Miodrag Bulatović (1930–1991)

Ha egy nép talán legismertebb írója egyben zászlaja is szülőföldjének, akkor Bulatović nem sok jót sugall Crna Goráról. Árnyéka sincs itt a Balkán-romantikának, lobogva lángoló templomok és dzsámik vannak, üszkös romok közt vánszorgó félőrültek, banditává aljasult vesztes katonák, és a kerítés résein az éhség és a szenvedés leskel kifelé – senki sincs biztonságban. A metaforák és a valódi létezés tárgyai és élőlényei között a határvonal elmosódik, ez hozza létre a Bulatović védjegyének számító lázálomszerű balladai teret, amiből, hiába csipkedi magát az ember, nem tud felébredni.

Olvasni – nos, olvasni nem volt igazából jó. De hogy elképesztő ereje van, az biztos.… (meer)

The Balkan Wars remain largely unknown in the West, seen as an overture to the First World War, the pair of conflicts between 1912-1913 freed much of the peninsula from the Ottoman yoke and set the stage for the multi-act regional tragedy which was to follow. Such is the setting for this massive novel, a blood-splattered Don Quixote amidst the burning plains. This time the protagonist isn't addled by novels of romance, it is instead liberty and conquest in varying degrees which fuel his pillage and revenge. Entirely blasphemous, ribald and gory, the novel marches into the absurd, a rabelaisian leitmotif involving overgrown penises steers the action away from international provocation, but only just.… (meer)

Four harsh, violent even, stories set in war-time Montenegro. Very rough characters, strong egoism and very few human feelings are rendering the first two hard to read.
The third is much better, suddenly veering into completely surrealistic and psychotic territory. A dotted bowtie is the main figure here and leads the owner into a mental catastrophe.
The last story makes a surprising use of completely unexpected repetitions of textblocks, that pop up sometimes in the middle of a storyline, creating a severely alienating atmosphere. Italian soldiers seen through the eyes of the Montenegran people alternate with Montenegran people seen through the eyes of Italian soldiers. A disturbing kind of prose, actually, especially with the omnipresent combination of pending violence and confused humans.… (meer)

Bulatovic's book is set in a peasant village in rural Montenegro during a wedding. The wedding is observed by two tramps and two drunk gravediggers from a nearby field. The wedding guests are drunk and violent, and when an old man passes with his red cockerel in his arms it is the cue for the violence to explode. The old man and a local woman are set upon, the former being beaten and the latter raped. All the while the two characters accept the blame for their own abuse, accepting the brutish nature of their lives and the inevitability of pain in the physical world.
I was initially uneasy about the grotesque portrayal of the peasants, feeling that Bulatovic appeared to hold them in contempt. His darkly comic style did not lend itself to sensitive treatment of subjects such as rape and necrophilia, and left a nasty taste in the mouth. However, the book is not simply there for shock value. In a somewhat bizarre metaphor, the hearts (or possibly souls) of the characters are all portrayed as red cockerels, striving to fly to heaven. Access to the character's inner monologues also made them a little more sympathetic, making the book palatable, just about. I'm still not entirely sure what to make of it all (as you can probably tell). Entertainingly written, weirdly constructed and more than a little disturbing (not always in a good way).… (meer)