"Aleksandar Hemon is on fire." --Vanity Fair "His writing style is as vital and rewarding as ever. . . . The kind of writing that pulls you in and holds you there." --San Francisco Chronicle
Joshua Levin has a reasonably comfortable Chicago apartment, a mildly dysfunctional family sprinkled throughout the suburbs, a steady job teaching ESL, a devoted girlfriend who lives down the block, and a laptop full of screenplay ideas--one of which he thinks, might turn out to be good: Zombie Wars.
But all it takes is a few unexpected events--his already unhinged army vet of a landlord experiencing something of a psychotic break, a moment of weakness (or two) with his sultry Bosnian student--for Joshua's life to descend into chaos. As the stakes quickly move from absurd to life-and-death matters, The Making of Zombie Wars takes on real consequence.
Aleksandar Hemon is a Bosnian American writer known for his short stories and novels that explore issues of exile, identity, and home through characters drawn from Hemon’s own experience as an immigrant.
Hemon was raised in Sarajevo, where his father was an engineer and his mother was an accountant. After graduating from the University of Sarajevo with a degree in literature in 1990, he worked as a journalist with the Sarajevan youth press. In 1992 he participated in a journalist exchange program that took him to Chicago. Hemon intended to stay in the United States only briefly, for the duration of the program, but, when war broke out in his home country, he applied for and was granted status as a political refugee in the United States.
In Chicago Hemon worked a series of jobs, including as a bike messenger and a door-to-door canvasser, while improving his knowledge of English and pursuing a graduate degree at Northwestern University. Three years after arriving in the United States, he wrote his first short story in English, “The Sorge Spy Ring.” Together with several other short stories and the novella “Blind Jozef Pronek & Dead Souls,” it was published in the collection The Question of Bruno in 2000, the same year Hemon became an American citizen. Like much of Hemon’s published work, these stories were largely informed by Hemon’s own immigrant experience in Chicago. Hemon brought back Jozef Pronek, the protagonist from his earlier novella, with Nowhere Man: The Pronek Fantasies (2002), the story of a young man growing up in Sarajevo who later attempts to navigate a new life in Chicago while working minimum-wage jobs. The book, like the rest of Hemon’s work, was notable for the author’s inventive use of the English language. He was awarded a MacArthur Foundation “genius grant” in 2004.
The Lazarus Project (2008) intertwined two stories of eastern European immigrants to Chicago. Vladimir Brik, a Bosnian immigrant writer and the novel’s narrator, becomes obsessed with a murder case from nearly a century earlier in which Lazarus Averbuch, a young Russian Jew, was shot and killed by Chicago’s police chief. Hemon received much critical acclaim for the novel, which was a finalist for a National Book Award. He followed this with Love and Obstacles (2009), a collection of short stories narrated by a young man who leaves Sarajevo for the United States when war breaks out in his home country. The Making of Zombie Wars (2015) chronicles the quotidian difficulties of a workaday writer attempting to finish a screenplay about a zombie invasion.
Hemon also cowrote the screenplay for The Matrix Resurrections (2021), the fourth installment in the popular sci-fi Matrix series. His other works included the memoirs The Book of My Lives (2013) and My Parents: An Introduction/This Does Not Belong to You (2019). The latter book consists of two volumes.
Elogiemos ahora a los que tienen grandes sueños y no consiguen nada, a los que no se dejan amedrentar por lo imposible, a los que viven aprisionados por lo posible. Ellos son los escarabajos peloteros del Sueño Americano, los pequeños fertilizantes del Sueño Americano a los que nadie ha contado nunca.
Es difícil hablar de este libro porque tiene muchas caras: es metaliteratura, es reflexión y critica sobre la sociedad americana, trata de multiculturalidad, es una comedia gamberra y existencial de perdedores... No sé por dónde empezar. Decir que está bien escrito, es divertido y lleno de frases memorables. Porque Hemon sabe escribir. Es un bosnio a quien el sitio de Sarajevo pilló en Chicago, y allí se quedó, disfrutando su pedacito del Sueño Americano. A diferencia de otras de sus obras, ésta no parece tomarse demasiado en serio, con personajes muy colgados, pero tiene muchas capas y mensajitos de todo tipo. Y ecos de Woody Allen, de Philip Roth - creo que se menciona El mal de Portnoy.
