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The Hotel Tito
U ljeto 1991. devetogodišnja djevojčica odlazi iz Vukovara, ostavljajući roditelje u gradu u kojem počinje rat. Roman Hotel Zagorje priča je o njezinu odrastanju tijekom sedam godina prognaništva, o neprekidnoj borbi za nekoliko kvadrata u kojima će živjeti s majkom i bratom, o stalnom iščekivanju vijesti o ocu. Ali ovo nije mračna knjiga.
Junakinji Ivane Simić Bodrožić ne nedostaje ni humora ni duha, a njezinu odrastanju ništa od onoga od čega su odrastanja stvorena: pisanje pisama političarima i obilaženje ministarstava isprepliće se ovdje s dječjim nježnostima i okrutnostima, prvim izlascima, prvim dečkima... kao i sa sudbinama onih s kojima je prognanička obitelj ukrstila putove, cijelom jednom živopisnom galerijom likova koji vjerno iscrtavaju sliku Hrvatske tih godina.
Glavna junakinja mijenja se i odrasta, kao i cijelo društvo oko nje, ali premda je to odrastanje bolno, u njemu ima i smijeha i zaigranosti i - ljubavi. Govoreći o ljudima ne prešučujući, o dobru i zlu ne imenujući ih, Ivana Simić Bodrožić napisala je iznimno snažnu i dramatičnu priču koja će nam vratiti nešto od izgubljene nevinosti.
Junakinji Ivane Simić Bodrožić ne nedostaje ni humora ni duha, a njezinu odrastanju ništa od onoga od čega su odrastanja stvorena: pisanje pisama političarima i obilaženje ministarstava isprepliće se ovdje s dječjim nježnostima i okrutnostima, prvim izlascima, prvim dečkima... kao i sa sudbinama onih s kojima je prognanička obitelj ukrstila putove, cijelom jednom živopisnom galerijom likova koji vjerno iscrtavaju sliku Hrvatske tih godina.
Glavna junakinja mijenja se i odrasta, kao i cijelo društvo oko nje, ali premda je to odrastanje bolno, u njemu ima i smijeha i zaigranosti i - ljubavi. Govoreći o ljudima ne prešučujući, o dobru i zlu ne imenujući ih, Ivana Simić Bodrožić napisala je iznimno snažnu i dramatičnu priču koja će nam vratiti nešto od izgubljene nevinosti.
176 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2010
39 people are currently reading
1142 people want to read
About the author
Ivana Bodrožić
22 books132 followersIvana is a Croatian poet and writer.
She studied philosophy and Croatian Language and Literature in Zagreb.
She was awarded for her poetry book Korak u tamu (Pace into the Darkness) with the Goran-award for young writers, as well as the Kvirin Award in 2005.
Her poems have been published in various newspapers, magazines and anthologies, and some of them have been translated into English, German and Polish.
Her first novel Hotel Zagorje is a coming-of-age-novel. It's a book about the girl's life as a refugee, sharing a few squremetres with her mother and her brother, all of them waiting for a message of the lost father.
Ivana currently lives in Zagreb with her husband and two daughters.
She studied philosophy and Croatian Language and Literature in Zagreb.
She was awarded for her poetry book Korak u tamu (Pace into the Darkness) with the Goran-award for young writers, as well as the Kvirin Award in 2005.
Her poems have been published in various newspapers, magazines and anthologies, and some of them have been translated into English, German and Polish.
Her first novel Hotel Zagorje is a coming-of-age-novel. It's a book about the girl's life as a refugee, sharing a few squremetres with her mother and her brother, all of them waiting for a message of the lost father.
Ivana currently lives in Zagreb with her husband and two daughters.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 172 reviews
November 3, 2015
I was scared of this book. I've read first few pages months ago and I started shivering which was the obvious sign that I still wasn't ready. During the last 15 years so many books in Croatia were connected with war that I started avoiding Croatian literature, which is something that I still do – I’m not open at all. I avoid pulling out those memories of my 6 years as a refugee, moving constantly, from one relative to another, from one school to another, always labelled as a person without a town.
In the late spring of 1991 our friend came to our house. She had had a dog called Monko and we loved that dog. It was our first animal because our friend was always with us. Monko started sniffing around the trees in front of our house and we were standing close to the fence. My older cousin was with us and he saw them first.
Bombs.
Minutes later police came and they said that the only reason why we are still alive is because that night the rain had fallen and somehow, the bombs didn't explode. We were not dead because of pure luck. We were supposed to be dead because my father was a war journalist.
Ivana Simić Bodrožić is my age. This book is the first book written from perspective of one woman/girl who lived during our civil war. Hotel Zagorje thoroughly shocked me because her childhood was my childhood. I was 8 when we had to escape; 14 when we returned back to our hometown.
Everything what I say today is connected with what had happened before the war and after the war. Those 6 years of exile are part of my life but many of my memories are in mist. With years and hard psychological work I managed to soothe them down and leave them in peace not damaging me. Time really is the best healer.
But I remember myself being a three year old, being 6 and 7. House full of our friends, our parents taking my older sister and me to riding lessons, exhibitions, concerts, trips all over ex Yugoslavia. That was before the war. Then memories of my puberty, connected with hiding in shelters and hiding from snipers, battle tanks and planes. Playing with kids from the capital city where we lived for a while during our second moving. But they didn't get my sister and me with our donated notebooks and dialect, they didn't get why our grandmother was crying constantly. I remember muscle pain from walks with my grandfather when we had to drag Red Cross food to bring it to our place.
Then we were moving again, and again, new kids staring at me – you're a refugee, I'm not. Memories from the hospitals, psychosomatically I kept everything inside. My mom was working in another city, my dad was in trenches reporting for television, radio, newspapers, for foreign agencies.
My last memory from my house in 1991 is kissing its all four sides, saying I will return to it. Then I am there again in 1995 seeing my parents cry when we saw our hundred years old house being burnt down, raped and savaged. My family is quite old, we have lived in these parts for more than five hundred years. I was walking inside the ruins, digging my baby shoes, broken plates and hoping that I will be so lucky not to step into the land mine. It took us almost 10 years to recover – materially was the easiest part. Emotionally and psychologically was more difficult.
This book brought all those memories on the surface. I cried desperately and I won’t read it again, but, it was a big relief to feel and know that many of my war demons don’t exist anymore and that I outgrew them. In that way this book helped me a lot, although I was just so sad.
But the legacy of war did leave me cynical and sometimes I’m too harsh with things. I can’t stand global stupidity and shallowness, but this experience largely left me compassionate and attuned to (political) oppression. Frankly, I’m a better person because of this war and I’ll always be an anarchist and human rights believer.
In the late spring of 1991 our friend came to our house. She had had a dog called Monko and we loved that dog. It was our first animal because our friend was always with us. Monko started sniffing around the trees in front of our house and we were standing close to the fence. My older cousin was with us and he saw them first.
Bombs.
Minutes later police came and they said that the only reason why we are still alive is because that night the rain had fallen and somehow, the bombs didn't explode. We were not dead because of pure luck. We were supposed to be dead because my father was a war journalist.
Ivana Simić Bodrožić is my age. This book is the first book written from perspective of one woman/girl who lived during our civil war. Hotel Zagorje thoroughly shocked me because her childhood was my childhood. I was 8 when we had to escape; 14 when we returned back to our hometown.
Everything what I say today is connected with what had happened before the war and after the war. Those 6 years of exile are part of my life but many of my memories are in mist. With years and hard psychological work I managed to soothe them down and leave them in peace not damaging me. Time really is the best healer.
But I remember myself being a three year old, being 6 and 7. House full of our friends, our parents taking my older sister and me to riding lessons, exhibitions, concerts, trips all over ex Yugoslavia. That was before the war. Then memories of my puberty, connected with hiding in shelters and hiding from snipers, battle tanks and planes. Playing with kids from the capital city where we lived for a while during our second moving. But they didn't get my sister and me with our donated notebooks and dialect, they didn't get why our grandmother was crying constantly. I remember muscle pain from walks with my grandfather when we had to drag Red Cross food to bring it to our place.
