Chleb i proch. Wędrówka przez góry Gruzji

by Tony Anderson, Marta Höffner (Translator)

W lecie 1998 roku Tony Anderson wyruszył w góry Gruzji, by dotrzeć do zapomnianych i niedostępnych plemion – Chewsurów, Tuszynów, Raczów, Megrelów i Swanów. Intrygowały go dawne wierzenia i obyczaje, doskonale zachowane mimo wieloletniej niszczącej polityki władz komunistycznych oraz zawirowań i niepokojów politycznych po upadku Związku Radzieckiego. Ale Chleb i proch to nie tylko relacja z niezwykłej podróży; Anderson opisuje też skomplikowaną historię i zawiłości regionalnej polityki. Jego Gruzja, choć doświadczona przez los, wciąż jest ekscytująca i pełna życia. Choć jej dzieje sięgają w przeszłość głębiej niż dzieje wielu innych państw europejskich, zachowała młodzieńczą energię i żywiołowość.

Genres: Travel, Nonfiction, History, Memoir, Travelogue, Georgian, The World

488 pages, Paperback

First published April 30, 2003

Reviews

[Z · Rating 5 out of 5]

Do they make them like this anymore? Travelogues unbound by the short attention spans of our Instagram age, written with joy, wry humour, incredible depth of research and a certain intrepidness?

Tony Anderson explored much of Georgia on foot in the 1990s, and recounts the highs, lows, beauty and occasional cruelty of those journeys with a healthy mix of objectivity and appreciative joy. I first started reading this on a somewhat less adventurous visit, sitting in a Tbilisi apartment and trying to understand some nuances of the local culture, and it proved to be an important accomplice in the process.

Anderson's very British turn of phrase is flawless, and in retrospect I believe I enjoyed this book as much for this as for its history and humour. He keeps the focus on the journey, the culture, the geopolitics and the people, without the self-aggrandisement that has come to be so common among travel writers and 'influencers' in our generation.
I do recommend this for connoisseurs of good travel writing and those interested in a lesser-known, resilient region with many a story to tell.

[Max Berendsen · Rating 4 out of 5]

Review to follow

[Peter Schön · Rating 5 out of 5]

A well-written, unassuming travel narrative, full of information on history and particularities of the mountain regions and people of Georgia. It is also a very good, visual and lively narrative of a rural Georgia that is slowly disappearing - consequently, some of the things covered in the book are outdated. Tusheti and particularly most parts of Svaneti (save for some off-the-beaten path side valleys) have definitely changed since Anderson's visit, and for the Georgia he described, one has to walk deep into areas like Khevsureti these days.
The book covers what other books only touch on and leaves aside the urban Georgia and the political issues. As such it is a perfect companion to books like De Waals "Caucasus - an Introduction" or Goltz's "Georgia Diary". If there is a book that can explain the fascination some of us have with the mountains of the South Caucasus, Bread and Ashes would be it. It is not a perfect book, I suppose, but if it was, it would fail to convey so much so well. Hence...5 stars for a 4 star book.

[Idvck · Rating 5 out of 5]

Finding good writing about the Caucasus in English is not an easy task. Most modern books on the region (comprising the independent nations of Georgia, Armenia, and Azerbaijan, the de facto independent statelets of Nagorno-Karabakh, Abkhazia, and South Ossetia, and Russian republics including Chechnya, Ingushetia, and Dagestan) are either broad introductions, extremely dense academic histories, or reported conflict diaries. Finding relatively accessible material about the region's rich history and society which do not primarily focus on various conflicts with or involving Russia is surprisingly difficult. Vasily Grossman's excellent 1962 An Armenian Sketchbook is one such work. This is another, a sort of updated Sketchbook for an independent Georgia.