Josh es un treintañero que se gana la vida como profesor de inglés pero todavía persigue su sueño de convertirse en guionista de éxito. Conocemos a su disfuncional familia judía y también a algunos de sus alumnos bosnios huidos de la guerra de los Balcanes - de esta manera nos introduce en las peculiaridades de dos minorías entre las muchísimas que conforman el conglomerado de la sociedad americana.
En el texto se van intercalando delirantes ideas para guiones que Josh nunca acaba de desarrollar y que nos dan idea de la vaciedad que ofrece el mundo del entretenimiento a una sociedad cada vez más culturalmente zombie:
Idea para guión número 11: Un lanzador de béisbol gay vende su alma al diablo para jugar en las Series Mundiales. El precio: tiene que volverse hetero. Título: Dale al bate.
El único guión que va desarrollando y que vamos conociendo por fragmentos es La guerra de los zombies, que quiere ser una metáfora de la sociedad americana y la violencia que la aqueja:
Lo bueno de los zombies es que puedes cargarte un millón y nadie le da importancia. Tú disparas, ellos explotan y a nadie le importa. Es para que los americanos se sientan mucho mejor cuando tienen que matar. Les facilita las cosas.
El desastre del 11S planea sobre la trama, así como la guerra de los Balcanes: veteranos de guerra y refugiados aparecen en la vida de un perdedor como Josh, que ve su existencia perturbada por el sexo y la violencia, aunque nunca demasiado en serio:
En aquel instante Joshua se rio. La vida le parecía exactamente igual que el canuto que ardía inexorablemente hacia la punta de sus dedos: una vez que te la has fumado ya no es posible desfumarla.
Lo mejor es la manera en que se mezclan unos episodios groseros y absurdos con constantes reflexiones filosóficas - Spinoza es un referente - y otras políticas:
La tarea primordial en la vida de cada uno era fingir que su propia existencia consistía en algo mucho más importante que la mera supervivencia.
El gran ciclo americano: una catástrofe provoca que nos reinventemos; el que nos reinventemos desemboca en otra catástrofe, y así vamos todos rodando hacia el apocalipsis y la redención.
Hablando de la invasión de Irak:
Vamos a manejar mucho dinero y les vamos a dar a los follacamellos el kit básico para que monten una economía de mercado. Es una joya de trabajo.
En fin, que está lleno de citas memorables y aunque la lectura pueda hacerse algo pesada - sobre todo la buddy movie final - ya que toda la historia es como un largo monólogo cómico, creo que es una obra distinta que merece la pena conocer. Deseando leer más de este autor.
I know nothing of Hemon's works. I picked this up because of the quirky setup and the reviews promising hilariousness. But, I found it more annoying than hilarious. The main character wasn't compelling enough - he read exactly the way a middle aged man failing to grow up would read like, and I wasn't in the mood for that. The script ideas were better, and I liked quite a few of them. The one that actually materializes, the eponymous Zombie Wars, couldn't sustain my interest. It's possible there was some meaning in it, but since I was slogging through this barely maintaining my interest, it's safe to say that it went over my head. Pretty language, but that's about it.
(Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography [cclapcenter.com]. I am the original author of this essay, as well as the owner of CCLaP; it is not being reprinted illegally.)
It's funny that so much of my time as a reviewer in the last few months has been centered around authors who wanted to write a character-heavy novel with a loose and light plot, but largely failed at making those novels entertaining in any way whatsoever; because Alexsandar Hemon's latest, originally released last spring but that I just got a chance to read this month, is actually a really charming and wonderful example of exactly that, and now makes me want to buy a dozen copies, hand them out to most of the authors I've reviewed in the last three or four months, and say to them, "For the love of God, please read this freaking book before you inflict the world on any more books of your own."
