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The File On H
Two Irish-American scholars from Harvard journey to Albania in the 1930s with a tape recorder (a 'new fangled' invention) in order to record the last genuinely oral epic singers. Their purpose, they say, is to show how Homer's epics might have been culled from a verbal tradition. But the local Governor believes its an elaborate spying mission and arranges for his own spy to follow them.The two dedicated scholars realise only too late that they have stumbled over an ants' nest.
This simple tale by Albania's most eminent and gifted novelist serves to lift the veil on one of the most secret and mysterious countries of modern Europe.
This simple tale by Albania's most eminent and gifted novelist serves to lift the veil on one of the most secret and mysterious countries of modern Europe.
176 pages, Unknown Binding
First published January 1, 1981
34 people are currently reading
1221 people want to read
About the author
Ismail Kadare
273 books1,721 followersIsmail Kadare (also spelled Kadaré) was an Albanian novelist and poet. He has been a leading literary figure in Albania since the 1960s. He focused on short stories until the publication of his first novel, The General of the Dead Army. In 1996 he became a lifetime member of the Academy of Moral and Political Sciences of France. In 1992, he was awarded the Prix mondial Cino Del Duca; in 2005, he won the inaugural Man Booker International Prize, in 2009 the Prince of Asturias Award of Arts, and in 2015 the Jerusalem Prize. He has divided his time between Albania and France since 1990. Kadare has been mentioned as a possible recipient for the Nobel Prize in Literature several times. His works have been published in about 30 languages.
Ismail Kadare was born in 1936 in Gjirokastër, in the south of Albania. His education included studies at the University of Tirana and then the Gorky Institute for World Literature in Moscow, a training school for writers and critics.
In 1960 Kadare returned to Albania after the country broke ties with the Soviet Union, and he became a journalist and published his first poems.
His first novel, The General of the Dead Army, sprang from a short story, and its success established his name in Albania and enabled Kadare to become a full-time writer.
Kadare's novels draw on Balkan history and legends. They are obliquely ironic as a result of trying to withstand political scrutiny. Among his best known books are Chronicle in Stone (1977), Broken April (1978), and The Concert (1988), considered the best novel of the year 1991 by the French literary magazine Lire.
In 1990, Kadare claimed political asylum in France, issuing statements in favour of democratisation. During the ordeal, he stated that "dictatorship and authentic literature are incompatible. The writer is the natural enemy of dictatorship."
Ismail Kadare was born in 1936 in Gjirokastër, in the south of Albania. His education included studies at the University of Tirana and then the Gorky Institute for World Literature in Moscow, a training school for writers and critics.
In 1960 Kadare returned to Albania after the country broke ties with the Soviet Union, and he became a journalist and published his first poems.
His first novel, The General of the Dead Army, sprang from a short story, and its success established his name in Albania and enabled Kadare to become a full-time writer.
Kadare's novels draw on Balkan history and legends. They are obliquely ironic as a result of trying to withstand political scrutiny. Among his best known books are Chronicle in Stone (1977), Broken April (1978), and The Concert (1988), considered the best novel of the year 1991 by the French literary magazine Lire.
In 1990, Kadare claimed political asylum in France, issuing statements in favour of democratisation. During the ordeal, he stated that "dictatorship and authentic literature are incompatible. The writer is the natural enemy of dictatorship."
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December 30, 2020
Suspicion keeps everyone in the dark
Two Irish-American scholars of Homeric ballads arrive in remote northern Albania to record local epic songs in the early 1930s. Nobody has ever seen a tape recorder before. The two men speak archaic Albanian learned from books. Local officials are sure they are spies. (But why there ?) Informers are positioned to report every move and word. A local official's wife longs for an affair. Weird monks and treacherous Serbians move in. Everyone has different motivations. It's a strange mix of satire and scholarship, farce and fact. Kadare constructed this novel on the basis of an actual American `expedition' to the Balkans to collect ballads in order to study the process by which such epics were remembered, forgotten, and reshaped. Though the Harvard scholars' efforts ended in a completely different manner, Kadare used this seed to create THE FILE ON H. "H" in this case is not like Kafka's K or Ian Fleming's M, a nameless individual, but stands for Homer.
In Hoxha's Albania, writing satire on spies and attitudes towards foreigners was doubtless dangerous. Kadare got away with it only because he set the novel in the royalist period of 1928-1938, when Albania was under King Zog. It is an enjoyable book, though not as stunning as some of his others (i.e. "Broken April", "The Three-Arched Bridge", "Chronicle in Stone") The translation, too, may not be as strong as it could have been. As an American with some familiarity with Ireland, I found his Irish-American characters much less believable than his Albanian ones. Their actions and dialogues often don't ring true. But, as another volume in his literary panorama of Albanian history and sentiment, this novel is well worth reading. It contains many flashes of the Kadare genius.
Two Irish-American scholars of Homeric ballads arrive in remote northern Albania to record local epic songs in the early 1930s. Nobody has ever seen a tape recorder before. The two men speak archaic Albanian learned from books. Local officials are sure they are spies. (But why there ?) Informers are positioned to report every move and word. A local official's wife longs for an affair. Weird monks and treacherous Serbians move in. Everyone has different motivations. It's a strange mix of satire and scholarship, farce and fact. Kadare constructed this novel on the basis of an actual American `expedition' to the Balkans to collect ballads in order to study the process by which such epics were remembered, forgotten, and reshaped. Though the Harvard scholars' efforts ended in a completely different manner, Kadare used this seed to create THE FILE ON H. "H" in this case is not like Kafka's K or Ian Fleming's M, a nameless individual, but stands for Homer.
In Hoxha's Albania, writing satire on spies and attitudes towards foreigners was doubtless dangerous. Kadare got away with it only because he set the novel in the royalist period of 1928-1938, when Albania was under King Zog. It is an enjoyable book, though not as stunning as some of his others (i.e. "Broken April", "The Three-Arched Bridge", "Chronicle in Stone") The translation, too, may not be as strong as it could have been. As an American with some familiarity with Ireland, I found his Irish-American characters much less believable than his Albanian ones. Their actions and dialogues often don't ring true. But, as another volume in his literary panorama of Albanian history and sentiment, this novel is well worth reading. It contains many flashes of the Kadare genius.
October 8, 2018
Ενδιαφέρον βιβλίο σχετικά με τα Ομηρικά Έπη αλλά και την ιστορική καταγωγή του Αλβανικού Έθνους. Ο Κανταρέ προσπαθεί να διαλευκάνει το μυστήριο της συγγραφής της Ιλιάδας και της Οδύσσειας ενώ παράλληλα μας μιλάει για την ιστορία της χώρας του...
Ήταν ο Όμηρος ποιητής ή μήπως ένας διορατικός συντάκτης; Ποιο είναι το κλειδί για το μεγάλο μυστήριο που καλύπτει χρόνια τα τελειότερα - ίσως- 'λογοτεχνικά" έργα; Πως συνδέονται οι Αλβανοί ραψωδοί της δεκαετίας του '30 με τον Μεγάλο Τυφλό;
Σε όλα τα παραπάνω ερωτήματα θα ψάξουν να βρουν απαντήσεις δυο Ιρλανδοί επιστήμονες, ο Μαξ και ο Γουίλ. Οι δυο φιλόδοξοι νέοι θα εγκατασταθούν στην αλβανική επαρχεία Ν... και θα ξεκινήσουν μιας εις βάθος έρευνα, η οποία ξεκινάει από το απομονωμένο πανδοχείο στις πλαγιές των Καταραμένων Κορυφών, και φτάνει μέχρι της απαρχές του Ιλλυρικού γένους.
Στην πορεία των ερευνών τους ο Μαξ και ο Γουίλι θα καταλάβουν πως έχουν να αντιμετωπίσουν ένα ξενοφοβικό λαό που ζει κάτω από ένα απολυταρχικό καθεστώς, κατασκόπους και πληροφοριοδότες ενώ παράλληλα θα ανακαλύψουν την ομορφιά της δημιουργίας και της τέχνης...
Η μετάφραση δεν έγινε από το πρωτότυπο κάτι που είναι εμφανές και κάπου ίσως αδικεί το βιβλίο..
3/5 από μένα.
Ήταν ο Όμηρος ποιητής ή μήπως ένας διορατικός συντάκτης; Ποιο είναι το κλειδί για το μεγάλο μυστήριο που καλύπτει χρόνια τα τελειότερα - ίσως- 'λογοτεχνικά" έργα; Πως συνδέονται οι Αλβανοί ραψωδοί της δεκαετίας του '30 με τον Μεγάλο Τυφλό;
Σε όλα τα παραπάνω ερωτήματα θα ψάξουν να βρουν απαντήσεις δυο Ιρλανδοί επιστήμονες, ο Μαξ και ο Γουίλ. Οι δυο φιλόδοξοι νέοι θα εγκατασταθούν στην αλβανική επαρχεία Ν... και θα ξεκινήσουν μιας εις βάθος έρευνα, η οποία ξεκινάει από το απομονωμένο πανδοχείο στις πλαγιές των Καταραμένων Κορυφών, και φτάνει μέχρι της απαρχές του Ιλλυρικού γένους.
Στην πορεία των ερευνών τους ο Μαξ και ο Γουίλι θα καταλάβουν πως έχουν να αντιμετωπίσουν ένα ξενοφοβικό λαό που ζει κάτω από ένα απολυταρχικό καθεστώς, κατασκόπους και πληροφοριοδότες ενώ παράλληλα θα ανακαλύψουν την ομορφιά της δημιουργίας και της τέχνης...
