Deși are o mulțime de personaje și o acțiune care se întinde timp de trei secole jumătate, romanul are un singur protagonist: podul. Acest pod le-a văzut pe toate: iubiri și dușmănii, sărbători și tragedii, lupte și împăcări, dezastre și progres, retrasări de granițe, venirea, plecarea și moarte unor imperii. Peste el trec oameni de toate religiile, armate ale diferitelor puteri, în ambele direcții. În toate, el a rămas nemișcat, un martor tăcut, care nu judecă și nu se implică. Distrugerea lui în 1914 este de fapt distrugerea felului în care a curs istoria până atunci. Acest lucru trebuie să aducă schimbări majore și timpuri mult mai tumultoase decât a văzut podul și orașul până atunci.

Timpul trece, aproape mereu încet, așa cum o face și râul, iar autorul observă neimplicat viața orașului și a comunității, tot așa de detașat cum o face și podul. Spre deosebire de pod, însă, Andrić nu tace și comentează felul în care evoluează istoria și se schimbă natura oamenilor. Având în vedere că se uită la 350 de ani de istorie, are cum să observe marile și micile schimbări.

Un roman istoric atipic și foarte interesant.

History builds its monuments on the human blood… History is a cruel architect…

The common people remember and tell of what they are able to grasp and what they are able to transform into legend. Anything else passes them by without deeper trace, with the dumb indifference of nameless natural phenomena, which do not touch the imagination or remain in the memory. This hard and long building process was for them a foreign task undertaken at another's expense. Only when, as the fruit of this effort, the great bridge arose, men began to remember details and to embroider the creation of a real, skilfully built and lasting bridge with fabulous tales which they well knew how to weave and to remember.

The bridge is built and it becomes a witness of history… And it becomes an inanimate partaker in all the events around it… And it mutely participates in lives of those who surround it…

Two buttresses had been built on each side of the central pier which had been splayed out towards the top, so that to right and left of the roadway there were two terraces daringly and harmoniously projecting outwards from the straight line of the bridge over the noisy green waters far below. The two terraces were about five paces long and the same in width and were bordered, as was the whole length of the bridge, by a stone parapet. Otherwise, they were open and uncovered. That on the right as one came from the town was called the sofa. It was raised by two steps and bordered by benches for which the parapet served as a back; steps, benches and parapet were all made of the same shining stone. That on the left, opposite the sola, was similar but without benches. In the middle of the parapet, the stone rose higher than a man and in it, near the top, was inserted a plaque of white marble with a rich Turkish inscription, a tarih, with a carved chronogram which told in thirteen verses the name of the man who built the bridge and the year in which it was built. Near the foot of this stone was a fountain, a thin stream of water flowing from the mouth of a stone snake. On this part of the terrace a coffee-maker had installed himself with his copper vessels and Turkish cups and ever-lighted charcoal brazier, and an apprentice who took the coffee over the way to the guests on the sofa. Such was the kapia.
On the bridge and its kapia, about it or in connection with it, flowed and developed, as we shall see, the life of the townsmen. In all tales about personal, family or public events the words ‘on the bridge’ could always be heard. Indeed on the bridge over the Drina were the first steps of childhood and the first games of boyhood.

Time flies, centuries pass by… Empires rise and empires fall… Times of peace and times of war… Times of tranquility and times of tumult… And man must adjust to any changes or perish…

…it would have been hard to find two worse negotiators or more unsuited contestants. Nothing more could have been expected of them than increasing general anxiety and the creation of one quarrel the more. That was to be regretted, but there was nothing to be done about it, for such moments of social upset and great inevitable change usually throw up just such men, unbalanced and incomplete, to turn things inside out or lead them astray. That is one of the signs of times of disorder.

People are born and people die but their grandiose creations remain standing as the silent sentries of history.

