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Body Kintsugi
Body Kintsugi is a powerful and poetic autobiographical novel about Senka Marić’s experience of breast cancer. The story switches between two narrative streams: one returning to her memories of childhood and adolescence, and the other detailing her private struggle with her illness as a middle-aged woman.
The result is an intimate and insightful account of Marić’s experience of womanhood through her body, including the difficulties of adolescence, ongoing patriarchal attitudes in Bosnian society, motherhood, and illness.
The result is an intimate and insightful account of Marić’s experience of womanhood through her body, including the difficulties of adolescence, ongoing patriarchal attitudes in Bosnian society, motherhood, and illness.
168 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2018
14 people are currently reading
2452 people want to read
About the author
Senka Marić
8 books18 followersSenka Marić was born in Mostar 1972.
She is a poet, writer, essayist, translator, and editor.
She has published three books of poetry "From Here to Nowhere", "These are just Words" and "Till the next Death", and the novel "Body Kintsugi".
She has received numerous awards for her works, the most notable among them being Zija Dizdarevic's award for short storytelling (2000) and the European knight of poetry award (2013). Her novel "Body Kintsugi" won the prestigious award Mesa Selimovic for the best novel published in 2018 in the region of Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, Serbia and Montenegro. Her works are translated into different languages. She is the editor in chief of a literary magazine http://strane.ba
She is a poet, writer, essayist, translator, and editor.
She has published three books of poetry "From Here to Nowhere", "These are just Words" and "Till the next Death", and the novel "Body Kintsugi".
She has received numerous awards for her works, the most notable among them being Zija Dizdarevic's award for short storytelling (2000) and the European knight of poetry award (2013). Her novel "Body Kintsugi" won the prestigious award Mesa Selimovic for the best novel published in 2018 in the region of Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, Serbia and Montenegro. Her works are translated into different languages. She is the editor in chief of a literary magazine http://strane.ba
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 112 reviews
June 5, 2019
Teško je pisati o knjizi koja je najvećim dijelom autobiografska bez straha da nehotimice ne omalovažiš nečiju životnu borbu. Svejedno ću pokušati. „Kintsugi tijela“ je jedna krajnje intimna ispovijest žene o borbi sa najopakijom bolešću današnjice. U ovoj knjizi autorka potpuno objelodanjuje sebe, svoje tijelo i kompletan proces suočavanja sa sopstvenom smrtnošću. Brutalno egzibicionističko otkrivanje gotovo svega što se našlo na tom putu ka ozdravljenju, pritom nimalo neprikladno. Međutim, na samom početku važno je naglasiti da ovo nije nekakav priručnik za samopomoć onima kojima je dijagnostifikovan karcinom (iako će ovdje nesumnjivo naići na prihvatanje i razumijevanje), već vrlo uspješno literarno ostvarenje koje obrađuje ovu tematiku. Nezahvalno je obrađivati potresna lična iskustva i to na emotivnom i psihičkom nivou, potpuno ogoljeno, a ne upasti u zamku patetike. Srećom, vješta Senka Marić nije imala problema tog tipa. Priča je koliko beskompromisna toliko i uvjerljiva, a što je još važnije, protagonistkinja ni u jednom trenutku u nama ne izaziva sažaljenje, već istinsko poštovanje.
Neobičnost ove knjige ogleda se, između ostalog, i u tome što je pisana u drugom licu, gdje jedan vrlo sveden stil biva ispresijecan čistom medicinskom terminologijom koja daje precizna objašnjenja poput rezultata patohistološkog nalaza ili kontraindikacija hemoterapije, vrlo živopisnim košmarima sa mitskim bićima, ali i dubokim poetskim opservacijama i čulnim pjesničkim izrazima. Glavni narativni tok obogaćen je sjećanjima na prošlost i tipično ženske tjelesne promjene, prve spoznaje sopstvene seksualnosti, ali i bolno odrastanje prouzrokovano lošim odnosom s ocem. Osim zatrovane balkanske patrijarhalnosti, ispostavlja se da je istorija junakinjine porodice i istorija bolesti.
„Kintsugi tijela“ je knjiga koja slavi ženu, žensko tijelo, žensku ljepotu i senzualnost, žensku snagu. Knjiga koja nas podsjeća na snagu ženske i majčinske ljubavi, na žensku empatiju i solidarnost, na iskonski poriv za preživljavanjem bez obzira na to koliko puta smo „popucale po šavovima“, rezane i krpljene, na činjenicu koliko možemo ostati „potpune žene, savršene i lijepe bez obzira na oblik tijela“. Ono što je mene posebno fasciniralo je da neko, uprkos svemu, toliko može (i mora) voljeti svoje tijelo, ma kako „razrovano“ bilo, jer je ono hram naše duše koja nužno ne stari i ne propada zajedno sa njim. Divno je kad neko nalazi ljepotu i onda kad ostane bez gotovo svih ženstvenih dijelova tijela. Upravo to je kintsugi – japanska umjetnička tehnika popravljanja polomljenih keramičkih predmeta tečnim zlatom ili platinom, naglašavanjem oštećenih mjesta, s ciljem da se prošlost predmeta istakne, a ne sakrije,.. Ističući oštećenja i lomove, kintsugi slavi jedinstvenu istoriju svakog predemta, revitalizujući ga novim životom, i dajući mu veću ljepotu nego što ju je inicijalno imao.
Ovo je knjiga od koje vas, ako ste iole čovjek od krvi i mesa, boli sve, od grudi preko svake koščice i mišića u tijelu pa sve do prstiju koji se tresu i ručnih zglobova koji otkazuju poslušnost. Ipak, nakon čitanja ove knjige osjećate se ispunjeno i preporođeno.
Nakon drugog čitanja ove prelijepe knjige pisane raskošnim pjesničkim jezikom moram dodati i nekoliko novih impresija koje su me potpuno preplavile. Očarana sam majstorstvom na koji je ova hrabra žena, prvenstveno pjesnikinja, pretočila u roman jednu ličnu borbu kreirajući ne samo zajedničko žensko iskustvo i mogućnost identifikacije svake od nas sa njenom pričom nego stvarajući i vrhunsku književnost. Nevjerovatno je njeno umijeće da o ovoj temi napiše toplu i nježnu priču, priču toliko iskrenu, bez imalo ogorčenja ili patetike, bez trunke osude i proklinjanja, priču sa čije svake stranice kipi sam život u njegovoj punoći, život lijep i sadržajan. S druge strane, nimalo nije jednostavno čitati ovu knjigu, ne znam da li sam ikad čitajući neko djelo osjetila svaki djelić sebe i svog tijela i da li sam se ikad osjetila tako prisutno u njemu. Istovremeno, ne sjećam se da li sam ikad osjetila toliku bliskost sa protagonistkinjom i onu prirodnu i zdravu potrebu da ju prosto zagrlim samo zbog toga. Jezik kojim se služi Senka Marić je vrlo plastičan, pjesnički bogat i neiscrpan, svaka stranica je pravo malo blago slika i značenja. Nekad su te riječi i metafore toliko snažne, kao da vas duboko režu skalpelom, ali uvijek pozitivne i oplemenjujuće. Toliko toga bih dodala, ali znam da ću zaboraviti. Ovo je knjiga koja se čita sa pauzama za razmišljanje. Nakon svake stranice osjetite poriv ili da nešto memorišete ili da nešto upijate dugo i postojano ili da emociji koju je u vama probudila date vremena da vas obuzme i ne napusti.
Neobičnost ove knjige ogleda se, između ostalog, i u tome što je pisana u drugom licu, gdje jedan vrlo sveden stil biva ispresijecan čistom medicinskom terminologijom koja daje precizna objašnjenja poput rezultata patohistološkog nalaza ili kontraindikacija hemoterapije, vrlo živopisnim košmarima sa mitskim bićima, ali i dubokim poetskim opservacijama i čulnim pjesničkim izrazima. Glavni narativni tok obogaćen je sjećanjima na prošlost i tipično ženske tjelesne promjene, prve spoznaje sopstvene seksualnosti, ali i bolno odrastanje prouzrokovano lošim odnosom s ocem. Osim zatrovane balkanske patrijarhalnosti, ispostavlja se da je istorija junakinjine porodice i istorija bolesti.
