Roman Samac beogradskog pisca i slikara Mome Kapora (1937) je potresna priča o jednom od poslednjih velikih srpskih satiričara, koji zaboravljen i od čitalačke publike i od kritike, živi povučeno u kućerku jednog zajedničkog čuburskog dvorišta, rezimirajući svoj uzbudljiv život, vreme slave, velikih pijančenja i sukoba s vlastima. Mada je već odavno ostavio pisanje, on pokušava da napiše svoje poslednje delo, jedinstveni Kuvar za samce. Posebna zanimljivost ovog romana su nekada zabranjivane satire glavnog junaka, koje su, u svoje vreme, skandalizovale javnost, a zbog kojih je bio čak i u zatvoru. Roman Samac je kratka istorija beogradskog satiričnog kruga što se svojim razornim duhom, inadžijskim humorom i boemskom lezernošću i nehajnošću suprotstavljao svim vlastima, režimima i ideologijama, plaćajući za tu stalnu pobunu visoku životnu cenu. Samac - ta najtužnija reč srpskog jezika, osvetljena je u ovom najnovijem romanu Mome Kapora čehovljevskim osmehom kroz suze i tipičnim kaporovskim smislom za zanimljiv obrt i samoironiju.
Momčilo "Momo" Kapor was a Serbian novelist, painter, and short story writer. Several successful films have been based upon his novels. Born in Sarajevo in 1937. He graduated the painting in 1961 at the Belgrade Academy of Fine Arts under Professor Nedeljko Gvozdenovic. He has published many titles, novels and collections of stories. He has a large number of documentary films and television shows, all according to his screenplays, as well as several feature films (Almonds Beyond Death, Banquet (film), Walter Defends Sarajevo, Jolly DJ, End the Weekend). Una and The Book of Complaints were adapted as such. They have been translated into French, German, Polish, Czech, Bulgarian, Hungarian, Slovenian and Swedish.
Dobrica Cosic, in his book "Friends," on pages 276 and 277 describes the childhood and youth of Momo Kapor, based on the talks he had with him in November 2002. "On the 13 of April 1941, The Germans bombed Sarajevo and hit the building below Trebenica in which the Kapor's mother had hid with her 4-year old son. In the collapsed house, everybody was dead. Moma's mother saved her son with her own body. The boy somehow pulled out from the rubble, moaned and fell into scilence from the speechless horror of not knowing where to be. He was found by a Russian, an emigrant, a doctor, who took pity on him and took him to his apartment, adopting him, as he had no children. He nurtured him, loved him, filled him with toys to forget his mother and drove him around Sarajevo in a white Mercedes. The boy knew that his name was Momcilo, but not his surname. The good Russian gave him a good name, Momcilo Hercegovac. After a year of life with the good man, Momcilo Hercegovac fell ill with scarlet fever, so his savior took him to the Sarajevo hospital. There he was found by his maternal aunt for she had been looking for him the previous year all round Sarajevo, being informed by someone earlier on that there was "a child that got out of the destroyed house, where a man took him with him." When the boy recuperated from scarlet fever, his grandmother took him to her house and took care of him. Momcilo Hercegovac was cared for by the Russian as well, who joined vlasovcima-collaborators of the Germans, often visiting him with gifts. His father was, upon returning from captivity and being a banking expert, set up in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Belgrade. However, his patriotic conscience and responsibilities led to the passage of a whole year after the war before he came to Sarajevo to see his son. He treated his son in a strict patriarchal manner and was dissatisfied that his son dedicated himself to painting and literature, a life of social and material uncertainty "
He died in Belgrade on the 3. of March 2010. at the Military Medical Academy.
Obozavam nacin na koji Kapor pise. Humor, opisi; zivopisnost likova... On je neko ko u svojim knjigama jasno pokazuje da poznaje Srbe, narocito stanovnike grada Beograda, narav, navike, obicaje... Jednom recju umetnik koji ume sa recima. Uvek se rado vracam njegovim knjigama.
Кога во една книга ја нема уметничката вредност што ја барам, очекувам барем дека ќе биде забавна и ќе поминам фино време со неа. За жал, ова повеќе ми личи на нешто што морало да се напише, не ја гледам желбата меѓу речениците.