It is an interesting book but very difficult to follow geographically. I was never sure that the chapter, The Country in Which the War Began, was set primarily in Croatia or Slovenia, or both. And Serbia is not really mentioned. ( )

Generally we like to read Polish and foreign fantasy and since-fiction (Stanislaw Lem), of course historic books (everlastings Sienkiewicz and Reymont), and the Polish romantic great trio (Mickiewicz, Slowacki, Norwid), alternatively grotesque pieces (Gombrowicz) rather than novels describing current times. When we do such an efforts, it’s very often, like one critic wrote "orgasming with language" kind of literature. Simple, interesting, everyday-life-describing novels are less likely to find. With some exceptions of course, e.g., Stasiuk. In general it's very intriguing how Poles often complain that Polish literature is not widely available in translation but on the other hand feel a certain kind of pride that Polish language is so difficult to translate (particularly if it's full of metaphors and historical or cultural allusions) and argue that content of many books is impenetrable for a non-Pole due to lack of the knowledge of Polish culture

Having said this, on to the excellent one of the best non-fiction titles I’ve read this year, and in that respect I want to add Andrzej Stasiuk's travelogue “On the Road to Babadag”, first published in Poland in 2004.

Stasiuk doesn't travel far, seeking out instead the most "forgotten" places within his home region of eastern Galicia. His motivation is simple- taking the metaphor of the creases on a map which increasingly "erase" parts of the landscape through repeated opening and closing, he sets off in an attempt to prevent them from disappearing simply by visiting them... his journey takes him through the most neglected areas of eastern Europe, blighted by industrial decay and poverty, yet the people he meets and describes are observed with a keen and sympathetic eye, and his observations on landscape and humanity are equally magical.

Anyone looking for good Polish contemporary writing should start with Stasiuk and his travelogues. ( )

Beeldende beschrijving van diverse plaatsen die de auteur in Albanië, Hongarije, Polen, Moldavië, Oekraïne, Roemenië, Slovenië en Slowakije heeft bezocht. Deels opgetekend uit de mengeling van herinnering en fantasie die opkomt bij een bankbiljet, buskaartje of foto uit zijn oude schoenendoos.
Het boek is bij vlagen briljant geschreven en roept dan op prachtige, bijna magische wijze de nostalgische sfeer van Midden-Europa op. Elders is de tekst moeilijk door te komen vanwege het fragmentarische karakter en de compacte manier van schrjven met zinnen vol vreemde plaatsnamen. Een kaartje van het gebied in het boek zou niet misstaan.
In tegenstelling tot bijvoorbeeld Karl Schlögel beschrijft Stasiuk nauwelijks grote steden. Het meest houdt hij van plaatsjes als Gönc, Sokołów Podlaski en natuurlijk Babadag, waar hij twee keer tien minuten geweest is. 'Uit zulke fragmenten bestaat de wereld, uit kruimels hete slaap, uit fantomen, uit busdelirium. Wat overblijft zijn de kaartjes.' ( )