„Kintsugi tijela“ je knjiga koja slavi ženu, žensko tijelo, žensku ljepotu i senzualnost, žensku snagu. Knjiga koja nas podsjeća na snagu ženske i majčinske ljubavi, na žensku empatiju i solidarnost, na iskonski poriv za preživljavanjem bez obzira na to koliko puta smo „popucale po šavovima“, rezane i krpljene, na činjenicu koliko možemo ostati „potpune žene, savršene i lijepe bez obzira na oblik tijela“. Ono što je mene posebno fasciniralo je da neko, uprkos svemu, toliko može (i mora) voljeti svoje tijelo, ma kako „razrovano“ bilo, jer je ono hram naše duše koja nužno ne stari i ne propada zajedno sa njim. Divno je kad neko nalazi ljepotu i onda kad ostane bez gotovo svih ženstvenih dijelova tijela. Upravo to je kintsugi – japanska umjetnička tehnika popravljanja polomljenih keramičkih predmeta tečnim zlatom ili platinom, naglašavanjem oštećenih mjesta, s ciljem da se prošlost predmeta istakne, a ne sakrije,.. Ističući oštećenja i lomove, kintsugi slavi jedinstvenu istoriju svakog predemta, revitalizujući ga novim životom, i dajući mu veću ljepotu nego što ju je inicijalno imao.
Ovo je knjiga od koje vas, ako ste iole čovjek od krvi i mesa, boli sve, od grudi preko svake koščice i mišića u tijelu pa sve do prstiju koji se tresu i ručnih zglobova koji otkazuju poslušnost. Ipak, nakon čitanja ove knjige osjećate se ispunjeno i preporođeno.
Nakon drugog čitanja ove prelijepe knjige pisane raskošnim pjesničkim jezikom moram dodati i nekoliko novih impresija koje su me potpuno preplavile. Očarana sam majstorstvom na koji je ova hrabra žena, prvenstveno pjesnikinja, pretočila u roman jednu ličnu borbu kreirajući ne samo zajedničko žensko iskustvo i mogućnost identifikacije svake od nas sa njenom pričom nego stvarajući i vrhunsku književnost. Nevjerovatno je njeno umijeće da o ovoj temi napiše toplu i nježnu priču, priču toliko iskrenu, bez imalo ogorčenja ili patetike, bez trunke osude i proklinjanja, priču sa čije svake stranice kipi sam život u njegovoj punoći, život lijep i sadržajan. S druge strane, nimalo nije jednostavno čitati ovu knjigu, ne znam da li sam ikad čitajući neko djelo osjetila svaki djelić sebe i svog tijela i da li sam se ikad osjetila tako prisutno u njemu. Istovremeno, ne sjećam se da li sam ikad osjetila toliku bliskost sa protagonistkinjom i onu prirodnu i zdravu potrebu da ju prosto zagrlim samo zbog toga. Jezik kojim se služi Senka Marić je vrlo plastičan, pjesnički bogat i neiscrpan, svaka stranica je pravo malo blago slika i značenja. Nekad su te riječi i metafore toliko snažne, kao da vas duboko režu skalpelom, ali uvijek pozitivne i oplemenjujuće. Toliko toga bih dodala, ali znam da ću zaboraviti. Ovo je knjiga koja se čita sa pauzama za razmišljanje. Nakon svake stranice osjetite poriv ili da nešto memorišete ili da nešto upijate dugo i postojano ili da emociji koju je u vama probudila date vremena da vas obuzme i ne napusti.
August 2, 2020
Čitanje je intiman čin, blabla, ali, jebote, kako je moguće da neko toliko pogrešno pročita ovu knjigu? Izvlači narod najsporednije rečenice, otima im kontekst i od uspelog feminističkog romana pravi priču o bolesti koja čini da žena strahuje jer neće biti privlačna muškarcu. Zahvalna sam svom poslu što sam je pročitala uprkos predrasudama. Malo se stidim bivše povodljivosti. Okej sam inače. Knjiga je odlična.
March 16, 2023
Shortlisted for the EBRD Literature Prize 2023
This is a story about the body. Its struggle to feel whole while reality shartter it into fragments.
Body Kintsugi (2022) is Celia Hawkesworth's translation of Senka Marić's Bosnian title Kintsugi tijela (2018). The original won the Meša Selimović Prize, named after the author of the brilliant Death and the Dervish (in its translated title).
Body Kintsugi is an autofictional, novel of the narrator's experience with breast cancer, told in the second person. The title comes from the Japanese crart, Kintsugi, of repairing pottery, but with the joins deliberately made visible with a golden lacquer, drawing attention to the repairs rather than hiding them and emphasing the object's history.
The narrator, I think in her early 40s, opens the novel with the discovery of one small lump in her breast, but the doctors go on to find and remove three tumours and she undergoes a double mastectomy as well as two years of gruelling treatment including chemotherapy:
Now you have to prepare the organism. Make it better stronger, healthier. Ready for all the blows that are coming. Your voice keeps repeating: 'The worst is over. After three operations in a month and a half, chemotherapy will be nothing.' You swallow, you throw into yourself, everything they recommend. Dietary supplements that strengthen immunity. Herbal remedies that heal cancer. Your body resists hysterically. A child inside you screams. It won't obey. It refuses to get well under the stream of the most varied and disgusting tastes that flow incessantly through your mouth. It's had enough. Of you and your body, criss-crossed with scars. Everything seems to have cracked.
A second strand of the narrative has her recalling - or rather telling herself - about her childhood (that part didn't really click for me with the first) as well as her family history (her mother, still alive, also had breast cancer, and her father suffered from various medical issues over more than a decade).
The account of her own medical history is unsparing and brutal, with lyrical interludes provided by feverish dreams of visits from Amazonians from Ancient Greece (based on the myth within the myth of their own voluntary mastectomies):
The women visit you again, at night. This time they come one by one. They make their way into your room through the mirror and sit down on the edge of your bed, waiting for you to wake up. You feel their presence and open your eyes. The night is a raven's wing, light doesn't penetrate it. They tell you stories about their bodies. They want to imprint them in your fingers, onto your tongue, so you speak their stories for them. In their hands they carry severed breasts, like small pots in which tumours have been planted.
I had three as well, says one of them, like the scattered pellets of a little shotgun.
On the ceiling a sun is now anchored. Its rays pour down the walls. Your tongue has swollen as though a river has flowed into your mouth. Their stories are the roots of trees, they branch out over you, meshing with your own story. You no longer know which is your truth. Some of those women hold their wombs in their open palms. You want to run away from them, to say That's not my story. They know your thoughts. Wait a bit, their eyes say.
Overall, this was a brutal and unsparing read, although the more fictional/literary aspects worked less well for me than what could have been a non-fictional cancer diary.
The translator
Celia Hawkesworth is a wonderful translator whose works include the Bosnian Chronicle by Ivo Andrić, The Museum of Unconditional Surrender by Dubravka Ugrešić and Belladonna by Daša Drndić.
In the UK she has won the 2018 Warwick Prize for Women in Translation and the 2019 Oxford-Weidenfeld Translation Prize
I think this is the 8th of her translations I've read.
The publisher
This is the third (and final) book in Peirene Press's 2022 list, in their twelth year. Their main list has consisted of releasing 3 books of translated fiction from Europe each year (this their 12th), beautifully presented, and all of a neatly compact length, 7 of which have been featured in the International Booker / Independent Foreign Fiction Prize. The press is now building on this to move in an exciting new direction:
This is a story about the body. Its struggle to feel whole while reality shartter it into fragments.
Body Kintsugi (2022) is Celia Hawkesworth's translation of Senka Marić's Bosnian title Kintsugi tijela (2018). The original won the Meša Selimović Prize, named after the author of the brilliant Death and the Dervish (in its translated title).
Body Kintsugi is an autofictional, novel of the narrator's experience with breast cancer, told in the second person. The title comes from the Japanese crart, Kintsugi, of repairing pottery, but with the joins deliberately made visible with a golden lacquer, drawing attention to the repairs rather than hiding them and emphasing the object's history.
The narrator, I think in her early 40s, opens the novel with the discovery of one small lump in her breast, but the doctors go on to find and remove three tumours and she undergoes a double mastectomy as well as two years of gruelling treatment including chemotherapy:
Now you have to prepare the organism. Make it better stronger, healthier. Ready for all the blows that are coming. Your voice keeps repeating: 'The worst is over. After three operations in a month and a half, chemotherapy will be nothing.' You swallow, you throw into yourself, everything they recommend. Dietary supplements that strengthen immunity. Herbal remedies that heal cancer. Your body resists hysterically. A child inside you screams. It won't obey. It refuses to get well under the stream of the most varied and disgusting tastes that flow incessantly through your mouth. It's had enough. Of you and your body, criss-crossed with scars. Everything seems to have cracked.
A second strand of the narrative has her recalling - or rather telling herself - about her childhood (that part didn't really click for me with the first) as well as her family history (her mother, still alive, also had breast cancer, and her father suffered from various medical issues over more than a decade).