Η μετάφραση δεν έγινε από το πρωτότυπο κάτι που είναι εμφανές και κάπου ίσως αδικεί το βιβλίο..
3/5 από μένα.
November 20, 2017
Εχω ακουσει πολλα θετικα σχολια για τον Κανταρε και ηθελα πολυ να δω και η ιδια προς τι ολα αυτα.αυτη λοιπον ηταν η πρωτη μου επαφη και πιστευω οτι το γεγονος οτι τελειωσα το βιβλιο σε λιγοτερο απο 24 ωρες , λεει πολλα. το θεμα του βιβλιου, εξαιρετικα ενδιαφερον: 2 σπουδαστες απο την Ιρλανδια φτανουν στο τελευταιο μερος που εχει απομεινει να συνδεεται με την ενασχοληση με το ειδος του "επους", την Αλβανια.εκει θελουν να ερευνησουν πως ο μεγαλυτερος δημιουργος αυτης της ποιησης , ο Ομηρος, καταφερε να γραψει τα εργα του..τα εγραψε οντως ή ηταν ενας απλος συντακτης? μαζι τους φερνουν και παραξενη -για τα δεδομενα της εποχης και της μικρης πολης που διαμενουν- τεχνολογια(μαγνητοφωνο) και ολα αυτα ενεργοποιουν την καχυποψια των αρχων που θεωρουν οτι έχουν να κανουν με κατασκοπους...
Ο Κανταρε διαχειριζεται με εξαιρετικη δεξιοτεχνια το λογο , ενω παραλληλα θεωρω οτι εκμεταλλευτηκε στο επακρο αυτη την ακρως ενδιαφερουσα ιδεα βιβλιου.διαβαζοντας το βιβλιο αυτο εμαθα πραγματα που αγνοουσα εντελως και αισθανθηκα σαν να διαβαζα βιβλιο ιστοριας εμπλουτισμενο με ακρως ενδιαφεροντα μυθιστορηματικα στοιχεια.ολα αυτα προσδιδουν στο βιβλιο εναν "αερα" κλασικης λογοτεχνιας.σιγουρα θα επανελθω στο εργο του Κανταρε αμεσα!
Ο Κανταρε διαχειριζεται με εξαιρετικη δεξιοτεχνια το λογο , ενω παραλληλα θεωρω οτι εκμεταλλευτηκε στο επακρο αυτη την ακρως ενδιαφερουσα ιδεα βιβλιου.διαβαζοντας το βιβλιο αυτο εμαθα πραγματα που αγνοουσα εντελως και αισθανθηκα σαν να διαβαζα βιβλιο ιστοριας εμπλουτισμενο με ακρως ενδιαφεροντα μυθιστορηματικα στοιχεια.ολα αυτα προσδιδουν στο βιβλιο εναν "αερα" κλασικης λογοτεχνιας.σιγουρα θα επανελθω στο εργο του Κανταρε αμεσα!
November 25, 2012
The plot of this novel, written in 1981, is set sometime during the 1930s.
In a sleepy provincial town near to the foothills of the Accursed Mountains in northern Albania, the Governor's wife is languishing in her bathtub, fantasizing about the two (young, she hopes) Irish scholars who are about to arrive in the town. Maybe, they will provide her with an opportunity for a romantic adventure. Her husband is charged with the job of arranging unobtrusive but close surveillance of the two foreigners. Who knows - they might be spies.
They arrive, but only stay in the town for one night. Their destination is an isolated inn on the road that leads towards the interior of the desolate Accursed Mountains.
The two scholars hope to meet the 'rhapsodes', itinerant performers of timeless unwritten epic poems that pass from one singer to another and from generation to generation. They have brought a tape recorder with them - an object that arouses great curiosity and suspicion amongst all whom they meet. The scholars are of the opinion that the Albanian epic poems might be the descendants - or maybe the predecessors - of those recorded by Homer in ancient times. As they meet and record the rhapsodes, Kadare allows us to eavesdrop, as does the spy sent by the Governor, on their musings about the origins of Homer's verse and the mechanics of transmission of these timeless epics from singer to singer and down the ages. For example, what is remembered and what is forgotten each time the same epic story is repeated from memory? And, what is added? And why?
Kadare's novel was written in Tirana in 1981 when Albania was being ruled by the fiercely repressive regime of Enver Hoxha. It describes a time when the country was under the thumb of another fiercely paranoid dictator, King Zog, and therefore draws obvious parallels with Hoxha's era. Maybe, it's not surprising that Kadare needed to leave Albania to seek asylum in France by the end of the 1980s. Kadare reveals to the reader in his customarily concise way the cold paranoid atmosphere which Albanians had to endure during Hoxha's 'reign'. In addition to this, the author renders obscure aspects of Homeric scholarship crystal clear to readers like me, who have never ever had reason to think about Homer.
I have read a number of Kadare's novels, and enjoyed all of them, but this is the best of them all ... so far! I was sad to have reached the end of it.
PS Those who are interested in Albania per se might like to look at my book, ALBANIA ON MY MIND.
In a sleepy provincial town near to the foothills of the Accursed Mountains in northern Albania, the Governor's wife is languishing in her bathtub, fantasizing about the two (young, she hopes) Irish scholars who are about to arrive in the town. Maybe, they will provide her with an opportunity for a romantic adventure. Her husband is charged with the job of arranging unobtrusive but close surveillance of the two foreigners. Who knows - they might be spies.
They arrive, but only stay in the town for one night. Their destination is an isolated inn on the road that leads towards the interior of the desolate Accursed Mountains.
The two scholars hope to meet the 'rhapsodes', itinerant performers of timeless unwritten epic poems that pass from one singer to another and from generation to generation. They have brought a tape recorder with them - an object that arouses great curiosity and suspicion amongst all whom they meet. The scholars are of the opinion that the Albanian epic poems might be the descendants - or maybe the predecessors - of those recorded by Homer in ancient times. As they meet and record the rhapsodes, Kadare allows us to eavesdrop, as does the spy sent by the Governor, on their musings about the origins of Homer's verse and the mechanics of transmission of these timeless epics from singer to singer and down the ages. For example, what is remembered and what is forgotten each time the same epic story is repeated from memory? And, what is added? And why?
Kadare's novel was written in Tirana in 1981 when Albania was being ruled by the fiercely repressive regime of Enver Hoxha. It describes a time when the country was under the thumb of another fiercely paranoid dictator, King Zog, and therefore draws obvious parallels with Hoxha's era. Maybe, it's not surprising that Kadare needed to leave Albania to seek asylum in France by the end of the 1980s. Kadare reveals to the reader in his customarily concise way the cold paranoid atmosphere which Albanians had to endure during Hoxha's 'reign'. In addition to this, the author renders obscure aspects of Homeric scholarship crystal clear to readers like me, who have never ever had reason to think about Homer.
I have read a number of Kadare's novels, and enjoyed all of them, but this is the best of them all ... so far! I was sad to have reached the end of it.
PS Those who are interested in Albania per se might like to look at my book, ALBANIA ON MY MIND.
November 15, 2020
En 1979, durante una estancia de Ismaíl Kadaré en Ankara, el escritor se encontró con Albert Lord, que en los años treinta, con su colega Milman Parry, había recorrido las zonas montañosas de Albania intentando hallar una respuesta a los orígenes de la epopeya, de los cantos de los aedos, y una solución al misterio que el propio Homero encierra dentro de sí; con ello, los dos estudiosos reconocían en Albania el origen, la misma cuna de la tradición oral y de los cantos homéricos, casi como si se tratase de una tierra de leyenda.
Puesto a ello, Kadaré terminó El expediente H. en donde Lord y Parry aparecían bajo los heterónimos de Max Roth y Willy Norton, sendos irlandeses afincados en Nueva York, filólogos y estudiosos al servicio de la comunidad universitaria. La novela apareció por primera vez en un par de entregas en la revista Nentori, en noviembre de 1982, pasando indiferente. Por ello, no apareció publicada en un volumen como tal hasta el año 1990.
Con el tiempo, creo que ha quedado demostrado que es uno de los trabajos más interesantes de Kadaré, precisamente por la manera en la que aúna tradición y superstición, epopeya, ficción y leyenda, en una mezcla narrativa sobradamente interesante que, al contrario que en algunas otras obras de este autor, que podrían resultar algo indigestas al pecar de excesivo localismo para un lector medio europeo, en este caso cumple una labor explicativa y docente (aparte de la meramente ficcional y de entretenimiento) aproximando el mundo homérico y los propios resortes de la génesis, permanencia y extinción de las leyendas, en un proceso que se presenta muy atractivo.
Aunque el suceso de Ankara en 1979 fuera fortuito, una pequeña parte del texto ya se encontraba albergado en una de las micronovelas insertadas en su monumental obra El concierto. De uno de los capítulos que, a modo de cajas chinas, se contienen dentro de otro capítulo, y que se titula Sesión de espiritismo en la ciudad de N., se extrae una pequeña parte de esta novela –lo relacionado con los espías, las escuchas-, así como el grueso del argumento central de Spiritus. En el caso de ambas novelas –El expediente H., y Spiritus- la ciudad que se menciona sólo por la primera letra, N. o B., será la localización, compartiendo el personaje del subprefecto –o jefe de la sigurimi- y algunos de los espías, así como ciertos hilos argumentales.
Después, Spiritus se orientará más hacia el lado de los micrófonos y las escuchas, de la muerte y la declaración de ultratumba, mientras que, en El expediente H., será el retrato del espía y las maneras de escuchar y apostarse, y el proceso invasivo e inquisitivo de la autoridad, lo que se vierta en ella. En esto consiste el gran aliento de El concierto, novela que engendra otras dos novelas más, dos textos que se cuentan entre los mejores de Ismaíl Kadaré.
