I've never come across a more engaging, detailed, and sympathetic work of writing with regards to the Caucasus as a whole. Parts of the book read like a high-quality ethnography. The stories covering non-remembrance among the Balkars, the Chechen diaspora in Jordan, and the displaced Georgian woman from Abkhazia in the epilogue were among the most moving and powerful, for me. But there are many more. I'm not giving the book five stars however, for a number of (somewhat minor) reasons.
First, I was annoyed at the fact that it's not really properly cited. You can't find where certain claims and quotations come from. Second, although the book explicitly focuses on historical memory, which is fine, I still sometimes felt there was a bit of a tendency to over-emphasise the role of history, memory politics, identity, and so forth; it felt a bit like structural factors and context were a little bit too much pushed to the background. This sometimes combines uneasily with the author's strong anti-communist beliefs (at times justified, but at times also over-generalised). Finally, if the book had been about the Balkans, some sections of the book might qualify as romanticising “Balkanism” (see Maria Todorova's work). In other words, there are some Orientalising tendencies here and there. We should be careful portraying the Caucasus as a “second Balkans”, a mysterious land of diversity and violence. The book challenges some of such perceptions, but implicitly adopts it partly, too, which is (maybe?) problematic.
These caveats aside, seriously consider reading this book if you want to learn about the diversity of the Caucasus region, and if you want to challenge your preexisting views with an abundance of new stories. If any adjective were to be used to describe Karny's book, it would be: rich (or, perhaps: colourful).