Then we were moving again, and again, new kids staring at me – you're a refugee, I'm not. Memories from the hospitals, psychosomatically I kept everything inside. My mom was working in another city, my dad was in trenches reporting for television, radio, newspapers, for foreign agencies.
My last memory from my house in 1991 is kissing its all four sides, saying I will return to it. Then I am there again in 1995 seeing my parents cry when we saw our hundred years old house being burnt down, raped and savaged. My family is quite old, we have lived in these parts for more than five hundred years. I was walking inside the ruins, digging my baby shoes, broken plates and hoping that I will be so lucky not to step into the land mine. It took us almost 10 years to recover – materially was the easiest part. Emotionally and psychologically was more difficult.
This book brought all those memories on the surface. I cried desperately and I won’t read it again, but, it was a big relief to feel and know that many of my war demons don’t exist anymore and that I outgrew them. In that way this book helped me a lot, although I was just so sad.
But the legacy of war did leave me cynical and sometimes I’m too harsh with things. I can’t stand global stupidity and shallowness, but this experience largely left me compassionate and attuned to (political) oppression. Frankly, I’m a better person because of this war and I’ll always be an anarchist and human rights believer.
October 8, 2022
I am disappointed by this book. Maybe my expectation was too high. I hoped to better understand how war effects the souls of children, but the protagonist seems not to be impacted by events. Childhood friendships, rivalries and animosities, material wishes, pranks on elderly people etc. make up all the day of the 10year old protagonist. This is boring. This is not literature. There is no reflection, no even deep emotions, just childish chatter. My time is too scarce for such books. I gave up being a quarter into it.
July 3, 2021
Gyári hibás kamaszregény. Mert ugye, ha azt nézzük, ez egy tök átlagos lánytörténet. Ivana Vukovárról Zágrábba kerül, barátokat szerez és veszít, rágyújt élete első cigijére (aztán a többire), konfrontálódik a családdal, megtetszik neki egy srác, satöbbi. És a satöbbibe tessék beleképzelni mindazt, ami a kamaszlányokkal világszerte történni szokott. Ugyanakkor ez mégsem egy átlagos lánytörténet, mert ott van az a fránya háború. A délszláv, ami itt zajlott a szomszédunkban - te jó Isten, mennyire közel! Ez az ominózus gyári hiba. Amitől az átlagos lányok nem tudnak átlagos lányéletet élni. Amitől az átlagos lánytörténetek sajátos színt kapnak: menekültregény lesz belőlük. Bodrožić okosan emeli be ezt az aspektust a szövegbe: finoman, a háttérben zajlik*, mégis érezzük a súlyát. Látjuk, ahogy a társadalom a kezdeti fellángolás után belefárad a részvétbe, és elkezdi ferde szemmel nézni a gyüttmöntöket. Szánják az elesetteket, a vukovári hősöket, és szívesen segítenek az odaszakadt csonka családoknak - de csak mértékkel. Ha túl sokáig vannak szem előtt, ha nem elég észrevétlenek, ha nem érik be a kevéssel, ami jut, akkor kiürül a jóindulat csupra. Mert kedves állat az ember, van neki szíve, alighanem. Csak ne kelljen próbára tenni.
* Kivéve egyetlen hektikus látomásos jelenetet a vége táján, amit mondjuk én kicsit idegennek is éreztem.
* Kivéve egyetlen hektikus látomásos jelenetet a vége táján, amit mondjuk én kicsit idegennek is éreztem.
November 29, 2018
We joined forces in our war against the Piglets - our favourite name for the Zagorje locals - which began on our first day at school. The war was cruel and went on for ages, with the rare ceasefire and only sometimes real friendship. We were all about the same age, all equally poor, but our group had come from Vukovar, a city, a real urban centre with a main square; baroque buildings, a cafe, and a Nobel Prize winner, while all they had was a pastry shop, Suljo’s, and their mangy commie president Tito who made this whole mess in the first place. Our arguments were pretty rock-solid.
The Hotel Tito has been translated by Ellen Elias-Bursać (also translator of the wonderful Dubravka Ugrešić) from Ivana Simić Bodrožić's Croatian original Hotel Zagorje.
The first-person narrator of the novel has a family background and situation very close to the author's own.
Born in 1982 in Vukovar, as the novel opens in the summer of 1991, she is sent with her older brother to what she thinks of as a holiday trip to the Dalmatian islands. In reality, the Serbo-Croatian conflict, that was to last from 1991-1995, is beginning and Vukovar in under threat. Her father stays behind to defend the city, but when it falls in the autumn after a 87-day siege, he goes missing, last seen in the town's hospital (see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_... for the historical events).
With Vukovar largely destroyed and in any case under Serbian control (it was to be eventually returned to Croatia in 1997), the narrator, her mother and brother become 'displaced persons' within Croatia, and end up placed with other fellow Vukovar exiles in a small room in a large conference center and hotel, known as the Political School, in the village of Kumrovec, birthplace of Marshal Tito, in the Zagorje region - nicknamed the eponymous 'Hotel Tito.'
With their father missing but not officially dead they end up in a sort of limbo, not receiving a widow's pension, unsure if he is dead or will eventually turn up, and not a priority for permanent rehousing.
And in the meantime the narrator is growing from a child into a teenager. This is a coming-of-age story but one told with an unusual backdrop, the mutual suspicion between the Zagorje locals from the very rural area and the Vukovar displaced children mirroring, as per the opening quote, that between the former fellow parts of Yugoslavia.
One particularly powerful scene starts with the youngsters assembling for a typical night out:
We assemble at the front desk, by now that’s ritual, we hadn’t seen each other for five days so there was a lot we had to tell each other. But they all room together at the dorm, Marina and her sister who has begun taking us a little more seriously now, and Božana and Vesna, and they pick up where they left off, and I’m not sure I always know what’s what. We go first to have a drink at Kopitar, as we call the only café there is to go to, and then we’re on to Oaza. We’re already regulars there. Tonight Klopišić is there too, though that’s not what we call her now, we’ve started treating her differently. Usually she never goes out, but ever since Tićo dumped her, her sister and her sister’s longtime fiancé take her with them to get her out. Tićo and she were engaged, too, but by the next week when I came back from the dorm, I heard the two of them weren’t together any more. He’s with this older woman now who has a son, and his mother and Nataša are frantic.
Almost everybody’s here, we order bamboos—our favorite red-wine-and-coke cocktail—and Marina and her sister announce the drinks are on them tonight. We soon learn why. They’re leaving. They’ve been given an apartment in Osijek and they’re moving there after the fall semester. We hug and kiss, but it's not quite over. They aren’t leaving for another month but now we know the day will come and there will be one less of us.
But the narrator gets drunk for the first time in her young life, and while doing so starts to come to terms with what they increasingly realise is likely to have been the fate that befell her father: killed in the Vukovar hospital massacre (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vukovar...), at that point the worst war crime since WW2.
Here’s the mayor, to see to protocol. Some already collapse here, not too many, they’re done for, the others watch, horrified. No need, they’re saved. Finally they’re all packed in. Five buses pull away. Through the night, it’s difficult to see where they’re headed, into a night so full of death. It makes no difference, around them everything's flat, crazy flat. They don’t drive long, this isn’t Serbia, it looks familiar.
The Ovčara industrial farm, a unit of the Vupik agricultural complex for husbandry and pig-farming. There are big farm buildings here with large metal sliding doors for storing field equipment and tools and small doors for people as well. For small people, ordinary people, like you and me. They take them down from the buses and have them run the gauntlet again. Go, go, Jovo, the once-over! They organize them by building, bus by bus, but not everybody. No, no, not you. They pull out ten men, these’ll be done by hand. Handiwork is always more valued, this assembly-line stuff, that’s a breeze. A bullet to the brain, anybody can do that. But by hand, you have to roll up your sleeves. You have to really get into it, your essence, creativity, people will talk about it afterward.