Tony Anderson’s book is is not properly speaking a conflict diary, as it is based mostly on a 1998 trip to Georgia, when the country was still suffering from the lingering effects of civil war but not actively engaged in it. Nor is it an academic history, though Anderson is about as well-read on Georgian history as it appears possible to be without a reading knowledge of Russian or Georgian. Instead, it is a travel diary focussing on the author’s trip in the mountains of Georgia, and his encounters with the diverse ethnic groups of Georgia (Laks, Svans, Mingrelians, and so-on), but with lengthy and well-researched reflections on Georgian history. Other areas in the region are dealt with tangentially, but Anderson's primary focus remains on Georgia, a welcome respite from many other non-academic texts, which often deal with the three countries of the Caucasus together, despite their hugely differing individual characters.

Anderson’s prose is vivid and he mostly treats his subjects with sensitivity and tact, including in the huge number of cases of conflicts over history and politics he repeatedly notes continue to colour relations between ethnic groups. He has what appears to me to be a very good grasp of Georgia’s complex history—thankfully including ancient and medieval, when, it is often forgotten, Georgia was much more closely associated with Turkey and Persia than during the 200 years of its modern Russian and Soviet history.

I cannot recommend this book highly enough to anyone who has even a passing interest in the region. I suspect, and hope, that the rapidly growing interest in Georgia in the West will soon spur more writing in Anderson's style on this fascinating but still largely overlooked region.

[Aaron · Rating 4 out of 5]

One of the best travel journalism accounts of Georgia. Incredible learned. I first learned about why white people are called Caucasian.

[Laila Collman · Rating 5 out of 5]

Anderson's writing about Georgia is gorgeous while also being richly informative. You really do feel as though you're walking through the mountains along with him.

Some of my favorite passages:

"The great pleasure in such journeys is in seeing and feeling what no map can tell, no matter for how long pored over in the quiet of a room at home or in the basement of the Royal Geographical Society. Of course, the romance of maps lies in their mystery, in the names of far-off places in strange tongues, such a powerful seduction: Ilisu, Shatili, Ushguli, Batumi, Tbilisi, Baku."

"Indeed, the Caucasus was to the Russians what the Wild West was to the Americans, and although there is not quite the Russian equivalent of the Hollywood Western (though the 'Prisoner of the Caucasus', directed by Sergei Bodrov is a contemporary masterpiece), there is no equivalent in American literature of Tolstoy's 'Tales' or Lermontov's 'Hero of our Time'. The effect of such a geographically tiny area on the Russian imagination during the early years of the nineteenth century was profound and gave rise to a whole genre of literature, Russian 'Caucasica', both in poetry and prose, and almost to a special type of sensibility."

[Kinga Pańczyszyn-Liśkiewicz · Rating 4 out of 5]

Książka lekka nie jest, szczególnie dla laików, do których się zaliczam. Tytułowe wędrówki są raczej pretekstem do dygresji i opowieści o historii i kulturze regionu. Momentami czułam się przytłoczona informacjami. Polecam najpierw przeczytać coś Góreckiego - bez kontekstu i chociażby podstawowej wiedzy o Gruzji poziom szczegółowości może zniechęcić. Niemniej jestem pod wrażeniem wiedzy Andersona. Bardziej przemówiła do mnie druga połowa: Racza, Tao Klardżetti i Swanetia z malowidłami ściennymi w maleńkich kościołach. Dodaję gwiazdkę za zdjęcia i odejmuję za polowanie na koziorożce. Coraz bardziej chcę tam pojechać. ❤️

[Vladyslav Ieliashevskyi · Rating 4 out of 5]

This travel memoir captures the rugged beauty and complex history of the Caucasus region. As someone who has also wandered through some of mentioned regions and experienced the famed Georgian hospitality and traditions, I found Anderson's account both fascinating and deeply resonant.

The book excels in painting a vivid picture of the Georgian landscape and the harsh warmth of its people. Author's prose is immersive, making it easy to visualise the breathtaking scenery and feel the cultural richness of the areas he traverses. His encounters with local inhabitants, their customs, and their stories bring the region to life, offering readers a window into a world that is both ancient and continually evolving.

However, I did find the book occasionally overwhelming due to the spontaneous interjections of historical facts. While these insights add valuable context, they sometimes disrupt the flow of the narrative and a journey itself. Anderson's thoughts tend to jump from one historical reference to another, creating a somewhat fragmented reading experience. Despite this, he skilfully returns to the main journey, ensuring that the reader remains engaged with his travels.

