From one of Bosnia's most prominent poets and writers: spare and haunting stories and poems that were written under the horrific circumstances of the recent war in Bosnia-Hercegovina. Semezdin Mehmedinovic remained a citizen of Sarajevo throughout the Serbian nationalists' siege and was active throughout the war in the city's resistance movement, as one of the editors of the magazine "Phantom of Liberty." "Sarajevo Blues" was originally published at the end of 1992 and was the first book in the Biblioteka "egzil-abc" series, published in Ljubljana, which provided a forum for Bosnian writers and translators under siege or living in exile.

HERKUNFT ist ein Buch über den ersten Zufall unserer Biografie: irgendwo geboren werden. Und was danach kommt.
HERKUNFT ist ein Buch über meine Heimaten, in der Erinnerung und der Erfindung. Ein Buch über Sprache, Schwarzarbeit, die Stafette der Jugend und viele Sommer. Den Sommer, als mein Großvater meiner Großmutter beim Tanzen derart auf den Fuß trat, dass ich beinahe nie geboren worden wäre. Den Sommer, als ich fast ertrank. Den Sommer, in dem Angela Merkel die Grenzen öffnen ließ und der dem Sommer ähnlich war, als ich über viele Grenzen nach Deutschland floh.
HERKUNFT ist ein Abschied von meiner dementen Großmutter. Während ich Erinnerungen sammle, verliert sie ihre. HERKUNFT ist traurig, weil Herkunft für mich zu tun hat mit dem, das nicht mehr zu haben ist.
In HERKUNFT sprechen die Toten und die Schlangen, und meine Großtante Zagorka macht sich in die Sowjetunion auf, um Kosmonautin zu werden.
Diese sind auch HERKUNFT: ein Flößer, ein Bremser, eine Marxismus-Professorin, die Marx vergessen hat. Ein bosnischer Polizist, der gern bestochen werden möchte. Ein Wehrmachtssoldat, der Milch mag. Eine Grundschule für drei Schüler. Ein Nationalismus. Ein Yugo. Ein Tito. Ein Eichendorff. Ein Saša Stanišić.

Part travelogue, part history, part love letter on a thousand-page scale, Rebecca West's Black Lamb and Grey Falcon is a genre-bending masterwork written in elegant prose. But what makes it so unlikely to be confused with any other book of history, politics, or culture--with, in fact, any other book--is its unashamed depth of feeling: think The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire crossed with Let Us Now Praise Famous Men. West visited Yugoslavia for the first time in 1936. What she saw there affected her so much that she had to return--partly, she writes, because it most resembled "the country I have always seen between sleeping and waking," and partly because "it was like picking up a strand of wool that would lead me out of a labyrinth in which, to my surprise, I had found myself immured." Black Lamb is the chronicle of her travels, but above all it is West following that strand of wool: through countless historical digressions; through winding narratives of battles, slavery, and assassinations; through Shakespeare and Augustine and into the very heart of human frailty.
West wrote on the brink of World War II, when she was "already convinced of the inevitability of the second Anglo-German war." The resulting book is colored by that impending conflict, and by West's search for universals amid the complex particulars of Balkan history. In the end, she saw the region's doom--and our own--in a double infatuation with sacrifice, the "black lamb and grey falcon" of her title. It's the story of Abraham and Isaac without the last-minute reprieve: those who hate are all too ready to martyr the innocent in order to procure their own advantage, and the innocent themselves are all too eager to be martyred. To West, in 1941, "the whole world is a vast Kossovo, an abominable blood-logged plain." Unfortunately, little has happened since then to prove her wrong. --Mary Park
A masterpiece . . . as astonishing in its range, in the subtlety and power of its judgment, as it is brilliant in expression. -- The Times, London
Rebecca West’s magnum opus . . . one of the great books of our time. -- Clifton Fadiman, The New Yorker
Surely one of the great books of our century. -- Diana Trilling

From the assassination that triggered World War I to the ethnic warfare now sweeping Serbia, Bosnia, and Croatia, the Balkans have been the crucible of the twentieth century, the place where terrorism and genocide first became tools of policy.
This enthralling and often chilling political travelogue fully deciphers the Balkans' ancient passions and intractable hatreds for outsiders. For as Kaplan travels among the vibrantly-adorned churches and soul-destroying slums of the former Yugoslavia, Albania, Romania, Bulgaria, and Greece, he allows us to see the region's history as a time warp in which Slobodan Milosevic becomes the reincarnation of a fourteenth-century Serbian martyr; Nicolae Ceaucescu is called "Drac," or "the Devil"; and the one-time Soviet Union turns out to be a continuation of the Ottoman Empire.