I have only perused the initial volume of this work, and I have no intention of delving into the second.

She has been criticized for being overly pro-Serb, and this is indeed the case. (The Serbs are portrayed as infallible, and when they do err, it is always for noble reasons. And if not for good reasons, it is because they are only human and make honest mistakes.) However, this is not the core issue with the book. She could just as easily have sided with the Croats, Bulgarians, Montenegrins, or Slovenes... It simply happened that the Serbs were the object of her admiration.

What makes this book such an unenjoyable read, despite her eloquence, intelligence, passion for politics, and remarkable understanding of Balkan history, is the all-encompassing prism of ethnic identities that distorts and molds her every thought and opinion. In her world, there are no individuals, only types, representatives of a particular ethnic nationality. Race is the yardstick she employs to explain every historical event, every political conflict, every victory, every defeat, and every cultural trait. And nation-races are pure and easily categorized into small but well-defined compartments.

This perspective was all too prevalent in the decades preceding World War II. But there's more. Despite her progressive liberal Anglo-Saxon credentials, she holds a disturbingly fascist view of culture and history. She divides the world into binary polarities and then assigns moral judgments to them (West bad, East (but not too far East) good; parliamentary politics bad, medieval autocracy good; cities bad, rural good; cosmopolitans bad, peasants good, and so on). The only difference between her and, for example, Leni Riefenstahl is the national object of her admiration, but the language and frames of reference are identical.

There is a current of reactionary mythopoetic mystical romantic idealism that underlies all her opinions, echoing the rhetoric of fascist sympathizers of the time. A random sample sentence from the book: "You will see that there is a Balkan genius so strong that its peoples can never perish, that they can take refuge from material death, and even intellectual or moral death in its spiritual life." Like many radical ideologues of the era, she conflates aesthetics, morals, and politics. In her considered opinion, the worst thing about the Austrians (the root of all Balkan evil, with no redeeming qualities whatsoever) was their incurable vulgarity. I suspect that if _Triumph of the Will_ had been made by a Serb, she would have loudly cheered it.

You could argue that she is a product of her time, which is undoubtedly true, or that it is unfair to judge her by today's standards, with the benefit of hindsight. I don't subscribe to that view. There were numerous intelligent people at the time, many of her own peers and countrymen, who recognized romantic nationalistic partisanship and mystical race theorizing for what they were and spoke out against them. But even if I were to give her the benefit of the doubt, I am a product of my own time, a more skeptical period with an instinctive distrust of grand historical narratives. And I see no compelling reason to set aside my prejudices for hers, especially considering the consequences.

All that being said, she is a remarkable writer. When she embarks on telling her historical fairy tales, few can match her. Her accounts of late 19th - early 20th century Balkan history are filled with dramatic characters and events, and I doubt that many people then or now had a better understanding of the details of Balkan politics during that period. The book is an excellent example of how someone can be so intelligent, so witty, so knowledgeable, and yet so wrong. It is an understandably overlooked classic - classic for many good reasons, and overlooked for even more.

This will take a while. I spent nearly 7 months reading Black Lamb and Grey Falcon once I finally started it.

It's truly worth it. Rebecca West may go on for pages about things that might not interest you all that much, like describing church architecture. However, this book is also filled with interesting stories, keen observations, and gems of writing. West can be one of the best prose stylists I've ever read. Perhaps she is the greatest female writer I can think of (although I do spend more time reading books by men).

A sampling of the best quotes will be collected here as room allows.

What makes the book absolutely fascinating is when it was written - in the late 1930s. Rebecca West is a woman of strong opinions. While she finds qualities to love in the Serbians above all and in the other peoples of Yugoslavia, she rails against the Habsburgs' empire (with the exception of kind words for Empress Sissy), the Ottomans, and the Germans that she meets in the Balkans, including Hitler and Mussolini.

Most passionately in the "Old Serbia" chapter 800 pages in, she visits Blackbird Field in Kosovo where the Turks defeated the Serbs in 1389. She decries the decision of the Serbian leader, according to a saga, to choose a kingdom of heaven rather than a kingdom on Earth, and accept the defeat and destruction of his people. She sees here a preference to be the sacrificial lamb rather than the one who kills the lamb, repeated over the centuries. This is seen in Franz Ferdinand's "eager" victimhood as he visits Sarajevo in 1914, in Britain and France's refusal to stand up to Hitler until it is too late, if at all, in her fellow progressives of Western Europe. This is her essential thesis, and it is pounded home in the conclusion which moves beyond her journeys to Yugoslavia in 1938 at the latest to describe the last 2 years of earth-shaking history including the conquests of Yugoslavia and France.

