Publication
Vintage Books (2005), 224 p.
Original publication date
1982 (original Albanian)
1990 (English translation)
1983 (French translation)
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Awards
Europese Literatuurprijs (Longlist — 2024)
Description
Two destinies intersect in Broken April. The first is that of Gjor, a young mountaineer who (much against his will) has just killed a man in order to avenge the death of his older brother, and who expects to be killed himself in keeping with the provisions of the Code that regulates life in the highlands. The second is that of a young couple on their honeymoon who have come to study the age-old customs of the place, including the blood feud. While the story is set in the early twentieth century, life on the high plateaus of Albania takes life back to the Dark Ages. The bloody shirt of the latest victim is hung up by the bereaved for all to see-until the avenger in turn kills his man with a rifle shot. For the young bride, the shock of this unending cycle of obligatory murder is devastating. The horror becomes personified when she catches a glimpse of Gjor as he wanders about the countryside, waiting for the truce of thirty days to end, and life with it. That momentary vision of the hapless murderer provokes in her a violent act of revulsion and contrition. Her life will be marked by it always.… (more)
User reviews
LibraryThing member literarysarah
Broken April is a haunting novel--one that will lurk in your mind long after you've put it back on the shelf. It follows four characters during one month in the mountainous region of Albania around the turn of the last century. The protagonist, Gjorg, is an unwilling murderer--forced by the ancient
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laws of the Kanun to perpetuate a blood feud and kill the man who killed his brother. Following this killing, he has one month of respite before the family of his victim comes after him. The English translation of Kadare's prose is spare but it manages to convey the horror and hopelessness of an existence where all one's actions seem predetermined and out of one's control. The idea of this existence preys on the minds of outsiders who visit and affects them in very different ways. It's relentlessly bleak but still a worthwhile read. Show Less
LibraryThing member arubabookwoman
This is the first work I've read by Albanian author Ismail Kadare, and it will definitely not be the last. It is the story of The Kanun, or Code of the Mountains, in particular its tradition of the "blood feud." Under this code, families must avenge the death of their members. The string of
The story alternates between two points of view. Gyorgi, a mountain peasant, has just killed the murderer of his brother. Under the code he has a 30 day respite, known as the "Bessa", after which he becomes fair game and can expect a bullet from the family of the man he murdered at any time.
We also follow a honeymooning couple from the big city as they tour this mountain region. The husband has an intellectual and academic interest in the code, and hopes to come across some examples of its workings. His romanticized notions of the code fail to recognize that real blood and real tragedy lie beneath its strictures.
The book is simply told, and reads somewhat like a Grimm's Fairy Tale, although a complex and nuanced fairy tale. It cast its spell on me, and drew me into this remote and harsh world.
Highly recommended.
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avenging murders between families can go back tens or even hundreds of years.The story alternates between two points of view. Gyorgi, a mountain peasant, has just killed the murderer of his brother. Under the code he has a 30 day respite, known as the "Bessa", after which he becomes fair game and can expect a bullet from the family of the man he murdered at any time.
We also follow a honeymooning couple from the big city as they tour this mountain region. The husband has an intellectual and academic interest in the code, and hopes to come across some examples of its workings. His romanticized notions of the code fail to recognize that real blood and real tragedy lie beneath its strictures.
The book is simply told, and reads somewhat like a Grimm's Fairy Tale, although a complex and nuanced fairy tale. It cast its spell on me, and drew me into this remote and harsh world.
Highly recommended.
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LibraryThing member wandering_star
Broken April starts with a young man named Gjorg lying in wait for his victim, who in turn had killed Gjorg's brother. After the killing, Gjorg has a thirty-day truce before he, in turn, can legitimately be killed. His truce runs out in mid-April, giving the book its title. Hamlet-like, Gjorg
Kadare quickly establishes the grim pointlessness of the practice, and it comes as a shock to discover that the feud - which has killed 22 members of each family over the course of the last 70 years - could have been ended at any time if the family of the most recent victim had accepted blood money instead of demanding another death. And all this for a feud which began over one insult and drew in one of the families by the merest coincidence.
These first sections of the book are the most powerful. However, the focus of the story soon moves away from Gjorg and we are introduced to a young couple who have decided to spend their honeymoon in the mountains, tourists in what they see as "the world of legend, literally the world of epic that scarcely exists any more". The man, a writer, over-romanticises the exoticism around him, while his bride experiences a much more direct response to the pity and the excitement of life on the plateau. The young couple meet a range of different people and discuss their views of the blood-feud code, and the book begins to get bogged down in didacticism. It does return to narrative in the end, but I would have preferred to spend the thirty days with Gjorg experiencing his doubts and confusion.