He’s afraid. He cries. Tears run down his cheeks but he doesn’t cry out loud, though what’s the point of hiding it, no one can hear anyway. Everybody’s howling so loud, yelling for help, shouting, the gunshots deafen. There are cameras here, too. Probably stolen, but that doesn’t lessen the technological sophistication. “Motherfucking battery's dead, wait, Mile, for me to put in a fresh one.” Mile stops what he’s doing, drops his pistol to his side and waits for a new surge of energy so his glorious work can be made into a picture. “Done, shoot away!” Ten men stand in front of a building. The ten men think, let it be quick. One of them thinks of me. He thinks of my mother, of my brother. Of me again. There aren’t any clear thoughts here, it’s hard to maintain a flow, all that whooping, they smash, lop off fingers, shoot, stab, we're fine, we’re in Zagreb, we’re far away. They butcher. Handiwork. Done. Thank God. The one who's here to the end, he’ll have it worst. There’s another nine hours of killing to go, not an easy job, he’ll have to eat and drink something meanwhile, and maybe that will sustain him a bit, so he can be more effective. I'd like to think he was one of the first. But I know, what's in my head is an American movie, this is a fairy tale, a soap opera, never, never, no matter how hard I try will I be able to imagine that.
And I’ll try. I’ll try my whole life. Amen.
(from the extract at https://www.asymptotejournal.com/fict...)
Recommended. A powerful tale that turns a familiar coming-of-age story into something much more tragic and yet alive.
See also this wonderful review on Goodreads from a reader whose own experiences are similar to the narrator and author's: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
---------------------
This novel is the latest from the excellent Asymptote Book Club(https://www.asymptotejournal.com/book...), which I would highly recommend: the Asymptote Journal team select a piece of world literature each month from some of the leading independent presses in Canada, the US, and the UK.
12. Hotel Tito, by Ivana Simić Bodrožić, tr. Ellen Elias-Bursać, published by Seven Stories Press
(my review https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...)
11. Oct-18 Like a Sword Wound by Ahmet Altan tr. Brendan Freely and Yelda Türedi, published by Seven Stories
(my review https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...)
10. Sep-18 Moving Parts by Prabda Yoon, tr. Mui Poopoksakul , published by Tilted Axis Press
9. Aug-18 Revenge of the Translator by Brice Matthieussen, tr. Emma Ramadan, published by Deep Vellum
8. Jul-18 I Didn't Talk by Beatriz Bracher, tr. Adam Morris. published by New Directions
7. Jun-18 The Tidings of the Trees by Wolfgang Hilbig, tr. Isabel Fargo Cole, published by Two Lines Press
(my review https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...)
6. May-18 The Chilli Bean Paste Clan by Yan Ge, tr. Nicky Harmon, published by Balestier Press
5. Apr-18 Brother in Ice by Alicia Kopf, tr. Mara Faye Letham, published by And Other Stories
4. Mar-18 Trick by Dominico Starnone tr. Jhumpa Lahiri, published by Europa Editions
3. Feb-18 Love by Hanne Ørstavik, tr. Martin Aitken, published by Archipelago Books
2. Jan-18 Aranyak: Of the Forest by Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay, tr. Rimli Bhattacharya, published by Seagull Books
1. Dec-17 The Lime Tree by César Aira, tr. Chris Andrews, published by And Other Stories
The Hotel Tito has been translated by Ellen Elias-Bursać (also translator of the wonderful Dubravka Ugrešić) from Ivana Simić Bodrožić's Croatian original Hotel Zagorje.
The first-person narrator of the novel has a family background and situation very close to the author's own.
Born in 1982 in Vukovar, as the novel opens in the summer of 1991, she is sent with her older brother to what she thinks of as a holiday trip to the Dalmatian islands. In reality, the Serbo-Croatian conflict, that was to last from 1991-1995, is beginning and Vukovar in under threat. Her father stays behind to defend the city, but when it falls in the autumn after a 87-day siege, he goes missing, last seen in the town's hospital (see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_... for the historical events).
With Vukovar largely destroyed and in any case under Serbian control (it was to be eventually returned to Croatia in 1997), the narrator, her mother and brother become 'displaced persons' within Croatia, and end up placed with other fellow Vukovar exiles in a small room in a large conference center and hotel, known as the Political School, in the village of Kumrovec, birthplace of Marshal Tito, in the Zagorje region - nicknamed the eponymous 'Hotel Tito.'
With their father missing but not officially dead they end up in a sort of limbo, not receiving a widow's pension, unsure if he is dead or will eventually turn up, and not a priority for permanent rehousing.
And in the meantime the narrator is growing from a child into a teenager. This is a coming-of-age story but one told with an unusual backdrop, the mutual suspicion between the Zagorje locals from the very rural area and the Vukovar displaced children mirroring, as per the opening quote, that between the former fellow parts of Yugoslavia.
One particularly powerful scene starts with the youngsters assembling for a typical night out:
We assemble at the front desk, by now that’s ritual, we hadn’t seen each other for five days so there was a lot we had to tell each other. But they all room together at the dorm, Marina and her sister who has begun taking us a little more seriously now, and Božana and Vesna, and they pick up where they left off, and I’m not sure I always know what’s what. We go first to have a drink at Kopitar, as we call the only café there is to go to, and then we’re on to Oaza. We’re already regulars there. Tonight Klopišić is there too, though that’s not what we call her now, we’ve started treating her differently. Usually she never goes out, but ever since Tićo dumped her, her sister and her sister’s longtime fiancé take her with them to get her out. Tićo and she were engaged, too, but by the next week when I came back from the dorm, I heard the two of them weren’t together any more. He’s with this older woman now who has a son, and his mother and Nataša are frantic.
Almost everybody’s here, we order bamboos—our favorite red-wine-and-coke cocktail—and Marina and her sister announce the drinks are on them tonight. We soon learn why. They’re leaving. They’ve been given an apartment in Osijek and they’re moving there after the fall semester. We hug and kiss, but it's not quite over. They aren’t leaving for another month but now we know the day will come and there will be one less of us.
But the narrator gets drunk for the first time in her young life, and while doing so starts to come to terms with what they increasingly realise is likely to have been the fate that befell her father: killed in the Vukovar hospital massacre (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vukovar...), at that point the worst war crime since WW2.
Here’s the mayor, to see to protocol. Some already collapse here, not too many, they’re done for, the others watch, horrified. No need, they’re saved. Finally they’re all packed in. Five buses pull away. Through the night, it’s difficult to see where they’re headed, into a night so full of death. It makes no difference, around them everything's flat, crazy flat. They don’t drive long, this isn’t Serbia, it looks familiar.
The Ovčara industrial farm, a unit of the Vupik agricultural complex for husbandry and pig-farming. There are big farm buildings here with large metal sliding doors for storing field equipment and tools and small doors for people as well. For small people, ordinary people, like you and me. They take them down from the buses and have them run the gauntlet again. Go, go, Jovo, the once-over! They organize them by building, bus by bus, but not everybody. No, no, not you. They pull out ten men, these’ll be done by hand. Handiwork is always more valued, this assembly-line stuff, that’s a breeze. A bullet to the brain, anybody can do that. But by hand, you have to roll up your sleeves. You have to really get into it, your essence, creativity, people will talk about it afterward.
He’s afraid. He cries. Tears run down his cheeks but he doesn’t cry out loud, though what’s the point of hiding it, no one can hear anyway. Everybody’s howling so loud, yelling for help, shouting, the gunshots deafen. There are cameras here, too. Probably stolen, but that doesn’t lessen the technological sophistication. “Motherfucking battery's dead, wait, Mile, for me to put in a fresh one.” Mile stops what he’s doing, drops his pistol to his side and waits for a new surge of energy so his glorious work can be made into a picture. “Done, shoot away!” Ten men stand in front of a building. The ten men think, let it be quick. One of them thinks of me. He thinks of my mother, of my brother. Of me again. There aren’t any clear thoughts here, it’s hard to maintain a flow, all that whooping, they smash, lop off fingers, shoot, stab, we're fine, we’re in Zagreb, we’re far away. They butcher. Handiwork. Done. Thank God. The one who's here to the end, he’ll have it worst. There’s another nine hours of killing to go, not an easy job, he’ll have to eat and drink something meanwhile, and maybe that will sustain him a bit, so he can be more effective. I'd like to think he was one of the first. But I know, what's in my head is an American movie, this is a fairy tale, a soap opera, never, never, no matter how hard I try will I be able to imagine that.