The book contains multitudes and much wisdom, despite its biases (one of the reasons I did not take this book to Turkey with me, other than its weight, is West's anti-Islam bent). This is enough review. I heartily recommend the book if you think you have the interest and time. It will reward you. But most of you will never read the whole thing, even if you read this. So here's a sampling of the best of it:

(to follow)

Hatred precedes love and bestows upon the hater peculiar and delectable pleasures, yet its manifestations are ephemeral. The head is severed from the body before the appointed time of natural death, and lies are told to thwart the other rogue's plan before it bears fruit. Sooner or later, society grows weary of拼凑 these evil fragments. Even if the rule of hatred endures for centuries, it holds no place in real time; it is a hiatus in reality. No matter how vast the material thefts or worldwide raids on mines and granaries, they cannot give substance to it.

Throughout my precarious adulthood, I often adopt and maintain numerous guises. Oh, I am a Southerner, I understand. I'm Irish. It is truly for us intellectuals to ponder. Well, you might know if you were a Manchester United fan like I am. And so it goes. These aren't fictions per se; they are simply fleeting glimpses of reality rather than essential components. This lackluster list could also include that I'm a Serb by marriage. I truly feel that I am, and I can relate and certainly empathize. The main reason I never read this book in the former Yugoslavia was that I feared I would be the bore, asking questions about West's observations, such as whether so-and-so spa was still in existence and could we go there, that sort of thing. When my wife and I were married 12 years ago, I knew about 200 words in Serbian. Now I likely know about 150. There isn't constant reinforcement for such in Indiana.

Life, however, is never as straightforward as that, and human beings are rarely so powerful.

Rebecca West journeyed to Yugoslavia with her husband in the spring of 1937. She had been there alone the previous year and returned to document the captivating land as the dark clouds of war loomed. There isn't a great deal of judgment about races or nations in these 1200 pages, which is refreshing. The couple arrives for a snowy Easter in Dubrovnik and travels to Zagreb and then Sarajevo. The account here of Gavrilo Princip and Franz Ferdinand is simply astonishing. Then it's on to Belgrade and then to Macedonia, Kosovo (where the fateful battle of 1389 is explored in glorious detail), and finally Montenegro. There are dozens of short sections detailing towns, vineyards, and monasteries. The conceptual ambivalence of Roman rule is considered. Did the viaducts and roads outweigh the hegemony? Did the survival of Millennialist cults betray the fate of present-day Bosnia? There is an exciting blend of poetry and philosophy in these historical digressions, such as how the aesthetic sparkle of the Byzantines was allowed to slumber under 400 years of Ottoman degradation. Along that road, was the Turkish empire really so empty?

The narrative is driven by the contrast of their friend Constantine, a poet and Yugoslav official. He's a Serbian Jew married to Gerda, an ethnic German with a loathing of Slavs, the recriminations of Versailles, and, well, apparently Rebecca West. This tension keeps the discussions and observations personal, but the reader soon tires of Gerda's shrillness. I have been on bad road trips. I would've cut and run. I finished the book earlier today and I'm still afraid to check online for the fate of Constantine.

Where do I even begin to review this remarkable book? It is, without a doubt, one of the best I've ever had the pleasure of reading, yet it is also one of the most challenging. The story follows West's two-month journey through then Yugoslavia in 1937. It's not just a travel guide; it's so much more. First published in installments with the entire novel's first printing in 1941, West, a respected English writer, was captivated by the Balkans during a previous visit. She aimed to correct the misconceptions about the country held by other writers. The book is filled with a wealth of history, art, and cultural references - and that's truly an understatement. I had to keep my phone close by to look up various terms, places, and people. Clearly, it was intended for someone with a much deeper understanding of Balkan, as well as Western, Central, and East European history than I possess. And let's not forget Russia and the Ottoman and Byzantium Empires. I learned so much about how outside powers' interference affected the Balkan states, now the countries of Croatia, Serbia, Bosnia-Herzogovina, Macedonia, Montenegro, and neighboring Albania, Greece, and Bulgaria. I also gained insights into the impact of the Austro-Hungarian Empire on these countries and its significance for the two World Wars. Likely, West intended this book as a warning about Hitler and the Nazis, even during the travel portion in the late 1930s. The epilogue makes this much clearer as England was deeply embroiled in the war with few allies at that point. There are other reviewers who have delved into this aspect more than I will. I could go on and on about the complex mix in the Balkans, including Serbs, Croats, Slovenes, and the current and historical presence of three religions. But what's important now, in 2022, is how this book helps us understand what's happening in the world, especially with democracies that aren't as strong as they once were. If West were around today, what would she say about Ukraine? Her writings about nationalism are incredibly relevant for our times. I came across this book through a quote in Sara Novic's novel, Girl at War. Little did I know what a challenge it would pose. Those who read this book, published over 80 years ago, must have found it in a similar way to how I did. I'm guessing few people read it upon someone's recommendation. Just look at how long it took me!