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dithers over his fate, wondering whether he would prefer to stay alive but live outside the rules of the blood feud, or whether a "fitting" death and a vivid, short life are better. Kadare quickly establishes the grim pointlessness of the practice, and it comes as a shock to discover that the feud - which has killed 22 members of each family over the course of the last 70 years - could have been ended at any time if the family of the most recent victim had accepted blood money instead of demanding another death. And all this for a feud which began over one insult and drew in one of the families by the merest coincidence.
These first sections of the book are the most powerful. However, the focus of the story soon moves away from Gjorg and we are introduced to a young couple who have decided to spend their honeymoon in the mountains, tourists in what they see as "the world of legend, literally the world of epic that scarcely exists any more". The man, a writer, over-romanticises the exoticism around him, while his bride experiences a much more direct response to the pity and the excitement of life on the plateau. The young couple meet a range of different people and discuss their views of the blood-feud code, and the book begins to get bogged down in didacticism. It does return to narrative in the end, but I would have preferred to spend the thirty days with Gjorg experiencing his doubts and confusion.
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LibraryThing member LukeS
An exotic setting that unfortunately ends up in a grim, gray slog of a novel, in which no one wins.
This story deals at great length with the blood fueds which hold Albania back from meaningful progress. We meet an author who glorifies these conflicts in his work, but he lives to suffer because of
This story deals at great length with the blood fueds which hold Albania back from meaningful progress. We meet an author who glorifies these conflicts in his work, but he lives to suffer because of
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it. This book became quite early a heavy chore to pick up and read, and normally I would put something like this back down. I kept reading, though, to the bitter end. There are those who apparently admire it, but not me. Show Less
LibraryThing member Banoo
What an eye-opener of a book. I never realized that something like the vendetta existed in such a serious and organized fashion. On the high plateaus of northern Albania, the north country rrafsh, the people live by the code, by the Kanun. This is a written set of codes that covers all aspects of
When Gjorg's brother is killed by a neighbor, it becomes Gjorg's duty to avenge his death. This immediately marks the end of Gjorg's life because the Gjakmarrja is never ending. The book begins with the narrative following Gjorg then shifts to a honeymooning couple from the city of Tirana visiting the plateau region and then to the steward of the blood, the man in charge of receiving the blood tax. The alternating narratives provide differing perspectives on the land of the rrafsh and the Kanun.
The mountain regions are believed to be the home of the gods and the people living there are like titans.
It is a sad, brutal little book and a great starting point for reading Ismail Kadare... one of my favorite books by this Albanian writer.
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living, and dying. The Gjakmarrja, blood feud, is the focus of this book.When Gjorg's brother is killed by a neighbor, it becomes Gjorg's duty to avenge his death. This immediately marks the end of Gjorg's life because the Gjakmarrja is never ending. The book begins with the narrative following Gjorg then shifts to a honeymooning couple from the city of Tirana visiting the plateau region and then to the steward of the blood, the man in charge of receiving the blood tax. The alternating narratives provide differing perspectives on the land of the rrafsh and the Kanun.
The mountain regions are believed to be the home of the gods and the people living there are like titans.
It is a sad, brutal little book and a great starting point for reading Ismail Kadare... one of my favorite books by this Albanian writer.
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LibraryThing member John
This is vintage Kadare: a gripping story on its own but also an allegory for life under the totalitarian regime of communist Albania, or any of its unfortunate ilk. The novel starts with Gjorg, a young man living in the High Plateau of mountains in Albania, killing another man to avenge his own
Gjorg is able to move about freely only during the 30-day period of bessa, a time when no one can harm him. But Gjorg is a hunted man the minute the bessa expires and he becomes the living dead: “Eternal time, that was no longer his, without days, without seasons, without years, without a future, abstract time, to which he had no attachments of any kind. Wholly alien, it would no longer give him any sign, any hint, not even about the day when he would meet his punishment, which was somewhere in front of him, at a date and place unknown, and which would come to him by a hand equally unknown.”