Kadaré afronta el asunto del espionaje como una confrontación entre la vista y el oído. Realmente, todo este Expediente H. es una lucha en tensión por ver cuál de los sentidos se impone al otro. La novela es una novela de los sentidos, a los que hay que añadir la cualidad de la voz y de la palabra como aliada del oído. Los espías auditivos, es decir los que escuchan, se imponen a los visuales; el propio Homero era ciego, cualidad esta que parece fundamental a la hora de convertirse en un buen recitador, en un lahutare, como si privarse de la vista fortalezca la memoria para ser capaces de albergar en ella miles de versos.
Evidentemente, en este asunto de las escuchas y de los informes de los espías, se encuentra todo un rastro de crítica y denuncia al Estado burocrático, al estado convertido en un Gran Policía y que vigila orwellianamente a sus súbditos, al estilo de la Albania comunista de Kadaré, aunque el autor haya establecido la acción del Expediente en el año 1933, en plena monarquía del rey Zog. Eso no importará a la hora de que el Estado ande preocupado por defenderse de sus enemigos, sean reales o imaginarios, mostrándose reacios a los extranjeros, coaligados con las profundas supersticiones y supercherías de la gente, como a la hora de juzgar el reciente invento del magnetófono como algo demoniaco que sólo puede acarrear desgracias.
Y amparado, el sistema, también, en azotar y alimentar los sentimientos nacionalistas, alentando la hostilidad entre albaneses y serbios, por ejemplo, que incluso entran en conflicto a la hora de reclamar la paternidad y autoría de las leyendas y los cantos con lo que, al final, inevitablemente, uno de los dos países será el país plagiario del asunto, con todo lo negativo y la carga de descrédito que eso conlleva para la tradición que ha salido perjudicada, la que ha sido, presuntamente, una copia.
En ese tira y afloja continuado entre vista y oído, lenguaje épico o epopéyico contra el lenguaje de los informes oficiales policiales y burocráticos, de la modernización científica frente a la superstición arraigada, de la ciudad de provincias contra la gran capital, también se enfrentan dos corrientes subterráneas: la aburrida vida de la clase acomodada pueblerina (el jefe de correos, el fabricante de jabones, el ginecólogo) con todos sus males fosilizados y su aburrimiento secular (que luego se vería sacudido por el comunismo y convertidos, todos ellos, en desclasados), enfrentada esta forma de existencia al soplo fresco e innovador del suceso extraordinario que representan los extranjeros, portadores de un pedazo de mundo nuevo y alejado que ahora parecen insertar en el mismo seno de la ciudad de N.
Son muchos conflictos los que se rozan entre sí, y quizás, por ello, por la magnitud de la ola turbulenta que los dos estudiosos levantan en la localidad, acabarán pasando a ser materia de un canto épico, de su propio canto épico, siendo ambos investigadores, y su magnetofón, elementos que formarán parte de la misma epopeya que investigan, pronunciados por esos labios de los aedos montañeses de los que están pendientes, y recitados de forma monótona por esas gargantas que encierran el enigma de Homero.
Convertidos los filólogos en asunto metaliterario, en un gran giño final de Kadaré que proclama, así, que la palabra, es decir la literatura, acaba derrotando a la vista y al oído, aunque necesita de ambos sentidos para -esa es su paradoja- existir.
Tal vez ese sea el misterio que encierra Homero y que es necesario desentrañar.
Puesto a ello, Kadaré terminó El expediente H. en donde Lord y Parry aparecían bajo los heterónimos de Max Roth y Willy Norton, sendos irlandeses afincados en Nueva York, filólogos y estudiosos al servicio de la comunidad universitaria. La novela apareció por primera vez en un par de entregas en la revista Nentori, en noviembre de 1982, pasando indiferente. Por ello, no apareció publicada en un volumen como tal hasta el año 1990.
Con el tiempo, creo que ha quedado demostrado que es uno de los trabajos más interesantes de Kadaré, precisamente por la manera en la que aúna tradición y superstición, epopeya, ficción y leyenda, en una mezcla narrativa sobradamente interesante que, al contrario que en algunas otras obras de este autor, que podrían resultar algo indigestas al pecar de excesivo localismo para un lector medio europeo, en este caso cumple una labor explicativa y docente (aparte de la meramente ficcional y de entretenimiento) aproximando el mundo homérico y los propios resortes de la génesis, permanencia y extinción de las leyendas, en un proceso que se presenta muy atractivo.
Aunque el suceso de Ankara en 1979 fuera fortuito, una pequeña parte del texto ya se encontraba albergado en una de las micronovelas insertadas en su monumental obra El concierto. De uno de los capítulos que, a modo de cajas chinas, se contienen dentro de otro capítulo, y que se titula Sesión de espiritismo en la ciudad de N., se extrae una pequeña parte de esta novela –lo relacionado con los espías, las escuchas-, así como el grueso del argumento central de Spiritus. En el caso de ambas novelas –El expediente H., y Spiritus- la ciudad que se menciona sólo por la primera letra, N. o B., será la localización, compartiendo el personaje del subprefecto –o jefe de la sigurimi- y algunos de los espías, así como ciertos hilos argumentales.
Después, Spiritus se orientará más hacia el lado de los micrófonos y las escuchas, de la muerte y la declaración de ultratumba, mientras que, en El expediente H., será el retrato del espía y las maneras de escuchar y apostarse, y el proceso invasivo e inquisitivo de la autoridad, lo que se vierta en ella. En esto consiste el gran aliento de El concierto, novela que engendra otras dos novelas más, dos textos que se cuentan entre los mejores de Ismaíl Kadaré.
Kadaré afronta el asunto del espionaje como una confrontación entre la vista y el oído. Realmente, todo este Expediente H. es una lucha en tensión por ver cuál de los sentidos se impone al otro. La novela es una novela de los sentidos, a los que hay que añadir la cualidad de la voz y de la palabra como aliada del oído. Los espías auditivos, es decir los que escuchan, se imponen a los visuales; el propio Homero era ciego, cualidad esta que parece fundamental a la hora de convertirse en un buen recitador, en un lahutare, como si privarse de la vista fortalezca la memoria para ser capaces de albergar en ella miles de versos.
Evidentemente, en este asunto de las escuchas y de los informes de los espías, se encuentra todo un rastro de crítica y denuncia al Estado burocrático, al estado convertido en un Gran Policía y que vigila orwellianamente a sus súbditos, al estilo de la Albania comunista de Kadaré, aunque el autor haya establecido la acción del Expediente en el año 1933, en plena monarquía del rey Zog. Eso no importará a la hora de que el Estado ande preocupado por defenderse de sus enemigos, sean reales o imaginarios, mostrándose reacios a los extranjeros, coaligados con las profundas supersticiones y supercherías de la gente, como a la hora de juzgar el reciente invento del magnetófono como algo demoniaco que sólo puede acarrear desgracias.
Y amparado, el sistema, también, en azotar y alimentar los sentimientos nacionalistas, alentando la hostilidad entre albaneses y serbios, por ejemplo, que incluso entran en conflicto a la hora de reclamar la paternidad y autoría de las leyendas y los cantos con lo que, al final, inevitablemente, uno de los dos países será el país plagiario del asunto, con todo lo negativo y la carga de descrédito que eso conlleva para la tradición que ha salido perjudicada, la que ha sido, presuntamente, una copia.
En ese tira y afloja continuado entre vista y oído, lenguaje épico o epopéyico contra el lenguaje de los informes oficiales policiales y burocráticos, de la modernización científica frente a la superstición arraigada, de la ciudad de provincias contra la gran capital, también se enfrentan dos corrientes subterráneas: la aburrida vida de la clase acomodada pueblerina (el jefe de correos, el fabricante de jabones, el ginecólogo) con todos sus males fosilizados y su aburrimiento secular (que luego se vería sacudido por el comunismo y convertidos, todos ellos, en desclasados), enfrentada esta forma de existencia al soplo fresco e innovador del suceso extraordinario que representan los extranjeros, portadores de un pedazo de mundo nuevo y alejado que ahora parecen insertar en el mismo seno de la ciudad de N.
Son muchos conflictos los que se rozan entre sí, y quizás, por ello, por la magnitud de la ola turbulenta que los dos estudiosos levantan en la localidad, acabarán pasando a ser materia de un canto épico, de su propio canto épico, siendo ambos investigadores, y su magnetofón, elementos que formarán parte de la misma epopeya que investigan, pronunciados por esos labios de los aedos montañeses de los que están pendientes, y recitados de forma monótona por esas gargantas que encierran el enigma de Homero.
Convertidos los filólogos en asunto metaliterario, en un gran giño final de Kadaré que proclama, así, que la palabra, es decir la literatura, acaba derrotando a la vista y al oído, aunque necesita de ambos sentidos para -esa es su paradoja- existir.
Tal vez ese sea el misterio que encierra Homero y que es necesario desentrañar.
December 2, 2019
This book starts by trying to be funny, but it is a translation of a translation (English from French from Albanian I presume ) the comedy was probably lost but detected.
We have an Albanian small town, under the communist regime, waiting for 2 Americans who are coming to do their research on oral history, sung by wandering bards and a dying form of entertainment.
It begins with the town's mayor making the arrangements for the impending arrival of the two alleged scholars who most certainly are spies by writing reports and recruiting spies to spy on the spies.
