Community College (N.Y.)

Czech

Allskin and Other Tales by Contemporary Czech Women. Alexandra Buchler, ed. Seattle. Women in Translation. 1998. xvii + 234 pages. $14.95. ISBN 1-879679-11- 6.

Alexandra Buchler's anthology of contemporary Czech women's prose received its title from that of a story by one of the volume's featured writers, Daniela Fischerova (b. 1948), "Allskin Dances on Tables." It is a well-written tale, as are most of the others, on the topic of "taste," and is rather typical of Fischerova's prose, poetic and subjective. Periodically, her prose takes on a somewhat artificial tone-in this case, when she addresses the "spirit of story telling." Hers is the first story following Buchler's competent, historical introduction.

Zuzana Brabcova's (b. 1959) extract from Far from the Tree, a novel originally published in Cologne in 1987, expresses the feelings of a young girl brought up under the 1970s totalitarian regime, which resulted in her aversion to current values such as "honor." The extract from Tereza Bouekova's (b. 1957) first novel, Indian Run (1992), is emotional, highly effective in the emotive brutality and honesty with which a childless woman admits to her painful feelings. However, the conclusion of the featured chapter is a little forced.

Daniela Hodrova (b. 1946) is represented by an excerpt from her novel Theta (1992; see review below). Hodrova is today the favorite writer of the Prague intellectuals, a literary theoretician skilled at postmodernist writing laced with intertextuality, revelations of the writing process, and changes of perspective. Her prose is thoughtful yet rather cerebral. Another popular writer featured in the Allskin anthology is Alexandra Berkova (b. 1949), whose selection "The Funeral" is taken from a book published in 1986. Berkova plays with substandard speech and uses imaginative symbolism, but her strength lies in her outspoken social criticism and the power of her imagination; her weakness is in creating abstract characters who sometimes fail to engage the reader in their efforts at attaining some measure of wisdom.

The book also includes other interesting authors: [micro sign]ervenkova's 1994 extract is from an existentialist novel; {erberova's 1982 piece displays a contrast between love and science and play with human age; Hauserova's 1995 feminist science- fiction story with hidden lesbian sensibilities about the "absorbed male" is one of the most modern selections; L. Prochazkova's extract from a 1995 work is well paced and deals with the author's favorite topic, male-female communication. The rest of the authors are emigres now living in different parts of the world. Zdena Salivarova's (b. 1933) new novel (1994) is autobiographical and tells the story of starting Sixty-Eight Publishers in Toronto. The veiling of writers' names is thin, but enough that unless one knows them intimately, their stories may become less than engaging. One episode features the problems the publisher had with an annoyingly bad writer who was lacking in both intelligence and modesty. Z. Tomin (b. 1941), an original member of Charter '77, has lived in Britain since 1980 and writes in English. Her extract is well-written, straightforward narration. I. Pekarkova (b. 1963), the rising star (together with Tereza Bouekova) of the younger generation of Czech prose writers, works with shock value. Her extract from Gimme the Money (1996) is skillfully written and much more dynamic than the others, with their usual emphasis on sex and shallow feelings. V|ra Linhartova (b. 1938) has lived in France since 1969 and writes in French. She is an art historian and curator at the Paris Museum of Oriental Art. Her piece "A Barbarian Woman in Captivity" (1982) is an engaging free flow of imagination which balances feeling and intellect, displays flights into the unknown away from the literal depiction of reality, and touches deeper levels of human existence. Lastly, S. Richterova (b. 1945), who lives in Italy, is represented by an extract from a 1993 work about a hopelessly alienated woman who attempts to give interesting literary form to her absence from the real world in a story dealing with the breakup of a relationship. Richterova, like Hodrova, is a theoretician of literature as well and plays with the narrative, making it vague and heady.

The selection of authors and pieces for an anthology is always a subjective matter. I personally think that Allskin is rather representative of contemporary Czech women's prose, even if it leaves out several lesser-known but nevertheless deserving figures. The translations read well and are the result of the collaboration of eight different people (including the editor) from England, America, and the Czech Republic. Allskin and Other Tales is a welcome contribution to the ever-widening stock of translations and anthologies from modern Czech literature into English.

Bronislava Volkova

Indiana University

Daniela Hodrova. Theta: Citta dolente III. Susanna Roth, tr. Zurich. Ammann. 1998. 292 pages. DM 42/Sw.fr. 39.80. ISBN 3-250-10334-9.

"Let us begin with a depiction of a world in which only two-dimensional beings live. Now, we imagine that these shadowy beings really exist, and that they are capable of contemplation. These creatures cannot in any specific manner imagine three-dimensional space," Daniela Hodrova writes in her novel Theta. Contrary to this postulate-or perhaps according to it-the author leaves our three- dimensional space for a four- or even more-dimensional one. As a result, the borders or limits in time, space, or life disappear. The structure, the setting, the time, the plot, even the characters are subject to constant changes or metamorphoses.