Much of the novel deals with the demands of the Kanun, ancient customs written down and enforced by the Steward of the Blood and various arbitrators interpret the “constitution of death” to settle disputes. Enter Bessian Vorpsi and his new wife, Diana. They are from Triana, and Bessian has made a name for himself writing about the Kanun in terms that some describe as naïve while others give more credence. Bessian and Diana are on their honeymoon to the High Plateau. Completely out-of-place, they are observers who are burned by touching that which they do not understand and can never really be part of. Their lives intersect in the briefest of moments with that of Gjorg for whom the contact is a glimpse of lives and life that he cannot comprehend beyond sensing a freedom that will never be his; for Diana, the contact changes the direction of her life because of its glimpse of a searing reality that contrasts with the superficiality she now perceives in Bessian.
The allegories abound and it is through these that Kadare comments on, and criticizes, the communist regime. The Steward of the Blood broods that the High Plateau is the only part of the world that, “was the permissible one, normal and reasonable. The other part of the world, ‘down there,’ was a marshy hollow in the earth that gave off foul vapors and the atmosphere of degeneracy”---exactly as a regime like that in Albania (or today’s North Korea) portrays itself vis-à-vis the outside world. The Steward is terrified that one day the only murder recorded is that committed by Gjorg; this is frightening because it speaks to a lack of fervor, perhaps winds of change in adherence to the Kanun; he resolves to travel throughout the countryside to ferret out, expose and expel those who might question continued adherence to the Kanun---a witch hunt we do not see in the novel, but which would parallel a communist regime’s constant demand for public, ideological commitment and the continuous search for enemies that justify its existence. There are “towers of refuge”, said to house a thousand men in total, where those marked for death can survive in relative safety as they await a possible change in a blood feud with a payment or some other resolution, waiting perhaps for years or the rest of their lives, losing health and eyesight in the perpetual gloom of the towers ---not unlike the suspension of life for those arrested and in the camps of the regime.
A novel more complex than it seems on the surface; intriguing.
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brother’s death as part of a blood feud between families, the origin of which is lost in the mists of time, but the strictures of which impose iron bands that dictate life and death, to the point where forty-four men from the two families have died over three generations. Gjorg had only wounded his target the first time, a tragedy that he could not repeat: “His family had had great trouble paying the fine for the first wound, and a second fine would ruin them. But there was no penalty for death.” Gjorg is able to move about freely only during the 30-day period of bessa, a time when no one can harm him. But Gjorg is a hunted man the minute the bessa expires and he becomes the living dead: “Eternal time, that was no longer his, without days, without seasons, without years, without a future, abstract time, to which he had no attachments of any kind. Wholly alien, it would no longer give him any sign, any hint, not even about the day when he would meet his punishment, which was somewhere in front of him, at a date and place unknown, and which would come to him by a hand equally unknown.”
Much of the novel deals with the demands of the Kanun, ancient customs written down and enforced by the Steward of the Blood and various arbitrators interpret the “constitution of death” to settle disputes. Enter Bessian Vorpsi and his new wife, Diana. They are from Triana, and Bessian has made a name for himself writing about the Kanun in terms that some describe as naïve while others give more credence. Bessian and Diana are on their honeymoon to the High Plateau. Completely out-of-place, they are observers who are burned by touching that which they do not understand and can never really be part of. Their lives intersect in the briefest of moments with that of Gjorg for whom the contact is a glimpse of lives and life that he cannot comprehend beyond sensing a freedom that will never be his; for Diana, the contact changes the direction of her life because of its glimpse of a searing reality that contrasts with the superficiality she now perceives in Bessian.
The allegories abound and it is through these that Kadare comments on, and criticizes, the communist regime. The Steward of the Blood broods that the High Plateau is the only part of the world that, “was the permissible one, normal and reasonable. The other part of the world, ‘down there,’ was a marshy hollow in the earth that gave off foul vapors and the atmosphere of degeneracy”---exactly as a regime like that in Albania (or today’s North Korea) portrays itself vis-à-vis the outside world. The Steward is terrified that one day the only murder recorded is that committed by Gjorg; this is frightening because it speaks to a lack of fervor, perhaps winds of change in adherence to the Kanun; he resolves to travel throughout the countryside to ferret out, expose and expel those who might question continued adherence to the Kanun---a witch hunt we do not see in the novel, but which would parallel a communist regime’s constant demand for public, ideological commitment and the continuous search for enemies that justify its existence. There are “towers of refuge”, said to house a thousand men in total, where those marked for death can survive in relative safety as they await a possible change in a blood feud with a payment or some other resolution, waiting perhaps for years or the rest of their lives, losing health and eyesight in the perpetual gloom of the towers ---not unlike the suspension of life for those arrested and in the camps of the regime.
A novel more complex than it seems on the surface; intriguing.