The account of her own medical history is unsparing and brutal, with lyrical interludes provided by feverish dreams of visits from Amazonians from Ancient Greece (based on the myth within the myth of their own voluntary mastectomies):
The women visit you again, at night. This time they come one by one. They make their way into your room through the mirror and sit down on the edge of your bed, waiting for you to wake up. You feel their presence and open your eyes. The night is a raven's wing, light doesn't penetrate it. They tell you stories about their bodies. They want to imprint them in your fingers, onto your tongue, so you speak their stories for them. In their hands they carry severed breasts, like small pots in which tumours have been planted.
I had three as well, says one of them, like the scattered pellets of a little shotgun.
On the ceiling a sun is now anchored. Its rays pour down the walls. Your tongue has swollen as though a river has flowed into your mouth. Their stories are the roots of trees, they branch out over you, meshing with your own story. You no longer know which is your truth. Some of those women hold their wombs in their open palms. You want to run away from them, to say That's not my story. They know your thoughts. Wait a bit, their eyes say.
Overall, this was a brutal and unsparing read, although the more fictional/literary aspects worked less well for me than what could have been a non-fictional cancer diary.
The translator
Celia Hawkesworth is a wonderful translator whose works include the Bosnian Chronicle by Ivo Andrić, The Museum of Unconditional Surrender by Dubravka Ugrešić and Belladonna by Daša Drndić.
In the UK she has won the 2018 Warwick Prize for Women in Translation and the 2019 Oxford-Weidenfeld Translation Prize
I think this is the 8th of her translations I've read.
The publisher
This is the third (and final) book in Peirene Press's 2022 list, in their twelth year. Their main list has consisted of releasing 3 books of translated fiction from Europe each year (this their 12th), beautifully presented, and all of a neatly compact length, 7 of which have been featured in the International Booker / Independent Foreign Fiction Prize. The press is now building on this to move in an exciting new direction:
Peirene Press was founded by novelist and journalist Meike Ziervogel, with the goal of bringing translated European novellas to a UK audience. Peirene began publishing in 2010 with Beside the Sea by Véronique Olmi, translated by Adriana Hunter. In the twelve years since this first (extraordinary) book, they have published over forty books, featuring translations from seventeen languages and twenty countries. Peirene titles have been listed for the International Booker Prize (previously the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize) seven times, and have been awarded numerous other accolades.
In 2021, Peirene changed ownership and is now run by Stella Sabin and James Tookey. In the Spring of 2022, they announced a new direction for Peirene, including the company’s re-location to Bath, a full re-brand by Glasgow-based Art Director Orlando Lloyd, and plans to publish a diverse range of books from beyond Europe. They are proud to take Peirene forward into a new and exciting chapter, building on the last ten years, whilst widening the scope of what Peirene can do.
November 10, 2022
Breast Cancer Survival
Review of the Peirene Press paperback edition (October 4, 2022) translated by Celia Hawkesworth from the Bosnian language original Kintsugi tijela (2018)
Body Kintsugi is Bosnian author Senka Maric's non-fiction novel about her harrowing journey through breast cancer and her path to survival. It is traumatic and does not make for easy reading. Along the way she endures several partial, then whole mastectomies, various prosthetic implantations and removals, infections and their aftermath, eventual hysterectomy and all the various chemotherapy required in between procedures. But there are moments of relief and of course you know that since the book exists, she will survive in the end.
Cover image of the original Bosnian language edition. Image sourced from Ampi Margini Literary Agency.
Inter-chapters have Maric remembering the days of her youth, her first terrors of menstruation, the comfort of her grandfather, the ordeals of her father's alcoholism and eventual sickness and death, her mother's own breast cancer survival. She hallucinates about being visited by women of mythology, Medea, Medusa and Amazon Queen Penthesilea. I don't know the tie-ins of the first two, but I remember from somewhere (was it a Natalie Haynes book?) that Amazon mythology had them cutting off one of their own breasts, in order to better draw their bowstrings.
In terms of rating, the difficulty of the journey does not make for light recommendation. But the honesty and rawness make for a 5-star rating with the reservation that not everyone will necessarily be able to handle it.
I read Body Kintsugi through to my subscription to Peirene Press. Subscribers receive the publisher's books several weeks ahead of their official release date.
Other Reviews
Review by Eleanor Updegraff at Lunate.co.uk, October 7, 2022.
Review by Beth Wren at Forever on a Lilo, October 31, 2022.
Write-up at Ampi Margini Literary Agency, Undated 2022.
Review of the Peirene Press paperback edition (October 4, 2022) translated by Celia Hawkesworth from the Bosnian language original Kintsugi tijela (2018)
Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken ceramics with liquid gold, to highlight and celebrate an object’s past. - from the book synopsis of Body Kintsugi
The anaesthetist is above your head. His face is anxious, vigilant, concentrated. Your life is in his hands. You'll fall asleep quickly, into a sleep that will enable the operation, which will go perfectly. Before you fall asleep, you look at him and say, 'You know that moment when Charlie Brown says to Snoopy: "We'll all die one day, Snoopy!" And Snoopy replies: "True, but all the other days we won't."
He looks at you in disbelief. His expression begins to change. You've already fallen asleep, but you're quite certain he's laughing. - excerpt from Body Kintsugi
Body Kintsugi is Bosnian author Senka Maric's non-fiction novel about her harrowing journey through breast cancer and her path to survival. It is traumatic and does not make for easy reading. Along the way she endures several partial, then whole mastectomies, various prosthetic implantations and removals, infections and their aftermath, eventual hysterectomy and all the various chemotherapy required in between procedures. But there are moments of relief and of course you know that since the book exists, she will survive in the end.
Cover image of the original Bosnian language edition. Image sourced from Ampi Margini Literary Agency.
Inter-chapters have Maric remembering the days of her youth, her first terrors of menstruation, the comfort of her grandfather, the ordeals of her father's alcoholism and eventual sickness and death, her mother's own breast cancer survival. She hallucinates about being visited by women of mythology, Medea, Medusa and Amazon Queen Penthesilea. I don't know the tie-ins of the first two, but I remember from somewhere (was it a Natalie Haynes book?) that Amazon mythology had them cutting off one of their own breasts, in order to better draw their bowstrings.
In terms of rating, the difficulty of the journey does not make for light recommendation. But the honesty and rawness make for a 5-star rating with the reservation that not everyone will necessarily be able to handle it.
I read Body Kintsugi through to my subscription to Peirene Press. Subscribers receive the publisher's books several weeks ahead of their official release date.
Other Reviews
Review by Eleanor Updegraff at Lunate.co.uk, October 7, 2022.
Review by Beth Wren at Forever on a Lilo, October 31, 2022.
Write-up at Ampi Margini Literary Agency, Undated 2022.
November 24, 2022
This is my eleventh translated novella from Peirene Press* and, in my opinion, their best yet. It’s an intense work of autofiction about two years of hellish treatment for breast cancer, all the more powerful due to the second-person narration that displaces the pain from the protagonist and onto the reader.
In 2014, just a couple of months after her husband leaves her – making her, in her early forties, a single mother to a son and a daughter – she discovers a lump in her right breast.
As she endures five operations, chemotherapy and adjuvant therapies, as well as endless testing and hospital stays, her mind keeps going back to her girlhood and adolescence, especially the moments when she felt afraid or ashamed. Her father, alcoholic and perpetually ill, made her feel like she was an annoyance to him.
Coming of age in a female body was traumatic in itself; now that same body threatens to kill her. Even as she loses the physical signs of femininity, she remains resilient. Her body will document what she’s been through: “Perfectly sculpted through all your defeats, and your victories. The scars scrawled on it are the map of your journey. The truest story about you, which words cannot grasp.”
As forthright as it is about the brutality of cancer treatment, the novella can also be creative, playful and even darkly comic.
Almost unbearable nausea delivers her into a new space: “Here, the only colours are black and red. You’re lost in a vast hotel. However hard you try, you can’t count the floors.” One snowy morning, she imagines she’s being visited by a host of Medusa-like women in long black dresses who minister to her. Whether it’s a dream or a medication-induced hallucination, it feels mystical, like she’s part of a timeless lineage of wise women. The themes, tone and style all came together here for me, though I can see how this book might not be for everyone. I have a college friend who’s going through breast cancer treatment right now. She’s only 40. She was diagnosed in the summer and has already had surgery and a few rounds of chemo. I wonder if this book is just what she would want to read right now … or the last thing she would want to think about. All I can do is ask.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
This is a story about the body. Its struggle to feel whole while reality shatters it into fragments. The gash goes from the right nipple towards your back, and after five centimetres makes a gentle curve up and continues to your armpit. It’s still fresh and red.
How does the story crumbling under your tongue and refusing to take on a firm shape begin to be told?
You knew on that day, sixteen years ago, when your mother’s diagnosis was confirmed, that you’d get cancer?