A big departure for the academically revered and usually quite serious Chicagoan and former Yugoslavian immigrant (I say it that way because he immigrated before the Balkan Civil War), The Making of The Zombie Wars is actually a light-hearted comedy about a young male fuck-up, written in the style of Elmore Leonard (or for local lit fans, closely reminiscent of Joseph G. Peterson's Gideon's Confession), the story of a frustrated screenwriter who regularly falls ass-backwards into easy sex, is dealing unsuccessfully with his elderly Jewish father (and even more unsuccessfully with his overbearing sister), has a strange relationship with the PTSD-suffering Desert Storm vet who serves as his quasi-legal landlord, and who stumbles into a series of random, violent adventures because of teaching English as a Second Language to a series of fresh immigrants from eastern Europe (including a former KGB officer from Russia who views the entirety of America with "this is what won the Cold War?" contempt, a great example of the darkly hilarious tone Hemon maintains throughout the entire book).
Make no mistake, though, there's definitely a serious point to be had here; set in the years right after 9/11, a big focus of the novel is the fresh Bosnian immigrants from the ESL class who have literally just escaped the horrors of the war in their homeland, and the ways those experiences have scarred them from ever being able to have normal, non-violence-tinged relationships, likely ever again. But in the meanwhile, Hemon has great fun looking at the foibles of learning a new language, and the eternal capacity of young white males to screw up any situation they're in, even getting in a subtle homage to John Irving's The World According to Garp (each chapter starts with a few pages from our hero's perpetually unfinished zombie thriller Hollywood screenplay, in which it becomes clear that it's being heavily influenced by the real events happening in his life). An especially great treat for residents like me of Chicago's Uptown neighborhood where this novel is set (including an opening scene that takes place literally three blocks from my apartment), you certainly do not need to be a local to enjoy this funny, outrageous, and sometimes very thought-provoking book; and the only reason it's not getting a better score is that this is not going to be everyone's cup of tea, especially for Hemon's existing fans who were expecting yet another NPR-fetish dirge about the immigrant experience. Other than that, it comes highly recommended to one and all.
Aunque su leve tufillo a telefilm de sobremesa no me acababa de convencer al principio, cuando se trata de un título que publica Libros del Asteroide la parte instintiva de tu cerebro avisa de que es muy difícil sentirse decepcionado. Sencillamente no hay sitio para novelas de serie B en su catálogo. Todo lo contrario que en el cuaderno de Josh Levin, treintañero y guionista en apuros que empieza a asfixiarse por la acumulación de ideas para películas que no llegan a ningún puerto. Sin embargo, un buen día decide escribir algo sobre un virus mortífero que convierte a los seres humanos en zombis... y ahí es cuando por fin parece haber encontrado la auténtica inspiración. La última novela de Hemon, en la que se aleja radicalmente de las tendencias literarias que lo identifican, constituye una de las sorpresas más gratas y alocadas que he tenido el placer de encontrarme en mucho tiempo. Cómo se hizo La guerra de los zombis es mucho más que el pastiche kitsch que aparenta a simple vista: se trata de una obra comprometida, madura y muy bien escrita, una historia salpicada de un delirante humor grotesco que tan pronto indaga en la crisis profesional y existencial de la mediana edad como en el desarraigo y la extrañeza que sufre un grupo de exiliados europeos alejado de su patria asolada por la guerra. En un mundo aún aturdido por los ataques del 11-S, los personajes de Hemon logran alzarse con una voz entre melancólica y digna de lástima que no es sino el fiel reflejo de todos esos sentimientos encontrados que se dan cita a lo largo de la novela. El final, sin duda, lo mejor de una historia que da algún que otro bandazo pero que, en líneas generales, se mantiene sólida. Si podéis, echadle un más que merecido vistazo.
“The Making of Zombie Wars” doesn’t have much to do with the undead, but it’s a comic novel with BRAAAINS. That intellectual heft is to be expected from Aleksandar Hemon. For the past two decades, the MacArthur “genius” from Sarajevo has been writing smart essays, short stories and novels sparked with wit. (Three of his books, including “The Lazarus Project,” have been finalists for the National Book Critics Circle Award.)
His new novel may be filled with marginal survivors of war, cancer and unemployment, but it’s all richly carbonated with madcap antics.
Our hapless hero is 30-something Joshua Levin, an ESL teacher in Chicago who dreams of writing scripts for Hollywood. For the past 10 years, . . .