The main part of the story that tackles the research and the historical aspects of narrated history, is very interesting and quite captivating, The hapless scholars do not realise that Albania and Serbia both claim the rights and origins of this form of history as they go about their business of recording sessions that are all too precious with the near extinction of the art and artists and the coming of winter and it's biting weather.
Worth reading after the fairly boring start. The reports submitted by the spy Dull and the mayor's thoughts about them are really great,
We have an Albanian small town, under the communist regime, waiting for 2 Americans who are coming to do their research on oral history, sung by wandering bards and a dying form of entertainment.
It begins with the town's mayor making the arrangements for the impending arrival of the two alleged scholars who most certainly are spies by writing reports and recruiting spies to spy on the spies.
The main part of the story that tackles the research and the historical aspects of narrated history, is very interesting and quite captivating, The hapless scholars do not realise that Albania and Serbia both claim the rights and origins of this form of history as they go about their business of recording sessions that are all too precious with the near extinction of the art and artists and the coming of winter and it's biting weather.
Worth reading after the fairly boring start. The reports submitted by the spy Dull and the mayor's thoughts about them are really great,
October 12, 2022
Ismail Kadare is truly the most underappreciated writer around. He is brilliant and, in my opinion, at the same level as Jose Saramago. This is a comedy of the absurd that goes from humorous to out right hilarity. The premise is that two Irish scholars have come to Albania to locate the last vestiges of Homeric epic poetry. Taking place in the early 1930's they have brought with them a tape recorder, a new invention that, at the time, was the size of a large crate. They have gone to a small village where they believe the epic ballad is still practiced. However, the city officials believe that they are spies and so have placed their own spies to watch and report on them. Add to this the rivalry between the different ethnic groups and the ignorance that the monks in the area have regarding, what they believe, to be a satanic purpose of the tape recorder and you have the makings for a great comedic read.
November 24, 2015
Clever, fun book - two Irish researchers travel to Albania to do research on oral epics after the invention of the tape recorder. I love the strange mixture of styles here. Kadare mixes Amis-style slapsticky humor from the perspective of the locals with an elevated discourse on Homer and the complicated nature of assembling and re-assembling a spoken poem. The great chapter that reads like an essay on rhapsodes was my favorite, but the work never gets heavy enough to lose sight of its sense of fun. I would have loved for it to be a bit longer, some subplots (most specifically the fascinating interpolated writing from one of the great spies in literature) die out weakly, and the ending is telegraphed, but this was a treat. It doesn't reach the memoirish peaks of Twilight of the Eastern Gods, but Kadare proves himself to be a writer of great range.
October 27, 2024
This is my first time reading one of Kadare’s works; one of the most famous authors in Albania. Not my favourite, however I appreciated it for what it was. Would have loved to have read it in Albanian just to see how differently it translates (no pun intended), as it was meant to be quite a comedic telling of the story of the two foreigners in Albania, however it felt quite lost in between everything going on. With multiple different plots, it was quite hard to gauge what exactly was going on and what they would eventually lead to (which for some was ultimately nothing), however I think the themes and motifs were so strong in this book I did quite enjoy it. My favourite scene was the recording of the lahut, an instrument played mostly in the north of albania, and the recording of it on the device. It was so harmonious and peaceful, knowing the foreigners and the players come from two completely oppsing parts of the world but are still able to share and learn from each other.
There are definitely parts I didn’t like, such as Daisy and her fantasies about having an affair with the foreigners. Daisy’s role in the novel itself in general was one I didn’t like; most Albanian books I’ve read women are almost always objectified and over-sexualised, which is no different in this novel. Her husband too, who has such an important role in Albanian politics, comes across as someone who doesn’t actually have much power and doesn’t seem highly respectable to the reader.
I do appreciate it for what it is however, and I really can’t wait to read more of Kadare
There are definitely parts I didn’t like, such as Daisy and her fantasies about having an affair with the foreigners. Daisy’s role in the novel itself in general was one I didn’t like; most Albanian books I’ve read women are almost always objectified and over-sexualised, which is no different in this novel. Her husband too, who has such an important role in Albanian politics, comes across as someone who doesn’t actually have much power and doesn’t seem highly respectable to the reader.
I do appreciate it for what it is however, and I really can’t wait to read more of Kadare
July 1, 2010
This novel gets more interesting as more details surface. Bill and Max, two Irish scholars, come to Albania to study the declining tradition of oral epic that goes back to Homer and to discover Homer's identity. The little backwater town of N_____ is very suspicious of these visitors, the governor under the instructions of the minister assigning spies to inhabit the attic above their room in order to track their English conversations and whereabouts. All of the undercover espionage escapes the Irishmen's notice as the governor also invites them to various social events at his home.
Many but not everyone see them as a security threat and their tape recorder as a devilish instrument. Daisy the governor's wife develops romantic ideas about unmarried Bill, and the innkeeper Shtjefen persuades the reluctant Albanian highlanders, who stay at his crossroads inn, to sing into machine's microphone.
While the scholarly team records and transcribes the bards' performances, they also address more scientific questions related to oral transmission and to similar phenomena that attempt to explain the diffusion of this poetry, the performers' omissions and additions to the long songs, etc.
Those readers with a knowledge of Albanian history will enjoy the novel even more than one who reads for pleasure a fine storyteller's narrative. Another suggestion is to reread the novel because the story is very good and well-crafted.
Many but not everyone see them as a security threat and their tape recorder as a devilish instrument. Daisy the governor's wife develops romantic ideas about unmarried Bill, and the innkeeper Shtjefen persuades the reluctant Albanian highlanders, who stay at his crossroads inn, to sing into machine's microphone.
While the scholarly team records and transcribes the bards' performances, they also address more scientific questions related to oral transmission and to similar phenomena that attempt to explain the diffusion of this poetry, the performers' omissions and additions to the long songs, etc.
Those readers with a knowledge of Albanian history will enjoy the novel even more than one who reads for pleasure a fine storyteller's narrative. Another suggestion is to reread the novel because the story is very good and well-crafted.
April 18, 2020
I first read this book in my early twenties. A friend gave it to me as a present. At the time was studying Homer, and I dreamed with the times when oral storytelling was still alive. I used to think how wonderful it was when people would gather around the fireplace and hear old folktales. I thought storytelling was something from the past, and this book gave me access to a world that was very dear to my heart, but I would never get the chance to get to know.
Meanwhile I moved to the UK and found out about story circles, where storytellers gather together in a circle and tell stories. I became a storyteller myself, and telling stories became part of my identity. There are stories that I have been telling for years, and they do change with time, just as it is described in the book. It was wonderful to re-read this book 15 years later, and recognise techniques that I myself use, as well as my storytelling friends. I still love epic poetry and Homer, and this book made me want to read epic poems from Albania.
I loves Kadare's writing, his insight, his descriptions and his humour. When reading this book I still feel like I am being transported to another world, and I can almost feel it as it was so vividly portrayed. I think this book now became an old friend, and from time to time I will pay it a visit.
Meanwhile I moved to the UK and found out about story circles, where storytellers gather together in a circle and tell stories. I became a storyteller myself, and telling stories became part of my identity. There are stories that I have been telling for years, and they do change with time, just as it is described in the book. It was wonderful to re-read this book 15 years later, and recognise techniques that I myself use, as well as my storytelling friends. I still love epic poetry and Homer, and this book made me want to read epic poems from Albania.
I loves Kadare's writing, his insight, his descriptions and his humour. When reading this book I still feel like I am being transported to another world, and I can almost feel it as it was so vividly portrayed. I think this book now became an old friend, and from time to time I will pay it a visit.
February 23, 2025
“një aprath i zi ka dalë nga deti”
guys nashta pernime ka dit ismaili me shkru…. nashta.
guys nashta pernime ka dit ismaili me shkru…. nashta.
November 13, 2019
Another great work by Kadare. This one clashes worlds and cultures in 1930s Albania. Two Irish academics pursuing a theory they have about Homerian epics and a possible connection to Albanian epic storytelling tradition arrive to be greeted by a range of curiosity, suspicion and hostility. The men are curious about the ability of storytellers to remember long complex tales accurately between tellings and over time. With a new tape recording apparatus they capture the same stories told over time and set about looking for inconsistencies in their retelling and explanations for why the discrepancies occur and the implications for this over years, decades and centuries. What are the roots of epic poetry they ask, what makes a tale worthy of such memory and retelling "How did the embalming process begin so as to start turning an event into an immortal story?" As they pursue their research they are largely unaware of the suspicion falling on them and the forces ranged against them as their work ruffles ethnic, cultural and state feathers. Ultimately the two Albanias they observe somehow existing side by side - one largely unchanged for centuries, the other a Westernised detached bourgoise - prove too much for the outsiders who bring their own histories and preconceptions into an equally uncomprehending world. This is a gripping fast paced tale, which like all Kadare's work makes you think.
November 28, 2020
In the 1930s Milman Parry and Albert Lord made two trips to Yugoslavia to record the oral poetry of its rhapsodes in order to better understand how the Homeric epics might have come about. In 1979, Albanian writer Ismail Kadare met Albert Lord at a conference (Parry himself died in 1935, shortly after returning from the second trip, of a gunshot wound in a hotel room), and that meeting led to this novella, in which Parry and Lord, Americans, become Irishmen and Yugoslavia Albania.
Kadare has more or less understood the basic nature of Parry and Lord's work, but he doesn't possess the background required to write convincing classical philologists, and he doesn't really care about it anyway—it mainly serves as a delivery mechanism for some extremely tedious satire of Hoxha's Albania. This satire is executed purely as background noise: even though Kadare understandably found the basic historical facts of the two dudes arriving, recording, and then leaving again sufficiently boring as a story that he felt the need to add a bit of violence near the end, very little plot actually ends up happening and none of it is even mildly affected by the ham-handed nonsense that takes up most of the pages.
