David Albahari, Dies Aged 75

Hello Gentle Reader,
 
It seems odd to think that Calgary, Alberta, Canada would be the home of any writer. The city is renowned for only a handful of characteristics, which the city often revels in with a sense of pride. One of them is its unapologetic cowboy-cum-redneck culture, complete with the Stampede Rodeo, the greatest outdoor show on earth(!). The other a staunch investment in oil & gas companies, which fuel Alberta's economy—literally. Calgary is a city renowned for its high rolling booms and its crippling busts. Throughout it all the city never apologies, though it often finds itself the butt of Canada's jokes, being the redneck centre of the country, loud as it is brash. Calgary is not necessarily renowned for its vibrant literary culture or support for the written word. Yet, from 1994 until 2012 the Serbian writer, David Albahari called Calgary home, where he continued to write (in Serbian) and publish, but also translate English language writers into Serbian. Albahari left the then Yugoslavia for Canada in 1994 as the country began to tear itself apart in an ethnic war. The Yugoslav Wars remains a contentious subject in Eastern Europe, where lives, families, and cities were destroyed in the wars unrelenting hatred. War crimes were rampant and justice has been meagrely distributed in the region. Ethnic tensions remain. During his time in exile, David Albahari wrote three novels "Snow Man," "Bait," and "Darkness," which became known as the "Canadian Circle Novels," these novels traced how place and history impacted an individual's identity and their relationship with the world. In "Snow Man," Albahari ruminates on the difference between the state of refugee and those who've entered exile. Refugee's find community in their transience and displacement. Exiled individuals have no community and are often alienated further in their displacement. Despite having a position at a university, the exiled writer and main character of "Snow Man," is faced with the overwhelming task of starting life over; the conceited self-assured opinions and puffery of academia; students who are indoctrinated and careless of the world outside of their purview. The sheer overpowering reality threatens to consume and destroy him. The saviour? Orange juice. Simple as it is, the juice provided relief and the necessary material to preserve, but also calm his anxieties, as the exiled-writer is reminded of his homeland and the care of it takes to cultivate oranges. The novel is written in one long paragraph and is rather postmodern in its continued looping effects, creating a hypnotic and breathless work. "Tsing," is one David Albahari's more devasting novels. A multilayered meditation on one's father, "Tsing," was written after Albahari's father died, and in postmodern fashion, David Albahari seeks to move through the process via writing. What follows is an accumulation of a text that is elegant as it is raw in emotion; elliptical as it is startling, David Albahari wrote that digressive narratives can be compact and engaging. "Leeches," is a sardonic, brutal, and once again marvelous novel. Once again readers should be prepared for a postmodern breathless paragraph, as the narrator a single man, columnist for a Belgrade newspaper, and avid pot smoker and casual philosopher, finds himself thrust into the world of conspiracy theories, secret societies, and the underground where reality is always off kilter. "Leeches," was praised for being a postmodern and cerebral adventure, from one of Eastern Europe's finest. David Albahari was one of Europe's finest writers, a first-class postmodernist who could grapple with the fragmented cerebral strangeness of reality, but also testified on the difficulties of exile, the desolate and alienation of homesickness, and what a loss of home—that special landscape—does to one's identity, and their memories. A truly remarkable writer.
 
Rest in Peace, David Albahari.
 
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
 
M. Mary