Or
Ever since that day, sixteen years ago, when your mother’s diagnosis was confirmed, that you’d never get cancer?
Both are equally true.
In 2014, just a couple of months after her husband leaves her – making her, in her early forties, a single mother to a son and a daughter – she discovers a lump in her right breast.
As she endures five operations, chemotherapy and adjuvant therapies, as well as endless testing and hospital stays, her mind keeps going back to her girlhood and adolescence, especially the moments when she felt afraid or ashamed. Her father, alcoholic and perpetually ill, made her feel like she was an annoyance to him.
Coming of age in a female body was traumatic in itself; now that same body threatens to kill her. Even as she loses the physical signs of femininity, she remains resilient. Her body will document what she’s been through: “Perfectly sculpted through all your defeats, and your victories. The scars scrawled on it are the map of your journey. The truest story about you, which words cannot grasp.”
As forthright as it is about the brutality of cancer treatment, the novella can also be creative, playful and even darkly comic.
Things you don’t want to think about:
Your children
Your boobs
Your cancer
Your bald head
Your death
Almost unbearable nausea delivers her into a new space: “Here, the only colours are black and red. You’re lost in a vast hotel. However hard you try, you can’t count the floors.” One snowy morning, she imagines she’s being visited by a host of Medusa-like women in long black dresses who minister to her. Whether it’s a dream or a medication-induced hallucination, it feels mystical, like she’s part of a timeless lineage of wise women. The themes, tone and style all came together here for me, though I can see how this book might not be for everyone. I have a college friend who’s going through breast cancer treatment right now. She’s only 40. She was diagnosed in the summer and has already had surgery and a few rounds of chemo. I wonder if this book is just what she would want to read right now … or the last thing she would want to think about. All I can do is ask.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
April 28, 2019
Ova ocjena nije samo za knjigu, iako mi se i sami stil pisanja svidio. Jednostavan, a opet brutalno iskren i otvoren.
Ova ocjena je za ženu. Za ženu i njenu pobjedu nad opakom bolešću.
Nije lahko izgubiti nekoga, gledajući kako se topi i smanjuje nakon svake kemoterapije, znajući da trpi ogromne bolove, a opet te uvijek dočeka sa osmijehom na usnama.
Godinama poslije pomisao na te osmijehe mami mi suze na oči...
Čitajući o ogromnoj borbi koju je ova žena preživjela i koja je smogla snage da nam prenese tu borbu na najiskreniji način, prisjetila sam se trenutaka koji prethode kraju, i radovala sam se što je ona uspjela da se izbori. Nadam se da će živjeti još mnogo godina bez bolesti i straha od njenog povratka.
Ova ocjena je za ženu. Za ženu i njenu pobjedu nad opakom bolešću.
Nije lahko izgubiti nekoga, gledajući kako se topi i smanjuje nakon svake kemoterapije, znajući da trpi ogromne bolove, a opet te uvijek dočeka sa osmijehom na usnama.
Godinama poslije pomisao na te osmijehe mami mi suze na oči...
Čitajući o ogromnoj borbi koju je ova žena preživjela i koja je smogla snage da nam prenese tu borbu na najiskreniji način, prisjetila sam se trenutaka koji prethode kraju, i radovala sam se što je ona uspjela da se izbori. Nadam se da će živjeti još mnogo godina bez bolesti i straha od njenog povratka.
January 21, 2020
Kada pomislim na priču o telu, a da se tiče književnosti, najpre pomislim na „Zimski dnevnik“ mog dragog Pola Ostera. Ovo će nadalja biti druga knjiga, dovoljno važna, koja će me asocirati i na telo i na književnost, i na telo kao književnost ali i književnost kao telo.
Oba romana mimo samog tela, povezuje autentičnost u doživljavanju tela. Logično: svako je o svom telu i životu u njemu pisao iz vlastite kože. Najvažnija stvar koja se tiče ovog romana i tela i bića koji iz njega izviru krije se u samom naslovu romana i objašnjenju pojma.
Dakle, termin kintsugi dolazi iz Japana, i odnosi se na umetničku tehniku koja za cilj ima sređivanje polomljenih kermačkih predmeta i eksponata zlatom ili platinom ali na način koji krhotine ostavlja vidljivim. Štaviše, polomljeni delovi spajaju se tako da u fokusu ostanu ti rastavljeni pa ponovo sastavljeni delovi, da sve bude vidljivo, takoreći ljudskije.
Lomljivost je važna, ona je umetnost za sebe, prošlost nas sačinjava, brusi nas time što nas lomi. Od delića smo, i stoga je važno da to ostane vidljivo.
Stoga, lako je povezati, „Kintsugi tijela“ iako autobiografska priča, odnosi se i na sve druge ljudske lomljivosti, sva druga tela, i sve druge umetnosti preživljavanja.
Junakinja ove knjige ispripovedane u drugom licu bori se sa rakom, i to je lična priča same autorke. Na ovom frontu ne odvija se samo borba za život, već i borba za prihvatanje prošlosti i sadašnjosti: zato se susrećemo sa bolešću u sadašnjem trenutku, i isečcima prošlosti koji izviru i tako presecaju tok sadašnjeg trenutka. I jedni i drugi tokovi nose nešto mučno, neku jezu koja se usađuje u telo čitaoca. Nailazimo na kvržicu na dojci, nailazimo na područje junakinjinih snova, na period odrastanja, i sve naizmenično deluje kao pokidani slojevi jednog uma koji je zarobljen u istom telu. Telo je načeto bolešću, a bolest da nije unutarnjih boli i sećanja možda nikad ne bi došla? Ili bi? Ko bi znao.
I te epizode su lomljive i kratke, efektne, i samim tim stvorene tako da tvore umetnost koja nastaje upravo tim cepanjem. Cepanjem snova, jave, epizoda, trauma, sećanja, pregleda.
U knjizi srećemo ženu koja je rešena da pobedi, da njeni ožiljci budu njene pobede, da njena slabost bude njena snaga. Zvuči kao već ispričana priča, kao poznati i izlizani kontrasti. Razumljivo: priča o čoveku u bolesti i borbi uvek u prepričanim verzijama zvuči kao tipična priča o dosadnim pokušajima čoveka da bude čovek. Ipak: ovde se sreće nešto što se ne da lako prepričati. Implanti, obrijana lobanja, kupke, upale, tetovaže, i mnogi drugi lucidni i vatreni pokušaji da se prebrodi sadašnji trenutak, kako bi jednog dana i on bio prošlost – tek isečak sećanja onog što se odživelo i preživelo.
Junakinja se opisuje u jednom času kao žena lišena svih ženskih atributa. Objašnjava to kao svoju preveliku ženstvenost. toliko snažnu da je to neizdrživo, u njoj je toliko ženskog, da joj telo to ne može podneti.
Budući da su iza autorke zbirke pesama, razumljiv je lirski jezik njenih redova koji katkad prekida izveštajima lekara.
Akcenat nije na bolesti, nego na onome što ostaje kada čovek opstane. U ovom slučaju žena. Akcenat je na pozlati koja treba da zasija na onome koji se izbori sa sobom u svom telu, i sa telom. Na onome koji ostane kada sve prođe.
Kao dovoljno izraženi hipohondar, nije mi bilo lako da je pročitam, ali ne mogu da ne kažem da od nje nisam odustala jer je dobro napisana. Stil nije nešto što bih ja uvek birala za čitanje, pošto volim malo razmahanije rečenice, stilski raskošnije, ali ovaj minimalizam ima preko potrebnu efektnost, jasnost i bezbedno uzdržavanje od patetike.
Oba romana mimo samog tela, povezuje autentičnost u doživljavanju tela. Logično: svako je o svom telu i životu u njemu pisao iz vlastite kože. Najvažnija stvar koja se tiče ovog romana i tela i bića koji iz njega izviru krije se u samom naslovu romana i objašnjenju pojma.
Dakle, termin kintsugi dolazi iz Japana, i odnosi se na umetničku tehniku koja za cilj ima sređivanje polomljenih kermačkih predmeta i eksponata zlatom ili platinom ali na način koji krhotine ostavlja vidljivim. Štaviše, polomljeni delovi spajaju se tako da u fokusu ostanu ti rastavljeni pa ponovo sastavljeni delovi, da sve bude vidljivo, takoreći ljudskije.
Lomljivost je važna, ona je umetnost za sebe, prošlost nas sačinjava, brusi nas time što nas lomi. Od delića smo, i stoga je važno da to ostane vidljivo.
Stoga, lako je povezati, „Kintsugi tijela“ iako autobiografska priča, odnosi se i na sve druge ljudske lomljivosti, sva druga tela, i sve druge umetnosti preživljavanja.