Quando scrisse questo libro, a metà strada tra romanzo e analisi storica, Andrić non poteva sapere quali drammatici eventi la Bosnia avrebbe vissuto. Eppure in queste pagine, se ne intravedono i prodromi. Sul ponte ci si chiede cosa vuol dire essere turco, musulmano, ebreo, serbo. Ci si chiede cos'è l'Europa, da dove nasce, dove va . Un ponte che sembra dividere, dunque, eppure in quasi quattro secoli di storia ci sono stati anche momenti sereni, di unione, dove piccole storie si incrociavano con grandi eventi che il ponte univa. Una metafora emblematica, questo ponte, e non a caso il racconto si interrompe nel 1914, prima che infuri una nuova (e non ultima, ahimé) catastrofe che sconvolge il mondo e la storia come la si conosceva.

"ما من بناء إلا وله غرض، ما من بناء منفصل عن البيئة التى شيّد فيها، منفصل عن حاجاتها ورغباتها وأفكارها، ما من خط من الخطوط ولا شكل من الأشكال إلا وله في العمارة هدف، ولكن أصل كل بناء عظيم وجميل ومفيد، وعلاقة كل بناء من هذا النوع بالناس الذين شيّد بينهم، كل ذلك يحمل في كثير من الأحيان دراسات وقصصًا معقدة غريبة."

تُعد رواية "جسر على نهر درينا" لـ "إيفو أندريتش": نسيجًا فريدًا من خيوط تتداخل فيها الأحدث التاريخية -لبناء الجسر- والأحداث السياسية مع خيوط الخيال الأدبي؛ بطلها الرئيس هو -الجسر- وما ماءه المصطخب إلا سكان بلدة "فيشغراد"، ليترك للقارئ مساحة للتفكير والتأمل ليتساءل: من أين تبدأ حدود الخيال من الحقيقة؟
على مادار أربعة قرون، منذ أن شيّد الجسر بأمر من الوزير العثماني الأعظم "محمد باشا سوكولوفيتش"-وهو أحد الأولاد المسيحيين الذين أخذتهم الإمبراطورية العثمانية إيبان حكم دول البلقان؛ گ(ضريبة دم)-

كانت الأجيال تتعاقب قرب الجسر فتمحو عنه آثار الغبار التي خلفتها له النزوات العابرة، وما يطرأ على الناس من علاقات وحاجات طارئة، وتبدلات ومصاعب أليمة، وما يدور من نقاشات بين الأصدقاء عن الحرية والعدالة والقومية الاشتراكية، وما عُلق على أعمدته من منشورات عثمانية تارة، وأخرى نمساوية مجرية: لتعلن سلطانها على البلاد. وما تعاقب عليه من ثورات واحتجاجات صربية، وبقايا آثار أوتاد العثمانيين التي كانوا يعلقون عليها رؤوس المتمردين المشتبه بهم، وصراع النمسا وحربها مع الصرب، وصولًا لآثار مدافع الحرب العالمية الأولى وتلك الفجوة التي خلفتها في منتصف الجسر، وعلى الرغم من كل ذلك، يبقى الجسر على حاله شامخًا ما تبدل ولا يمكن أن يتبدل. فذلك كله يمر من فوقه كما تمر الأمواج الصاخبة من تحت قناطره الملساء الرائعة.

وما هذه الديمومة للجسر إلا فلسفة تنطوي على شرط التضامن والتعايش والتسامح بين أبناء المنطقة -من: مسلمين ومسيحيين ويهود- المتمثل بمد جسور التسامح والتألف. ﻓ"ثمة شيء محقق على كل حال، هو أن بين هذا الجسر وبين حياة أهل هذه المدينة رابطة حميمية عمرها قرون. إن مصير الجسر ومصير المدينة قد بلغا من التداخل أن المرء لا يستطيع أن يتخيلهما وأن يرويهما منفصلين. لذلك فإن من يحكي قصة أصل هذا الجسر وقصة مصيره، يحكي في الوقت نفسه قصة حياة المدينة وسكانها من جيل إلي جيل."