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LibraryThing member e.krepska
Broken April is a book about the traditional code of revenge in northern Albania. A killing must be revenged by the victim's family in order to maintain their honour. This leads to century-long exterminations of entire families. The book talks about one such case - a Gjorg avenged his brother and
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has a month of truce before he will be killed. While I did not find the story itself gripping, learning about the revenge code, the Kanun, was eye-opening. The book demistifies the revenge code, removes it from a pedestal, strips it from any beauty and leaves grim non-sense death. Show Less
LibraryThing member janerawoof
Set in the interwar years, this novel tells of an Albanian blood feud, as it affects several people: Gjorg [George], the unwilling killer of his brother's murderer; Bessian and Diana, a honeymooning couple who want to see the mountain area of Albania and to investigate the customs firsthand; and
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Mark, the "steward of the blood" [He collects what is called a "blood-tax" from a murderer's family]. Gjorg has a grace period [the besa] of thirty days before he comes fair game for his victim's family's bullet. Gjorg's story was the most fascinating--the murder, what he does in his time of reprieve [the besa], and his final shocking though inevitable fate. Bessian was only a mouthpiece to explain the "Kanun", the rigid set of laws governing every aspect of the lives of the mountain folk. Diana represented an outsider's view of the culture and Mark represented offialdom upholding the Kanun. This was a glimpse into a violent, brutal culture. It still governs the lives of the mountain folk in remote Albania to this day. I read it in a short time because of the simple, unvarnished style. Show Less
LibraryThing member starbox
"People on the road who bear the mark of death, like trees marked for felling", 6 Dec. 2015
This review is from: Broken April (Paperback)
Set in the remote Northern Highlands of Albania, the novel opens with a young man lying in wait to avenge the murder of his brother. But this 'honour killing'
Kadare starts the work by following Gyorgy after the death, his awareness of the approaching end of the truce: "Everyone had a whole April, while his was amputated, cut off" and his journey to the Castle of Orosh to pay the compulsory blood-tax.
Then into the story come a well-to-do honeymooning couple from Tirana. The groom is eager to show his wife the romantic world of the blood feud, but she reacts somewhat differently...
We also see the custom from the point of view of the 'steward of the blood', responsible for collecting the blood-tax, and for whom, therefore, the killings are a thing to be encouraged. This point is brought out in a later conversation, with political connotations:
-Blood has been turned into merchandise.
-That is an incontestable truth.
-Have you read Marx?
This review is from: Broken April (Paperback)
Set in the remote Northern Highlands of Albania, the novel opens with a young man lying in wait to avenge the murder of his brother. But this 'honour killing'
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will just perpetuate the blood feud between the two families as after a month's truce, they will be lying in wait to kill him, and so on indefinitely... This is not anarchy but the law of the Kanun.Kadare starts the work by following Gyorgy after the death, his awareness of the approaching end of the truce: "Everyone had a whole April, while his was amputated, cut off" and his journey to the Castle of Orosh to pay the compulsory blood-tax.
Then into the story come a well-to-do honeymooning couple from Tirana. The groom is eager to show his wife the romantic world of the blood feud, but she reacts somewhat differently...
We also see the custom from the point of view of the 'steward of the blood', responsible for collecting the blood-tax, and for whom, therefore, the killings are a thing to be encouraged. This point is brought out in a later conversation, with political connotations:
-Blood has been turned into merchandise.
-That is an incontestable truth.
-Have you read Marx?
Show Less
LibraryThing member Kristelh
A story of a young man who lives in the high plateau of Albania under the rule of Kanun. This was a very interesting tale of a culture and a mores that operated under an economy of blood. The prose is very good and the story compelling. The first part starts out with Gjorg and his fulfilling the
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Kunan as intrusted by his father to avenge his brother's death, then he has to pay the blood tax and he has 30 days before he can be killed by the avenging family of the man he has killed. The next section involves a husband and wife on a honeymoon trip to the high plateau where the husband tells his wife all about the Kunan. She becomes more and more withdrawn. The next section involves the steward of the blood. I found it very interesting that this rule allowed the fields to be fallow while the hunted men hide. It also explains the economy of the blood compared to the taxes on crops. Then it switches back to the husband and wife and finally back to Gjorg who has stayed gone too long and the 30 day truce has expired at noon. One of the truly great reads on the 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die list. Show Less
LibraryThing member gayla.bassham
I thought the first half of this novel was really compelling, and then I got a little bored with it. I was not nearly as interested in Diana and Bessian as I was in Gjorg.