Junakinja ove knjige ispripovedane u drugom licu bori se sa rakom, i to je lična priča same autorke. Na ovom frontu ne odvija se samo borba za život, već i borba za prihvatanje prošlosti i sadašnjosti: zato se susrećemo sa bolešću u sadašnjem trenutku, i isečcima prošlosti koji izviru i tako presecaju tok sadašnjeg trenutka. I jedni i drugi tokovi nose nešto mučno, neku jezu koja se usađuje u telo čitaoca. Nailazimo na kvržicu na dojci, nailazimo na područje junakinjinih snova, na period odrastanja, i sve naizmenično deluje kao pokidani slojevi jednog uma koji je zarobljen u istom telu. Telo je načeto bolešću, a bolest da nije unutarnjih boli i sećanja možda nikad ne bi došla? Ili bi? Ko bi znao.
I te epizode su lomljive i kratke, efektne, i samim tim stvorene tako da tvore umetnost koja nastaje upravo tim cepanjem. Cepanjem snova, jave, epizoda, trauma, sećanja, pregleda.
U knjizi srećemo ženu koja je rešena da pobedi, da njeni ožiljci budu njene pobede, da njena slabost bude njena snaga. Zvuči kao već ispričana priča, kao poznati i izlizani kontrasti. Razumljivo: priča o čoveku u bolesti i borbi uvek u prepričanim verzijama zvuči kao tipična priča o dosadnim pokušajima čoveka da bude čovek. Ipak: ovde se sreće nešto što se ne da lako prepričati. Implanti, obrijana lobanja, kupke, upale, tetovaže, i mnogi drugi lucidni i vatreni pokušaji da se prebrodi sadašnji trenutak, kako bi jednog dana i on bio prošlost – tek isečak sećanja onog što se odživelo i preživelo.
Junakinja se opisuje u jednom času kao žena lišena svih ženskih atributa. Objašnjava to kao svoju preveliku ženstvenost. toliko snažnu da je to neizdrživo, u njoj je toliko ženskog, da joj telo to ne može podneti.
Budući da su iza autorke zbirke pesama, razumljiv je lirski jezik njenih redova koji katkad prekida izveštajima lekara.
Akcenat nije na bolesti, nego na onome što ostaje kada čovek opstane. U ovom slučaju žena. Akcenat je na pozlati koja treba da zasija na onome koji se izbori sa sobom u svom telu, i sa telom. Na onome koji ostane kada sve prođe.
Kao dovoljno izraženi hipohondar, nije mi bilo lako da je pročitam, ali ne mogu da ne kažem da od nje nisam odustala jer je dobro napisana. Stil nije nešto što bih ja uvek birala za čitanje, pošto volim malo razmahanije rečenice, stilski raskošnije, ali ovaj minimalizam ima preko potrebnu efektnost, jasnost i bezbedno uzdržavanje od patetike.
July 10, 2024
This is a Bosnian book about a woman who is diagnosed with breast cancer and the absolute hell she has to go through in her recovery from it. She loses her partner, her breasts and her sense of self. She goes through some horrifying operations and has to trust people she barely knows to save her life. It was such an emotionally heavy read but really well written and super captivating.
March 14, 2019
uhh premoćna knjiga o iskustvu raka, o ženskom telu, o telima koja su oštećena osakaćena fragmentirana a opet prelepa, bravo senka <3
August 30, 2024
I had seen someone recommend this on TikTok and I went and read it right away.
They talk about books finding you and it’s true. I’ve been trying to deal with my breast cancer diagnoses for the year and half I’ve had it. This book had me all up in my feelings and nodding and agreeing with everything she was saying.
They talk about books finding you and it’s true. I’ve been trying to deal with my breast cancer diagnoses for the year and half I’ve had it. This book had me all up in my feelings and nodding and agreeing with everything she was saying.
Read
October 1, 2022I read this book in one sitting, once I started I couldn’t put it down. It’s about a woman’s relationship with her body and her journey through cancer diagnosis and treatment.
It’s really immediate, as it’s written in the second person and it really makes you feel like you are eavesdropping on this most personal conversation the author is having with herself.
It is clearly about a cancer diagnosis, so it’s difficult to say that it was enjoyable, some of the treatments she underwent and the ways in which her body responded were just so brutal it made you feel really helpless.
As a reader it really felt like you were along for the ride, as I know the author went on to write the book I had a fairly good idea that she eventually survived the experience but I was still holding my breath till the last.
There was also a really interesting conversation about what it means physically to be a woman, as the author was having a mastectomy, what did it mean and how important were these female body parts for our identity. This was in context of the passages where we shared the experience of the narrator/ author as a young girl and the experience of adolescence.
I also have to note that she has a cat called Frieda Kahlo, and I also have a cat called Frieda Kat- lo. So maybe I am biased.
It’s really immediate, as it’s written in the second person and it really makes you feel like you are eavesdropping on this most personal conversation the author is having with herself.
It is clearly about a cancer diagnosis, so it’s difficult to say that it was enjoyable, some of the treatments she underwent and the ways in which her body responded were just so brutal it made you feel really helpless.
As a reader it really felt like you were along for the ride, as I know the author went on to write the book I had a fairly good idea that she eventually survived the experience but I was still holding my breath till the last.
There was also a really interesting conversation about what it means physically to be a woman, as the author was having a mastectomy, what did it mean and how important were these female body parts for our identity. This was in context of the passages where we shared the experience of the narrator/ author as a young girl and the experience of adolescence.
I also have to note that she has a cat called Frieda Kahlo, and I also have a cat called Frieda Kat- lo. So maybe I am biased.
September 14, 2025
Kintsugi telesa je osebnoizpovedna zgodba Senke Marić. A ni samo roman o bolezni – je intimna, poetična kronika telesa in duha, popotovanje skozi izkušnjo raka dojke, a brez patetike. Je tudi spomenik boju proti bolezni, ki obeležuje položaj ženske, ne le v družbi, ampak tudi kot Ženske. Ker se je avtorica borila z boleznijo, ki tako pogosto napada žensko telo, knjiga prinaša intimno zgodovino psihološkega in čustvenega boja proti sebi, bolezni v sebi in svetu, ki jo obdaja. Vse to pa je zapisala nežno in hkrati brutalno iskreno, kot da z zlatom lepi razpoke na lastnem telesu in duši.
(Kintsugi (tudi kintsukuroi (金繕い, golden repair oz. zlato popravilo) je več kot štiristo let stara japonska umetnost popravljanja razbite keramike s krpanjem poškodovanih območij z lakom urushi, posutim/pomešanim z zlatim, srebrnim ali platinastim prahom. Kintsugi filozofija obravnava poškodbe in njihovo popravilo (poudarjanje) kot del edinstvene zgodovine predmeta in ne kot nekaj, kar je treba prikriti.)
Knjiga nas spomni, da telo ni le lupina, temveč prostor, kjer se shranjujejo spomini, bolečina in ljubezen. In če je telo v knjigi trpeče, utrujeno in na koncu pokrpano, ima kot táko zgodovino, pripoveduje zgodbo, nosi spomine, dokaz boja in zmage pa so brazgotine (zlato popravilo). In če je taka predstava telesa v nasprotju s prevladujočimi estetskimi načeli, je tudi opomnik, da ranljivost ni šibkost, temveč pot k sprejemanju, reševanju in odkrivanju nove celo(vito)sti, v pokrpanem telesu pa se ne skriva več le praznina, tako kot za večino idealnih teles. 🌿
🏆 Roman je leta 2019 prejel nagrado Meše Selimovića.
Knjiga me je čakala zelo dolgo, pred časom sem jo že začela brati, a me je misel na sošolko, ki se je borila z enako boleznijo, malo bremzala. Mogoče bi jo morala prebrati prej, da bi lahko na boj s to grozoto pogledala še z druge strani in morda našla kako primernejšo besedo v pogovoru z njo ...
(Kintsugi (tudi kintsukuroi (金繕い, golden repair oz. zlato popravilo) je več kot štiristo let stara japonska umetnost popravljanja razbite keramike s krpanjem poškodovanih območij z lakom urushi, posutim/pomešanim z zlatim, srebrnim ali platinastim prahom. Kintsugi filozofija obravnava poškodbe in njihovo popravilo (poudarjanje) kot del edinstvene zgodovine predmeta in ne kot nekaj, kar je treba prikriti.)
Knjiga nas spomni, da telo ni le lupina, temveč prostor, kjer se shranjujejo spomini, bolečina in ljubezen. In če je telo v knjigi trpeče, utrujeno in na koncu pokrpano, ima kot táko zgodovino, pripoveduje zgodbo, nosi spomine, dokaz boja in zmage pa so brazgotine (zlato popravilo). In če je taka predstava telesa v nasprotju s prevladujočimi estetskimi načeli, je tudi opomnik, da ranljivost ni šibkost, temveč pot k sprejemanju, reševanju in odkrivanju nove celo(vito)sti, v pokrpanem telesu pa se ne skriva več le praznina, tako kot za večino idealnih teles. 🌿
🏆 Roman je leta 2019 prejel nagrado Meše Selimovića.