And I’ll try. I’ll try my whole life. Amen.
(from the extract at https://www.asymptotejournal.com/fict...)
Recommended. A powerful tale that turns a familiar coming-of-age story into something much more tragic and yet alive.
See also this wonderful review on Goodreads from a reader whose own experiences are similar to the narrator and author's: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
---------------------
This novel is the latest from the excellent Asymptote Book Club(https://www.asymptotejournal.com/book...), which I would highly recommend: the Asymptote Journal team select a piece of world literature each month from some of the leading independent presses in Canada, the US, and the UK.
12. Hotel Tito, by Ivana Simić Bodrožić, tr. Ellen Elias-Bursać, published by Seven Stories Press
(my review https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...)
11. Oct-18 Like a Sword Wound by Ahmet Altan tr. Brendan Freely and Yelda Türedi, published by Seven Stories
(my review https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...)
10. Sep-18 Moving Parts by Prabda Yoon, tr. Mui Poopoksakul , published by Tilted Axis Press
9. Aug-18 Revenge of the Translator by Brice Matthieussen, tr. Emma Ramadan, published by Deep Vellum
8. Jul-18 I Didn't Talk by Beatriz Bracher, tr. Adam Morris. published by New Directions
7. Jun-18 The Tidings of the Trees by Wolfgang Hilbig, tr. Isabel Fargo Cole, published by Two Lines Press
(my review https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...)
6. May-18 The Chilli Bean Paste Clan by Yan Ge, tr. Nicky Harmon, published by Balestier Press
5. Apr-18 Brother in Ice by Alicia Kopf, tr. Mara Faye Letham, published by And Other Stories
4. Mar-18 Trick by Dominico Starnone tr. Jhumpa Lahiri, published by Europa Editions
3. Feb-18 Love by Hanne Ørstavik, tr. Martin Aitken, published by Archipelago Books
2. Jan-18 Aranyak: Of the Forest by Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay, tr. Rimli Bhattacharya, published by Seagull Books
1. Dec-17 The Lime Tree by César Aira, tr. Chris Andrews, published by And Other Stories
November 24, 2021
Нямах никакви очаквания за тази книга и се изненадах приятно.
Повествованието е от гледната точка на момиче, изселено със семейството си от Вуковар и принудено да живее в една стая в общежитие ( Хотел 'Тито') с майка си и брат си. Семейството няма шанс нито да се върне у дома, нито да намери решение на жилищния си въпрос, а от бащата-герой няма новини.
Това можеше да е просто разказ за порастването на главната героиня, първите тийн бунтове и любовни вълнения, ако не беше сянката на загубата - на дома, бащата, света, безгрижието на детството. Темата за жестокостта на надеждата и липсата, която нищо не може да запълни прозира под привидната бъбривост на текста.
Вероятно книгата дължи четивността си на прекрасния превод на Русанка Ляпова, чиято работа много харесвам.
Повествованието е от гледната точка на момиче, изселено със семейството си от Вуковар и принудено да живее в една стая в общежитие ( Хотел 'Тито') с майка си и брат си. Семейството няма шанс нито да се върне у дома, нито да намери решение на жилищния си въпрос, а от бащата-герой няма новини.
Това можеше да е просто разказ за порастването на главната героиня, първите тийн бунтове и любовни вълнения, ако не беше сянката на загубата - на дома, бащата, света, безгрижието на детството. Темата за жестокостта на надеждата и липсата, която нищо не може да запълни прозира под привидната бъбривост на текста.
Вероятно книгата дължи четивността си на прекрасния превод на Русанка Ляпова, чиято работа много харесвам.
July 6, 2015
Užasni događaji 90-ih su nešto o čemu ne volim pričati ni misliti. Kada se ova knjiga počela pojavljivati u medijima, čvrsto sam odlučila da je neću čitati jer nas je taj nesretni rat već sasvim dovoljno sve obilježio i više nikome ne treba podsjetnika na njega. Ipak, što se više pričalo o Hotelu Zagorje, to sam pronalazila neke sličnosti između moga i Ivaninoga odrastanja i na kraju sam ipak popustila znatiželji i kupila knjigu.
Moj hotel nije bio u Zagorju nego u Dalmaciji, ali to ne čini baš veliku razliku. U njegovim malim sobama se događalo isto što i u svakom hotelu sa prognanicima i izbjeglicama i Ivana je zaista vjerno prenijela sliku života u sobičcima od nekoliko kvadrata i vječite borbe za opstanak. Kao i sve ostalo vezano za to vrijeme, to mogu potpuno razumjeti samo oni koji su (nažalost) doživjeli i iskreno, da nisam i ja na neki način proživjela Ivaninu priču, mislim da je ne bih mogla onako do kraja shvatiti. Ovako, u svakom sam trenutku mogla točno osjetiti o čemu to ona zapravo priča. Čak se poklopio i put u Italiju, cijeli osjećaj boravka kod nepoznatih obitelji i nakon svega povratak ''kući'' koja zapravo nije kuća.
Nisam sigurna da mogu objektivno ocijeniti ovu knjigu jer se za vrijeme čitanja mojih 6 godina stalno ispreplitalo sa Ivaninim. Ono što mogu reći je da mi se jako svidjelo što je autorica bila iskrena. Ni u jednom trenutku se nije trudila ostaviti dobar dojam o sebi, zapravo ima momenata u kojima iznosi svoje ne baš svijetle trenutke koji su na neki način samo potvrda te njene iskrenosti. Druga i najvažnija stvar koja mi se svidjela je to što je jedna ovako tragična priča ispričana glatko, bez suvišne patetike i čak sa nekom porukom o tome kako se život nezaustavljivo nastavlja. Poseban su mi biser bili opisi odjeće i šminke koju nas je većina nosila i kojima se danas možemo samo nasmijati.
Ivana se zaljubljuje, izlazi, upoznaje nove prijatelje i druži se sa nekim starim, jednostavno rečeno odrasta. Sam kraj knjige djeluje kao početak neke nove priče, pa tragedija ipak donekle ostaje u prošlosti.
Ima i stvari koje mi se nisu svidjele. Pojedinim likovima i događajima nije posvećena pažnja koju po mom mišljenju zaslužuju pa mi neki dijelovi djeluju nedorečeni, onako ukratko i ''kirurški'' napisani, kao da im fali malo emocije ili barem nekakvog objašnjenja. Većina knjige je napisana baš tako, bez okolišanja i direktno, ali na nekim sam dijelovima jednostavno željela malo više.
Onih nekoliko stranica u kojima opisuje konačnu sudbinu svoga tate mi je bilo najteže za pročitati. I na tom polju su nam priče slične, odnosno početak priče. Neznanje, uzaludno raspitivanje, pokušaji da se dođe do bilo koga tko zna bilo što, pisanje pisama, pregledavanje svake nove liste nestalih, ranjenih, ubijenih, zarobljenih… Ne volim misliti o tome, ali mi je sve to itekako poznato.
Srećom,u mom slučaju se na kraju ipak pojavila ona jedna lista sa tatinim imenom i vratio nam se, a i one sobe koje nisu naše smo davno ostavili za sobom pa moja priča ipak ima sretan kraj.
Sada nisam sigurna je li mi drago što sam čitala Hotel Zagorje ili ne. Ostavila mi je dobar i jak dojam, ali i izvukla onaj osjećaj rata i užasa koji, kao i većina drugih, želim ostaviti iza sebe. Probudila je opet ''one neke'' emocije - zbog njih i Ivanine priče su me mučili trnci i knedla u grlu za vrijeme čitanja i osjetila sam olakšanje kad sam prešla i posljednju stranicu. Ovo me definitivno naučilo da tematiku 90-ih još uvijek ne mogu i nikad i neću moći ''svariti'' bez teških misli, osjećaja i malo nesanice, pa je možda bolje da se držim svoje uobičajene literature.