Yugoslavia has held a very special place in my heart for many years. It is an intense and magical place on my doorstep, yet still largely undiscovered, at least by me. It is a place of big emotions, huge pain, and special people.

It took me more than 2 years to finish this huge volume, but it was truly worth it. If you read the book's review in the Guardian, it will definitely excite you. However, there is so much more to it than its vast vision, the huge volume of topics covered, and the knowledge gained.

Black Lamb and Grey Falcon will take you back in time to the 1940s when it was written. You'll learn why your grandma talks the way she does. You'll travel with old-timey gentlemen and meet educated people from a time when being educated meant knowing multiple languages, not just being an expert in one field.

You'll experience many chilling premonitions. Hitler is already in power and known to be a bad influence, but at the time of writing and the author's travels, he is mostly causing some worrying dark clouds to gather on the horizon. Similarly, violent nationalism is shown in places, as different people semi-jokingly spill hatred on each other over fifty years before all that happened in the 1990s.

It sometimes feels similar to watching the 1992 Czech Oscar-movie Public School, set just after the war but before the infamous 1948 election when the communists won and took power. As a viewer, you know exactly what's coming but are powerless to do anything as you watch the characters discuss the merit of this or that outcome.

Black Lamb and Grey Falcon is a special experience, in a country you don't usually visit, from a time you don't usually experience. Savour it like a good whisky.

Whew! This is an exhaustive - and at times exhausting - guide to numerous places in the then Yugoslavia, a region that many of us could never hope to visit. It also provides a comprehensive history, stretching from ancient times - Illyria, anyone? - to just before World War II. The great powers, from the Roman Empire to Turkey, Venice, the Hapsburgs and more, have left their marks (and I truly mean "stamped") on the various countries, usually in careless and destructive ways.

There is no doubt that West was a brilliant writer and a true intellectual. I had thought I was one of the latter as well, but her discussions with others in the book and, more frequently, with herself at times, both dazzled and intrigued me. However, they also bored me silly and often went way over my head. The Kindle version claims to be 1071 pages, but then it stays on that "last" page for about 50 more. So, think twice before you embark on this reading journey. While reading, there were times when I skimmed through some parts, and there were times when I wanted to give up. Nevertheless, I'm very glad I persevered. I was able to fast-forward to the debacle in the 1990s, which continues to a lesser extent up to today, and gain more than enough information to discover and perhaps understand a little about this complex area. She calls it "a faraway country of which we know nothing." By the end of the book, I knew much more than nothing, but I would be hard-pressed to say that I fully comprehend it or could explain much of what I had just learned.

Her Epilogue, according to my Kindle version, takes 2 hours and 55 minutes to read. It brings the reader up to date from her six weeks there in spring and early summer 1937 to the publication date in 1941. Of course, the war, which was threatening during her journey and occurred only a few years later, was in progress, and Yugoslavia was pretty much destroyed.

I recommend this book, but not for the faint of heart or those with a short attention span.

Good rich book.

I *love* her insights, when I can understand them. The sentences are long, sort of in the Jamesian style. Is it just me? Isn't there a simpler way for her to express herself? Maybe she is such a great intellect that I'm not quite up to par. Am I inadequate? But I know I have a great brain. I will read and reread sentences, and sometimes I just have to give up and move on. I find that many times, this is the only way to keep going in this book. (Are there really people who can simply read this book straight through?! She follows the track in her own mind so closely that it is such an effort to grasp what she is saying with her extremely long and convoluted sentences.)

And then there's the history. That might just be the thing that makes me stop. There are pages and chunks of pages dedicated to history. I'm on page 544, almost halfway through this HUGE book, and when I skimmed ahead, I saw there are 60 more pages of Belgrade history in front of me. (And I still haven't fully pieced together all the rest of the history I've combed through. Are they really that disparate?!)

