The short story anthology, Old Age, is conceived as an attempt to offer answers to a series of questions which inevitably arise about this topic: What does old age mean to us? What do we expect from old age? When do you actually get old? What about the fear of old age? The wish to return to youth? The conflict between young and old? The greatest time of our lives? Old age as joy or as sadness? Resisting old age? And especially: When does a writer grow old?
We were especially drawn to the question of when an author grows old, or rather if they grow old at all, or if among writers that is something not related to the aging of the body but the aging of the soul.
Regardless of how these texts are exposed to the reader’s attention, they confirm the exceptional narrative skill of young and younger generations of modern Serbian prose. The reader’s curiosity and interest in modern Serbian prose will thus be amply rewarded by the reading of this collection.
David Albahari (Serbian Cyrillic: Давид Албахари, pronounced [dǎv̞id albaxǎːriː] was a Serbian writer. Albahari wrote mainly novels and short stories. He was also a highly accomplished translator from English into Serbian. Albahari was awarded the prestigious NIN Award for the best novel of 1996 for Mamac (Bait). He was a member of SANU (Serbian Academy Of Sciences And Arts).
I don't really know to what extent you can call this a short story anthology. There are definitely some short stories in there but mostly, it is a collection of thoughts, some relevant, some not, grouped together under the theme of old age. On the plus side, there are some heavy-hitting authors included and most of the stronger pieces are from the pens of those you'd expect. Basara's contribution is (unsurprisingly) the most insightful and Pantić produces something that would fit in with his other short story work. "Inheritor", "The City Of The Dead" and "Great-Uncle Zare" are the other actual stories that really bring something to the table. Definite high points but the remainder of the collection lacks a clear narrative aim.