U svakom slučaju, za iskrenost i tragove nade u Ivaninom Hotelu Zagorje, zaslužila je četiri solidne zvjezdice.
October 9, 2022
Die Geschichte von kroatischen Flüchtlingen wird aus Sicht eines zu Beginn der Geschichte neunjährigen Mädchens erzählt. Vukovar ist eine Stadt an der kroatisch-serbischen Grenze. Ein im Kroatienkrieg 1991 viel umkämpftes Gebiet. In dieser Stadt gab es eine große Schlacht sowie ein bekanntes Massaker, dem der Vater der Ich-Erzählerin Ivana zum Opfer gefallen ist. Das war nachdem Ivana und ihr Bruder in den "Urlaub ans Meer" geschickt worden sind. Die Mutter folgt bald. Der Vater bleibt zurück.
Die Familie und frühere Nachbarn leben schließlich zu acht in einem Hochhaus in Zagreb. Dieses Leben wird aus kindlicher Perspektive geschildert. Der Krieg schwebt zwar blass über allem, die Pubertät der Ich-Erzählerin findet trotzdem statt. Bald muss die Wohnung geräumt werden. Die Familie landet in einem früheren Hotel, welches ehemals auch als Politik-Kaderschule diente und in dem nun Flüchtlinge unterkommen. Hier gibt es eine Vielzahl von Menschen und eine Vielzahl von Schicksalen. Neben dem Leben auf der Flucht und dem Erwachsenwerden spielt auch die Bürokratie, mit der die Flüchtenden zu kämpfen haben, eine Rolle in dem Roman.
Das Problem des Buches ist die Darstellung aus der Sicht eines Kindes. Die Geschichte könnte interessant sein. Die Perspektive steht dem sprachlich und inhaltlich im Weg. Vor allem im zweiten Teil reduziert sich der Text auf eine fast schon unlesbare Darstellung von Teenager-Problemen.
Die Familie und frühere Nachbarn leben schließlich zu acht in einem Hochhaus in Zagreb. Dieses Leben wird aus kindlicher Perspektive geschildert. Der Krieg schwebt zwar blass über allem, die Pubertät der Ich-Erzählerin findet trotzdem statt. Bald muss die Wohnung geräumt werden. Die Familie landet in einem früheren Hotel, welches ehemals auch als Politik-Kaderschule diente und in dem nun Flüchtlinge unterkommen. Hier gibt es eine Vielzahl von Menschen und eine Vielzahl von Schicksalen. Neben dem Leben auf der Flucht und dem Erwachsenwerden spielt auch die Bürokratie, mit der die Flüchtenden zu kämpfen haben, eine Rolle in dem Roman.
Das Problem des Buches ist die Darstellung aus der Sicht eines Kindes. Die Geschichte könnte interessant sein. Die Perspektive steht dem sprachlich und inhaltlich im Weg. Vor allem im zweiten Teil reduziert sich der Text auf eine fast schon unlesbare Darstellung von Teenager-Problemen.
October 13, 2022
Ein neunjähriges Mädchen fährt mit ihrem Bruder von ihrem Heimatort Vukovar in Kroatien in ein Ferienlager. Vukovar werden sie viele Jahre nicht mehr wiedersehen. Mit der Mutter leben Sie nach Ende des Ferienlagers bei Verwandten in Zagreb, anschließend eine Zeitlang illegal in einer ungenutzten Wohnung und dann viele Jahre in einem ehemaligen Hotel auf weniger Quadratmetern.
Es soll vermutlich ein Buch sein über Kriegstraumata bzw. Einflüsse des Kriegsgeschehens in Vukovar auf Kinder, die die Schrecken nicht direkt miterlebt haben, aber unter dem Verlust von Vater, anderen Verwandten und der gewohnten Umgebung leiden. Könnte ein interessantes Thema sein, aber für mich hat die Erzählweise aus der Sicht des Mädchens, teilweise im Präsens, überhaupt nicht funktioniert. Der Stil ist so simpel, die Gedanken und Sorgen des Kindes von einer Naivität und Banalität, es war kaum auszuhalten. All die Teenagersorgen um Kleidung, Jungs, Freundinnen und Alkohol wollte ich überhaupt nicht wissen und erwog zum ersten Mal seit ich auf Goodreads bin, einen Abbruch.
Mein Fazit: Weder ein Lesevergnügen noch inhaltlich eine Bereicherung .
Es soll vermutlich ein Buch sein über Kriegstraumata bzw. Einflüsse des Kriegsgeschehens in Vukovar auf Kinder, die die Schrecken nicht direkt miterlebt haben, aber unter dem Verlust von Vater, anderen Verwandten und der gewohnten Umgebung leiden. Könnte ein interessantes Thema sein, aber für mich hat die Erzählweise aus der Sicht des Mädchens, teilweise im Präsens, überhaupt nicht funktioniert. Der Stil ist so simpel, die Gedanken und Sorgen des Kindes von einer Naivität und Banalität, es war kaum auszuhalten. All die Teenagersorgen um Kleidung, Jungs, Freundinnen und Alkohol wollte ich überhaupt nicht wissen und erwog zum ersten Mal seit ich auf Goodreads bin, einen Abbruch.
Mein Fazit: Weder ein Lesevergnügen noch inhaltlich eine Bereicherung .
November 25, 2019
struggente e bellissimo.
June 4, 2021
Посока – към надеждата
(Цялото ревю е тук: https://knijenpetar.wordpress.com/202...
Войната, която трябва да изживееш отново. Описана в книга, тази трагедия превзема съзнанието и променя възгледите за живота. Може би от време на време трябва да си припомняме ужасите на тези стълкновения, да преосмисляме собствените си истини. А тази война все още е толкова близо през времето, че продължава да произвежда роман след роман. Най-ярките сцени определено идват от Босна и Хърватия. В „Хотел ‘Тито’“ („Киви“, 2021, с превод на Русанка Ляпова) Ивана Бодрожич вгражда обсадения Вуковар през 1991 година, част от Хърватия, който се превръща в център на голямо сражение и става причина много семейства да се разселят в други части на страната. Остават цивилни доброволци, които сформират опълчение. Един от тях е бащата на малката героиня, отправила се с майка си и брат си към непозната територия с намерението да дочакат добри или лоши новини за него. Но това е разказ не само за войната и тежките последици от н��я, а и ярък отзвук от името на децата, превърнали се в бежанци в собствената си държава; разказ за скитането, тревогите и постоянните неволи на едно ранено от съдбата семейство.
(Продължава в блога: https://knijenpetar.wordpress.com/202...)
(Цялото ревю е тук: https://knijenpetar.wordpress.com/202...
Войната, която трябва да изживееш отново. Описана в книга, тази трагедия превзема съзнанието и променя възгледите за живота. Може би от време на време трябва да си припомняме ужасите на тези стълкновения, да преосмисляме собствените си истини. А тази война все още е толкова близо през времето, че продължава да произвежда роман след роман. Най-ярките сцени определено идват от Босна и Хърватия. В „Хотел ‘Тито’“ („Киви“, 2021, с превод на Русанка Ляпова) Ивана Бодрожич вгражда обсадения Вуковар през 1991 година, част от Хърватия, който се превръща в център на голямо сражение и става причина много семейства да се разселят в други части на страната. Остават цивилни доброволци, които сформират опълчение. Един от тях е бащата на малката героиня, отправила се с майка си и брат си към непозната територия с намерението да дочакат добри или лоши новини за него. Но това е разказ не само за войната и тежките последици от н��я, а и ярък отзвук от името на децата, превърнали се в бежанци в собствената си държава; разказ за скитането, тревогите и постоянните неволи на едно ранено от съдбата семейство.
(Продължава в блога: https://knijenpetar.wordpress.com/202...)