Knjiga me je čakala zelo dolgo, pred časom sem jo že začela brati, a me je misel na sošolko, ki se je borila z enako boleznijo, malo bremzala. Mogoče bi jo morala prebrati prej, da bi lahko na boj s to grozoto pogledala še z druge strani in morda našla kako primernejšo besedo v pogovoru z njo ...
Read
October 21, 2019Roman je napisan minimalističkim stilom, odlikuje ga kratka i dramatična rečenica puna emotivnog naboja, koja sugeriše i usmerava na značenja koja nisu ispisana u samom tekstu, a koja mogu biti značajna za samu priču. Takav stil uklopljen je u jednostavan i veoma efektan pripovedni postupak. Priča je ispisana u drugom licu, što odaje utisak da priču pripoveda neko ko glavnu junakinju prati od rođenja, (njeno telo?) i ima uvid u njena unutrašnja - psihološka i emotivna stanja. Ovako postavljena naratološka poziciji otvara mogućnost da se predstavi totalitet jednog života , što je ovde i učinjeno paralelnim, i parcijalnim pripovedanjem. Pripovedni glas nam tako govori o najupečatljivijim slikama detinjstva, ali i situacijama u kojima se junakinja našla pošto ju je zahvatila strašna bolest. Na ovaj način je istovremeno prikazan položaj devojčice i kasnije žene. Devojčica je prikazana kroz odrastanje (upoznavanje sa telom) u svetu u kojem ljudi oko nje jedva da je razumeju i u kojem se sama kreće ka razumevanju sebe, budući da je gotovo sasvim odgurnuta u untrašnji, takozvani, svoj svet. U sličnoj situaciji pred sopstvenim telom, naćiće se i kasnije, kada postane žena, a uzrok tome je nemilosrdna bolest.
Osim što predstavlja spomenik borbi protiv bolesti, ovaj roman na veoma emotivan način osvetljava i položaj žene i to ne samo u društvu, već i žene kao takve. Budući da se junakinja suočava sa bolešću koja tako često napada žensko telo, knjiga donosi jednu intimnu istoriju o psihološkoj i emotivnoj borbi protiv sebe, bolesti u sebi, sveta kojim je okružena, i to ne na patetičan način, već baš suprotno: iz pozicije žene koja je osvestila svoju situaciju i, ma šta se dogodilo, odlučila da pobedi. U tom smislu ovaj roman jeste i jedna tiha i intimna herojska priča.
Posebno zanimljivim mi se čini estetski uvid u telo koji se u ovoj knjizi nudi. Telo je ovde fragmentarno, napaćeno, umorno, na kraju krajeve i krpljeno, ali baš u tome i jeste njegova lepota. Ono kao takvo ima istoriju, priča priču, sadrži u sebi nema svedočanstva o borbi i pobedi i iz njega se razne stvari mogu iščitavati. Ovakva zamisao tela, naravno, stoji u suprotnosti sa vladajućim estetskim načelima o istom. Savremena ideja o lepoti tela ne ide dalje od proprcijalnih odnosa njegovih delova koji stvaraju skladnu figuru, ali koji osim te skladnosti nemaju šta drugo da ponude. Iza njih, u većini slučajeva stoji praznina.
October 17, 2021
Proza, a poezija.
Tužna, teška, bolna, ali bez patetike. Autobiografska priča o raku i ženi koja ga je pobjedila. Priča o snazi koja izvire iz najdubljih dubina i o tome što je život, a što smrt, te kako tanka je crta između.
Posebno me ganulo što je spisateljica dobroti dala ime. U moru neimenovanih liječnika i sestara, kao slučajno, a sasvim sigurno ne, dva imena su se provukla jedanput.
Sestre Olivera i Elvira.
Dobrota uistinu ima ime i za sobom ostavlja zlatan trag, a evo i ovaj, crno bijeli na papiru.
Tužna, teška, bolna, ali bez patetike. Autobiografska priča o raku i ženi koja ga je pobjedila. Priča o snazi koja izvire iz najdubljih dubina i o tome što je život, a što smrt, te kako tanka je crta između.
Posebno me ganulo što je spisateljica dobroti dala ime. U moru neimenovanih liječnika i sestara, kao slučajno, a sasvim sigurno ne, dva imena su se provukla jedanput.
Sestre Olivera i Elvira.
Dobrota uistinu ima ime i za sobom ostavlja zlatan trag, a evo i ovaj, crno bijeli na papiru.
October 12, 2024
La historia es dura, pero está escrito con mucha belleza, escrito en segunda persona, nos pone en la situación que de alguna manera todos pasamos o pasaremos, el duelo con la enfermedad, un paso que aunque estén muchas personas cercas, se vive solo. Me gusta mucho la perspectiva de la autora, es muy evocativo.
January 15, 2024
"This is a story about the body. Its struggle to feel whole while reality shatters it into fragments. The gash goes from the right nipple towards your back, and after five centimetres makes a gentle curve up and continues to your armpit. It's still fresh and red. 'You haven't taken that much away,' you say to the surgeon. He nods proudly. He's done a good job. He stretched the breast from above so what's missing doesn't show. You both smile in satisfaction."
While "kintsugi" is played out in mainstream usage, Senka Marić rescues the term from being just a shallow reference point and employs its aspects in crafting the novel, be it structure or language. I have read two Celia Hawkesworth translations before this and she has done a great job in rendering Marić from the Bosniak. Body Kintsugi, intensely autobiographical, has two narrative threads: first where we see the narrator's discovery of a lump, the cancer diagnosis, multiple surgeries, and chemo while the second looks at her childhood and teenage years as she matures into her body.
Marić's prose is quite poetic even as she details her mental and physical struggles with illness in her middle age. The use of second-person voice is fitting and accentuates the mind-body divides on the road to recovery. She is not one to peddle in pithy platitudes; the narrative is matter-of-fact and brutal in its descriptions of ailments and the treatments and the recollections of adolescence are not rosy with wonder. Marić shows what it means to be a woman in a patriarchal society in the ways one inhabits one's body (and, the body politic). This is quite a creative, revelatory novel.
(I received a finished copy from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.)
October 25, 2023
ENG/ DE/ LT 3,5*
A complex and thought-provoking book. It is the story of two battles: one for the body, which is suffering from cancer and has to endure all the consequences of chemotherapy, numerous drugs and tests... and the other is the struggle of a man against himself. It is a story about the inner strength not to give up, to get up and keep going, even when the body refuses to fight. Loved it.
Ein komplexes und zum Nachdenken anregendes Buch. Es ist die Geschichte zweier Kämpfe: einer für den Körper, der an Krebs erkrankt ist und alle Folgen der Chemotherapie, zahlreiche Medikamente und Tests ertragen muss... und der andere ist der Kampf eines Mannes gegen sich selbst. Es ist eine Geschichte über die innere Stärke, nicht aufzugeben, aufzustehen und weiterzumachen, auch wenn der Körper sich weigert zu kämpfen. Ich habe es geliebt.
Sunki ir vercianti susimastyti knyga. Tai pasakojimas apie dvi kovas : viena Kuno, sergancio veziu, kuris turi atlaikyti visas chemoterapijos pasekmes, gausybe vaistu, ir tyrimu..ir kita kova yra zmogaus pacio su savimi. Ieskojimas vidines stiprybes nepasiduoti, keltis ir eiti primyn, net tada kai kunas atsisako toliau kovoti. Patiko.
A complex and thought-provoking book. It is the story of two battles: one for the body, which is suffering from cancer and has to endure all the consequences of chemotherapy, numerous drugs and tests... and the other is the struggle of a man against himself. It is a story about the inner strength not to give up, to get up and keep going, even when the body refuses to fight. Loved it.
Ein komplexes und zum Nachdenken anregendes Buch. Es ist die Geschichte zweier Kämpfe: einer für den Körper, der an Krebs erkrankt ist und alle Folgen der Chemotherapie, zahlreiche Medikamente und Tests ertragen muss... und der andere ist der Kampf eines Mannes gegen sich selbst. Es ist eine Geschichte über die innere Stärke, nicht aufzugeben, aufzustehen und weiterzumachen, auch wenn der Körper sich weigert zu kämpfen. Ich habe es geliebt.