In Theta Hodrova, a literary scholar specializing in the theory of the novel, the author, the narrator-or is it really she?-uses her craft to depict and perhaps to come to terms with the death of her father. The only "action" in the novel is the passing on of this renowned actor. Nevertheless, through various episodes we learn about the author's life, about the house she lived in during her childhood and the place where she lives now, about her membership in the children's radio ensemble, her friends, companions, parents, and grandparents. At the same time, however, Hodrova deals with fictitious events, uses texts written by other writers, and her characters assume different identities. The fiction, then, is permeated with historical events and figures. Moreover, the metamorphoses are not limited to a single artistic medium. Hodrova's grandmother, for instance, is transformed into Bo6ena N|mcova's Grandmother, and then further into the literary character's statue. Similarly, the border between paintings and reality gradually disappears, as illustrated by the repeated references to Marold's panorama The Battle of Lipany. There is also a door between the backstage area and the auditorium in the theater, where the narrator used to visit her actor father. This door functions as a boundary between the world onstage and the one in which we live. A similar door between two worlds is the door in the corridor of Hodrova's childhood house. Here she can cross from the present into the past. Then again, the doors are not really necessary. The borders can be crossed even without a door. The doors are only a definite crossing point. Even death ceases to be a definite line separating the living from the dead.

It seems that the only boundary Hodrova preserves is that with the future. She refers to and quotes from Erben's Christmas Eve, where the heroines seek to see the future. For one of them, however, that future is very dark. This, or perhaps the fate of Cassandra, may have scared the narrator, despite her otherwise very morbid view of the world, from attempting to cross this border. The present and the past are sufficiently sorrowful.

The title of the novel is explained as having two meanings: one is the proofreader's (and, by extension, general) symbol for deletion; the other is the symbol for death. Furthermore, Theta, together with Der Wolschaner Reich (The Olshany Empire; 1991) and Im Reich der Lufte, forms a loosely connected trilogy with the common title Citta dolente (The City of Mourning). The reference of the general title is to Hodrova's home city of Prague. As a matter of fact, she refers to her work as a novel about Prague. Of course, she does not see the beauties of the city but rather the executed political prisoners, the artists who emigrated or died, the former gallows hills, and similar causes for sorrow.

The symbols used in the novel would require a separate study. The constant transformation is fascinating but at times difficult to follow, especially for a reader not familiar with the texts, events, and places alluded to by Hodrova- i.e., the foreign reader for whom the translation is intended. At any rate, Theta is a very unusual modern novel, perhaps even unique in world literature. The translation is excellent, and the mistakes in diacritics and punctuation are few.

Peter Z. Schubert

University of Alberta

Josef {kvoreck[plus-or-minus sign]. Headed for the Blues: A Memoir with Ten Stories. Peter Kussi, Kaea Polaekova Henley, Caleb Crain, trs. London. Faber & Faber. 1997. 280 pages. [pound]9.99. ISBN 0-571-19290-4.

Josef {kvoreck[plus-or-minus sign] seems to have a magic drawer which yields something worth dusting off and publishing every time he dips into it, although the value of the booty may vary. In Headed for the Blues he thinks about the past, but rather than compiling a straightforward autobiography, he has appended ten short stories under the title "The Tenor Saxophonist's Story" to the previously published memoir Headed for the Blues (Ecco Press, (c) 1996, 148 pages, $23/$12, 0-88001-462-8/507-1), thus using his great love of jazz as the theme for this fact/fiction work.

For their anticommunist spirit the stories could have hardly been published originally in Prague, where they were probably written before their author emigrated in 1968; but the more weighty memoir, dated 1974, reflects only too clearly the author's anger at the thwarting not just of his own aspirations but of many gifted people's ambitions by the totalitarian regime. His breathless, complicated, stream-of-consciousness technique indicates this, even if it may easily confuse the reader.

Still, in the memoir {kvoreck[plus-or-minus sign] allows us some interesting glimpses into his workshop. As his familiar characters file past, it is gratifying to hear the real names behind several who, one suspected, must have had true living models; one can also heartily share {kvoreck[plus-or-minus sign]'s hope that his early novel The Cowards "will survive me in literature." And not just The Cowards but {kvoreck[plus-or-minus sign]'s depiction in general of a people surviving (rather than merely living) in a totalitarian regime, often helped along by their sense of humor, should not be forgotten.

The style of the stories differs considerably from that of the memoir. There is no Joycean experimentation in them, just straight narration, at which {kvoreck[plus-or-minus sign] truly excels. People who appeared in his life are met here again in their fictional form, some in more than one of the stories. Their love for and/or participation in jazz sessions leads them into conflict with the authorities, who see Western capitalist influences in this activity; but they have the author's sympathy, for he is one of them.