After taking on this challenge, I might just decide to move on to something else.

I came on here to get some inspiration, and there is a little bit, but if I continue, the next three days will feel like a school assignment of simply sticking to it. And I don't really need to remember all the facts and figures about Alexander and Draga. I'm not sure what kind of insight dredging through all that history will actually give me.

Destiny can be regarded as another term for humanity's somewhat half-hearted but still persistent pursuit of death. Time and time again, people have been given the opportunity to live and demonstrate what would occur if human life were nourished by continuous happiness. However, they have chosen to blow up the canals and perish from drought. They listen to the malevolent advice of the grey falcon. They allow their throats to be cut as if they were black lambs. The mystery of Kosovo lies behind this hill. It lies behind all our lives.

Rebecca West's work is an enormous and captivating piece of art, history, and memoir. In the late 1930s, on the verge of World War II, she travels to the former Yugoslavia with her husband and creates this huge and magnificent book about their travels and observations. West, who is both brilliant and endlessly entertaining and quick-witted, perceives the clouds gathering over Europe from the perspective of the Balkans and produces this remarkable record of that crucial historical moment. Their travels are accompanied by Constantine, a Slavic Jew who is a fascinating character in his own right. Unfortunately, they are often joined by his appallingly horrible German wife, Gerda, who is an outspoken Nazi sympathizer. West, however, is up for any adventure, even with such a diverse range of characters and cultures. Her writing style is breathtakingly beautiful and can engage even the most laid-back armchair historian. She is also wickedly funny and eloquently sarcastic. Like most people of her era, she can be prone to racial stereotypes and overgeneralizations, but overall, she leans towards fairness and humanity more often than not. I will enthusiastically praise this massive, unexpected treasure to anyone who is willing to listen. It was well worth every minute spent reading its densely packed pages.

Holy Mother of God. What a woman. Not since Margeuerite Yourcenar have I felt so humbled and awed by a woman author. Her breadth and scope of panoramic vision is magnificent. This is in direct contrast to VS Naipul’s spurious attack on female authors as being incapable of breadth and scope.

If Naipul were to be given a (small) point indirectly, it would be that West has paid a price for her erudition. She was a poor mother to her only son, and he estranged from her quite early on. The divide freed her up to gallivant across the world and travel-blog her way through the Balkans and then South America. Yourcenar of course had no progeny. Well. I guess you can’t have it all after all.

So. This is a colossal, 1400 page pontification on Yugoslavia and the Balkan states as they were in 1937. Where she went with her husband on a jolly, erm, for cultural reasons.

Now. There is nothing, I put it, in that plethora of pages which retains a kernel of relevance today. It's a snapshot of a time gone by and erased by the passage of moments. It is of interest only to niche specialists or historical buffs with little current application. Still, horses for courses: some will enjoy the kaleidoscope of lost fringe civilisations.

As a voracious, insatiable, mad traveller myself, my interest is a bit of a sideline. (well, not entirely but that's a different story). I want to benchmark myself against this woman, and doublecheck my approach not so much to the constitutive equations of assimilating foreign cultures but rather the governing equations. Because, that's where the rub really truly lies.

Preconceptions: we all have them. Even when we say we don't. Rebecca West is comfortable dis-aggrandizing Christianity in general, in keeping, but fails the de Bono pattern sequencing of transferability. Whereas Christianity may be a ‘failed’ religiosity it seems to be a paramount value driven zeitgeist. So: primitive as all Balkanites may be, a hierarchy of barbarians ensues: gypsies and turks are marginalised for no other reason than being heathen (I am paraphrasing). Conrad’s Heart of Darkness pertains. Is this still a viable waltenshuung? Intellectually I rise to a protest. Emotionally, if I am true, then recently when I was in Egypt and Jordan at the forefront of some troubles, the fact that my driver was a Christian (whether true or not, who knows), gave me irrational comfort. Mea Culpa.

More preconceptions and Aristotle: everything is relative, right? It's bestest to imbibe the incomparable. If there are no points of reference, then let magic weave its wendy way. But should a misbegotten Yugoslavian aspire to western dress or thought, thus breaking rank, then he falls immediately (although quite subtly) into a category of crass and vulgar. How dare the peasant! Harrumph. These people are best in their oriental and primordeal qualia. Let's all take our places, please, and.....stay there!