LibraryThing member chrisblocker
Last year, I made a goal of “reading around the world,” an effort to read at least one book from every country. I'm not working down the list regionally or alphabetically. I'm not oversaturating my reading list all at once with these titles. I'm just making a conscious effort to explore the
Broken April is perhaps the most eye-opening view of a world I knew nothing about. Set in mountains of Albania, Broken April is the story of a man bound to an extremely strict set of rules called the Kanun. The Kanun is a “code of conduct” that focuses on honor and hospitality, dictating the everyday actions of a person. It makes the American west of the 1800s seem very tame, the Levitical law lenient. Once one has become ensnared by the rules of the Kanun, there is no escape.
Initially, I imagined that these rules were a product of the author's imagination. If nothing else, they had to have been exaggerated. No group of people would willingly live under such rigorous regulations century upon century. Sadly, they're all true. Though I hate to knock on the beliefs and cultures of another group, these rules are ridiculous and very dangerous. It's a wonder that those who subscribe to the Kanun as a rule for life have not gone extinct by now.
As far as a novel goes, Broken April is a bit uneven. When the story focuses on Gjorg, it is riveting and breathtaking. I felt his anxiety. He is a marked man and though the reader must know it's impossible for him to escape, you hope there is a way. Also, I was enraptured with Diana, a newlywed who does not live under the Kanun, but who is similarly held captive by the authority of her husband. But the novel spends far too much time on the boring, ridiculous Bessian and on characters such as Mark, who merely provided a different visual perspective. Without these interruptions, I likely would've made my way through this novel in very little time; unfortunately, I felt too much of what Diana must've felt: God, I wish Bessian would just shut up.
There is a haunting atmosphere to Broken April, especially as we follow Gjorg around. It reminds me of John Steinbeck's time in Mexico. There is a similarity in theme and setting to both “Flight” and The Pearl, though there is a feeling of timelessness in Broken April. It is this timelessness, this sense that these rules will continue until everyone is finally dead, that give this novel its most grievous quality.
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world through books as I'm able.Broken April is perhaps the most eye-opening view of a world I knew nothing about. Set in mountains of Albania, Broken April is the story of a man bound to an extremely strict set of rules called the Kanun. The Kanun is a “code of conduct” that focuses on honor and hospitality, dictating the everyday actions of a person. It makes the American west of the 1800s seem very tame, the Levitical law lenient. Once one has become ensnared by the rules of the Kanun, there is no escape.
Initially, I imagined that these rules were a product of the author's imagination. If nothing else, they had to have been exaggerated. No group of people would willingly live under such rigorous regulations century upon century. Sadly, they're all true. Though I hate to knock on the beliefs and cultures of another group, these rules are ridiculous and very dangerous. It's a wonder that those who subscribe to the Kanun as a rule for life have not gone extinct by now.
As far as a novel goes, Broken April is a bit uneven. When the story focuses on Gjorg, it is riveting and breathtaking. I felt his anxiety. He is a marked man and though the reader must know it's impossible for him to escape, you hope there is a way. Also, I was enraptured with Diana, a newlywed who does not live under the Kanun, but who is similarly held captive by the authority of her husband. But the novel spends far too much time on the boring, ridiculous Bessian and on characters such as Mark, who merely provided a different visual perspective. Without these interruptions, I likely would've made my way through this novel in very little time; unfortunately, I felt too much of what Diana must've felt: God, I wish Bessian would just shut up.
There is a haunting atmosphere to Broken April, especially as we follow Gjorg around. It reminds me of John Steinbeck's time in Mexico. There is a similarity in theme and setting to both “Flight” and The Pearl, though there is a feeling of timelessness in Broken April. It is this timelessness, this sense that these rules will continue until everyone is finally dead, that give this novel its most grievous quality.
Show Less
LibraryThing member DeltaQueen50
Broken April is by Albanian author Ismail Kadare and in this powerful story he tackles the subject of Albanian blood feuds. There are all kinds of rules and traditions surrounding blood feuds as set out by the Kanum, or mountain law. The murderer must confess his crime, must attend the funeral of
The story opens with Gjorg , a mountaineer from Northern Albania, killing his prey, a revenge killing as his brother was the last victim. Although Gjorg had no great desire to murder anyone, he was following the rules dictated by his culture, and now, it is his turn to wait for death once the 30 day truce is over. Into this world arrives the honeymooning couple of Bessan and Diana Vorpsi. Bessan is a prominent author and they are from the modern city of Tirana. While Bessan sees romance and adventure in this mountain code, Diana sees the oppressive side, the waste and tragedy. By using these three to highlight his story, the author is able to portray all angles of the blood feud.