If it weren't for the association with Milman Parry, there'd be nothing worth remembering about this book at all.
Kadare has more or less understood the basic nature of Parry and Lord's work, but he doesn't possess the background required to write convincing classical philologists, and he doesn't really care about it anyway—it mainly serves as a delivery mechanism for some extremely tedious satire of Hoxha's Albania. This satire is executed purely as background noise: even though Kadare understandably found the basic historical facts of the two dudes arriving, recording, and then leaving again sufficiently boring as a story that he felt the need to add a bit of violence near the end, very little plot actually ends up happening and none of it is even mildly affected by the ham-handed nonsense that takes up most of the pages.
If it weren't for the association with Milman Parry, there'd be nothing worth remembering about this book at all.
July 2, 2021
这本作品写得比较平庸。卡达莱一方面怀着民族主义的情绪，写阿尔巴尼亚吟游诗人与荷马史诗时代的关系，这是一种自豪的文化传承。另一方面，又对阿尔巴尼亚封闭、专制的气氛极尽讽刺之能事。躲在角落里的密探，因为环境过于封闭而渴望来一次艳遇的总督夫人，都足够形象刻画了小城社会的氛围。但不幸这种主题也太多了，卡达莱也未能写出新意。而塞尔维亚作为阿尔巴尼亚的邻居，显然是被卡达莱这位民族主义者深深痛恨的。他用“疯修士”这种典型的东正教挖苦对象，来刻画塞���维亚作为地区强权，绝不允许阿尔巴尼亚拥有足以自豪的文化传统，在不能豪夺的情况下就亲手毁灭，民族间的欺凌和压迫，也足够令人印象深刻。然而不幸的是，巴尔干诸国的恩怨纠葛，已经被刚刚读完的《黑羊与灰鹰》写尽了，因此读起来也毫无新意。
April 20, 2019
With my parents living in Albania, I was told I should really check out that country's most celebrated author, Ismail Kadare (nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature), and I chose this book because a couple of people had described it as his "most accessible" novel.
First, I always know, with regret, that reading a book in translation means losing some of the author's wit, poetry, meaning, etc. And this English edition is translated from the French, which was translated from the original Albanian, so who knows how much is missing when it's two steps removed from the author's own words.
That said, I loved the premise of the novel. It follows the adventure of two Irish-American Homeric scholars who learn that one of the few places to still retain an oral epic tradition is the mountainous regions of Albania. Hoping to learn how the works of Homer might have been handed down or altered over centuries without the aid of writing, they travel to that remote place in search of a dying breed of "rhapsodes," the traveling poets who, like Homer, sing their epics from memory, passing on their verse from one generation to the next.
What keeps this from being dully academic is the culture of paranoid suspicion among the Albanian officials from the moment the two scholars arrive. Who is this mysterious "H" these two refer to in their notes? (Homer.) What state secrets are they trying to steal while using this poetry research as a cover? Etc. Spies are sent to watch their every move.
Meanwhile, the foreigners draw the unwanted attention of a Serb—a traveling monk who argues that they really ought to be researching Serbian epics, which are "far superior and much older." (If you know anything about Serbian relations with Albania, you'll know that the introduction of a Serb into the story does not bode well.)
As the two Irishmen record the songs of the rhapsodes on their new-fangled machine—a tape recorder that rouses even deeper suspicions among the locals—one of them find that his sight is rapidly failing, even as they note that many of the rhapsodes suffer from a similar handicap, much like Homer himself.
The intersection of classical poetry and Albanian culture, as well as the perpetual misunderstandings and blunders between the foreigners and the locals would have made for a really amusing novel. What ruined it for me, however, is the sexual longings of the governer's wife. She's bored and childless and underappreciated and spends her time fantasizing about a rendez-vous with one of these mysterious outsiders. But in the end she has a fling with one of the spies instead, ends up pregnant, and heads to the local doctor who hints that he'll offer her an abortion to hide the evidence from her husband. Say what, now? This is 1930s pre-communist Europe, and this comes out of nowhere. Even without that gruesome conclusion to her story, that whole part of the narrative was distasteful and distracting from the better storyline. Cut that ugly part out, and you'd have a fun and informative romp of a novel.
First, I always know, with regret, that reading a book in translation means losing some of the author's wit, poetry, meaning, etc. And this English edition is translated from the French, which was translated from the original Albanian, so who knows how much is missing when it's two steps removed from the author's own words.
That said, I loved the premise of the novel. It follows the adventure of two Irish-American Homeric scholars who learn that one of the few places to still retain an oral epic tradition is the mountainous regions of Albania. Hoping to learn how the works of Homer might have been handed down or altered over centuries without the aid of writing, they travel to that remote place in search of a dying breed of "rhapsodes," the traveling poets who, like Homer, sing their epics from memory, passing on their verse from one generation to the next.
What keeps this from being dully academic is the culture of paranoid suspicion among the Albanian officials from the moment the two scholars arrive. Who is this mysterious "H" these two refer to in their notes? (Homer.) What state secrets are they trying to steal while using this poetry research as a cover? Etc. Spies are sent to watch their every move.
Meanwhile, the foreigners draw the unwanted attention of a Serb—a traveling monk who argues that they really ought to be researching Serbian epics, which are "far superior and much older." (If you know anything about Serbian relations with Albania, you'll know that the introduction of a Serb into the story does not bode well.)
As the two Irishmen record the songs of the rhapsodes on their new-fangled machine—a tape recorder that rouses even deeper suspicions among the locals—one of them find that his sight is rapidly failing, even as they note that many of the rhapsodes suffer from a similar handicap, much like Homer himself.
The intersection of classical poetry and Albanian culture, as well as the perpetual misunderstandings and blunders between the foreigners and the locals would have made for a really amusing novel. What ruined it for me, however, is the sexual longings of the governer's wife. She's bored and childless and underappreciated and spends her time fantasizing about a rendez-vous with one of these mysterious outsiders. But in the end she has a fling with one of the spies instead, ends up pregnant, and heads to the local doctor who hints that he'll offer her an abortion to hide the evidence from her husband. Say what, now? This is 1930s pre-communist Europe, and this comes out of nowhere. Even without that gruesome conclusion to her story, that whole part of the narrative was distasteful and distracting from the better storyline. Cut that ugly part out, and you'd have a fun and informative romp of a novel.
February 5, 2013
My first Kadare book!
Lengthy mainly irrelevant anecdote: when I was a student, years ago, we had to study Homer. It wasn't optional - you could choose which of the big two (Iliad and Odyssey) you'd study in more depth, but you definitely had to read both.
So it was that I'd heard of Milman Parry, who wrote about Homer and the oral tradition in the early 20th century. I even vaguely knew that he'd been out to the Balkans somewhere and made the first ever recordings of the last ever rhapsodes (illiterate poets who knew great long epic poems off by heart). I suppose there are no rhapsodes left now, anyway. But because I was only young then, and relatively unquestioning, I just accepted that as a given thing - Parry says this, he advanced such and such a hypothesis, blah blah.
It didn't occur to me ever to wonder what it would be like for a Harvard academic to pitch up in the Balkans in the 1920s with his strange new recording equipment and start tracking down the last authentic rhapsodes. That would have made a much more interesting read than any of my essays ever did, and that's why I'm not Kadare.
So this is the story of two academics, Irish, but arriving by way of Harvard, who come to Albania (not quite where Parry went, but close) to track down and record the last of the rhapsodes. Albanian bureaucrats are convinced that they are spies, and go to great lengths to put them under effective surveillance. The mayor of the small town nearest to where they are staying is under pressure - will his spies be up to scratch? His wife is bored and just glad to see new faces. The academics themselves are naive and bemused.
If you read it on one level, it's a funny small town comedy/spy story. If you want to get deeper, there are all sort of Homeric parallels - one of the characters even goes blind! Unsubtle.
Written in Albanian, then translated into French, and then I think translated from the French into the English, not directly from the Albanian. Author ultimately went into exile in France, sometime in the 80s - this book was written in 1981, if I recall correctly. Not surprised he chose France - all sorts of 'writing about writing' potentially wanky bits here. But it's not wanky, it's really really good.
Lengthy mainly irrelevant anecdote: when I was a student, years ago, we had to study Homer. It wasn't optional - you could choose which of the big two (Iliad and Odyssey) you'd study in more depth, but you definitely had to read both.
So it was that I'd heard of Milman Parry, who wrote about Homer and the oral tradition in the early 20th century. I even vaguely knew that he'd been out to the Balkans somewhere and made the first ever recordings of the last ever rhapsodes (illiterate poets who knew great long epic poems off by heart). I suppose there are no rhapsodes left now, anyway. But because I was only young then, and relatively unquestioning, I just accepted that as a given thing - Parry says this, he advanced such and such a hypothesis, blah blah.
It didn't occur to me ever to wonder what it would be like for a Harvard academic to pitch up in the Balkans in the 1920s with his strange new recording equipment and start tracking down the last authentic rhapsodes. That would have made a much more interesting read than any of my essays ever did, and that's why I'm not Kadare.
So this is the story of two academics, Irish, but arriving by way of Harvard, who come to Albania (not quite where Parry went, but close) to track down and record the last of the rhapsodes. Albanian bureaucrats are convinced that they are spies, and go to great lengths to put them under effective surveillance. The mayor of the small town nearest to where they are staying is under pressure - will his spies be up to scratch? His wife is bored and just glad to see new faces. The academics themselves are naive and bemused.