No so Lizette, "the snake in the grass" in the collection's best story, "The Well-Screened Lizette," who shows how an unqualified and ignorant individual can achieve the greatest success in life through the combination of political conformity and female cunning, while pushing more worthy candidates out of the way. Writing in the first-person singular, the author expresses his anger, but he also enjoys the fun of spinning the idea to grotesque extremes.

In the memoir {kvoreck[plus-or-minus sign] admits that he "has certainly written more than plenty about jazz": yes, by now we know what a lifeline and a great source of inspiration jazz was for him, and this newest publication does not substantially add to the value of his artistic achievement. As people tend to forget easily the gloominess of life under the communists, the translators' reminders in the notes are very useful. (On Josef {kvoreck[plus-or-minus sign], see WLT 54:4 [Autumn 1980], pp. 501- 93.)

B. R. Bradbrook

Cambridge, Eng.

Polish

Czes_aw Mi_osz. Abecad_o Mi_osza. Krakow. Wydawnictwo Literackie. 1997. 275 pages. $16.50. ISBN 83-08-02732-6.

---. Inne abecad_o. Krakow. Wydawnictwo Literackie. 1998. 207 pages. 25 z_. ISBN 83-08-02831-4.

---. Piesek przydro[section]ny. Krakow. Znak. 1997. 317 pages. 45 z_. ISBN 83-7006-726- X.

Nobel Prize-winning poet Czes_aw Mi_osz's long career contains a fascinating interplay between his public exploration of questions of faith, conducted primarily in his prose writing, and the presumably more private attempts to define faith in his poetry. Three of Mi_osz's recent publications-Abecad_o Mi_osza (Mi_osz's ABC's), Inne abecad_o (Another ABC Book), and Piesek przydro[section]ny (Eng. Road-side Dog), which in October 1998 was awarded the prestigious Nike Literary Prize in Poland-continue this calculated tension between genres. Piesek, hailed by the Polish press as the invention of yet another new Mi_oszian genre, is a collection of thoughts, dreams, observations, and aphorisms, written in both verse and very loose prose. Both Abecad_o volumes, written in adherence to the "ABC's" genre specific to Polish literature, contain the alphabetical arrangement of the author's remarks, varying in length and detail, on people, places, events, and ideas which have played a role in his life. The near-simultaneous publication of the three books is further evidence that, at the age of eighty-seven, Mi_osz continues to strive toward an expression of reality in the form that he described in the 1968 poem "Ars poetica": "I have always aspired to a more spacious form / that would be free from the claims of poetry or prose."

Piesek's entries present the author as the passive instrument of (to use Mi_osz's terms) "voices" or "daimonions" of the past, whereas Abecad_o and Inne abecad_o represent Mi_osz's active recall of memories for the purpose of preserving them in these volumes. Mi_osz explains in the last entry of Inne abecad_o, "Znikanie" (Disappearance):

My time, the twentieth century, presses in on me with a multitude of voices and faces of people who lived, whom I knew or heard about, and who are no longer. Now and again some might become famous for some reason and appear in encyclopedias, but the majority are forgotten, and can only avail themselves through me, through the rhythm of my blood, through my hand holding the pen, to return for a moment among the living.

The importance of memory, always a driving force in Mi_osz's writing, seems to have intensified of late, so that there is a sense of urgency to his reminiscing in these three volumes. Abecad_o's catalogue of names and details from a distant past (wonderfully indexed in both volumes) is arguably unimportant to anyone other than Mi_osz and the occasional scholar. However, in addition to being a fascinating story of Mi_osz's twentieth century, these unique memoirs are valuable because of the culminatory moment in Mi_osz's lifelong literary testament of faith they represent. Since his first publication in 1933, Mi_osz's poetry has expressed faith in the possibility of preserving the people and places of his past from eternal death by creating a particular arrangement of words just for them. This, and not the oddity of the genre, is what makes the Abecad_o volumes an extraordinary memoir, joined with Piesek in their metaphysical premise of poetic apokatastasis.

Kim Jastremski

University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill

Serbian

Matija Be3/4kovi3/4. Epiphany/Bogojavljenje. Sofija {kori3/4, tr. Toronto. Serbian Literary Company. 1998. 113 pages. ISBN 0-9682484-2-X.

Among the many books of verse by the prominent contemporary Serbian poet Matija Be3/4kovi3/4, the long poem Bogojavljenje (Epiphany) takes a special place. Originally published in 1985, it has now been reissued in a handsome bilingual edition in Canada. This reissue is also an indication of the poet's ever- increasing reach beyond the borders of his own country, and deservedly so.

Epiphany/Bogojavljenje is vintage Be3/4kovi3/4. Although confined to a single theme-the search for God by his native Montenegrins-it is by no means limited; what the poem lacks in reach, it gains in depth. The work presents fictitious conversations between Montenegrins, usually peasants and simple people with a vision of God, who, in a clever refrain throughout the book, "just listens in silence." After the terrible ordeals of World War II, the peasants reveal not only their disillusionment, distrust, anger, and despair but also their desperate need for a deity in whom they can believe and who will bring some sense, order, and, above all, justice into their lives. They admit that they have found themselves in hell, which unfortunately they perceive as "their patrimony." They bemoan the fact that God has been officially banished from their midst and that "His place is empty," but they also realize that "when God existed no one respected Him. / It takes courage to believe in such a God." They have learned a lesson about the necessity of deserving a God of love and justice and not taking Him for granted.