Ovo je, valjda, trebalo da bude smešno. Plus da ima i neku dubinu, da se bavi nekim bitnim stvarima, nerazumevanjem među ljudima, nemogućnošću razumevanja, sudar svetova, pa onda ljudi prave svakakve gluposti, pa se vi onda nasmejete dok to čitate, a istovremeno vas navede na razmišljanje... Tako nešto.
Elem, meni nije bilo smešno uopšte (naročito ne ubijanje jedne mačke i maltretiranje druge, a i za tu drugu ne znamo kako će da završi), a likovi su mi bili toliko odurni da me uopšte nije bilo briga ni koji su im problemi, ni šta će biti s njima.
Nije ovo nečitljivo, i vidim da ima ljudi kojima se sviđa, pa je moguće da ja ovome nisam ciljna publika (ako vas ne zanimaju životni problemi nedorasle gnjide, karikatura od psihotičnih ratnih veterana i izbeglica, ili maltretiranje mačaka, sasvim je moguće da ni vi niste ciljna publika).
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
4.5 out of 5. Hemon is having a ball here and it's evident on nearly every page. People keep talking about how "unexpected" the humor is - but even if you go in now expecting it, you'll still laugh. There is a glee to the writing, a glee the author quite clearly felt, that makes it that much more fun for the reader. It might not be a life-changing novel or story about a serious topic - but not all novels need to be. Quote-unquote "serious" authors ought to follow Hemon's lead and have a little fun now and then. As he proves, you can still write something heartfelt and thoughtful while making people laugh. I almost feel a little spoiled that this was my first of his novels.
This was a wild ride from start to finish but nothing more than that. Maybe it is the translation that got in the way, or maybe because Hemon is from Bosnia and sentences like "Jebao si ježa" are so familiar that only translated in English can make people laugh. (One of the reviewers wrote that Hemon's metaphors are unexpected and original, but those metaphors are nothing more than a literally translation of Bosnian vernacular and common metaphors.) In the acknowledgements, Hemon thanks his publisher who allowed him to take a chance and write a comedy - so maybe this novel is an exception in his oeuvre. I will give him a second chance. Two and a half stars.
I was thoroughly unimpressed with this book. In fact, I found it a struggle to finish. To me it is another example of postmodern drivel with an unlikeable, neurotic character. Josh Levin was not neurotic in an enjoyable sense, like a Woody Allen or George Costanza. I enjoyed the constant script ideas that entered his mind, and the idea of a struggling writer has always appealed to me. That being said, I found it nearly impossible to invest anything in any of the characters. Stagger alone intrigued me, due mostly to his humorously psychotic nature. Insult to injury was heaped upon me when the book ended with a random whimper. It is realistic to have a character that frequently makes the wrong choices, and lacks courage at every turn. However, this is not someone I want to read about. Part of the appeal of reading is finding oneself stepping into the body and mind of the characters therein. I’ve read books with “bad” characters that I was more interested in inhabiting. Two stars is the best I can muster.
The Making of Zombie Wars is fast paced and hilarious and overall OK, but it's also too fast paced and too hilarious for its critique of post-9/11 America to feel more than occasionally insightful, and generally ham-fisted. It also misses a marvelous opportunity for fusing together a dysfunctional-youth American narrative with a zombie apocalypse tale, and I got this sneaky feeling that the book's attitude toward genre and pop narratives was dismissive and bordering on contemptuous.
It works really well as a story about someone who has spent way too much time inside fictional worlds, but there are shelves after shelves of those out there, many of them better than Zombie Wars.
Just read Chabon's Wonder Boys. If you've already read Wonder Boys, just re-read Chabon's Wonder Boys.
Quit halfway through. I've loved all of his previous books, but always wondered how well he would fare once he moved away from his own autobiography. Here it flops, because the characters are at a Franzen-level of annoying and the plot just isn't that compelling even with the wraparound movie structure. The language is still very funny, but relying too heavily on the narrator's clever turn of phrase reminds me too much of damn near every big fiction success of the past 15 years.
There seems to be some confusion about this book and what it's going for.