April 25, 2023
The Hotel Tito is an autobiographical novel that tells of a young girl’s experiences growing up during the Croatian War of Independence. She is only 9 when she and her older brother are sent to one of the Dalmatian Islands, supposedly on a summer vacation. A summer away turns into 6 years as a displaced person with her mother and brother, desperately trying to get by with the minimal rights of a displaced person - and longing to understand what happened to her father. The novel is a coming of age story of the main character as she grows from 9 to 15, experiencing many of the normal moments of childhood and teenage rebellion against a backdrop of the atrocities of war and the daily horror of knowing exactly what happened to some of your friends and loved ones while also not knowing what has happened to others. This wasn’t the smoothest of reads for me - I am missing some of the cultural and historical references from the book, although at the end I found a glossary of sorts that would have given me a lot of context if I had seen it while reading the novel. Despite being aware that I was missing some context, i still appreciated seeing the wars through the eyes of a young girl directly impacted. I would definitely read more by this author.
November 5, 2016
Savaş nedeniyle evinden, yurdundan ayrı kalan küçük bir Hırvat kız ve ailesinin sığındıkları tek odalı otelde yaşadıkları, büyüme süreci konu edilmiş. Bir Anna Frank'ın Hatıra Defteri değil tabii ki. Savaştan ziyade kızın büyüme sancıları var. Savaş, onun getirdiği acılar, kayıp aile bireyleri kendine ait olmayan bir yerde yaşamanın zorlukları arka planda işlenmiş. Anlatım dilini çok sevmedim, yazardan ya da tercümeden kaynaklı olabilir..
September 11, 2017
Çok önemli ve etkileyici bir konu olan Yugoslavya İç Savaşı'nda Hırvat cephesinde yaşanılan olaylardan yararlanılarak yazılan ve otobiyografik öğeler taşıyan bu eser, yazarın sanırım edebiyatla hiç ilgisi olmamasından olacak sanki ders notları yazar gibi bir uslupla yazılmış. Dili berbat yani, bir de buna tercüme zayıflığı da eklenince "yazık olmuş" güzelim romana diyorum. Yazar savaşın yıkıcılığı ve vahşetini anlatmak yerine bir "ergenin" cinsellik başta olmak üzere sorunlarının savaştaki halini yazmış. Beğenmedim.
September 17, 2016
Eski Yugoslavya'daki iç savaşta bir Hırvat ailenin yaşadığı dramı, küçük bir kız çocuğunun bakışıyla anlatan, savaşın sıradan insanların hayatında yarattığı tahribata sade ve sakınımlı bir dille dikkat çeken hoş bir kısa roman. Bu süreçte çocuğun genç kızlığa geçişi de romanın önemli bir yönü. Anne ve ağabey karakterleri de etkileyici. İlk kısımlardaki Anne Frank'ın Hatıra Defteri havası pek özgün değil. Ancak kitap ilerledikçe daha güçlü bir hale geliyor. Bir evinizin, odanızın, yani mahremiyetinizin olması gibi, günlük hayatta üzerinde pek durmayabileceğiniz bazı şeylerin önemi de kitabın ana temalarından.
December 5, 2016
Otobiyografik izler taşıyan bir savaş romanı. Belki de roman değil de hatırat demek daha doğru.
Sekiz yaşındaki bir kız çocuğunun bakış açısıyla yazılmış olması savaşı ve olanları küçük bir kız çocuğunun gözüyle takip etmemizi sağlıyor. Kitabın nispeten mutlu sonla bitmesi ise savaşa ve savaşa yol açanlara lanet okumaya engel değil.
Sekiz yaşındaki bir kız çocuğunun bakış açısıyla yazılmış olması savaşı ve olanları küçük bir kız çocuğunun gözüyle takip etmemizi sağlıyor. Kitabın nispeten mutlu sonla bitmesi ise savaşa ve savaşa yol açanlara lanet okumaya engel değil.
March 13, 2020
Naivan i iskren pogled devojčice na njen život i nedaće koje su zadesile njenu porodicu tokom i nakon raspada Jugoslavije.
Pratimo je kao devetogodišnjakinju, pa sve do gimnazije. Iako je tema takva kakva je, bilo je simpatično čitati njene klasične tinejdžerske muke koje su joj zaokupirale misli i pored rata. Tinejdžeri su tinejdžeri na kraju dana, pa makar bila i apokalipsa napolju.
Pratimo je kao devetogodišnjakinju, pa sve do gimnazije. Iako je tema takva kakva je, bilo je simpatično čitati njene klasične tinejdžerske muke koje su joj zaokupirale misli i pored rata. Tinejdžeri su tinejdžeri na kraju dana, pa makar bila i apokalipsa napolju.
October 10, 2022
Ich bin bei diesem Buch wohl mit falschen Erwartungen ans lesen gegangen. Vorgestellt hatte ich mir, wie ein Kind/Teenager mit den Schrecken und der für mich daraus resultierenden Angst vor Verlust, Vertreibung und Tod umgeht.
Stattdessen habe ich eine Jugendgrschichte bekommen vom Leben im Hotel Nirgendwo, erster Liebe, Streichen und der Suche nach einer Wohnung. Ein Buch, dass von einem Teenagerleben handelt in dem es eher um die passende Hose geht als um der Bewältigung des Schreckens des Krieges.
Ich bin enttäuscht von dem Buch, welches mir zu seicht und zu wenig Inhalt bietet.
Nicht jede Flucht- und Kriegsgeschichte ist so, viele hatten andere Sorgen und Nöte als die farblich passende Hose.
1,5 Sterne
Stattdessen habe ich eine Jugendgrschichte bekommen vom Leben im Hotel Nirgendwo, erster Liebe, Streichen und der Suche nach einer Wohnung. Ein Buch, dass von einem Teenagerleben handelt in dem es eher um die passende Hose geht als um der Bewältigung des Schreckens des Krieges.
Ich bin enttäuscht von dem Buch, welches mir zu seicht und zu wenig Inhalt bietet.
Nicht jede Flucht- und Kriegsgeschichte ist so, viele hatten andere Sorgen und Nöte als die farblich passende Hose.
1,5 Sterne
October 28, 2020
“…Si sbaglia, s’inganna chi proclama che la Serbia è debole”. Inizia così il romanzo di Ivana Bodrožić, pubblicato l’anno scorso per @sellerioeditore : con una bambina croata di soli nove anni, che canticchia innocentemente una filastrocca sentita da due amici. Improvvisamente innervositosi, il padre chiude il giornale e la intima di smettere, di non parlare mai più in serbo, perché loro sono croati e deve tenerselo bene a mente.
Ha inizio con questa scena Hotel Tito, che trova nella voce di una protagonista bambina un racconto in presa diretta sull’esilio dei croati di Vukovar, sfollati a Zagabria in seguito alla distruzione della loro città nello scontro con le milizie serbe.
L’infantile voce narrante, acuta e mai banale, non si riduce a un monologo: presenta diverse storie e voci, come abbaini nel palazzo in cui vengono sfollate intere famiglie, ridotte perlopiù a madri con i bambini al seguito, in quel palazzone che negli anni Settanta era la Scuola del Partito Comunista, ribattezzato da loro “Hotel Tito”.
Seguiamo, dal 1991 fino al 1996, la storia di famiglie che incessantemente contattano i quadri del governo per ricevere sussidi, che si presentano quotidianamente presso i comitati per il ritrovamento dei reduci di guerra, che chiedono una soluzione alla crisi abitativa. Troviamo, soprattutto, la devastante attesa, che con lo scorrere degli anni non si trasforma mai in rassegnazione, ma in una nuova, anomala, normalità sospesa. Nel romanzo, troviamo anche un altro, inevitabile, tipo di normalità: quello della protagonista, che con la sua schiera di amicizie sta affrontando un’altra trasformazione - quella adolescenziale. La scoperta del grunge e di Kurt Cobain, dei trucchi e dei primi baci con la lingua, scorre come un parallelo familiare in un microcosmo che si scontra, fuori dall’imponente e oscuro palazzone, con il senso di estraneità e dislocamento. In una speranza collettiva di tornare a quella città d’origine, Vukovar, che sembra però essere stata distrutta per sempre, con loro relegati a un eterno “altro”, persino tra i loro connazionali di Zagabria.