Although this was a very interesting book, I also found it incomprehensible that families would be willing for these blood vendettas to go on over generations. How anyone could sacrifice their own children for the sake of “honor” is beyond me. I know very little about Albania and Broken April was an excellent way to learn about one aspect of their tumultuous past. The story is simply told, without embellishments, although a dark sense of doom pervades each page. Although depressing, this was a thought-provoking read.
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the victim and then his family must apply for a 30 day truce and pay a blood tax to the government. The 30 day truce is for the murderer to settle his affairs before the other family hunts him down and kills him in return. In the meantime, the victim’s family hangs the bloodstained shirt out the window for all to see and as a reminder of the vengeance that is to come. Although sounding quite medieval, this story is set in the 1930’s.The story opens with Gjorg , a mountaineer from Northern Albania, killing his prey, a revenge killing as his brother was the last victim. Although Gjorg had no great desire to murder anyone, he was following the rules dictated by his culture, and now, it is his turn to wait for death once the 30 day truce is over. Into this world arrives the honeymooning couple of Bessan and Diana Vorpsi. Bessan is a prominent author and they are from the modern city of Tirana. While Bessan sees romance and adventure in this mountain code, Diana sees the oppressive side, the waste and tragedy. By using these three to highlight his story, the author is able to portray all angles of the blood feud.
Although this was a very interesting book, I also found it incomprehensible that families would be willing for these blood vendettas to go on over generations. How anyone could sacrifice their own children for the sake of “honor” is beyond me. I know very little about Albania and Broken April was an excellent way to learn about one aspect of their tumultuous past. The story is simply told, without embellishments, although a dark sense of doom pervades each page. Although depressing, this was a thought-provoking read.
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LibraryThing member amerynth
I suspect I would have liked Ismail Kadare's novel "Broken April" even more if I hadn't (completely coincidentally) recently borrowed the movie "The Forgiveness of Blood" which has a very similar story.
This novel focus on a blood feud between two Albanian families -- they trade killings between
An interesting story overall.
This novel focus on a blood feud between two Albanian families -- they trade killings between
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the two families to rectify a perceived slight from years and years ago. All of this follows very strictly rules laid out called the Kanun. I can't quite understand why cemeteries filled with young bodies is helping to resolve the situation, but neither can our protagonist Gjorg, who is the lastest in his line to kill and is now waiting to be killed in return.An interesting story overall.
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LibraryThing member thorold
Kadare looks into the strange world of the High Plateau in the north of Albania, described by one of his characters as the only place which, while being part of a modern European state, has rejected the idea of a modern legal system and adopted a quasi-feudal code, the Kanun, which regulates every
The story, set at some unspecified moment in the 20th century, probably around the 1920s, follows a man called Gjorg, who has just, reluctantly, performed the killing that is required of him by custom. He now has an agreed truce-period of thirty days before the designated member of the dead man's family will be allowed to shoot him in turn. Crossing Gjorg's path during this time are a writer from the big city, honeymooning in the "romantic" mountains with his new wife; an expert on Kanun-law, the judge Ali Binak, who travels the country settling disputes; and the Steward of the Blood, the man who is responsible for collecting the murder-tax that is the main source of income of the ruling prince of the region. Each gives us a slightly different perspective on the craziness of the system where feuds can never end until all the men of one or other of the contending families are wiped out, and on the people who have an interest in keeping this system alive.
Concise, clear-sighted, and very strange.
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aspect of life, but whose most distinctive and destructive component is the blood-feud. The story, set at some unspecified moment in the 20th century, probably around the 1920s, follows a man called Gjorg, who has just, reluctantly, performed the killing that is required of him by custom. He now has an agreed truce-period of thirty days before the designated member of the dead man's family will be allowed to shoot him in turn. Crossing Gjorg's path during this time are a writer from the big city, honeymooning in the "romantic" mountains with his new wife; an expert on Kanun-law, the judge Ali Binak, who travels the country settling disputes; and the Steward of the Blood, the man who is responsible for collecting the murder-tax that is the main source of income of the ruling prince of the region. Each gives us a slightly different perspective on the craziness of the system where feuds can never end until all the men of one or other of the contending families are wiped out, and on the people who have an interest in keeping this system alive.
Concise, clear-sighted, and very strange.
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Language
Original language
Albanian
ISBN
9780099449874
Physical description
224 p.; 5.08 inches
Pages
224