Admittedly, it's a book full of deceptive surfaces. Stop me if you've heard this one: thirtysomething slacker and self-styled Portnoy of the early aughts, Joshua Levin whiles away his life teaching ESL to Jewish immigrants, dodging his insane Desert Storm vet landlord, and hanging out with his improbably successful and attractive girlfriend. Oh, and he writes screenplays, like Zombie Wars, which Levin astutely notes is about "Zombies. And wars." Oh, and he quotes Spinoza all the time. And the plot revolves around how much he wants to cheat on his girlfriend. Sounds pretty much exactly like jacket copy for all the rejected manuscripts moldering away in the dumpsters behind McSweeney's, right?
Wrong.
This is not a novel about a whiny man-child learning to live and love. This is a novel about how the Joshua Levins of the world will always escape their obligations to the oppressed, and resort to either psychological terrorism or outright violence if they don't get to put their dick where they want, when they want, and with no consequences. Not incidentally, The Making of Zombie Wars is about how all of this plays out across America's two greatest exports: blockbusters and invasions.
Look at the margins of the novel: it's not an accident that Hemon keeps returning to George Bush and John Wayne, or that all of the Bosnian immigrants survived a war everybody forgot in a country nobody can place on a map. It's not an accident that the American characters don't understand this, and it's definitely not an accident that all of this happens in the spring of 2003.
If all of this escaped anyone's attention, it's because The Making of Zombie Wars also happens to be pretty goddamned funny in places, albeit the outrageously morbid kind of humor so typical of Balkan countries (surely nothing is too absurd to exist after the collapse of Yugoslavia). And Hemon has a sharp ear for the kind of American language that they don't teach you in ESL, the words and phrases we use while having sex, lighting up a joint, or looking for that katana you stashed behind the washing machine. You know, the stuff that really matters.
Still, a few things don't work: there are some plot threads around Levin's family that don't seem to do much, and I think a late chapter with a cocky literary agent was invited purely to make a pun out of "having an agent" and "having agency." The descent from comedy of manners to ultraviolent black comedy is also too rapid and unclear in spots where it's crucial to have airtight and relatable logic underlying the unrelatable chaos.
Is it possible to give a raving three-star review? I adore the ideas in this book (haven't even touched on its juicy contempt for blockbusters, come to think of it), but a certain amount of narrative paunch and undercooked presentation holds it back. I don't know, I might change my mind later.
The alleged writerly capabilities of the author, as noted in many other reviews, do not appear to be anywhere on display in this book. It's not funny, not witty, not interesting. I have no time or patience for the weak man-child trope, which is what the main character is (for god's sake, if you enter your apartment and find your crazy landlord in your bedroom sobbing into your underwear, call the fucking police. The fact that Joshua would rather run off to his hot girlfriend's apartment looking for a blow-job and sex tells you all you need to know about him (and of course she's some hot, sexy babe, right? Despite the fact he's described as being a bony thin guy with acne and an overbite. Sure, a professional career woman with her life in order would totally be attracted to a guy with little direction in his life and hardly any ability or interest in doing anything about it. Keep living that dream, Hemon).
The fact that the main character is developing a zombie movie comes off as a deliberate choice on the part of the author to take advantage of our culture's current obsession with zombies rather than something integral to the story itself. I didn't expect a book about zombies (nor did I want one) but the whole 'trying to develop a screenplay' angle of the story is barely there. This is a story about some poor whiny man trying to figure his life out. But hey, that wouldn't translate into as catchy and sellable a title as ZOMBIE WARS, right? Yeah, let's tell everyone it's about a guy working on a zombie movie screenplay. Make sure that's splashed on the book jacket! In red blood font! $$$!
Hemon is a writer who routinely breaks my heart. In 2011, I discovered his stunning New Yorker piece "The Aquarium" (http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/201...) and I read everything he had written up to that point in one fevered week. But in his different works, one finds different kinds of heartbreak.
With all of his books, the promise and the fury of language often overcomes the limitations of the prose. This was the case with ZOMBIE WARS as well. This book has a very different voice from Hemon's other work, and the first 20 or 25 pages were a slog for me. In fact, I put it aside for a good 8 months. Yet when I restarted reading it, it grabbed me again. After a while I felt like I understood what he was doing. This is the same heteroglossic Hemon who brought us THE LAZARUS PROJECT - but I think this book marks an advance in the development of his ability to create realistic narrative voices.