Ha inizio con questa scena Hotel Tito, che trova nella voce di una protagonista bambina un racconto in presa diretta sull’esilio dei croati di Vukovar, sfollati a Zagabria in seguito alla distruzione della loro città nello scontro con le milizie serbe.
L’infantile voce narrante, acuta e mai banale, non si riduce a un monologo: presenta diverse storie e voci, come abbaini nel palazzo in cui vengono sfollate intere famiglie, ridotte perlopiù a madri con i bambini al seguito, in quel palazzone che negli anni Settanta era la Scuola del Partito Comunista, ribattezzato da loro “Hotel Tito”.
Seguiamo, dal 1991 fino al 1996, la storia di famiglie che incessantemente contattano i quadri del governo per ricevere sussidi, che si presentano quotidianamente presso i comitati per il ritrovamento dei reduci di guerra, che chiedono una soluzione alla crisi abitativa. Troviamo, soprattutto, la devastante attesa, che con lo scorrere degli anni non si trasforma mai in rassegnazione, ma in una nuova, anomala, normalità sospesa. Nel romanzo, troviamo anche un altro, inevitabile, tipo di normalità: quello della protagonista, che con la sua schiera di amicizie sta affrontando un’altra trasformazione - quella adolescenziale. La scoperta del grunge e di Kurt Cobain, dei trucchi e dei primi baci con la lingua, scorre come un parallelo familiare in un microcosmo che si scontra, fuori dall’imponente e oscuro palazzone, con il senso di estraneità e dislocamento. In una speranza collettiva di tornare a quella città d’origine, Vukovar, che sembra però essere stata distrutta per sempre, con loro relegati a un eterno “altro”, persino tra i loro connazionali di Zagabria.
December 23, 2019
Sono croati, non serbi.
Guai a considerarli tali, siano essi adulti o adolescenti. Il rifiuto è unanime.
Doveva trattarsi di qualche giorno, ma poi la permanenza si è protratta: settimane, mesi... anni.
Lei ne aveva nove quando la sua vita si è messa a turbinare vorticosamente, suo fratello sedici. C'era una strana atmosfera quel giorno... Si andava al mare, ma le mamme piangevano e i saluti erano troppo insistenti. Una vacanza insolita agli occhi di un'adolescente che vede cambiare location a velocità sorprendente e modalità discutibili.
.
Mentre i padri restano a Vukovar e scompaiono, Zagabria si fa silenziosa e guardinga. Lei, troppo giovane per comprendere, sgrana gli occhi e trattiene il respiro dinnanzi a tanta tensione, abbracci d'incoraggiamento e preghiere.
.
Hotel Tito...
Si ospita chi non ha più proprietà, chi ha dovuto forzare serrature altrui per proteggere i propri familiari.
Qui si vedono mamme che piangono, che cercano disperatamente lavoro, bambini con gambe come fuscelli che giocano a 《frontiera》: chi rappresenta la Jugoslavia perde tutto e chi rappresenta la Germania se ne torna a casa ricco.
A hotel Tito c'è chi sorride, chi curiosa, chi ruba. Quasi tutti accomunati dall'attesa di un padre scomparso o dalla rassegnazione di un suo non ritorno. .
Una permanenza composta da due emisferi: quello adulto e dell'innocenza. È con gli occhi del secondo che si sviluppa il libro, con gli occhi di chi si adatta alle peggiori situazioni e di chi non capisce a fondo la gravità della situazione.
Un libro che porta alla luce tante guerre che s'intersecano:
quella civile per l'indipendenza, quella adolescenziale di una ragazza che necessita il proprio spazio, l'amore e l'amicizia, quella di un fratello che scrive lettere in continuazione ribadendo il diritto della dignità umana, quella di una madre che si rende conto di non poter donare ai propri figli una vita dignitosa e non smette di dare un senso alla scomparsa del marito. È il 1991, per la Croazia inizia una guerra feroce e per queste vite tutto precipita.
.
Straordinario, da leggere assolutamente.
Guai a considerarli tali, siano essi adulti o adolescenti. Il rifiuto è unanime.
Doveva trattarsi di qualche giorno, ma poi la permanenza si è protratta: settimane, mesi... anni.
Lei ne aveva nove quando la sua vita si è messa a turbinare vorticosamente, suo fratello sedici. C'era una strana atmosfera quel giorno... Si andava al mare, ma le mamme piangevano e i saluti erano troppo insistenti. Una vacanza insolita agli occhi di un'adolescente che vede cambiare location a velocità sorprendente e modalità discutibili.
.
Mentre i padri restano a Vukovar e scompaiono, Zagabria si fa silenziosa e guardinga. Lei, troppo giovane per comprendere, sgrana gli occhi e trattiene il respiro dinnanzi a tanta tensione, abbracci d'incoraggiamento e preghiere.
.
Hotel Tito...
Si ospita chi non ha più proprietà, chi ha dovuto forzare serrature altrui per proteggere i propri familiari.
Qui si vedono mamme che piangono, che cercano disperatamente lavoro, bambini con gambe come fuscelli che giocano a 《frontiera》: chi rappresenta la Jugoslavia perde tutto e chi rappresenta la Germania se ne torna a casa ricco.
A hotel Tito c'è chi sorride, chi curiosa, chi ruba. Quasi tutti accomunati dall'attesa di un padre scomparso o dalla rassegnazione di un suo non ritorno. .
Una permanenza composta da due emisferi: quello adulto e dell'innocenza. È con gli occhi del secondo che si sviluppa il libro, con gli occhi di chi si adatta alle peggiori situazioni e di chi non capisce a fondo la gravità della situazione.
Un libro che porta alla luce tante guerre che s'intersecano:
quella civile per l'indipendenza, quella adolescenziale di una ragazza che necessita il proprio spazio, l'amore e l'amicizia, quella di un fratello che scrive lettere in continuazione ribadendo il diritto della dignità umana, quella di una madre che si rende conto di non poter donare ai propri figli una vita dignitosa e non smette di dare un senso alla scomparsa del marito. È il 1991, per la Croazia inizia una guerra feroce e per queste vite tutto precipita.
.
Straordinario, da leggere assolutamente.
December 11, 2022
Ivana B, la ragazzina dello zoo di Kumrovec
Nel 1991, l'Armata popolare jugoslava e milizie serbe presero d'assedio Vukovar, la città croata più a est, quasi un'exclave dentro il territorio serbo. Caduta la città, per esplicito ordine di Belgrado le forze regolari lasciarono entrare per primi i miliziani (che diverranno famigerati poco tempo dopo, Željko Ražnatović "Arkan" e Vojislav Šešelj, le Tigri Serbe e le Aquile Bianche), al grido "Bit če mesa, bit če mesa, lati čemo hrvate" (carne ci sarà, carne ci sarà, macelleremo tutti i croati).
Di quel che i regolari trovarono, una volta entrati in città, la miglior testimonianza possibile è la statistica ufficiale dell'esercito, che fu costretto a dichiarare il 26% dei reduci dell'assedio inadatti al servizio per motivi psicologici.
Nel fiume di profughi che l'assedio genera, c'è anche la famiglia della protagonista e voce narrante unica del romanzo, chiaramente l'alter ego dell'autrice, che ha condiviso la stessa sorte del suo personaggio. Voce narrante che non tace praticamente mai per tutto il libro, anche se cambia il suo tono, al cambiare dell'età (la vicenda dura sette o otto anni e la bambina delle prime pagine finisce universitaria).
Mi ero interessato al libro per un più generale interesse al tema, ma la scelta di mettere una voce narrante (infantile, prima, adolescenziale poi) in prima persona non mi ha coinvolto praticamente mai e mi è sembrata un espediente più che l'espressione di un'esigenza. Parere personalissimo che altri lettori non condividono, avendo giudicato il libro molto meglio di me.