ومع مضي الزمن وتعاقب الأجيال وتغير طباع الناس، تتبدل حياة الماضي، البدائية البسيطة، بالحداثة وحياة البنوك والأموال، من حياة الرجعية إلى الانفتاح على العالم وتبني أفكارًا جديدة، وغيرها المتغيرات. وتتحول أحداث الماضي إلى حكايات وأساطير وقصص ماضي إندثر! ولم تكن الحروب والهجرات التي ما تنفك غدوًا ورواحًا عبر ضفتي النهر فقط ما تعاقب على الجسر، بل كان بناءً مشبعًا بالقصص الإنسانية. فمع تعاقب الأجيال -بدءًا من العهد العثماني حيث تم بناء الجسر، مرورًا بالاحتلال النمساوي للبلقان، وانتهاءً عند بدايات الحرب العالمية الأولى- شهد الكثير من قصص الحب، والمآسي والمجازر البشرية، وقصص أخرى بين لقاء وفراق، أُناس عابرون؛ مسرعون ومتمهلون، يتأملون آثار خطوات الأعور -الذي أسكره العشق، حتى ذهب بعقله- على حافة الجسر، ومن وهبوا أنفسهم لماء درينا المصطخب هربنا من زواج لا يرغبون فيه، والفلاح المتمرد الذي اُعدم على الخازوق لتعمده تخريب الجسر، ولوتيكا الحسناء المتعبة، التي لم تفقد همتها وشجاعتها، رغم ما تعانيه من تحمل هم عائلتها وإدارة الفندق، وعلي خجا صاحب الرأس المتحجر والنظرة التشاؤمية، الذي يرى بأن القادم ما هو إلا الأسوأ! وغيرها من القصص المأساوية.

استطاع الكاتب ببراعة شديدة في الوصف والتصوير، نقل صورة بانورامية لأحداث تاريخية امتّدت لقرون عبر أحداث أشبه بالمتوالية القصصية لأبطال كثر، يجمعها مكان واحد هو الجسر الذي على نهر درينا. يمتلك "إيفو" قدرة هائلة على الإيجاز في السرد والوصف والولوج داخل نفوس أبطاله وسبر أغوارهم، بالإضافة لبراعته الكبيرة في الانتقال بين لحظات الأمل واليأس، والآلام والانكسارات والانتصارات والأفراح الصغيرة! وبالرغم من جمال الرواية وروعتها، لا تخلو من بعض التحيزات الذاتية التي قد تجانب الموضوعية أحيانًا! الرواية رائعة جدًا وترجمة الدروبي كالعادة غاية في الجمال.

وأختم بقول الدروبي: "والكتاب, بعد , يتنفس أنسامًا حزينة أسيانة, ويترقرق فيه تعبير من الوجود والحياة قد لا يكون هو موقف التشاؤم التقليدي, لكنه على كل حال موقف من لا يستطيع إلا أن يحس بأن في الحياة والوجود(شرًا في ذاته),شراً لا يعلل ولا يفهم لا يبرر. ولعل حياة الجسر نفسه, وهو الشخصية الرئيسية في هذا الكتاب, تكون رمزاً لهذه النظرة الأسيانة. إن المؤلف يضحك ويضحك, لكنك تسمع في قرقعة ضحكه آهات توجع." #تمت

لا أدرى لماذا ربطت بمجرد بداية قرائتى لرواية إيفو إندريتش ربطتها برواية دروز بلغراد ربما نفس معاناة الناس من الذل والتسخير والاستعباد وفرض ضريبة الدم حتى لو فى سبيل بناء إمبراطورية عظيمة تمتد حدودها من الشمال إلى الجنوب ومن الشرق إلى الغرب وهى الإمبراطورية العثمانية
الرواية فى مجملها رواية رائعة ولكن هناك فقرات كاملة ومن الممكن القول صفحات كاملة زائدة عن الحاجة ولاتمثل إضافة للرواية ولكن المترجم سامى الدروبى الرائع هو من أضاف لهذه الصفحات والفقرات وربما للرواية بأكملها ثقل لغوى ومفردات رائعة ونسق ونظم لغوى لم أره فى الكثير من الروايات ربما لكتّاب كبار.