My own experiences in the Caucasus two decades later were somewhat different from Anderson's. I did not encounter any incidents of being robbed or endangered by the local population. This contrast highlights the dynamic nature of the region and suggests that some aspects of Georgian society may have changed over time. Anderson also often draws parallels between his journey and those of previous British explorers who ventured into the Caucasus. He reflects on the hardships they faced, noting that while modern conveniences have alleviated some challenges, the region's rugged terrain and unpredictable conditions remain formidable. These comparisons add depth to his narrative, highlighting the enduring allure and difficulty of exploring this remote area. By situating his experiences within a historical continuum, Anderson underscores the timeless nature of the Caucasian landscape and the universal trials of exploration.

In conclusion, "Bread and Ashes" is a compelling and richly detailed book that offers both an intimate look at Sakartvelo (as well as Azerbaijan, Turkey and other Caucasian regions currently occupied by russia) and a broader reflection on its history, mythos and culture. While the historical asides can be a bit jarring, Anderson's ability to capture the essence of the Georgian spirit and landscape makes this book a rewarding read for anyone interested in mentioned region.

[Jason Stehly · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brilliant! Makes me want to go back to it and to Georgia!

[Michał · Rating 4 out of 5]

Za rok znowu do Gruzji?

„Ale kiedy rozmowy i żarciki zostawiły mnie daleko w tyle, siedziałem, patrząc w noc, ogrzewany blaskiem ogniska i zanurzony w nocnym powietrzu. Z całej siły próbowałem utrwalić to wszystko w głowie, wszystkie wrażenia, wszystkie odczucia, wszystkie doznania, tak abym ich nie zapomniał.”

[Gabrielle · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is an interesting travelogue. The writer is funny and had quite the adventure in Georgia. You can tell he has a really appreciation for the history and experiencing the villages. He takes it all in stride. It would be interesting to see how he finds Georgia now almost 20 years later.

[Simon Astor · Rating 5 out of 5]

Thoughtful and beautiful, an adventurous cluster of rambles by a traveler with a poet's heart and a historian's soul. I found it wonderful to read on a trip to The Republic of Georgia (though I took safer transport). Very enjoyable.

[Hancock · Rating 4 out of 5]

An excellent combination of adventure, nature, art, history, architecture....

[Nicole · Rating 5 out of 5]

"I must admit the shiver of excitement that Armazi produced in me, a sort of ethno-historical spasm: I felt like a deranged twitcher with a rare crested grebe in full view. First of all his name was the name of a god, not just a god but the god, god of gods, proclaimed as such by the first Kartlian king...the sound of old Persia is obvious here and Armazi is probably identified with Ahura-Mazda, the creator of heavens and the earth...not only did our Khevsur Armazi possess such suggestive associations, but he was also the khevisberi, elder of the valley or gorge, the headman and spiritual leader of the community of Arkhoti. In the long centuries of Khevsur history it was the khevisberi...who directed the spiritual, ritual and moral affairs of the mountains. He was and is elected by his peers, not on the basis of age or wealth, but for his deeper qualities. Sometimes his office is given to him in dream..."--143-4.

I loved this book. I've been struggling to find a way to start this review, and in the end I felt like I should lead in with a paragraph that encapsulated the appeal of the book to me. Observant, knowledgeable, incredibly well-written, funny, and full of appreciation for the history, landscape, culture and people of Georgia, Tony Anderson was a wonderful traveling companion. I had been unsure what to expect, given that the book is out of print and was never published in the US. The fact that Goodreads has numerous, questionable-sounding titles under his name that are most likely written different Tony Andersons didn't help. I'm so glad I found a used copy to buy online on Amazon, as it's nowhere else.