If you read it on one level, it's a funny small town comedy/spy story. If you want to get deeper, there are all sort of Homeric parallels - one of the characters even goes blind! Unsubtle.
Written in Albanian, then translated into French, and then I think translated from the French into the English, not directly from the Albanian. Author ultimately went into exile in France, sometime in the 80s - this book was written in 1981, if I recall correctly. Not surprised he chose France - all sorts of 'writing about writing' potentially wanky bits here. But it's not wanky, it's really really good.
October 17, 2015
The arrival of the foreign scholars…
One cannot rule out the possibility that the two visitors are spies
It was still a soaking winter's day beneath a lead-grey sky with drizzling rain tapping out the slow rhythm of life all around
Something sensational was in the air
N– A place with no name for anything in particular
The state is deeper than the deepest well
Sleep hovered in the air
What they are trying to prove is that the material from which Albanian epic poetry is made is Homeric in origin
Epic poetry really is murderous stuff
Serbs and Albanians: We were born to mutual anger
Forgetting is the constituent part of the laboratory
Death is what guarantees that life goes on
What is the rate of loss by any given measure of time
Oral epic is in the first place an art of the ear
It is no coincidence that Homer is imagined as a man deprived of sight
Blindness is an integral part of the machinery that produces epic poetry
Serbs and Albanians use the epic in exactly the same way – as a weapon
A magic mirror, making the hero of the one the anti-hero of the other
With all emotions – bittiness, joy, victory, defeat – inverted to the very end
Figures of speech and linguistic formulae are also subject to change
Except the rate of change is so slow as to be imperceptible
The lack of distinction between waking and dreaming was actually very much in the spirit of the epic themselves
Space and time obeyed their own fantastical laws in epic poetry:
Action was spread out over hundreds of years
Characters died or were plunged into deep sleep by a spell then woke
Homeric enigma had had to wait until tape-recorders had been invented
The Mysterious Attack…
Now the epic is scattered again just as it was before
The age of the epic really was over in the world
Homeric business was just nonsense
Outdated Fetishism!
You might as well try to put a halter on a ghost – a blind ghost
It wasn’t so easy to remove all the consequences of the two foreigners' visit to N–
Death was only a shell encasing something else
One cannot rule out the possibility that the two visitors are spies
It was still a soaking winter's day beneath a lead-grey sky with drizzling rain tapping out the slow rhythm of life all around
Something sensational was in the air
N– A place with no name for anything in particular
The state is deeper than the deepest well
Sleep hovered in the air
What they are trying to prove is that the material from which Albanian epic poetry is made is Homeric in origin
Epic poetry really is murderous stuff
Serbs and Albanians: We were born to mutual anger
Forgetting is the constituent part of the laboratory
Death is what guarantees that life goes on
What is the rate of loss by any given measure of time
Oral epic is in the first place an art of the ear
It is no coincidence that Homer is imagined as a man deprived of sight
Blindness is an integral part of the machinery that produces epic poetry
Serbs and Albanians use the epic in exactly the same way – as a weapon
A magic mirror, making the hero of the one the anti-hero of the other
With all emotions – bittiness, joy, victory, defeat – inverted to the very end
Figures of speech and linguistic formulae are also subject to change
Except the rate of change is so slow as to be imperceptible
The lack of distinction between waking and dreaming was actually very much in the spirit of the epic themselves
Space and time obeyed their own fantastical laws in epic poetry:
Action was spread out over hundreds of years
Characters died or were plunged into deep sleep by a spell then woke
Homeric enigma had had to wait until tape-recorders had been invented
The Mysterious Attack…
Now the epic is scattered again just as it was before
The age of the epic really was over in the world
Homeric business was just nonsense
Outdated Fetishism!
You might as well try to put a halter on a ghost – a blind ghost
It wasn’t so easy to remove all the consequences of the two foreigners' visit to N–
Death was only a shell encasing something else
November 29, 2010
This is my fourth Kadare novel. It is a comedy spy cultural poetic novel, a conglomerate of things that don't sound like they make sense together but that weave a fantastic string of events together with amazing language and characters. Basically, a classic Kadare. And just like a classic Kadare, underneath it is so much more than those things, it is a statement that makes you think about a mostly unknown part of the world, its inhabitants, and its disappearing culture. It also makes you think of the conflicts and the confusions of the area as well. The Albanian epic, the truth about Homer, the Balkan conflicts -- this is a book that will lead to further research into many, many things. It's a great piece of literature.
As for the story itself, I overlooked the sub-plot of the governor's dramatic wife. I had to in order to enjoy what the book was really about. The Irishmen are a lovely pair, inn workers are great, the townspeople are charming in a townspeople kind of way, but Dull Baxhaja, the Gypsy, steals the show completely. Blessed with a creative flair for writing reports, we really get the taste of comedy from him and the sense of complete absurdity of his assignment. We know that if he would have stayed on, the slight tragedy at the end (which was predictable, in a good way this time, as no one died) could have been avoided. Also, the mystical conclusion is a happy one, the epic lives on!
As for the story itself, I overlooked the sub-plot of the governor's dramatic wife. I had to in order to enjoy what the book was really about. The Irishmen are a lovely pair, inn workers are great, the townspeople are charming in a townspeople kind of way, but Dull Baxhaja, the Gypsy, steals the show completely. Blessed with a creative flair for writing reports, we really get the taste of comedy from him and the sense of complete absurdity of his assignment. We know that if he would have stayed on, the slight tragedy at the end (which was predictable, in a good way this time, as no one died) could have been avoided. Also, the mystical conclusion is a happy one, the epic lives on!
May 30, 2015
The premise caught my attention and the book itself was good. I think I found another contemporary author to read, and from an interesting country too, no less.
" "He looked at the map, on which the mountain ranges looked like horses’ ribs strewn in disarray on the flagstones of a slaughterhouse. The lettering over them read: “Northern Albania," "Rrafsh,” “Kosovo,” “Old Serbia.”
For more than a thousand years, Albanians and Slavs had been in ceaseless conflict in this area. They had quarreled over everything — over land, over boundaries, over pastures and watering holes — and it would have been entirely unsurprising had they also disputed the ownership of local rainbows.
And as if that were not enough, they also squabbled over the ancient epics, which existed, just to make things completely intractable, in both languages, Albanian and Serbo-Croatian. Each of the two peoples asserted that it had created the epic, leaving the other nation the choice of being considered either a thief or a mere imitator.
“Did it ever occur to you that whether we like it or not, our work on Homer plunges us into this conflict?” Bill said without raising his eyes from the map.
“Do you think so?” "
" "He looked at the map, on which the mountain ranges looked like horses’ ribs strewn in disarray on the flagstones of a slaughterhouse. The lettering over them read: “Northern Albania," "Rrafsh,” “Kosovo,” “Old Serbia.”
For more than a thousand years, Albanians and Slavs had been in ceaseless conflict in this area. They had quarreled over everything — over land, over boundaries, over pastures and watering holes — and it would have been entirely unsurprising had they also disputed the ownership of local rainbows.
And as if that were not enough, they also squabbled over the ancient epics, which existed, just to make things completely intractable, in both languages, Albanian and Serbo-Croatian. Each of the two peoples asserted that it had created the epic, leaving the other nation the choice of being considered either a thief or a mere imitator.
“Did it ever occur to you that whether we like it or not, our work on Homer plunges us into this conflict?” Bill said without raising his eyes from the map.
“Do you think so?” "
September 18, 2013
This first quarter to third of this book is a farcical small-town spy novel. The remainder of this book is a lyrical and fascinating investigation into the origins and evolution of oral epics. I didn't really care for the first part but I loved the second, and I'm not really sure why Kadaré chose to juxtapose these two very different stories together. I suppose the comical nature of the spy-heavy section showed gossip and rumors changing as they passed from person to person, like an evolving epic poem, though I didn't really feel like it paid off.
The theme of the book is blindness and the balance between sight and hearing: Homer's blindness, the glaucoma of one of the protagonists, the metaphorical dimming eye of the world, the balance between seeing vs hearing during spy-work, the newly invented recording device, and, of course, the oral and aural nature of epic poetry. All of this was really beautiful and the ending really moving.
The theme of the book is blindness and the balance between sight and hearing: Homer's blindness, the glaucoma of one of the protagonists, the metaphorical dimming eye of the world, the balance between seeing vs hearing during spy-work, the newly invented recording device, and, of course, the oral and aural nature of epic poetry. All of this was really beautiful and the ending really moving.
September 23, 2024
A total masterpiece. One of the best novels I have read for ages. I am so glad I have discovered Kadare at last! I had one of his novels on my shelves a few years ago (*Chronicle of Stone*) but never got round to reading it; and I ended up giving it away when I moved house. Recently, however, there was a booksale in my local library and I pic ked up two Kadare books very cheaply (this one and *Agamemnon's Daughter*)... What a revelation! *The File on H* is funny, ironic, Kafkaesque, absurdist, erotic, and just extremely well written. A delight and I highly recommend it to anyone who loves literature!
August 23, 2024
The problem is: It's not actually very funny, in spite of what the blurbs on the book jacket promise.
There's nothing worse than unsuccessful comedy. It's painful. (Compare this to unsuccessful drama, which can be endurable if there are other interesting qualities.) Perhaps it was funnier in the original, because sometimes humor simply doesn't translate. (For example, according to the Long-Suffering Wife (LSW), Thomas Mann is funnier in German. I will have to take her word for it.) It's also possible that The File on H. was never funny, or that the author's sense of humor does not match with mine.