Ponte sobre o rio Drina - Visegrad - Bósnia e Herzegovina

O romance histórico “A Ponte Sobre o Drina”, publicado em 1945, foi a minha estreia literária com o escritor Ivo Andric (1892-1975), nascido na antiga Jugoslávia, e Prémio Nobel da Literatura em 1961.
Estamos no século XVI na pequena cidade de Visegrad, na fronteira entre a Sérvia e a Bósnia nas margens do rio Drina.
A construção da ponte sobre o Drina é um pretexto para revelar a história ou as histórias que se estendem por cerca de quatro séculos, do império Otomano ao império Austro-Húngaro, da Guerra das Balcãs até à Primeira Guerra Mundial.
Mas mais relevante que os conflitos armados assentes em questões geográficas, económicas e políticas, Ivo Andric, descreve-nos a vivência de homens, mulheres e crianças, enquadrados por fundamentos religiosos – muçulmanos e cristãos – que condicionam comportamentos sociais e emocionais.
Alguns desses comportamentos revelam actos monstruosos inimagináveis, em que pessoas “normais” revelam atitudes atrozes, numa luta pela sobrevivência e pela hegemonia social e política.
“A Ponte Sobre o Drina” apresenta-nos homens, mulheres e crianças que resistem ao sofrimento e à arbitrariedade mantendo sempre a dignidade, apesar dos nacionalismos exacerbados e das transformações políticas.
A história ou as histórias narradas por Ivo Andric mantém uma actualidade intemporal e revelam a mestria e a qualidade da sua escrita e da temática relatada.
Porquê quatro estrelas em vez de cinco estrelas? Achei excessivo a quantidade de “episódios/histórias” paralelas sobre algumas personagens, que dispersaram a minha atenção e a minha concentração, na construção da narrativa.
Fiquei "cliente" de Ivo Andric a dúvida é escolher o que ler a seguir: "O Pátio Maldito", "A Crónica de Travnik" ou "A Velha Menina"?


Ponte sobre o rio Drina - Visegrad - Bósnia e Herzegovina - na actualidade



Ivo Andric (1892-1975)

I was really looking forward to reading this book but upon actually reading it I was disappointed and -I have to admit- started to skip whole paragraphs towards the end. From the reviews I had read I expected a sweeping epic of Bosnia and the Balkans, but that’s not really what the book is.

The beginning, when the construction of the Mehmed Paša Sokolović bridge in Višegrad is narrated, is very interesting and vivid, not to say lurid in places. Mehmed Paša was actually a Serbian (Christian) Bosniak, who was abducted as a young boy by the Turks under their notorious blood tax system (‘designed’ to minimise internecine disloyalty by competing Muslim groups and families in the military and public service of the Ottoman Empire), renamed, forcibly converted to Islam, and then rose through the ranks to become Grand Vizier to the Sultan. He commissioned the building of the (now) eponymous bridge over the Drina, which in the book symbolises the only firm and solid structure against a background of constant and often violent change typical of the Balkans.

Although the book spans a long period from the 16th century, when the bridge was built, to the beginning of the Great War at the beginning of the 20th century, the story is not so much an epic as a (temporally and topically) inconsistent series of portraits of Višegrad townsfolk: Turks (Muslims), Serbs (Orthodox Christians), Jews (Sephardic and later Ashkenazi), and more recently Austrians and Hungarians. I found that the narrative is strong when telling stories of actual (or fictional) occurrences, but weak(er) when talking about abstract concepts (e.g. politics), especially towards the end.

Also I feel there are issues with the translation into English. Edwards makes a brave effort but the language now seems oddly stilted and dated, at least to me. Even I know that in the Balkans they drink slivovitz, not ‘plum brandy’, and the Sephardic Jews of Višegrad probably speak Ladino rather than ‘Spanish’. Anyway, I bet the book is much better in the original but I have no way of finding out, as I don’t understand any Serbo-Croatian.

So in conclusion: either I had unrealistic expectations of what the scope and range of this book were, or I was influenced by the fact that it won the author a Literature Nobel Prize. Maybe both; anyway I’m more than a bit disappointed.

Buddy read

Quando al liceo si comincia ad affrontare la storia contemporanea viene sottolineato spesso come più volte i Balcani dopo la crisi dell'Impero Ottomano siano stati teatro di scontri coloniali, etnici e religiosi assai gravi, forieri di guerre e sofferenze per l'europa intera (dalla Prima Guerra mondiale alla scissione jugoslava della metà degli anni '90).