Sunki ir vercianti susimastyti knyga. Tai pasakojimas apie dvi kovas : viena Kuno, sergancio veziu, kuris turi atlaikyti visas chemoterapijos pasekmes, gausybe vaistu, ir tyrimu..ir kita kova yra zmogaus pacio su savimi. Ieskojimas vidines stiprybes nepasiduoti, keltis ir eiti primyn, net tada kai kunas atsisako toliau kovoti. Patiko.
January 28, 2023
A deeply personal and intimate account of a woman’s experience with breast cancer, covering her treatment journey and its consequences on her own sense of identity and on her relationship with her family. By refusing to fall into either cheap sentimentalism or radical hopelessness the author managed to strike a well-balanced tone that magnifies both the vulnerability and honesty of her confessions. I only wish that the title-concept of ‘kintsugi’ had been explored further given how relevant it is to her story.
April 3, 2023
Read this book for book club and I have to say I wasn’t blown away by it. I liked how the book forced the reader into the perspective of someone suffering with breast cancer but I was glad it was only 130 pages.
Read
March 30, 2024Cancer as a general illness is bad enough. I, myself, being the middling hypochondriac that I am, spend a lot of time worrying over a potential lump or pain being noticed, and then unravelling into a nightmare beyond comprehension. I check myself regularly, and while that may seem like a good idea, it can feel sickeningly all-consuming that cancer itself is such a constant in everyday life that it is always there, somewhere, floating about the mind. In no way does that slight annoyance compare to the real struggle of dealing with and fighting cancer once you have it. I only say it to highlight the general constant that cancer is to humanity.
Body Kintsugi is part autobiography, part novel, as Senka Maric hones in on that constancy that cancer can be in an incredibly touching fashion.
The book is split into two narratives. The first focuses on early childhood, with memories being relayed to the reader that centre around the body, the relationship that an adolescent can have with their own body image, and how gaps and cracks form in a young person’s ideas around place and identity. The second narrative steers towards the details of living with a cancer diagnosis. Maric does not sugar coat this side, nor dilute the experiences in any way. Raw descriptions of brutal chemo treatment, the treading-on-eggshell discussions around death with children, the endless surgeries that override all other life events – all of these aspects of living with cancer are spoken with the simplest of truths.
While Maric does not dilute, she also doesn’t hide. The retelling to herself (the book is told in the second person) is crafted with a straight-to-the-point-ness that I feel can only come from someone who has lived with cancer themselves. In all of its forms it is an illness so cruel that it needs no exaggeration. Telling it as true and straight as possible creates the purest sense of just how awful it can be.
There are numerous connections that can be lifted from the two narratives when paired together. The ruminations on adolescent body-image and feeling as though you do not belong to your own body as a youngster mirroring the experiences with cancer taking ownership of you and your life. With doctors constantly carrying out tests, taking away parts of your body as an adult, gaps form between the body that you live in and your own sense of self. That splitting between body and mind, the fissures that caused a barrage of identity issues as an adolescent, had been plastered up for some time, and they are now beginning to break apart once more with cancer taking control. This is another brutal rumination that we rotate around in the book, but I feel Maric’s poetic skill as well as her stylistic choices, help to avoid any unneeded intensity.
I do not know who this book is for. It’s the sort of book that you know will hold no sense of enjoyment, and yet will it help the people who truly need it. It is a voice to partner your own in the struggles and worries of not just cancer, but any serious illness. Cancer is just as awful as you could image it to be. Despite any sort of help you may have around you; it also seems to be incredibly lonely. This book can hopefully alleviate some of that loneliness.
Body Kintsugi is part autobiography, part novel, as Senka Maric hones in on that constancy that cancer can be in an incredibly touching fashion.
The book is split into two narratives. The first focuses on early childhood, with memories being relayed to the reader that centre around the body, the relationship that an adolescent can have with their own body image, and how gaps and cracks form in a young person’s ideas around place and identity. The second narrative steers towards the details of living with a cancer diagnosis. Maric does not sugar coat this side, nor dilute the experiences in any way. Raw descriptions of brutal chemo treatment, the treading-on-eggshell discussions around death with children, the endless surgeries that override all other life events – all of these aspects of living with cancer are spoken with the simplest of truths.
While Maric does not dilute, she also doesn’t hide. The retelling to herself (the book is told in the second person) is crafted with a straight-to-the-point-ness that I feel can only come from someone who has lived with cancer themselves. In all of its forms it is an illness so cruel that it needs no exaggeration. Telling it as true and straight as possible creates the purest sense of just how awful it can be.
There are numerous connections that can be lifted from the two narratives when paired together. The ruminations on adolescent body-image and feeling as though you do not belong to your own body as a youngster mirroring the experiences with cancer taking ownership of you and your life. With doctors constantly carrying out tests, taking away parts of your body as an adult, gaps form between the body that you live in and your own sense of self. That splitting between body and mind, the fissures that caused a barrage of identity issues as an adolescent, had been plastered up for some time, and they are now beginning to break apart once more with cancer taking control. This is another brutal rumination that we rotate around in the book, but I feel Maric’s poetic skill as well as her stylistic choices, help to avoid any unneeded intensity.
I do not know who this book is for. It’s the sort of book that you know will hold no sense of enjoyment, and yet will it help the people who truly need it. It is a voice to partner your own in the struggles and worries of not just cancer, but any serious illness. Cancer is just as awful as you could image it to be. Despite any sort of help you may have around you; it also seems to be incredibly lonely. This book can hopefully alleviate some of that loneliness.
February 10, 2025
A beautiful yet shattering portrayal of a woman’s battle with breast cancer. The struggle of femininity when an unforgiving illness takes away everything that made you feel like a woman. What makes a woman? And what makes life worth holding onto? Body Kintsugi is a poetic exploration of womanhood, identity and illness. Everyone should read it!
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June 10, 2024deeply personal, intimate and beautiful - rtc.
September 18, 2022
The translation is amazing. The poetry of the writing is both gentle and powerful at the same time. It allows you the step into a woman’s pain and journey within drowning in it. There is no self pity in the writing- only seeking some clarity in an experience which is her own.
February 24, 2020
http://www.bukmarkic.com/senka-maric-...
Što se tiče samog naslova romana, kintsugi je japanska reč koja opisuje proces popravljanja starih, polomljenih predmeta koristeći tečno zlato ili platinu, tako stvarajući jedan potpuno novi i interesantan predmet. U ovom kratkom romanu od svega 130 strana, Senka Marić nam daje neimenovanu protagonistkinju koja ispred sebe ima izuzetno težak zadatak – da pobedi karcinom dojke koji joj je dijagnostifikovan. Sam roman počinje poglavljem u kom ona opisuje tri bitna događaja: odlazak njenog muža, prvu bol u ramenu i dijagnozu karcinoma desne dojke. Život protagonistkinje ne pratimo samo od tog trenutka, iako će njena borba sa ovom bolešću biti glavna tema romana. Ipak, Senka nas kroz različite epizode vodi u njeno detinjstvo, u prve nestašluke koje je činila kao dete, u lepe momente provedene sa porodicom, u sećanja na preminulog oca. Dakle, Senka nas kroz epizode iz života glavne junakinje uči da osoba kojoj može biti dijagnostifikovan karcinom može biti bilo ko, i da se to ne dešava samo ”tamo nekoj osobi”. Ona je na jedan indirektan način pokazala realnost glavne junakinje, te bolest koju ona ima shvatamo mnogo ličnije.
Kroz ovaj roman ćemo tačno iskusiti kako je to imati karcinom dojke i šta je to što on nosi sa sobom, a šta to što odnosi. Ovo možda nije lepa tema u pravom smislu te reči, ali je izuzetno bitna. Na kraju krajeva, nije ni bitno što je to karcinom dojke – ovo je samo primer koji je dat u romanu, ali ovo je istina i realnost koja je dočekala i muškarce i žene koji su preživeli (ali i one koji nisu) ovu tešku bolest. Upravo ovo, Senka je uspela da ostvari jedinstvenom naracijom koja je do sada bila vrlo retka u književnosti. Roman je pisan u drugom licu jednine, tako da je sve ono što se događa junakinji opisano kao da se dešava upravo čitaocu, i zbog toga je ovaj roman mnogo upečatljiviji od nekih drugih koji se bave istom ili sličnom tematikom. Sam naslov romana je takođe vrlo simboličan, jer isto kao što se polomljeni keramički predmeti mogu popraviti tečnim zlatom i spojiti u jedan nov predmet, tako i svako telo nakon hemioterapije i raznih terapija protiv karcinoma, nakon raznih ožiljaka i masnica, može da se regeneriše u nešto potpuno novo i mentalno jače – jer to je telo koje je doživelo i preživelo ogroman horor. Ovo nije samo roman koji se bavi fizičkim izlečenjem od bolesti, već i onim mentalnim izlečenjem od onoga što je ta bolest sve donela i odnela, počevši od kose i trepavica do nemogućnosti kretanja i konstantnog bola u telu. Senka se kroz roman takođe bavi pitanjem lepote, odnosno pitanjem koje je verovatno svaka žena kojoj je rađena mazektomija upitala sebe. Da li sam još uvek lepa?