Anderson's narrative has level of enthusiasm, erudition and historical scholarship that made this travelogue exemplary. As I read it, I was thoroughly impressed with his grasp of the local languages, understanding of cross-cultural communication, and of Georgian history. More than many other travel writers I've read, he has an ability to move fluidly between past and present, illustrating both the ancient and modern history of a region as he travels it. His wry and self-deprecating tone add a buoyancy that keeps the book's history lessons from becoming pedantic, and the scenes of natural beauty, adventure, and colorful interactions kept me totally engaged and wanting more. It's disappointing that the author is so obscure that neither Goodreads nor Amazon have an accurate list of his writings. If you like intelligent writing by companionable people about interesting subjects, take the time to track down a copy of this book. It's well worth it.

[Graeme · Rating 4 out of 5]

I have been to Georgia for a few seasons over the last five years as part of my involvement in an archaeological project in the Dariali Pass in the Caucasus. I can't claim to know the whole country intimately, but it's one of my favourite countries I have ever visited, and I was very keen to get into this book. Anderson's account is of a journey through various regions of the Caucasus, often following in the steps of earlier western European visitors in the 19th Century. His breadth of knowledge in history, archaeology, nature and language is impressive, and is presented not with a superior air but instead is a fascinating insight into a country of which many of us are only vaguely aware.

The narrative does jump around a bit, as it moves from region to region and it's pretty essential to refer back to the maps at the start of the book to keep track. Thankfully these maps are numerous and helpful. Anderson's descriptions of the landscape are vivid, although it's still worth looking up pictures of the places he mentions, as I'm not sure any words could do the scenery justice. While it's mainly a travelogue, Anderson's diversions into various pertinent topics from recent history to deep folklore are nicely spaced out and help to flesh out the narrative without distracting too much from the main thrust.

It's worth noting that the expedition he undertook was in 1998, and he does occasionally jump back to the late 1980s as well. It goes without saying that Georgia has changed a lot in the intervening two or three decades. The political situation, while not exactly perfect, is no longer quite as tense as it was in the decade after the fall of the USSR. I'm also not sure one needs to worry about being robbed by gun-toting Svans upon entering their village. He's fairly dismissive of Kazbegi, where I spent most of my time, as it was fairly poor at the time. However these days it's more prosperous and has become quite a popular tourist destination without becoming unbearable. Tbilisi, which isn't in this book much, is also a fantastic city: modern and metropolitan in some parts and ancient and twisty in others.

In sum, a great look into an amazing country. Go and visit if you can!

[Akasha89 (Straszliwa Buchling) · Rating 4 out of 5]

Tony Anderson to brytyjski autor, który zajmuje się redagowaniem książek dotyczących Rosji i sytuacji na Kaukazie. Wielokrotnie podróżował po Gruzji i widać, że fascynują go plemiona składające się na mieszankę ludów zamieszkujących te rejony.

W książce „Chleb i proch. Wędrówka przez góry Gruzji” opisuje głównie swoją wędrówkę po gruzińskiej części Kaukazu, w którą wyruszył latem 1998 roku wraz z fotografem Chrisem Willoughbym. Celem było dotarcie do zapomnianych i trudno dostępnych plemion Chewsurów, Tuszynów, Raczów, Megrelów i Swanów, wśród których wciąż zachowały się dawne wierzenia i obyczaje pomimo niszczącej komunistycznej polityki etnicznej i niepokojów po upadku ZSRR. Oczywiście „Chleb i proch” to nie tylko relacja z niezwykłej podróży trudnymi szlakami górskimi i przełęczami; autor opisuje również skomplikowaną historię tego zakątka Ziemi i zawiłości regionalnej polityki. W jego oczach Gruzja, choć bardzo doświadczona przez los, jest wciąż ekscytująca i pełna życia, a jej dzieje sięgają w przeszłość głębiej niż dzieje wielu innych państw europejskich, a mimo to naród gruziński zachował młodzieńczą energię i żywiołowość.