ZOMBIE WARS follows a cast of truly unlikable characters. There is seriously not one single likable character in this entire book, including the cat. Once you get over that hurdle, however, the book has a lot of rewards. Even when the plot is weak, the prose is full of beautiful chestnuts and philosophical turns that just stopped me in my tracks (well, I was reading sprawled out on my bed, but you know what I mean). I was surprised by how quickly I got drawn in and found myself curious about the plot. This is what Hemon does best, and this is why I'd pay to read even his grocery lists. Definitely recommended.
Witty, hilarious, annoying and simply amazing. A brilliant satire of modern life in the Western world that starts with an unsuccessful screen writer and his ridiculous ideas of scripts and continuously speeds up racing through a spiral of sex, betrayal, disappointment and violence - veterans that steal other people's underwear, a Japanese psychologist, a child that tries to combine all the bad words into one and a jealous Bosnian husband looking like a bear involved.
OK, I've changed my rating from 4 to 5. After a year, Some chapters still linger on my mind. I still envy him for the integration of themes in the book. And of course, deep down I am touched by this ironically hilarious novel. I loved it in the way I loved Nabokov's Pnin (Yes, Hemon is also a fan of Pnin). So, why not 5 stars?
I am a little disappointed because I really liked the first few chapters of this book, and then began to loathe most of the characters and basically everything that happened.
Desde que series como “Community” popularizaran el concepto “meta”, vivimos en una nueva era de la meta-cultura. Abundan las novelas sobre escritores que intentan escribir otras novelas (aunque este género siempre había estado ahí y, en otro tiempo mejor, incluso hablábamos con expresiones tan culteranas como “mise en abyme“). Abundan las películas sobre directores que intentan dirigir otras películas. Y, siendo el audiovisual el rey de lo meta, también tenemos series sobre escritores que intentan escribir (“Bored to Death“, por ejemplo) o películas sobre novelistas a la búsqueda de la ficción pluscuamperfecta.
Ahora bien, en este reino de lo “meta”, aunque el audiovisual se ha atrevido con la literatura, parece que una relación de doble sentido es algo inviable. La literatura, ese monstruo de múltiples cabezas enrocado en su posición high brow, ¿cómo va a mancharse con el lodo de la baja cultura cinematográfica? En esta paradoja contradictoria nace el primer acierto de “Cómo Se Hizo La Guerra De Los Zombis“: en atreverse a coger la serie B (literaria, cinematográfica, catódica) y permitir que actúe como un virus que corroa el corpus de la literatura canónica.
Porque tampoco se puede negar que Aleksandar Hemon escribe siempre en una gozosa cuerda floja. Para empezar, “Cómo Se Hizo La Guerra De Los Zombis” es una de esas novelas en las que encuentras diálogos descacharrantes como “-Me estaba preguntando por qué ahora tiene que haber tantos superhéroes en América. ¿No basta con los héroes normales? ¿John Wayne no es suficiente y ahora hay que tener a Batman? ¿Qué opinas? -Bueno, estrictamente hablando, Batman no es un superhéroe. Es una especie de capitalista al que la barbaridad de su fortuna le permite tener un montón de cachivaches. No tiene superpoderes, sólo se comporta como un loco“. También como “Si se produjese un apocalipsis zombi, ¿se follaría más, menos o nada en absoluto? ¿Y qué pasaría si el hambre de los zombis no fuera visceral, sino carnal? Debería ver más porno zombi“.
Al fin y al cabo, el protagonista de “Cómo Se Hizo La Guerra De Los Zombis” es Joshua (Jo / Josh / Jonjo) Levin, un profesor de inglés para extranjeros que realmente quiere ser guionista de cine. Un tipo que hace tiempo dejó la juventud atrás pero que sigue completamente colgado del sueño de convertirse en un guionista estrella. Un señor que tiene ideas para guiones a velocidad de metralleta… pero que es incapaz de desarrollar ninguna de ellas. Un creador que se mueve en el seno de los códigos freaks y que cree a pies juntillas que la mejor forma de conseguir que alguien le compre un guión es practicando el género (los diferentes géneros) de la forma más inesperada posible. Como en los 90, cuando la verosimilitud no era un valor que se tuviera en cuenta en las ficciones cinematográficas.