Toward the end, one of the many interlocutors hints at the horrible legacy of the recent fratricidal struggles and their political causes when he laments, "But when a man tastes human blood . . . / he longs for more blood." By adding the political aspect to religious and philosophical ones, the poet makes Epiphany a multilayered poetic treat. Still, the poem expresses a positive note through the words of one of the speakers: "In every man flickers / the spark from which life itself started." Be3/4kovi3/4 also utters other bits of wisdom: "Without freedom everything dried up and perished, / as everything must serve something else, / the trace of wonder is in dreams and songs!"

Deep, almost philosophical musing is combined with a charming sense of humor, for which Be3/4kovi3/4 is especially known. One peasant says, for example, that it is natural for God to come to poor Montenegro, because no one can survive there but God. Yet the Montenegrin karst is created by God as his "heavenly castle." Another peasant complains that there is no individual believer among Montenegrins, yet they have the greatest number of saints. Still another says, "Now He remembered us, / when he was driven away," hinting at the atheistic campaign of the communists. The final lines-"Nor would we need such a God / who would consent to be our God!"-speak of an understanding of, and a need for, a two-way relationship. It is this humorous familiarity in the relationship between God and the Montenegrin peasants that makes the poem a deeply human experience.

In her remarkable translation, Sofija {kori3/4 has rendered into fluent English even some of the most difficult phrases, drawn liberally from popular dialect and from the famous ten-syllable line of Serbian epic poems. Despite the translator's disclaimer that "it is not possible to transfer linguistically the special flavour of the poet's language or the subtlety of his humor and political satire," she has done a truly laudatory job in conveying the meaning of the poet's messages-which is the most important aspect of Epiphany, after all. In doing so, {kori3/4 has won Be3/4kovi3/4 a significantly wider readership and has enabled him to transcend all local boundaries.

Vasa D. Mihailovich

University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill

Dragan Jovanovi3/4 Danilov. Ku3/4a Bahove muzike. Belgrade. Prosveta. 1998. 400 pages, ill. ISBN 86-0701171-5.

The latest book by Dragan Jovanovi3/4 Danilov (b. 1960) is a poetic trilogy consisting of "Ku3/4a Bahove muzike," "&ivi pergament," and "Evropa pod snegom," which has brought the poet much favorable recognition and placed him at the very pinnacle of contemporary Serbian verse. This "prince of poetry" or "Serbian Rambo," as some critics call him, has received many of his country's most prestigious literary accolades, including the Me}a Selimovi3/4 Prize, the Prosveta Prize, the Branko Award, and others. His poems have been translated into many languages and have appeared in numerous anthologies. Danilov also writes fiction, essays, literary and art criticism, and excels in theory and polemics.

Ku3/4a Bahove muzike (The House of Bach's Music) is a powerful, complete, and unique adventure of the spirit, boasting a multitude of poetic forms and models (free and rhymed verse, prose, sonnets, rondeaux, madrigals, haiku, elegies, odes) and also including intellectualized, essaylike passages of a meditative- philosophical, an intimate-confessional, and a baroque-romantic nature. All these creative elements, despite their variety and specificity, result in a picture of an integrated world and an original poetic-stylistic and linguistic- semantic structure. Divided into three main thematic entities and several smaller parts, the book commands total interest and attention, because in its methodological-conceptual basis it offers authentic expression, a warm melodiousness, and an inspired lyric voice.

It is well known that Danilov's erudition and creative impulses are closely connected with music, painting, ballet, and other arts. This is confirmed not only by the poems and their titles but also by numerous inserted citations, sporadic reminiscences, and paraphrases. This rare poetic project, perhaps one of the most ambitious and complex in recent Serbian literature, offers considerable insight into Danilov's poetry, especially its gradual development according to the principle of concentric circles. From book to book Danilov became a better and more assured poet, displaying in the process the power of his talent and his undisputed artistry, founded above all on wide reading, a fertile imagination, and rich inspiration.

The three collections which make up this volume, all published separately between 1993 and 1995, enrich and supplement one another, forming a complex meditative system of ideas. Metaphysically stratified, lexically refined, rich in imagery, and expressionistically intoned, Danilov's poetry represents a unique transposition of what he has seen, experienced, and dreamed and imbues it all with lyrical, epic, and dramatic harmony. He clearly follows Valery's advice that "the general literary problem is linkage." In Danilov's poetry everything is in its place, harmonious and expertly concretized. Especially notable is a studious effort at molding the material but without signs of improvisation or failed experiment. Ku3/4a Bahove muzike also confirms the words of Max Jacob that "the modern poet is a world in man."