However, if you can get over your disappointment at the failed comedy, this book could possibly be interesting.
Previously, I read an interesting book about the life of Milman Parry, whose life and exploits in part inspired this book. He was a California-born scholar who, assisted by Alfred Lord, ventured into remote parts of the Balkans in the early 20th century to record the few remaining “Singers of Tales”. The recordings, Parry believed, would support and extend his conclusion that the “writer” we called Homer was not in fact an actual individual. The works attributed to Homer, Parry said, was actually the result of decades, or perhaps centuries, of orally-transmitted storytelling before they were written down and more or less frozen in the form that we know them today. Parry supplied very convincing evidence to support his argument, and today his argument is widely accepted by scholars as correct.
The Parry biography that I read said that Kadare met Lord at a conference in 1979, more than 40 years after Parry and Lord made their recordings. Kadare's meeting with Lord provided the inspiration for this novel, in which Parry and Lord are replaced by two not-very-convincingly rendered Irish-American Harvard scholars.
As stated earlier, I didn't find this novel very funny. It starts out particularly badly in this regard. The caricatures of the provincial Albanian spies, bureaucrats, and women in the beginning section are particularly one-dimensional and unfunny to read. However, I felt that I understood why the book was written in this fashion.
A long time ago, I lived for a while in an Eastern European country (not Albania) before the collapse of the Soviet Union. The Long-Suffering Wife had to listen to me complain bitterly nearly every moment we were there, but after I left I felt that I had learned some interesting things about a place and time that, shortly after our departure, vanished and re-emerged changed almost beyond recognition.
If you were a writer in Cold War-era Eastern Europe and attempted an accurate portrayal of the pig-headed bureaucrats and self-protecting civil servants who controlled the levers of power and privilege, you would likely end up in a prison camp. (If you were lucky, you might simply be denied permission to write and publish, be stripped of your government-supplied salary and benefits, and be re-assigned to a job in trash collection.) The result was that anyone who wished to write about the way things actually were in Eastern Europe at the time set their stories in pre-Communist times or, alternately, in Western countries, where everyone was miserable, but readers of novels – or viewers of plays or movies – understood that what they were seeing or reading was really about the way people lived at the time in their home country.
Readers of The File on H. would have probably understood that the idiotic pre-WWII Albanian government officials were actually satires of the types of government officials who helped the spectacularly paranoid Stalinist regime of Enver Hoxha retain an iron grip on power for several decades. Given the amount of needless suffering that this regime caused, it's possible to forgive Kadare's satire for being a little spiteful, heavy-handed, and drawn-out.
Of course, most of the people who were responsible for Stalinist idiocy, in various places and times, were men, but most of the writers were also men. It shouldn't be a surprise that in this novel, like many from that time and place, the most tediously drawn-out portrayals of stupidity are reserved for a woman character, the wife of the district chief. She is really a boring exercise in misogyny.
The visiting American scholars are allowed to possess some dignity, but they don't really act or speak in a convincing manner. It's like Kadare had never met an actual American. Again, it's hard to tell if the original text or the translation is to blame. Whatever the cause, please believe that the real-life people on whom these cardboard characters were based were much more interesting.
In any event, all get involved in some small-minded Balkan hijinks and at least it's all finished in 200 pages, so it's not a tremendous investment of time and energy.
I’m trying not to be too hard on the author. As the quotation of unknown provenance has it: “Dying is easy. Comedy is hard.”
There's nothing worse than unsuccessful comedy. It's painful. (Compare this to unsuccessful drama, which can be endurable if there are other interesting qualities.) Perhaps it was funnier in the original, because sometimes humor simply doesn't translate. (For example, according to the Long-Suffering Wife (LSW), Thomas Mann is funnier in German. I will have to take her word for it.) It's also possible that The File on H. was never funny, or that the author's sense of humor does not match with mine.
However, if you can get over your disappointment at the failed comedy, this book could possibly be interesting.
Previously, I read an interesting book about the life of Milman Parry, whose life and exploits in part inspired this book. He was a California-born scholar who, assisted by Alfred Lord, ventured into remote parts of the Balkans in the early 20th century to record the few remaining “Singers of Tales”. The recordings, Parry believed, would support and extend his conclusion that the “writer” we called Homer was not in fact an actual individual. The works attributed to Homer, Parry said, was actually the result of decades, or perhaps centuries, of orally-transmitted storytelling before they were written down and more or less frozen in the form that we know them today. Parry supplied very convincing evidence to support his argument, and today his argument is widely accepted by scholars as correct.
The Parry biography that I read said that Kadare met Lord at a conference in 1979, more than 40 years after Parry and Lord made their recordings. Kadare's meeting with Lord provided the inspiration for this novel, in which Parry and Lord are replaced by two not-very-convincingly rendered Irish-American Harvard scholars.
As stated earlier, I didn't find this novel very funny. It starts out particularly badly in this regard. The caricatures of the provincial Albanian spies, bureaucrats, and women in the beginning section are particularly one-dimensional and unfunny to read. However, I felt that I understood why the book was written in this fashion.
A long time ago, I lived for a while in an Eastern European country (not Albania) before the collapse of the Soviet Union. The Long-Suffering Wife had to listen to me complain bitterly nearly every moment we were there, but after I left I felt that I had learned some interesting things about a place and time that, shortly after our departure, vanished and re-emerged changed almost beyond recognition.
If you were a writer in Cold War-era Eastern Europe and attempted an accurate portrayal of the pig-headed bureaucrats and self-protecting civil servants who controlled the levers of power and privilege, you would likely end up in a prison camp. (If you were lucky, you might simply be denied permission to write and publish, be stripped of your government-supplied salary and benefits, and be re-assigned to a job in trash collection.) The result was that anyone who wished to write about the way things actually were in Eastern Europe at the time set their stories in pre-Communist times or, alternately, in Western countries, where everyone was miserable, but readers of novels – or viewers of plays or movies – understood that what they were seeing or reading was really about the way people lived at the time in their home country.
Readers of The File on H. would have probably understood that the idiotic pre-WWII Albanian government officials were actually satires of the types of government officials who helped the spectacularly paranoid Stalinist regime of Enver Hoxha retain an iron grip on power for several decades. Given the amount of needless suffering that this regime caused, it's possible to forgive Kadare's satire for being a little spiteful, heavy-handed, and drawn-out.
Of course, most of the people who were responsible for Stalinist idiocy, in various places and times, were men, but most of the writers were also men. It shouldn't be a surprise that in this novel, like many from that time and place, the most tediously drawn-out portrayals of stupidity are reserved for a woman character, the wife of the district chief. She is really a boring exercise in misogyny.
The visiting American scholars are allowed to possess some dignity, but they don't really act or speak in a convincing manner. It's like Kadare had never met an actual American. Again, it's hard to tell if the original text or the translation is to blame. Whatever the cause, please believe that the real-life people on whom these cardboard characters were based were much more interesting.
In any event, all get involved in some small-minded Balkan hijinks and at least it's all finished in 200 pages, so it's not a tremendous investment of time and energy.
I’m trying not to be too hard on the author. As the quotation of unknown provenance has it: “Dying is easy. Comedy is hard.”
January 5, 2020
In this outwardly simple tale, acclaimed Albanian author Ismail Kadare mixes satire and scholarship and offers a glimpse into 1930s provincial life in an Albania ruled over by the despotic King Zog. Written in Tirana in 1981 when Albania was being ruled by the equally repressive regime of Enver Hoxha, the parallels were too close for comfort and by the end of the 1980s Kadare had fled to France.
Two Irish-American scholars from Harvard, Bill Ross and Max Norton, arrive in Albania to study the tradition of oral epic poetry. Armed with the newly-invented tape-recorder, they hope to record the last genuine rhapsodes, itinerant singers who recite the epics at weddings and funerals and other such events, to the accompaniment of a single-stringed instrument called the lahuta. By comparing different versions of the epics, they hope to discover how such poems are preserved and passed on through the ages. The answers, they hope, will shed light on the question of whether Homer (the H of the title) was the single author many assume him to be, or whether his was simply the name given to a collective.
Suspected of being spies, the two are closely monitored by the somewhat bemused Governor’s agents, as they set up their base in a remote inn at the crossroads of two major highways where they can expect to meet some of the last remaining rhapsodes. All goes well at first. The rhapsodes are willing to cooperate and Ross and Norton start to collect their recordings. However, this is the Balkans, and they cannot escape local politics. Matters do not proceed quite as they wish.
Based on a similar real-life expedition made by Milman Parry and Albert Lord in Bosnia, this short novel is an engaging and sometimes though-provoking examination into the complexities of recording a dying oral culture, and at the same time a gentle look at the dreariness and ennui of provincial life. However, the characters are never fully-fledged and often seem to be little more than caricatures. The scholarship, and the insights into Homer’s authorship, is interesting, but the mix of serious scholarship and satire doesn’t completely come off, and I was left at the end feeling that I’d learnt quite a lot but hadn't developed any sort of connection with the protagonists. Nor does it feel particularly “Albanian” – I felt it could have been set in any small relatively backward country. Nevertheless, I tentatively recommend it, if only because there are so few Albanian authors to choose from, and it is at least an introduction to Kadare’s work.
Two Irish-American scholars from Harvard, Bill Ross and Max Norton, arrive in Albania to study the tradition of oral epic poetry. Armed with the newly-invented tape-recorder, they hope to record the last genuine rhapsodes, itinerant singers who recite the epics at weddings and funerals and other such events, to the accompaniment of a single-stringed instrument called the lahuta. By comparing different versions of the epics, they hope to discover how such poems are preserved and passed on through the ages. The answers, they hope, will shed light on the question of whether Homer (the H of the title) was the single author many assume him to be, or whether his was simply the name given to a collective.
