Summary
Miljenko Jergović: Moving
What is the best opportunity to tidy up, to throw away unnecessary, accumulated things, to find those that we thought we lost long ago, to archive, to stack and rearrange? Such an extensive task cannot be given to oneself very often in life. Najbolja je prilika za to selidba. But often moving can be hectic packing in boxes that will remain unopened. There are few people who can do an inventory, look at things and slowly decide on them.
We have exactly one such book in front of us, Moving by Miljenko Jergović. In an already mythical literary place, in Sarajevo's Sepetarevac, in the apartment where he grew up, where his mother died, where most of the legacy of the Stublers and Rejcs went, the author sifts through documents, books, material and immaterial remains, and the history of a suitcase family. Objects and documents, a wallet, a party booklet, a cheshagi, grandfather's attempts at an autobiography and much more tell the story not only of one family but also of one city, of childhood and growing up in which the author spares no one, least of all himself and his loved ones.
The apartment on Sepetarevac materializes before us anew room by room, with every piece of furniture, but, what is even more important, with all the destinies of the people who lived in it. nastanjivali ili pohodili. Selidba is not just a book, it is much more than that, it is a true museum, cataloged according to the strictest and most ingenious rules of the profession, but not of a museum, but of a writer.
"Stop at the no parking sign - I show him with my finger the place at the top of Sepetarevac, from where he can turn down the Kevrin stream. We go out, carrying a large IKEA checker, in which are arranged ten more of the same IKEA checkers. to pack things, which we will probably repack in boxes for the next visit to Sarajevo. I am not used to this. Once in a lifetime, one moves after oneself and the last traces of one's stay in a place, and of the ones who were born, then died, and were born again. And then I don't know what to do I should think that the problem is in my character, in my clumsiness and incompetence, in the fact that I was spoiled and unaccustomed to such events. It's as if they taught me this
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