Danilov skillfully synthesizes the old and the new, the traditional and the modern, thus achieving greater stylistic effects and esthetic accomplishment. The subtitle of the book is Tiha knjiga o beskraju (A Silent Book of Infinity), and the volume contains several illuminations or illustrations. The collection closes with an extensive afterword by Bojana Stojanovi3/4-Pantovi3/4, "Prolegomena za eitanje Ku3/4a Bahove muzike D. J. Danilova" (Prolegomena to a Reading of "The House of Bach's Music" by D. J. Danilov), as well as excerpts from literary criticism and a selected bibliography about the trilogy. In sum, Ku3/4a Bahove muzike is an unusual and significant poetic work, one which demonstrates once again that Danilov is truly a writer of the highest rank and reputation.

Milutin Djuriekovi3/4

Belgrade

Mateja Mateji3/4. Tamo gde vreme ne stari. Belgrade. Ra}ka {kola. 1998. 237 pages. ID 63084556.

An author of over thirty books of poetry, fiction, and scholarly studies as well as the editor of several anthologies, Mateja Mateji3/4 has recently published his second book of short stories, Tamo gde vreme ne stari (Where Time Does Not Pass). Four of the six stories treat contemporary everyday subjects, whereas the last two deal with religious and philosophical concerns.

The opening selection, "Jakov" (Jacob), is a captivating story about a local eccentric considered to be a fool by almost everyone yet possessing a lively interest in serious matters that fascinates the narrator. "Islednik" (Interrogator) is a fine psychological portrait of a police interrogator who risks his own life to save a child in a fire, yet is extremely insensitive during investigations, callously sending many to their death. Here Mateji3/4 comes the closest to political satire, hinting at the injustices in the legal system in his former country. "Moja prva pesma" (My First Poem), a social satire of the first rank, describes a young boy who begs on the street on Christmas Eve for money to buy medicine for his ill mother. After his mother's death, he is taken in by a rich lady, who slaps him after he reads her his first poem with the refrain, "Mother, there are no good people."

"Izgubljeni dani" (Lost Days) is a fine psychological study of a woman who cannot make up her mind whether to marry a good man until it is too late, when she has lost both the opportunity and her youth. The final story, "Pogre}no oko" (The Wrong Eye), is about a mythical kingdom whose ruler decides that, in order to attain happiness, every citizen should have his or her left eye gouged because it sees evil. When that fails, he decides to take out the right eye as well, only to realize that people are happy because they do not see evil in themselves and around them, even with both eyes. This potentially humorous tale is also an amusing philosophical barb at the basic condition humaine, which can never be eradicated even with the most drastic measures.

The mainstay of the collection is the longest story, "Judina mudrovanja" (Judas's Philosophizing), wherein the author approaches a biblical story from a new angle. Concentrating on the protagonist's insincerity, vanity, egotism, selfishness, and lack of spirituality, Mateji3/4 presents Judas as an archetype of a basic human weakness which cannot be overcome even at the prospect of sainthood. The story, told in a vivacious, dramatic style unlike that of the Bible yet on a level that everyone can easily understand, miraculously conjures the atmosphere of biblical times (with many Bible quotations). It is certainly the best single selection in the book.

The manner of Mateji3/4's storytelling reveals a remarkable control and stylistic maturity. The stories read fluently, and the reader's attention is held firmly throughout. The author does not allow any extraneous material to intrude, not even the often tempting social or political allusions. As is the case with other fiction writers in the diaspora, Mateji3/4 has preserved the straightforward approach to narrative in a language uncluttered with innovations and corruptions. There is a classic tone to these stories that will ensure a steady clientele, like good classical music of olden times, as the title of the book hints.

Vasa D. Mihailovich

University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill

Aleksandar Stamenkovi3/4. Gromovnici. Belgrade. KR. 1998. 317 pages.

The plot of the novel "The Thundermen" unfolds in a Serbian town that is sizable in population but provincial in its way of life and state of mind. The main protagonist is a teenager, a boy of twelve or thirteen from an intellectual family; his father is a mechanical engineer and an honorable, respected man.

Aleksandar (the authorial narrator) and his classmates are always together, loitering at night, daydreaming, and admiring their idols, the English hooligans. They spend hours looking at the photos of English bad boys, going into rapture over their clothes, hair styles, leather jackets, chains, boots, and above all their penchant for attacking and hurting innocent people without any reason at all, without a thought of robbing them, just out of pure evil. Instilled with such ideas, Aleksandar and his friends (four of them, two girls and two boys) organize their own gang, the Thundermen, with all the necessary paraphernalia: leather jackets with lots of metal trimmings, a "coat-of-arms" containing a skull with thunderbolts, and their faces painted in bright colors. In their arms they carry long metal-tipped sticks, chains, and penknives. So equipped, these peripheral dragons wait at midnight in the dark at deserted spots for passers-by, whom they humiliate and beat.