Suspected of being spies, the two are closely monitored by the somewhat bemused Governor’s agents, as they set up their base in a remote inn at the crossroads of two major highways where they can expect to meet some of the last remaining rhapsodes. All goes well at first. The rhapsodes are willing to cooperate and Ross and Norton start to collect their recordings. However, this is the Balkans, and they cannot escape local politics. Matters do not proceed quite as they wish.
Based on a similar real-life expedition made by Milman Parry and Albert Lord in Bosnia, this short novel is an engaging and sometimes though-provoking examination into the complexities of recording a dying oral culture, and at the same time a gentle look at the dreariness and ennui of provincial life. However, the characters are never fully-fledged and often seem to be little more than caricatures. The scholarship, and the insights into Homer’s authorship, is interesting, but the mix of serious scholarship and satire doesn’t completely come off, and I was left at the end feeling that I’d learnt quite a lot but hadn't developed any sort of connection with the protagonists. Nor does it feel particularly “Albanian” – I felt it could have been set in any small relatively backward country. Nevertheless, I tentatively recommend it, if only because there are so few Albanian authors to choose from, and it is at least an introduction to Kadare’s work.
December 15, 2014
Up until the ending this was in the running for my favorite Kadare, with a tone that starts out humorous and slowly grows more and more oppressive, and with parallel story threads that resonate with each other quite wonderfully. The final pages of this book, however, take the story in an unexpected direction, and in general the ending feels rushed. Another fifty pages or so, and a better payoff to a few of the major story lines, and I would consider this book one of Kadare's best. Even as it stands it's still good, it just didn't quite reach the heights that I was expecting it to.
Arriving in an Albanian backwater, Bill and Max are scholars from Ireland by way of Harvard, and they're on a mission to record the epic poetry still sung by traveling bards in the inns and tiny mountain towns of the Albanian countryside. By doing this they hope to decipher how oral epics transform or keep shape over time, which will in turn allow them to extrapolate how Homer himself operated. The Albanian government considers this reason for the scholars' visit to be patently absurd, an obvious cover story for foreign spies. In addition, others see the scholars' visit as an exciting escape from the boredom of a small Albanian town, while others guess that the work of the scholars will somehow play a role in the longstanding ethnic conflict between Albanians and Serbs.
The work the scholars are conducting, combined with the intrigue surrounding their visit, provide interesting themes for Kadare to explore. As they study the travelers who perform the epics the two scholars realize that, even though they are in their twilight, the epics are still changing, with different people telling the same legend in a myriad of different ways, and even the same performer shaping the story differently, perhaps as a subconscious response to what experiences he has undergone. Similarly, the people who are observing Bill and Max create their own stories about what the pair are up to, letting their own beliefs and expectations change the narrative they invent. To some the scholars are spies, and every word they say about Homer is their attempt to pull the wool over the eyes of the locals. To others the scholars are adventurers and potential romantic partners. To yet others the pair are committing blasphemous acts and threatening to rob Albania of one of its greatest assets. All these stories are true, at least to the people coming up with them. The recurring theme of how a story evolves and why is an interesting one, and Kadare gives us a situation where the theme could be explored in great dramatic ways.
My quibbling about the ending is really the only significant complaint I had with the book. Otherwise I thought nearly everything was great, highlighting some of Kadare's best qualities as a writer and revealing some skills that I didn't even know he had. For instance, the beginning of this book is genuinely funny, in a way that I hadn't seen Kadare pull off in previous books. The absurd bureaucracy of Albania, presented seriously in The Palace of Dreams and The Pyramid, here is satirized, especially with regards to the system of informers used to gather information. The book doesn't stay humorous throughout, however, as the scholars' stay in a lonely inn, trying to grasp the evolution of epics as delivered by ritualistic, almost mystic storytellers, and being constantly observed by the state and other parties as well, gradually turns the tone into an oppressive one. Additionally, with Bill going blind and every question in their research answered raising two more in its place, not to mention the distrust the other travelers feel about the recording device, there's underlying tension throughout. Kadare is also a master at depicting the setting of Albania, the ancient inn at the foot of the accursed mountains where the last remaining storytellers cross paths is a unique and evocative place for the bulk of the story to unfold. We don't learn a huge amount about many of the characters, but they are distinct, with individual personalities and motivations. For a book this short the characters are quite well drawn, even though we don't spend quite enough time with them for them to feel like real people. Kadare's writing is excellent here as well. Though not nearly as much of a focus here as it was in Broken April, Albanian culture is still touched upon in passing in The File on H, and it's yet another aspect of the book I enjoyed.
Really everything about this book I enjoyed, except the ending felt rushed, and generally I thought Kadare could have crafted an ending that gave more of a payoff to the theme of the creation and evolution of a story that permeated the book. I'd say that despite this complaint I'd still heartily recommend The File on H, and it's a good place to start if you haven't read any Kadare before.
Arriving in an Albanian backwater, Bill and Max are scholars from Ireland by way of Harvard, and they're on a mission to record the epic poetry still sung by traveling bards in the inns and tiny mountain towns of the Albanian countryside. By doing this they hope to decipher how oral epics transform or keep shape over time, which will in turn allow them to extrapolate how Homer himself operated. The Albanian government considers this reason for the scholars' visit to be patently absurd, an obvious cover story for foreign spies. In addition, others see the scholars' visit as an exciting escape from the boredom of a small Albanian town, while others guess that the work of the scholars will somehow play a role in the longstanding ethnic conflict between Albanians and Serbs.
The work the scholars are conducting, combined with the intrigue surrounding their visit, provide interesting themes for Kadare to explore. As they study the travelers who perform the epics the two scholars realize that, even though they are in their twilight, the epics are still changing, with different people telling the same legend in a myriad of different ways, and even the same performer shaping the story differently, perhaps as a subconscious response to what experiences he has undergone. Similarly, the people who are observing Bill and Max create their own stories about what the pair are up to, letting their own beliefs and expectations change the narrative they invent. To some the scholars are spies, and every word they say about Homer is their attempt to pull the wool over the eyes of the locals. To others the scholars are adventurers and potential romantic partners. To yet others the pair are committing blasphemous acts and threatening to rob Albania of one of its greatest assets. All these stories are true, at least to the people coming up with them. The recurring theme of how a story evolves and why is an interesting one, and Kadare gives us a situation where the theme could be explored in great dramatic ways.
My quibbling about the ending is really the only significant complaint I had with the book. Otherwise I thought nearly everything was great, highlighting some of Kadare's best qualities as a writer and revealing some skills that I didn't even know he had. For instance, the beginning of this book is genuinely funny, in a way that I hadn't seen Kadare pull off in previous books. The absurd bureaucracy of Albania, presented seriously in The Palace of Dreams and The Pyramid, here is satirized, especially with regards to the system of informers used to gather information. The book doesn't stay humorous throughout, however, as the scholars' stay in a lonely inn, trying to grasp the evolution of epics as delivered by ritualistic, almost mystic storytellers, and being constantly observed by the state and other parties as well, gradually turns the tone into an oppressive one. Additionally, with Bill going blind and every question in their research answered raising two more in its place, not to mention the distrust the other travelers feel about the recording device, there's underlying tension throughout. Kadare is also a master at depicting the setting of Albania, the ancient inn at the foot of the accursed mountains where the last remaining storytellers cross paths is a unique and evocative place for the bulk of the story to unfold. We don't learn a huge amount about many of the characters, but they are distinct, with individual personalities and motivations. For a book this short the characters are quite well drawn, even though we don't spend quite enough time with them for them to feel like real people. Kadare's writing is excellent here as well. Though not nearly as much of a focus here as it was in Broken April, Albanian culture is still touched upon in passing in The File on H, and it's yet another aspect of the book I enjoyed.
Really everything about this book I enjoyed, except the ending felt rushed, and generally I thought Kadare could have crafted an ending that gave more of a payoff to the theme of the creation and evolution of a story that permeated the book. I'd say that despite this complaint I'd still heartily recommend The File on H, and it's a good place to start if you haven't read any Kadare before.
July 16, 2020
A broad comedy set in the Albania of King Zog, the novel deals with the misadventures of two Irish-American Homeric scholars who are seeking to solve the Homeric question by studying the Albanian oral epic tradition (obviously modeled after the actual research in the Balkans of Parry and Lord) and who are of course suspected by the local bureaucrats as being spies. The comic elements include an incompetent informer named Dull whose silly reports are considered as great style by the governor and the erotic fantasies of the governor's wife. It was funny in places but on the whole I wasn't that impressed. There is also a ridiculous jealousy between the Serbs and Albanians over whose epics are the most genuine, and the townspeople's fear of the newly invented tape recorder. A somewhat entertaining novel but definitely not one of Kadare's best.
July 25, 2018
A funny little story about two Harvard scholars searching for singers of the oral epics passed down from Homer's time. In a closed state like Albania, they are thought to be spies and their movements are tracked by the state. Then, as they are focusing on the Albanian origins of the Homeric epics, they also draw the ire of Serb claimants to that crown. And, finally, as they are using an amazing new invention, the tape recorder, to record the singers, they also fall foul of the Luddite fears of the locals. As you can imagine, it doesn't end well.
July 31, 2018
An entertaining, well written, and slyly perceptive Hrabal-esque farce. Not exactly what I was expecting from Kadare but very enjoyable nonetheless.
March 12, 2024
A Homeric tale of meaning.
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