Ma un conto è impararle sui banchi quelle guerre, un conto è guardarle in faccia. L'ingegnere responsabile della manutenziione nella fabbrica dove lavoro è un signore colossale (alto più di due metri) robusto ma non grosso, dritto e grigio come un vecchio albero; e di un vecchio albero ha anche lo sguardo saggio di chi ne ha viste tante. Si chiama Stefan ed è croato. Un giorno mentre sacramentavo stupidamente di guerre e politiche varie, Stefan mi ha messo un ram..ehm una mano sulla spalla e mi ha parlato di sua figlia. La ha vista per la prima volta a sei mesi, perchè tra casa sua e l'ospedale della sua città in Croazia a quei tempi ci correva la linea del fronte, e per tutto quel periodo non è mai stato sicuro se avrebbe potuto rivedere la sua compagna e vedere per la prima volta la sua prima figlia.

Stefan mi ha insegnato a non invocare guerre alla leggera, ma mi ha instillato una grande curiosità per quella terra maledetta piena di popoli bellicosi e tra loro alieni ma anche di storia e di opere meravigliose. "Il ponte sulla Drina" parla di quella storia e di quelle opere, partendo dal culmine della dominazione ottomana fino alla crisi di Sarajevo che porterà alla prima guerra mondiale.

L'ambientazione non avrebbe potuto essere migliore: Ivo Andric sceglie Visegrad, un paese in piena Bosnia (la terra più martoriata dai conflitti di ogni epoca) non troppo lontano dal confine serbo, dove musulmani, serbi, croati, ebrei, zingari vivono una comunità in perpetua tensione ma che riesce a coesistere pacificamente finchè governata con forza.

La lunga sequenza di racconti mostra lo snodarsi delle generazioni attorno al possente e maestoso ponte sulla Drina, costruito dal sultano Mehemet Pasha, strumento di sviluppo di culture e commerci ma anche simbolo di un dominio unificato e di una pace imposta con la forza ma non meno fruttifera e concreta. Ma generazione dopo generazione quel potere viene meno, e con esso si sgretola la fragile corazza che impediva alle tensioni etniche e religiose di deflagrare. L' avvento della dominazione austroungarica introduce un altro attore in questo già complicato scenario, ma è con l'avvento del socialismo e con le sue dirompenti idee rivoluzionarie che la miscela diventa esplosiva. Fino a che manipoli di esaltati con idee confuse e contraddittorie tra socialismo, nazionalismo e panslavismo creeranno le condizioni per il divampare della guerra mondiale che porrà la fine alla pace nella Slavia del Sud e distruggerà il Ponte sulla Drina, secolare simbolo di essa.

Come accennato in precedenza il romanzo in realtà si struttura in una serie di racconti cronologicamente ordinati: scritti in maniera eccellente con una prosa fluida e godibile e caratterizzati da un immaginario vivido e maestoso, non rinunciano tuttavia alla missione pienamente riuscita di restituire al lettore uno spaccato ricchissimo e profondo di quella umanità variegata di culture una più viva e vivace dell'altra. E proprio questo essere prima uomini senza smettere di essere serbi o turchi, ebrei o bosniaci rende bellissimi i protagonisti delle storie e degna di un premio nobel l'intera opera.

Il romanzo non è esente da qualche piccolo difetto come per esempio di essere fin troppo assertivo e generalizzante in alcuni punti o di dare alle descrizioni del Ponte una caratura epica che sconfina nella retorica in altri. Ma quello che davvero colpisce e che restituisce al "ponte sulla Drina" tutto il suo valore è il pensiero che Andric scriveva subito dopo la seconda guerra mondiale e non aveva la minima idea di quello che sarebbe accaduto cinquant'anni dopo; ma i prodromi e le cause del conflitto che avrebbe travolto quella terra maledetta si intravedono comunque tutti. resta l'amara considerazione che siano Turchi o Austriaci, i comunisti di Tito o altro forse davvero per tenere in pace i balcani c'è bisogno comunque di un dominatore.

Non so se dopo aver letto questo libro potrò permettermi di guardare in faccia Stefan e pensare di aver capito quello che ha passato: probabilmente no. Ma sicuramente questo è un libro arricchente e godibilissimo, bello ed utile anche per sfatare molti miti che dal "TOLLERANTE" impero turco alle foibe sono stati edificati per ragioni politiche che non c'entrano nulla con le sofferenze di questa gente.