The first victims are two villagers, then a factory worker, then a tenant and her child. But soon a stronger tandem appears: two ex-convicts, recently released from prison, who discover the gang and their shelter, beat them up, and rape one of the girls. Aware that they cannot carry out their revenge alone, Aleksandar, the leader, asks for the help of his "friend," also an ex-convict, a legend, a bully. This friend beats one of the criminals to death and brings the other to the gang's shelter, where the rape victim slashes his private parts, resulting in his death.

The gang members are proud of their feats, unaware that they have been under police surveillance for some time and that a trap is being set for them. They are all imprisoned. However, the leader and the girl he loves are saved: due to the high position of his father, Aleksandar is freed and his girl disappears. The other three Thundermen are sentenced and suffer sad destinies: one is killed in prison by another inmate; the rape victim commits suicide in the asylum; and the third, upon release from prison, leads a modest life.

The main character sobers up from the shock of these events and completes secondary school, then university, and soon joins the opposition political party. Ten years later, as a deputy candidate of the region, he returns to his hometown. Repentant, he recalls his adolescent misdeeds, aware now that he is lucky to have emerged largely unscarred from them. While he muses, young men are putting up campaign posters bearing his photo on walls and poles.

The novel reads smoothly and has an unexpectedly delicate touch. The author (b. 1967) graduated in philosophy and has been publishing short stories in leading Serbian literary periodicals. "The Thundermen" is his first novel, and its success will no doubt open to him the doors of the best publishing houses in Serbia.

Nade6da Obradovi3/4

University of Belgrade

Djoko Stojiei3/4. Kopno, kopno na vidiku! Novi Sad, Yug. Prometej. 1998. 88 pages. ISBN 86-7639-363-X.

Despite several books of poetry, thematic anthologies, a book of travelogues and journalism, and numerous essays and polemics, Djoko Stojiei3/4 (b. 1936) has been able only in the last few years to make a name for himself among readers and critics. A recipient of several literary awards and international recognition for his rich and versatile oeuvre, he will long remain known for his many worthy publications, mostly for the six printings of his collection of popular sayings, Sjaj razgovora (The Glory of Conversation).

Stojiei3/4 has published two selections of poems and two new books lately, of which the latest, Kopno, kopno na vidiku! (Land, Land in Sight!), stands out. The volume opens with an inspired foreword, "Pesnik snovidne jasno3/4e" (Poet of Dreamlike Clarity), by the young critic Sa}a Radojei3/4, who expertly interprets and evaluates Stojiei3/4's lyric achievements and his place in today's poetic context. The collection, ideationally and semantically harmonized, consists of several parts and is accompanied by excerpts from both domestic and foreign critical assessments of Stojiei3/4's poetry.

The collection contains newer poems written during the poet's sojourns in Prague and Belgrade, on Mount Zlatibor, and at the Hilandar monastery, et cetera. Seen from the poetic-stylistic and thematic-linguistic angles, the poems here are akin to his earlier verses, especially those from Birane reei, Kueni prag, and Srp od zemlje. A new foray into meditation and metaphysics is echoed in new methodology, especially in poems surrealistically tinged and inspired by confessional and psychological motives. Pungent and at times melancholic verses are rendered in a free-verse and graphically broken form, with variable punctuation. The book is another proof that the poet needs no experiments with a superstructure of improvisations and innovative constructions, since the inspiration is powerful and omnipresent. In the form of concentric circles, every new poem offers deeper and stratified meanings, which in a narrative discourse relate to the poet and the world around him.

Suffused with emotions, visual affects, and intimate observations, mostly in the first-person singular, Stojiei3/4's verses represent concise analyses and a reflexive penetration into the core of being, the origin of things, and the essence of lyrics, best illustrated in the volume's middle cycles. The world beyond dominates this poetry, revealing existential drama and angst. One of the best poems, "Lastavieje gnezdo na fresci Hilandara" (A Swallow's Nest on a Hilandar Fresco), has already been published in a number of journals and newspapers on the occasion of the eight-hundredth anniversary of the establishment of this spiritual center on Mount Athos.

Stojiei3/4's expression unites best the traditional and modernistic approaches. "That so-called reality," as Gottfried Benn would say, constitutes one of the poet's obsessions, realized through dramatic strata and in evocative- retrospective tones. In addition to the already-mentioned motifs, there are also those of homeland, patriotism, engagement, intimacy, and love. Archetypal visions of childhood are harmonized and impressive. Conciseness of expression is achieved in almost all the poems, especially those in the concluding parts of the book.

Kopno, kopno na vidiku! is one more unique adventure by Djoko Stojiei3/4, who publishes a book of verse almost every year. He is steadily gaining in reputation, as attested by many awards and numerous translations into world languages. In the opinion of Slovak critic Pavol {teveek, "Stojiei3/4's poetic creation is a part of an authentic stream of the modern poetry of the twentieth century." With this collection, Stojiei3/4 approaches the very summit of contemporary Serbian poetry.