Nel 1991, l'Armata popolare jugoslava e milizie serbe presero d'assedio Vukovar, la città croata più a est, quasi un'exclave dentro il territorio serbo. Caduta la città, per esplicito ordine di Belgrado le forze regolari lasciarono entrare per primi i miliziani (che diverranno famigerati poco tempo dopo, Željko Ražnatović "Arkan" e Vojislav Šešelj, le Tigri Serbe e le Aquile Bianche), al grido "Bit če mesa, bit če mesa, lati čemo hrvate" (carne ci sarà, carne ci sarà, macelleremo tutti i croati).
Di quel che i regolari trovarono, una volta entrati in città, la miglior testimonianza possibile è la statistica ufficiale dell'esercito, che fu costretto a dichiarare il 26% dei reduci dell'assedio inadatti al servizio per motivi psicologici.
Nel fiume di profughi che l'assedio genera, c'è anche la famiglia della protagonista e voce narrante unica del romanzo, chiaramente l'alter ego dell'autrice, che ha condiviso la stessa sorte del suo personaggio. Voce narrante che non tace praticamente mai per tutto il libro, anche se cambia il suo tono, al cambiare dell'età (la vicenda dura sette o otto anni e la bambina delle prime pagine finisce universitaria).
Mi ero interessato al libro per un più generale interesse al tema, ma la scelta di mettere una voce narrante (infantile, prima, adolescenziale poi) in prima persona non mi ha coinvolto praticamente mai e mi è sembrata un espediente più che l'espressione di un'esigenza. Parere personalissimo che altri lettori non condividono, avendo giudicato il libro molto meglio di me.
October 6, 2010
This is a positive book about a very sad topic. It brought back memories from that time. The author is very good at creating the atmosphere of the early and mid nineties in Croatia. I like it very much how we can feel her growing-up throughout the course of the book, with the help of her "voice" and writing style we can see her as a nine year old girl at the beginning of the book and a teenager and the end but also as everything in between. I highly recommend this book and hope they will translate it into English.
December 26, 2020
A decent Fall of Yugoslavia novel. I love this genre of exile-trauma, but I wonder about the quality of the translation: it’s always by fellow Croats or Bosnians etal. and I’m not sure that’s a good thing. A lot of these lauded novels are quite stilted and un-natural in tone.
What the language needs is a Jay Rubin (Murakami) or a Bill Johnston (Stasiuk). But until we find them, who else could do it?
What the language needs is a Jay Rubin (Murakami) or a Bill Johnston (Stasiuk). But until we find them, who else could do it?
January 19, 2026
As a reader, I have never been impressed by auto fiction, but I have to put that prejudice aside. I will admit a greater affinity for a novel by a woman who as an adolescent was a refugee during the uncivil wars that followed the disintegration of Yugoslavia than of ponderous Scandinavians. "The Hotel Tito" speaks of how the family of a murdered father struggles despite finding sanctuary in the ethnic-appropriate post-Yugoslav country. It also has the virtue of being succinct, getting to the point, and being short.
January 25, 2024
Iskreno sam razočarana prijevodom i trebala sam čitati na hrvatskom 😮💨
August 25, 2024
Mislim da sam ja jedna od rijetkih osoba koji se mogu nazvati citateljem koji ovo jos nije procitao. 14 godina od objave napokon sam se ohrabrio uzeti ovu knjigu i nisam pozalio. Jako pitko zbog kratkih recenice koje tako maestralno odrazavaju ociste djeteta prognanika. Dekonstrukcija narativa zajednistva 90-ih glavni je motiv ove knjige. I to je napravljeno super.
(Sretan?) kraj mi je malo nedovrsen, ali sve u svemu bas dobro stivo!
(Sretan?) kraj mi je malo nedovrsen, ali sve u svemu bas dobro stivo!
February 24, 2017
Ovo je jedna kratka i gorko-slatka knjiga, pisana kroz oči djevojčice koja je zbog rata morala odseliti iz Vukovara u Zagorje, zajedno sa svojom majkom i bratom, dok je njihov otac nestao u ratu.
Iako govori o bolnoj temi, simpatična razmišljanja i doživljaji spisateljice, koja je tada(kad je rat tek započeo) imala 9 godina često su me nasmijali, a kraj, koji je za njih bio novi početak daje neku nadu i smiruje.
Iako govori o bolnoj temi, simpatična razmišljanja i doživljaji spisateljice, koja je tada(kad je rat tek započeo) imala 9 godina često su me nasmijali, a kraj, koji je za njih bio novi početak daje neku nadu i smiruje.
May 6, 2013
Emotivan, ali oslobođen patetike, pun boli i smijeha, mješavine sreće i nesreće, ovaj roman opisuje djetinstvo djevojke prognanice iz Vukovara, njeno odrastanje u stranoj (novoj) sredini, kao i borbu za preživljavanje u kaotičnom svijetu devedesetih.
Vrlo iskren, vrlo topao, a često i vrlo smiješan, način pripovijedanja prebaciva nas u jedno drugo vrijeme. Djevojka iz hotela zagorje progovara intimnim glasom, bez prikrivanja, bez uljepšavanja, bez politike, ali ne bez duše, baš naprotiv s puno hrabrosti, pronicavosti i sposobnosti za uočavanje detalja, koje bismo mogli nazvati i mudrošću.
Talentirana spisateljica, kojoj predviđam svijetlu budućnost, učinila je ovu priču ljudskom i dirljivom, a sigurna sam kako će mnogima od nas( pogotovo onima koji kao ja pripadaju njenoj generaciji) biti poznata i bliska. Predivna knjiga!
Vrlo iskren, vrlo topao, a često i vrlo smiješan, način pripovijedanja prebaciva nas u jedno drugo vrijeme. Djevojka iz hotela zagorje progovara intimnim glasom, bez prikrivanja, bez uljepšavanja, bez politike, ali ne bez duše, baš naprotiv s puno hrabrosti, pronicavosti i sposobnosti za uočavanje detalja, koje bismo mogli nazvati i mudrošću.
Talentirana spisateljica, kojoj predviđam svijetlu budućnost, učinila je ovu priču ljudskom i dirljivom, a sigurna sam kako će mnogima od nas( pogotovo onima koji kao ja pripadaju njenoj generaciji) biti poznata i bliska. Predivna knjiga!
August 16, 2019
I was expecting an autobiographical novel set in a warring environment but this reads more like fragments of the author's memory from her childhood to early teenage years, which also includes your typical pubescent woes. Regardless, it is poignant to see how Bodrozic's daily routine was impacted directly by the Yugoslavian wars. Wish there was more of that though. The way I see it, almost everyone experiences the same phases of puberty anywhere in the world...
It is also difficult to rate this book without fully understanding the nuances of the Croatian language and culture so I'm just gonna go with a neutral 3.
It is also difficult to rate this book without fully understanding the nuances of the Croatian language and culture so I'm just gonna go with a neutral 3.
April 10, 2020
Così intimo e profondo che mi sembra di essere io la bambina - poi preadolescente - che parla in prima persona della guerra e dell'esilio come si fa quando si vive, senza sapere tutto, senza ricordare tutto, sovrapponendo ai drammi familiari e di un popolo i problemi quotidiani, le gelosie fra amichette, il ragazzo che ti guarda, le liti col fratello, e intanto gli anni passano, il padre è ancora disperso e la sistemazione abitativa precaria, e la parola profugo basta a definirti, e sono ancora io, la famiglia di mio padre profughi dalla stessa terra, la guerra un'altra, nessuno disperso tranne la casa e la terra, e il dialetto...
December 8, 2017
A poorly written, stream of consciousness type of autobiography of a young Croation girl growing up with her family as displaced persons. The only interest lies in learning about the culture - which does not shine in any of the anecdotes; the children are cruel and ignorant, the adults shallow, nasty or mad. It is very depressing all apart from the background being the Yugoslav war of the 1990s. I'm sorry I purchased it, and cannot recommend it to anyone.
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