Non conoscevo Ivo Andric, e istintivamente lo consideravo come un Premio Nobel di seconda fascia. Probabilmente sbagliavo di molto.

أغادر هذه الرواية ولكنها لا تغادرني...
ورغم أنه ليس من طبعي المبالغة وإعطاء الأشياء أكثر من حقها، بل أميل للتقليل من شأنها وقيمتها أحيانا إلا أني أقول بأن هذه الرواية تحفة (ماستربيس)...
نص خارق يطفح عذوبة ينبع من القلب والعقل معاً، بل من الوجدان أيضاً يمارس سلطتة على القارئ فيجعله منتشياً لا تطرف عيناه، يسيل خيالة كما يسيل نهر درينا...
ايفو اندرتش في هذه الرواية يجعل من جسر نهر درينا في قرية فيشيغراد البوسنية الذي بناه العثمانيون لربط الشرق بالغرب بطلا لروايته وشاهداً على عبور الزمن وتبدل الأحول من تاريخ بناءه إلى الحرب العالمية الأولى، ولن أطيل في التاريخ والتأريخ فليس مقامها هنا وإنما كتب التاريخ
وما يهمني هنا وهو باعتقادي أيضا ما قصده الكاتب هي فلسفة التاريخ وسيكلوجيا الأجيال وتعاقبها، والأحلام والخيبات وتكسرها أمام صلابة الواقع، ومرور الأزمان وحتمية القضاء والقدر، وسلطة النص وهو تأثير جانبي لكل ما سبق
والزمان هنا له قصته وحكايته.. فهو كائن غريب عجيب وحي، يتبدل ويتقلب، ويُغيَّر ويتغير، ساكن وساخب، ثائر وغادر ومسالم أحيانا، نغادرة ولا يغادرنا مخلفا حكايات وذكريات وندوباً...
ولا يكتفي إيفو أندرتش بهذا .. بل يبدع في رسم شخصياته ورسمها ولا أقول بأنه جعلها وكأنها شخصيات حيه لأنها كلمة مبتذلة، ولا وجود للإبتذال في عالم إيفو.. ولكن أقول بأنه جعلها جميعاً وكأنها أنت.. وكأنها لا ينبغي أن تكون إلا هي.. ثم أبدع في استخدام الطبيعة وجعل جمال الطبيعة مقرونة بجمال النص...
إلى هنا أكتفي ولا أستطرد ...
ولكني قبل ذلك أخرج عن النص قليلا وأُبدّل النجوم بالقلوب وأُعطيها القلوب الخمسة كاملة

A superb novel which takes the concept of a real bridge in Visegrad Bosnia and adds fictional lives to the centuries that pass over it. The bridge is constructed in the 16th century and so, along with factual aspects of this period, we are given the story of a man who, with others, tried to sabotage its construction leading to his capture and death. They shove a spear up his backside until it pokes out of his shoulder (making sure to avoid vital organs in the process) to ensure that his death is slow and painful. Then more years pass, more people, more lovers, more events. Andric does an excellent job of highlighting the presence of Turks over the centuries, the relationship between Christian and Moslem members of this particular community. The bridge remains a constant while the transient existence of mortal humans comes and goes. Later, the book spends a significant amount of time in the late 1800s, early 1900s, and focuses on the arrival of the Austrian army and, inevitably, the events that lead up to the first world war. In between all this we encounter several characters, some that are more memorable than others, some that age quietly in the background.

The writing is wonderful and always highly engaging. I must say, however, that I did find the earlier chapters more fun to read as they felt natural, fluid, and (presumably because they were predominantly fictional) more entertaining as a whole; they involved (very obviously) characters who were entirely made up and therefore had an element of mystery and intrigue about them. Meanwhile, when Andric is writing the later chapters, set in a period that was presumably more historically documented, you feel as though he is somewhat constrained by having to maintain a good account of the facts regarding that period. Characters became a little less realised, more of a prop to set the scene of the wider activities occurring around them. it was still wonderfully written but I began to feel that drag you feel when your focus is waning.