Kintsugi tijela nije samo roman o karcinomu kao bolesti. Ovo je takođe priča jedne žene, jedne individue i o tome šta je sve činila kako bi povratila svoje dostojanstvo i zadržala svoj ego, kako bi mentalno ostala to što jeste. Da, ovaj roman ću uvek preporučiti svima, bez obzira na pol, jer karcinom ne bira. Ovo je tačno ono što je zdravima potrebno kako bi se redovno pregledali, a onima koji su preživeli karcinom kako bi se osetili bitnima i lepim, jer oni to zaista jesu. Možda nije najsavršenije delo na svetu, ali Kintsugi tijela je jedno neverovatno bitno delo.
Što se tiče samog naslova romana, kintsugi je japanska reč koja opisuje proces popravljanja starih, polomljenih predmeta koristeći tečno zlato ili platinu, tako stvarajući jedan potpuno novi i interesantan predmet. U ovom kratkom romanu od svega 130 strana, Senka Marić nam daje neimenovanu protagonistkinju koja ispred sebe ima izuzetno težak zadatak – da pobedi karcinom dojke koji joj je dijagnostifikovan. Sam roman počinje poglavljem u kom ona opisuje tri bitna događaja: odlazak njenog muža, prvu bol u ramenu i dijagnozu karcinoma desne dojke. Život protagonistkinje ne pratimo samo od tog trenutka, iako će njena borba sa ovom bolešću biti glavna tema romana. Ipak, Senka nas kroz različite epizode vodi u njeno detinjstvo, u prve nestašluke koje je činila kao dete, u lepe momente provedene sa porodicom, u sećanja na preminulog oca. Dakle, Senka nas kroz epizode iz života glavne junakinje uči da osoba kojoj može biti dijagnostifikovan karcinom može biti bilo ko, i da se to ne dešava samo ”tamo nekoj osobi”. Ona je na jedan indirektan način pokazala realnost glavne junakinje, te bolest koju ona ima shvatamo mnogo ličnije.
Kroz ovaj roman ćemo tačno iskusiti kako je to imati karcinom dojke i šta je to što on nosi sa sobom, a šta to što odnosi. Ovo možda nije lepa tema u pravom smislu te reči, ali je izuzetno bitna. Na kraju krajeva, nije ni bitno što je to karcinom dojke – ovo je samo primer koji je dat u romanu, ali ovo je istina i realnost koja je dočekala i muškarce i žene koji su preživeli (ali i one koji nisu) ovu tešku bolest. Upravo ovo, Senka je uspela da ostvari jedinstvenom naracijom koja je do sada bila vrlo retka u književnosti. Roman je pisan u drugom licu jednine, tako da je sve ono što se događa junakinji opisano kao da se dešava upravo čitaocu, i zbog toga je ovaj roman mnogo upečatljiviji od nekih drugih koji se bave istom ili sličnom tematikom. Sam naslov romana je takođe vrlo simboličan, jer isto kao što se polomljeni keramički predmeti mogu popraviti tečnim zlatom i spojiti u jedan nov predmet, tako i svako telo nakon hemioterapije i raznih terapija protiv karcinoma, nakon raznih ožiljaka i masnica, može da se regeneriše u nešto potpuno novo i mentalno jače – jer to je telo koje je doživelo i preživelo ogroman horor. Ovo nije samo roman koji se bavi fizičkim izlečenjem od bolesti, već i onim mentalnim izlečenjem od onoga što je ta bolest sve donela i odnela, počevši od kose i trepavica do nemogućnosti kretanja i konstantnog bola u telu. Senka se kroz roman takođe bavi pitanjem lepote, odnosno pitanjem koje je verovatno svaka žena kojoj je rađena mazektomija upitala sebe. Da li sam još uvek lepa?
Kintsugi tijela nije samo roman o karcinomu kao bolesti. Ovo je takođe priča jedne žene, jedne individue i o tome šta je sve činila kako bi povratila svoje dostojanstvo i zadržala svoj ego, kako bi mentalno ostala to što jeste. Da, ovaj roman ću uvek preporučiti svima, bez obzira na pol, jer karcinom ne bira. Ovo je tačno ono što je zdravima potrebno kako bi se redovno pregledali, a onima koji su preživeli karcinom kako bi se osetili bitnima i lepim, jer oni to zaista jesu. Možda nije najsavršenije delo na svetu, ali Kintsugi tijela je jedno neverovatno bitno delo.
March 10, 2024
A beautiful novel about a woman's relationship with her changing body as she goes through breast cancer treatment. It had some delicate imagery that really put discussions of body image in a more sensitive and almost "fragile" light. The short chapters made it really easy to read and you are never bored since there are new themes that make distant yet relevant links for the storyline.
November 18, 2019
Kakva knjiga ♥️
February 6, 2023
Beautifully written, expertly translated. Really enjoyed this one, although I was gasping for a complex sentence by the end of it - I don't think I've ever read so many short declaratives in one go before.
What was most interesting to me about this one was its use of Classical Reception. In interims of illness, the narrator finds herself transported, either in dreams or hallucinations, to a kind of liminal realm of sickness, populated by various women from Greek myth, including Medea, Medusa, and the Amazons. She also finds herself visited by ghostly women who seem to be either the Fates or the Furies, or perhaps both. I liked this use of myth, although it did come across a little as though the author had just chosen some of the 'strong' women of Greek myth without really understanding those individual women's narratives (for example, it's not clear why she invokes Medea, who's probably best known for killing her own children...)
These mythical interludes connected Marić with a lineage of women whose bodies have not felt like their own, or who have reclaimed their bodies in some way. Her use of the Amazons made the most sense to me, particularly because of the myth that they removed their own breasts to better hold a bow and arrow and fight their own battles; the parallels she drew between this and her own decision to remove her infected prosthesis was particularly effective.
This is my second translated novella by Peirene Press, and far surpassed the first one I read (Children of the Cave, by Virve Sammalkorpi.) I've been a very silly billy and subscribed to their 2023 catalogue, so I'm excited for the next one!
What was most interesting to me about this one was its use of Classical Reception. In interims of illness, the narrator finds herself transported, either in dreams or hallucinations, to a kind of liminal realm of sickness, populated by various women from Greek myth, including Medea, Medusa, and the Amazons. She also finds herself visited by ghostly women who seem to be either the Fates or the Furies, or perhaps both. I liked this use of myth, although it did come across a little as though the author had just chosen some of the 'strong' women of Greek myth without really understanding those individual women's narratives (for example, it's not clear why she invokes Medea, who's probably best known for killing her own children...)
These mythical interludes connected Marić with a lineage of women whose bodies have not felt like their own, or who have reclaimed their bodies in some way. Her use of the Amazons made the most sense to me, particularly because of the myth that they removed their own breasts to better hold a bow and arrow and fight their own battles; the parallels she drew between this and her own decision to remove her infected prosthesis was particularly effective.
This is my second translated novella by Peirene Press, and far surpassed the first one I read (Children of the Cave, by Virve Sammalkorpi.) I've been a very silly billy and subscribed to their 2023 catalogue, so I'm excited for the next one!
April 15, 2025
Poprilično je teško kritički pisati o djelu koje je toliko personalno za autora, a pogotovo kada priča o teškoj borbi sa bolešću. Sa emotivne strane ova knjiga je imala sve što volim, proživljavala sam zajedno sa autoricom njene strahove, vraćala se zajedno u prošlost i sanjala 0 životu bez bolesti. Dijelovi koji mi se ispočetka nisu dopali su opisi snova/halucinacija. Djelovali su neprirodno ubačeni između teksta - kao da su tu tek da razbiju realnost priče o lijekovima i dijagnozama. Sa zadnjim stranicama knjige se taj dio ipak lijepo uklopio i zaokružio jednu cjelinu. Kraj je u meni izazvao osjećaj olakšanja i radosti što je autorica završila to teško poglavlje svog života.
November 7, 2021
5/5. Nihilistično-vitalističen roman o (večkratnem) krpanju, zavračanju ter sprejemanju telesa ženske po večkratnem rakastem obolenju in slednjega neznosno mučnih posegih; bolnici (osebi) se tekom terapij in zarezovanj v telo pojavljajo številna nihanja razpoloženj, ki niso nujno plod stranskega učinka nekega zdravila - poskuša sortirati lastno potlačeno, boleče in trpečo družinsko preteklost, deloma soodgovorno za njeno stanje.
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