Muszę przyznać, że Anderson ma lekki i przyjemny oraz przejrzysty styl pisania, a także cechuje się typowo brytyjskim poczuciem humoru, które osobiście uwielbiam. Podtytuł tej powieści może być nieco mylący, ponieważ wędrówki to tylko przyczynek do dalszych rozważań a ich opisy stanowią zaledwie ułamek objętości książki. Autor ma bowiem ogromną wiedzę o plemionach kaukaskich a opisy wędrówek są tylko pretekstem do kolejnych dygresji na temat danego regionu czy ludu. Muszę też przyznać, że nie jest do lekka pozycja, ponieważ najlepiej byłoby mieć przynajmniej jakąś podstawową wiedzę o Gruzji przed jej lekturą. Dla mnie pomocne okazało się to, że tuż przed tą książką przeczytałam „Na Wschód do Tatarii” Roberta D. Kaplana, w której kilka rozdziałów było poświęconych Gruzji: jej historii i sytuacji politycznej w latach 90 XX wieku - dzięki temu nie miałam większych problemów z przyswajaniem informacji zawartych w „Chlebie i prochu”.

Całości bardzo przyjemnie dopełniają fotografie z tych wędrówek, których autorem jest Chris Willoughby oraz rzetelna bibliografia na końcu książki, dzięki której można dotrzeć do wielu cennych źródeł informacji o Gruzji.

Polecam.

[Kevin Burke · Rating 3 out of 5]

This one comes across as uneven as the terrain Anderson traverses for much of the book. The premises is a 1998 walk across north Georgia, through the (surprisingly disparate) regions of Tusheti, Khevsureti, Svaneti and others. And when it's good, it's very good - the writer's style is excellent, the scenery and the depictions of life tend to hit home. The hospitality, the sparseness of the houses and the happiness of a good local dirty sing-song make you wonder how much modern clutter we really need.

The author has an academic-standard knowledge of the region, and the book segues from travelogue to history and back - though these don't always hit home. So an encounter with a Jewish man in one of the villages becomes a ten-page history of Judaism in Georgia, including the strong suggestion that Georgia is one of the few countries in Europe where Jews weren't persecuted (for being Jews, at least). And there's other detours on the Georgian alphabet, the Georgian duo of Stalin and Beria, the national poet Shota Rustaveli (though nothing on the Georgian invention of wine, strangely) - but they can overtake the narrative at times. So the description of the trip itself is good, and sometimes the author looks around at things connected to what he's seeing, which is good. But the longer detours are like a mist coming down on the hike - when it lifts, you have a feeling of disorientation and disconnect with the hike, which takes time to restore. A short scene where the author sees a prominent portrait of Stalin in a village home can tell as much as the lengthier discourse - show don't tell and all that.

The last quarter of the book is similarly disconnected. The victim of a well-told robbery in Svaneti which a lot of the apologetic villagers appeared to be in some way in on - and I'm glad I wasn't aware of the Svans' reputation as bandits before heading there last year! - the author cuts his hike short and heads back to Tbilisi, effectively out of cash. The narrative then jumps back seven years to 1991, and a trip through north-east Turkey, mostly spent looking at religious art history. It returns to Svaneti (a possible location of the Golden Fleece, from the locals panning for gold by dipping sheep fleeces in the river), and then we conclude in Chechnya (which isn't in Georgia, but geography is fluid in this region) on a bear hunting trip where nothing really happens.

All told, there's certainly enough in there to entertain and enlighten about a fascinating part of the world- it just might have been tighter in the telling.

[Matilda H · Rating 3 out of 5]

In this book the author retells his adventures of visiting the Georgian mountains in 1998 and his encounters with the country and its people during that transition period. To be honest, this book was so dense that I often did not read more than five pages in one sitting and it took me several months to get through. There are some very interesting reflections of Georgia during the late 90s and references to the historical occurencies that have shaped the country, but the book was way too ambitious for me in the detailed descriptions of history across thousands of years, along with some extensive detours about church architecture.

It is worth mentioning that the book is written by a Brit and of course has that outsiders perspective, and some reflections about the local culture might not be as nuanced as one could wish. However, I did learn a lot from this book and it made me even more excited to visit Tusheti, Mestia and some of the other more remote Georgian regions.