What preconceptions am I guilty of as I criss cross the globe? And how can I know what I don't know? (Socrates).

It is almost impossible to do justice to this book in just a review,

because it is difficult to get an idea of the book without reading it.

It is at least much more than a travelogue. I read "Metaphysical Lonely Planet" as a description.

Somewhere else I read that "Black Lamb and Grey Falcon takes up two subjects: the first is Yugoslavia, and the second is everything else."

With a Mulisch-like erudition, a journey through Yugoslavia in the late thirties is described.

The erudition is used to interpret and place the places and events during the journey in the history, national character, and spirituality of the South Slavic peoples.

In this interpretation, Rebecca West attaches great importance to the centuries-long struggle that these peoples, and especially the Serbs, have waged against the Ottomans.

In the last part of the book, this struggle is directly linked to the struggle against the Axis powers that was then in full swing.

"The difference between Kosovo in 1389 and England in 1939 lay in time and place and not in the events experienced... Defeat, moreover, must mean to England the same squalor that it had meant to Serbia."

The underlying thesis here is the idea of the title of the book: "Black Lamb and Grey Falcon".

The black lamb symbolizes a drive towards useless sacrifice and the grey falcon a drive towards useless heroism.

West argues that this choice can be found throughout history and is most prominent in the Balkans.

Does it then go on for 1200 pages about this? No.

Besides the philosophical reflection, you also read a very interesting travelogue that provided me with inspiration and background during my own tour of the Balkans.

If I have anything to note, it is the glorification of the Slavic peoples and the Serbs in particular, and the enormous scope and density of the work.

The latter sometimes made it a bit of a struggle to get through.

For this effort, however, you get more than enough reward and intellectual stimulation in return.

Therefore, I can only give five stars.

This mighty tome of a book is a remarkable blend of a travel narrative and an in-depth history of the countries that once constituted Yugoslavia. With great enthusiasm, it delves into the events leading up to the Second World War. Published in 1941, it stands as her masterwork and remains a crucial source for studying the Balkans.

West first visited the Balkans in 1936 for speaking engagements and was so impressed that she convinced her husband, banker Henry Maxwell Andrews, to accompany her on a return trip in 1937. Their several-week journey took them through Croatia, Dalmatia, Herzegovina, Bosnia, Serbia, Macedonia, and Montenegro, often in the company of poet and government official Constantine.

Constantine, a Serb of Jewish heritage and a member of the Russian Orthodox church, believed in the unity of the Balkans as Yugoslavia to counter Italy and Bulgaria. He introduced them to Valetta, a Croat who insisted on Croatia's autonomy within a Balkan federation, and Marko, a Croat journalist who favored a unified Yugoslavia. From the start, West and her husband experienced the political complexities of the region.

West's detailed account of the Balkans' history is one of the book's strengths. As they entered each country, she described the various invasions, occupations, and dominating forces that had shaped it. In Croatia, she began with Heraclitus and his supposed invitation to the Croats. The common thread was that every rising power had tried to dominate the area.

The impact of this tumultuous history was evident in West's conversations with the locals. Many wished they had been left alone to live their traditional lives, as the benefits of change had not trickled down to them. Despite language barriers, West had thoughtful conversations and could distinguish between political correctness and reality.

This book is not only a historical resource but also an excellent travel guide. West's party visited every site of interest, often with great physical effort. Her descriptions of the landscape were detailed and lyrical, making readers eager to visit. She also brought the people and settlements to life with her three-dimensional portraits.

The book is massive, but if you plan to spend time in the Balkans, it is well worth reading. The history can be overwhelming, but the descriptions of the people and landscape make it a rewarding read.

Absolutely awful reading.

It's not simply because it's a 1200-page book. In fact, I quite like long books. I expect a book to bring me joy and entertainment, so I don't want it to end too soon. I don't desire a short read.

Nor is it because Rebecca writes like a Serbian ambassador. Although I don't share her viewpoints, I think I could handle that aspect.

The real problem lies in her prose, which is dreadfully boring. I managed to struggle through 120 pages, and one after another, it was just boring, boring, boring. She seems to have no idea how to tell a story coherently. Instead, she randomly writes about this and that, whatever pops into her mind. But writing isn't just about putting down whatever comes to mind.

If this book were written today, it would be considered a piece of universal garbage. Nobody would bother to buy it, and before that, no publisher would be willing to take it on. It's truly a disappointment.