Pero, a su vez, Josh también es alguien que, en una de las clases de guión a las que asiste, es capaz de tener la siguiente conversación: “-Si quieres algo real, vete a vivir a Irak. Allí sí que tienen toneladas de realidad. Tienen tanta realidad que se pasan la vida haciéndose estallar por los aires. -No me importa lo real ni lo irreal. Sólo quiero contar una historia“. El protagonista de “Cómo Se Hizo La Guerra De Los Zombis” es alguien que vive en un limbo entre la serie B y la serie A, la realidad y la ficción, el surrealismo cómico y la hiperrealidad deprimente. Todo dualismos.
Aquí es cuando entra en juego la alta literatura. Hemon retrata a su protagonista como un pelele absoluto: su imposibilidad de desarrollar sus guiones y llegar hasta el punto y final es una solvente metáfora de ese peterpanismo que inevitablemente impregna a la literatura masculino de este siglo. Joshua es alguien que no decide: de repente, se deja llevar por el deseo y la lujuria (por mucho que después piense que “La lujuria siempre es mayor que el acto al que conduce, lo mismo que el recuerdo que guardamos de él“)… Y, a partir de ahí, los acontecimientos de su vida se precipitan a la velocidad de un vodevil (o de una buddy movie de fumados de esas que suele practicar Seth Rogen): se ve en medio de un matrimonio bosnio con tendencia a la violencia como modo de solucionar los problemas, a su padre le diagnostican cáncer de próstata, su novia le deja al enterarse de la infidelidad, su hermana inicia un proceso de divorcio y, finalmente, se ve embarcado contra su voluntad en una aventura lisérgica en compañía de su casero drogadicto y ex-militar (además de bastante ambiguo en lo que respecta a su sexualidad) que acaba precipitando a ambos hacia la nada más absoluta.
En manos de cualquier otro autor, Josh Levin se habría convertido en un antihéroe clásico, uno de esos que se mueven lentos bajo el peso infinito de todo lo que arrastran… Aleksandar Hemon, sin embargo, hace malabares en la cuerda floja entre la alta y la baja cultura, disemina la opacidad pesimista del noir existencialista y le pega un meneo usando como herramienta la liviandad de la comedia despendolada. El dualismo es tan profundo que “Cómo Se Hizo La Guerra De Los Zombis” incluso se permite adoptar una estructura de doble novela: los capítulos principales pertenecen a las desventuras de Josh, mientras que entre ellos se intercalan pequeños episodios del único guión que parece estar llevando a buen puerto: “La Guerra De Los Zombis“. Realidad con intermedios de ficción. ¿O es al contrario?
Los dos últimos capítulos de la novela se permiten un juego subversivo que te obliga a preguntarte: ¿y si más que encontrarnos ante la historia de un pobre desgraciado que intenta escribir un guión de entretenimiento escapista nos encontramos más bien ante la historia de un grupo de supervivientes a un apocalipsis zombi que se entretienen con la historia de un pobre desgraciado que se ve envuelto en una trama inicialmente cómica pero que acaba impregnándose del pesimismo inevitable cuando el mundo a tu alrededor se ha ido al garete? Así riza el rizo Hemon en “Cómo Se Hizo La Guerra De Los Zombis“. Sin dar respuestas. Congelando la sonrisa. Dejándote tan perdido como cuando empezaste.
See if you can figure out where you've heard this plot before: Early 30s manchild with no personality except cowardice and whiny disdain plus a dandruff problem living in a filthy apartment is an aspiring writer because "it's the thing to do." Mr. Underdeveloped has not one but TWO beautiful and mysterious women after him so of course he must sleep with both of them so that he can find himself. He writes a screenplay and doesn't understand why no one will give it a chance even though he gives lackluster pitches. He doesn't even have a job and gets money from his rich parents. If anything I've written there makes you excited to read this book, then it was written for you.
I get that the zombie movie is a metaphor for the character's static life, but this book could've been vastly improved with some real zombies. You know the book is going badly when you hope for flesh-eating monsters to come and put everyone out of their misery.