[Alberto Radice · Rating 3 out of 5]

The book is an account of the author’s trip through parts of the Caucasus, mainly in 1998. It contains many interesting episodes, meetings with local people, facts about Georgia and some of the ethnic subgroups inhabiting its mountains. The story is interspersed with historical reflections on how Kartvelians were affected by 70 years of Soviet rule and how they were struggling to build a new identity for themselves in the post-communist world.
I have found the storyline a bit weak, the chapters excessively long and without a well defined ending, therefore I have to say that it wasn’t a particularly fluid read from my perspective. All in all, a decent book on Georgia written from a foreigner’s perspective but I’d look further if I wanted to get a better understanding of the history of this very interesting part of the world and how it shaped its present.

[Seamus Enright · Rating 5 out of 5]

If Georgia is on your mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mind either because you want to visit there or you just want to know more about it, I couldn't recommend this book highly enough.

He intersperses details about his own trip there in the 1990's with vignettes about Caucasian history (and clears up why all people with low melanin are called "Caucasians"), local myths and legends and personal stories he picks up along the way but manages to synthesize them all fairly effortlessly.

[Lucy · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not quite what I was expecting or hoping for but interesting all the same. Lots of history. It took me a long time to read and I didn't finish it before my hiking trip to Georgia as planned so instead I was able to recognise some of the places and nature of the people described. Not all though. I think I would have been a bit worried had I read the Svaneti chapter before solo hiking the region but thankfully I had no such experiences. A lot has changed in 20 years.

[Larkin H · Rating 5 out of 5]

Superb travel memoir. The right mix of history and storytelling as he traverses the mountains of Georgia. I read it while in Georgia which was a perfect combination (albeit at times frustrating since the Georgia of the 90s that Anderson so vividly describes is no longer the common experience for a traveler through the country) but for anyone interested in the region it is a great read.

[Dale · Rating 5 out of 5]

More than just a travel book the author shares the rich history of the region, including disagreements as to the validity of people’s origins share alternate stories. The author also has a witty since of humor that he uses to good effect in dealing with troublesome characters. A great read and extremely informative.

[Brian · Rating 3 out of 5]

Chronicle of an ambitious trek through Georgia in 1998. Would have enjoyed it more had I not already encountered a number of similar works, but it was fun nonetheless.

[Barbara · Rating 5 out of 5]

Encyclopedic yet highly readable account of the history, ethnography, and realities (Late 1990s) of the northern part of this beautiful and complex country.

[Elliot Morris · Rating 4 out of 5]

A thoroughly enjoyable tapestry of history, geography, and culture. I really like Anderson's voice. If you're interested in this part of the world, this is a must-read.

[Anne Haack · Rating 4 out of 5]

The amount of history bundled into this one book almost overwhelms. It is a treasure, replete with excellent maps and photos. I appreciated some wry humor too.

[Alessia · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fascinating tale on Georgian mountains and history. A must for those wishing to know more about this amazing country 🇬🇪

[Kyla Kay · Rating 3 out of 5]

A lot of interesting history and his sense of humour was great

[Diane · Rating 3 out of 5]

The author is apparently somewhat of an expert on Georgia and the Caucasus. It seems that he speaks Georgian and possibly other languages and that he has spent a good bit of time in this area. The book was frustrating at times – he jumps from topic to topic and uses all sorts of terms about language and cultural groups that were unfamiliar, often with little explanation and at other times with way too much explanation. But, it was still a fascinating read. When he is hiking or dealing with families, he is exquisite. He also has incredible knowledge of the history and of books about Georgia. The bibliography is a true gold mine. I am just going to list a few tidbits that appealed to me since the book is beyond my ability to review.
There are no capital letters in Georgian – I mean georgian (if spell checker will allow me write it without a capital)
There are 40 native languages in the Caucuses – an area half the size of France. Only Papua New Guinea has a “more densely variegated linguistic map.” Some of these languages have up to 8 genders and 117 verbal forms.
In georgian (as in no other language it seems), mama means father and deda means mother
Quote from the poet pshavela (one of many poets he quotes of whom I had no knowledge):
I am “trapped between reverence for nature and its cruelty and indifference.”
Jews came to the Caucuses very early and were not persecuted by the georgians. They were given a tax exemption because they left Jerusalem before the crucifixion
Towers everywhere