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This is an accusation, a slander, a personal insult. This is not a book, in the ordinary sense of the word. No, this is a continuous insult, a spit in the face of Art, a kick in the ass to God, Man, Fate, Time, Love, Beauty...whatever you want.
Lana Derkač's prose is one of those rare exceptions that does not agree to race on readership charts and adapt to the laws of market logic, exceptions in which subtlety and reflection take precedence over fabularization and flirting with readers.
A story from a Zagreb neighborhood patiently, concentratedly, and intelligently unfolds before the reader's eyes.
People always think they know who the sponsor is: a calculating, not-so-bad-looking woman who married for money.
This work of great momentum and ambition follows numerous striking characters from Afghanistan to Paris and from San Francisco to the Greek island of Tinos, and tells their touching and irresistible stories.