The moment that really lost me was when Ana is talking about living in a war torn country and how her daughter couldn't play outside because snipers would target children. Ana becomes impassioned discussing how she's happy in America because it's so much better than constantly being on the verge of death in Bosnia. And while this woman is discussing with passion matters of actual substance, the protagonist thinks to himself, and I quote, "He'd had no idea that such things could be inside women" (205). Absolutely wretched. And I haven't even gotten around to analyzing how smoking a joint is not a substitute for actual character development. This book was a waste of my time.
Aleksandar Hemon puts forth a script about escaping reality in his latest novel. Joshua Levin is middling along in life. He has a job as an ESL teacher, a steady girlfriend who lives down the block, and a plethora of ideas for his screenwriting class. Finally settling on an idea for a zombie film, Josh finds it easier to write about a fictional apocalypse than deal with his current situation. His tryst with the cute Bosnian girl from his ESL class has lead to the death of his actual girlfriend's cat, the utter pummeling of his psychotic ex-landlord, and the undying enmity of the girl's war-scarred husband. As Josh attempts to piece his shattered existence back together, he pens the tale of a world falling apart. Hemon offers a fun premise that ultimately fails to deliver. The idea of failed ideas is the life raft of Zombie Wars, as the draft ideas are far more entertaining then the mess of the main story. Characters are shoehorned in as necessary, as revelations of a father's cancer, a veteran's backstory, a girlfriend's secret life, and a brother-in-law's betrayal are sprinkled in willy-nilly. In truth, the metaphysical screenplay in The Making of Zombie Wars is far superior to the lifeless plot Hemon leaves behind.
There's an old AP prompt that reads: "A critic has said that one important measure of a superior work of literature is its ability to produce in the reader a healthy confusion of pleasure and disquietude."
Mark this one down as swimming in that "healthy confusion". This book, like it's protagonist, is a mess, but deliberately so. Joshua is an ineffectual turd who sows not only discord but destruction while still believing himself the hero of his own story, as one will. Truth be told, he's carpet-bombing the lives of everyone around him and offering no meaningful aid (beyond broken or soon-to-be broken promises). W's invasion of Iraq is the absurdist scrim against which the story is cast, and the explosion of horrific unintended consequences and collateral damage serves as Hemon's commentary. A good and perhaps fabulous book (I read this too fast to see all the pieces clicking together but not so fast as to not hear them clicking around me) that makes you feel awful about laughing and forces you to delight in how awful you feel.
Going in to this, I thought the main character's screenplay was going to actually be made into a film. Not so much. Joshua Levin does not have his shit that together. He attends weekly screenwriting workshops, run by another aspiring writer who hasn't actually had anything produced. He works as an ESL teacher, rents an apartment from a Desert Storm vet suffering from PTSD, and has somehow managed to score a girlfriend who does have her shit together. You know it won't last.
...Zombie Wars is in the same "dude lit" genre as This is Where I Leave You and I had the same uncomfortably amused reaction. There's less family in this one, but still plenty of sex, lots of hijinkery, and a fair amount of violence.
I didn't like the characters. I have no sympathy for the man-child, the grown man who lives in a filthy apartment, can barely hold down a part-time job, and needs to borrow money from his parents. The other characters are one-dimensional and just as unsympathetic, and their motivations are inexplicable. The novel is supposed to be funny and I understand that some people think it is, but I found it more bewildering than funny. However, the writing is engaging and Hemon uses interesting phrasing, so I would consider reading something else of his. Something not that's not supposed to be comedic.
This book was very well written, and I often enjoyed the quality of the prose. The structural premise of the book is inventive and well-executed. But...I did not feel like I was the audience for this book. Strangely, it felt like a book that was written for a male audience, and I just could not appreciate the substance of the book: its characterization, its themes, the struggles and issues that it raised.
I've read the book in two days on my favorite beach, got so much into it that I forgot about the sun burns. Hemon did it again. Wonderfuly written, stylish, funny, nostalgic, melancholic and so much traumas healing. Every his book I read I got more cured from that exile disease we are all suffering from. Fantastic!
More like 4.5, and maybe my favorite read of the past year--which is saying something, too, because I'd kinda sworn myself off Hemon. (Other stuff I've read by him didn't come anywhere near all the hype it had gotten. Not his fault, but just true.) I'll definitely be going back into his work after this one.