Milutin Djuriekovi3/4

Belgrade

Slovak

Pavel Vilikovsk[plus-or-minus sign]. Un cheval dans l'escalier. Peter Brabenec, tr. Paris. Nadeau. 1997. 132 pages. 90 F. ISBN 2-86231-138-3.

It is only after we finish the book that we remark the significance of the dedication page: "to the memory of . . ." Memory, history, life and death in twentieth-century Slovakia are the themes of this intriguing and fascinating short novel, originally published in Bratislava in 1989, by Pavel Vilikovsky, one of Slovakia's most renowned contemporary prose writers. Un cheval dans l'escalier (A Horse on the Staircase) is its excellent French translation, rendered by Peter Brabenec (who has also translated a novel by Martin {imeeka).

The originality of this work lies, first of all, in its style, a limpid, playful interior monologue that communicates with the reader and teaches him or her not to fall prey to illusions (even or particularly if the illusions are created by the author himself), and second of all, in the nature of the author's meditations on such subjects as death and dying, imagination and literature (let us just note one very funny passage in which literature is compared to a prosthesis . . . for sex). The tone of the work is self-consciously humorous and ironic, with the greater part of the irony reserved for the author himself, the only figure "not to deserve his own narrator." But, on the other hand, "without me and without a fire, there would be no smoke."

The original title in Slovak is rather enigmatic, if not to say downright obscure for a non-Slovak reader: Kon na poschodi, slepec to Vrabloch (A Horse on the Staircase, a Blind Man in Vrable). Prodded by the author's incessant comments that we, novel readers and ordinary people, are constantly trying to "make sense" of life, we suspect that this title has at least a double meaning. On a literal level, the story enacts these two curious images, and on a figurative level, the author-at the end-defines the title as "everything in its place." What happens in the story? As a boy, the author witnessed, to his everlasting stupefaction, a horse on a staircase. While other people may have more catastrophic memories from World War II, this event, he says, is the only one he remembers. The obsession with the figure of the horse is transported into the very structure of the novelette, as every chapter is introduced by a citation from an equestrian manual instructing the rider on how to handle his horse. The fact that we instantly tend to interpret these citations as quasi- moral maxims just proves what the author claims is an irrepressible human impulse: the need to make sense of things. We cannot get away from the idea that life is "like a staircase."

The action of the story is provided by a bus trip (no matter how many times the author tells us that he has invented this bus as an "outlet," we nevertheless affirm our right to believe that he is really on the road) to the nondescript city of Vrable, where indeed he meets or invents meeting a blind man, a phenomenon almost as bizarre as the horse on the staircase because he doesn't seem to belong in the landscape. This episode prompts the author "to get off the bus," not so much to run away as to switch gears. The narrative finally shifts into the long-awaited story of his relationship with his mother, which we think is the true theme of this work.

An apparently harmless question (asked by a foreigner, an "American")-"Do you love your mother?"-has the effect of triggering a series of remembrances and meditations on love and the fear of death. Cautiously or methodically, the author examines the question as if he were holding a physical object. He considers first the word love, the question itself, and then what people can do in the name of love: commit suicide, for example. The question of his relationship to his mother is also one of identification, which is another way to express love and one's relationship to the outside world. As a boy, he tells us, he could not understand how he felt no pain when his mother was at the dentist's. Does this mean that he did not love her? Now that his mother is dying, how can he accompany her? What can he do to show that he loves her? The question of identification (problematized on psychological, historical, social, political, cultural, and tribal levels) haunts the book (does one have to identify with Shakespeare in order to read him?) and includes the discovery that, at the moment of death, a person is, albeit accompanied, terribly alone because he or she must die alone. It is also the point in literature where not even a brilliant author has the power to identify with the person who is dying.

Before the twentieth century closes its door, it would be extremely salutary to spend some time in the Bratislava of Pavel Vilikosky, as we have spent some time in the Dublin of James Joyce or in the London of Virginia Woolf. The question he poses in relationship to his mother-"Can one really die in peace after having lived seventy years of the twentieth century in this part of the world?"-is both specific and universal. Aware as we should be to the way "History" has traversed his part of the world, we can, after reading this short novel, extend the question to ask how indeed can anyone in this world die in peace any more? For those of us who have not lived in Slovakia but who take the opportunity of discovering the author, we see that reality and the human condition over there are no different from what they are over here. Thanks to Vilikovsky's literary talent that is rooted in nothing other than an extraordinary sense of humanity and humor, the world and the human condition become for his readers more interesting, less mystifying, and more livable. We hope that his writing will become accessible to readers in English as soon as possible.

Pearl-Angelika Lee

Nantes, Fr.

Ukrainian

Peter Wasyl Kuzyk. Garden of Verse: Book Four. Leamington, Ont. Privately printed. 1998. 238 pages. ISBN 0-9695924-3-4.