But even here, Andric gives little moments of insight that are exquisite and human, little touches that are immediately familiar and eternally human. When he talks about the exuberance (and perfomativity) of youth, for example, he could, of course, be talking about any era, any time, such is the cliche of our repetitive lives.

they could do with their youth what they liked, and give judgements freely and without restriction; they dared to say what they liked and for many of them those words were the same as deeds, satisfying their atavistic need for heroism and glory, violence and destruction, yet they did not entail any obligation to act nor any visible responsibility for what had been said. The most gifted amongst them despised all that they should have learnt and underestimated all that they were able to do, but they boasted of what they did not know and waxed enthusiastic at what was beyond their powers to achieve.

Every human generation has its own illusions with regard to civilisation; some believe that they are taking part in its upsurge, others that they are witnesses of its extinction.

It really is a magnificent piece, with some exceptional prose, but a little dense on occasion and prone to lose its flow when stifled by real world concerns. The moments that felt the most lyrical and creative were those which possessed a greater sense of storytelling and artistry (almost in a folk tale manner), these (predominantly) occurring during the earlier stages of the book. I became less engage later despite the fact that the Austrian occupation and the upcoming great war ought to have been of interest to me. But that aside, the book is amazing.

Der Leser sei gewarnt und lese den Untertitel aufmerksam. Dort steht nicht nur „Roman“, sondern auch „Eine Wischegrader Chronik“. Wer also einen typischen Roman mit durchgehendem Plot erwartet wird enttäuscht. Stattdessen erleben wir die Stadt an der Drina in Form von Schlaglichtern auf historische Momente und deren Akteure. Wir beginnen im 16. Jahrhundert mit Mehmed Paša-Sokolović, der ihm Rahmen der osmanischen Knabenlese aus einem bosnischen Dort nach Istanbul entführt und dort zum mächtigsten Mann nach dem Sultan aufgestiegen ist. Um seine Heimatregion zu stärken und eine dauerhafte Handelsroute an der Westgrenze des osmanischen Reiches zu schaffen, gibt er den Bau eine Steinbrücke über die Drina bei der Stadt Vyšegrad in Auftrag. Diese Brücke und besonders ihr zentraler Bereich, die „Kapija“ bilden den Schauplatz der Szenen des Buches. Es endet mit der Sprengung eines Brückenpfeilers zu Beginn des ersten Weltkrieges.



Für mich ist das Besondere dieses Buches sind nicht sein erzählerischer Inhalt und auch nicht die Sprache. Es ist seine multikulturelle Atmosphäre, seine unaufgeregte, provinzielle Stimmung und seine tiefe Menschlichkeit. Über die Jahrhunderte gelingt es den Menschen dreier Glaubensrichtungen, der orthodoxen Serben, der moslemischen Bosniaken (im Buch leider Mohammedaner bzw. Türken genannt) und der sephardischen und aschkenasischen Juden größtenteils friedlich miteinander oder zumindest nebeneinander zu lesen. Erst der Nationalismus zu Ende des 19. Jahrhunderts und schließlich der 1. Weltkrieg setzen dem ein Ende.

Das Buch endet dort, aber der Leser weiß, dass die Wischegrader Chronik weitergeht. Während der deutschen Besetzung Jugoslawiens wird von deutschen und kroatischen Faschisten fast die gesamte jüdische Bevölkerung der Stadt ermordet. Und auch in jüngster Zeit kam die Stadt nicht zur Ruhe. Anfang der 90er Jahre wird während der serbischen Aggression fast die gesamte muslimische Bevölkerung ermordet oder vertrieben. Viele Leichen wurden von der durch Ivo Andrić verewigten Brücke in die Drina geworfen. Das Vyšegrad von heute ist eine „ethnisch gesäuberte“ Stadt in dem Republika Srpska genannten serbisch dominierten Landesteil Bosnien-Herzegowinas und hat kaum mehr etwas mit der Stadt des Buches gemein – auch wenn die Stadt versucht den Schriftstellen durch den Bau des Holiday Parks Andrićgrad versucht, den Autor für sich in Beschlag zu nehmen. Da nehme man lieber das Buch Herkunft, des aus dieser Stadt stammenden Deutschen Buchpreisträgers 2019 in Saša Stanišić zu Hand, wenn man noch etwas ihres alten Flairs erleben möchte.