Among the interesting and fascinating topics included in the collection Garden of Verse: Book Four by Peter W. Kuzyk (volumes 1-3 were reviewed in WLT 67:4, p. 859, 69:2, p. 399, and 71:2, p. 420 respectively), there is also material of a very personal nature. Apparently here the poet for the first time makes us aware of the origin of his series: "It was from my mother's garden / My books' identity was born, / . . . And from this wondrous plot of blooms / Came birth of my Garden of Verse." Because the verses metaphorically came from his mother's garden, they have a very special savor and can delight, suddenly amuse, and instruct the reader, depending on what he or she is looking for.

Although traditionally didactic and imaginative, Kuzyk's poetry reflects current social, economic, and intellectual problems. On the whole it stimulates a broader appreciation of life and culture, old and new. This poetry is valuable when properly used, because in some cases it reflects "intelligence," whereas in others it appeals to emotions. For these reasons, most readers will probably scan the collection for striking descriptions of life, love, faithfulness, or even joy at a bit of wealth. All these problems are vital for humankind, especially when they are presented with a poetic flavor: "I'm told money's not everything. / You can't buy happiness and health . . . / Well, I have seen both of these done / And yes, by folks who had the wealth!"

The poet loves history and is continually fascinated by it, and he looks for great events or outstanding personalities. He says: "Volumes have been filled with achievements that / Hrushevsky [the greatest Ukrainian historian] brought about / And if names become eternal, Hrushevsky's has without doubt!" In these lines the historical comment turns out to be quite appropriate. It is certainly of interest to the reader. Despite its brevity, the poem is significant in that it creates powerful emotions.

Kuzyk is also a master of small but important poems which we may call "society verse"-sometimes epigrammatic, sometimes lyrical, dealing with the surface concerns or events of society. His verse is conversational in tone, but its form is carefully polished and at times elaborate, as seen in the Hrushevsky poem. Here one may suggest that Kuzyk should spend more time elaborating his ideas. But even though his poems are concise, they are nevertheless sufficient to illustrate his points.

Though of Ukrainian origin, the poet is a great patriot of Canada, where he was raised and educated; but he also holds great memories of the Ukraine. He writes: "Yes, our Ukraine, both hers [his mother's] and mine / And yours and many millions more . . . / This land the Lord so beautified / E'en her foes cannot ignore!" Those feelings are obvious and natural because of what he has been taught and told: "Where years of time have passed on by, / The memories remain on hold." Being a friendly person and deeply attached to his family and friends, the poet ends Garden of Verse: Book Four with a characteristic expression on how a poet says whatever he says: "Beyond the gate the scene lay chaste . . . / The vacant home where I had grown; / And as the wild blooms tripped my haste, / I knew a heaven all my own!"

According to the subject matter the style of this book in some places is more poetic, in others more scientific, when it relates to the physical world. This depends on the occasion, and on the literary genre. As a modern poet, Kuzyk makes distinctions between the levels of style he uses. In his verses he is mostly serious. He is not a poet of elaborate stanzas, with intricate patterns of rhyme and line repetition. He is a good master of the acrostic, and in this field he has even gained recognition from the Premier of Ontario for his poem "Many Honours." His verse is clearly presented and is meaningful. The present volume as a whole exhibits several striking ideas that can be appreciated and enjoyed by readers.

Perusing the book carefully, I did not notice any negative features in the collection. On the whole, Garden of Verse: Book Four is comprehensive, informative, and a timely, fascinating document of our present reality. The author himself is constantly growing in stature and becoming a master of beautiful verse. He is modest but knowledgeable; he has a Platonic idea of beauty in his heart. My recommendation is that he begin to give more thought to organizing his poems into meaningful sections. This definitely will improve the appearance of the collection as a whole and make it easier to read.

Wolodymyr T. Zyla

Texas Tech University

Noted

Milutin Djuriekovi3/4. Ja 3/4u biti grof. Dragan Bosni3/4, ill. Belgrade. Knjigoteka. 1998. 55 pages. ISBN 86-1020532-1.

After four books of poetry for children and grown-ups, the Belgrade poet, journalist, and literary critic from a younger generation, Milutin Djuriekovi3/4 (b. 1967), has published a new book of verse with the unusual title Ja 3/4u biti grof (I Want to Be a Count). The collection, versatile in themes and motifs, contains three related cycles, an afterword by Dragomir Djordjevi3/4, and an evaluative commentary by Gordana Maleti3/4. Here Djuriekovi3/4 again shows himself to be a poet of rich imagination and an expert of modern expression who, in strictly rhymed verse, relates the adventures of a lyric persona. His images are original and non-everyday, full of unexpected turns as well as unforeseen observations and meanings. Djuriekovi3/4 is increasingly represented in Serbian anthologies of poetry for adults and children. His latest book has drawn the attention of literary critics and readers, and several individual poems have been translated into other languages.

Vasa D. Mihailovich

University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill