[The above video is mostly a
reading of the text below, with an occasional aside thrown in for good measure
as they strike me as relevant. I welcome questions, comments, or concerns about the material contained in
this video.]
This is a collection of political reportage written in the years immediately following the fall of communism in Eastern Europe. According to the inside cover of the book, Drakulic “contributes regularly” The Nation and the New Republic, which would fit with the quasi-journalistic, descriptive approach that she takes in these pieces. I use with the word “journalistic” as a slight pejorative here, as a way of denoting a style that is more inclined to be demonstrative and flat, as opposed to couching her opinions in a critical framework that would offer the reader insightful explanations. Most of her conclusions are fairly banal, though some of her observations are not devoid of interest.
For a book of barely two hundred pages, there are twenty-five essays, so they are short and accessible, almost made for picking up and putting down at leisure. In fact, the one major criticisms I have of the book is that the essays are a little too short, so much that it sometimes inhibits Drakulic’s ability to fully flesh out the ideas at hand. The essay topics are varied, but tend to revolve around a constellation of relatively abiding concerns: two of these are the consumerism of post-liberalized, post-communist Eastern Europe and its growing homogeneity, and shifting political attitudes.
Drakulic is deeply ambivalent about Europe being taken over by the cultural accoutrements – really only simulacra – of Western Europe, symbolized by the ubiquitous “Café Europa,” the iconic Viennese coffee shop, which has apparently cropped up all over the place. Even the name “Europe” has come to signify a kind of sybaritic luxury. A cinema in Drakulic’s home city of Zagreb changed its name from “The Balkan” to “Cinema Europa,” indicative of a willed escape from primitivism, war, and everything non-European. One of the most interesting aspects of the book is how Drakulic looks at Europe as a name “loaded with the complexity of positive values” (p. 11). Which begs the question: is Europe one thing any longer, or merely what we make of it for ourselves?
The highlights of the collection, not surprisingly, are the pieces in which Drakulic gives herself the appropriate space to think through an issue. Here are a few of my favorites, including a short description of each. “The Trouble with Sales” explores some patterns – ones that Drakulic herself admits are paradoxes – about shopping and consumerism in an age of the new economic logic of capitalism, especially her old habit of seeking out sales – a habit which she can’t seem to finally kick. “Invisible Walls Between Us” looks at the bizarre and discriminatory travel strictures imposed on Easterners, who are often looked down upon as suspicious foreigners while traveling in Western Europe. “A King for the Balkans” is an insightful look at the political psychology in Yugoslavia as Prince Alexander Karadjordjevic makes his first post-exilic visit to an unusually warm reception given the country’s history under previous monarchy.
For a book of barely two hundred pages, there are twenty-five essays, so they are short and accessible, almost made for picking up and putting down at leisure. In fact, the one major criticisms I have of the book is that the essays are a little too short, so much that it sometimes inhibits Drakulic’s ability to fully flesh out the ideas at hand. The essay topics are varied, but tend to revolve around a constellation of relatively abiding concerns: two of these are the consumerism of post-liberalized, post-communist Eastern Europe and its growing homogeneity, and shifting political attitudes.
Drakulic is deeply ambivalent about Europe being taken over by the cultural accoutrements – really only simulacra – of Western Europe, symbolized by the ubiquitous “Café Europa,” the iconic Viennese coffee shop, which has apparently cropped up all over the place. Even the name “Europe” has come to signify a kind of sybaritic luxury. A cinema in Drakulic’s home city of Zagreb changed its name from “The Balkan” to “Cinema Europa,” indicative of a willed escape from primitivism, war, and everything non-European. One of the most interesting aspects of the book is how Drakulic looks at Europe as a name “loaded with the complexity of positive values” (p. 11). Which begs the question: is Europe one thing any longer, or merely what we make of it for ourselves?
The highlights of the collection, not surprisingly, are the pieces in which Drakulic gives herself the appropriate space to think through an issue. Here are a few of my favorites, including a short description of each. “The Trouble with Sales” explores some patterns – ones that Drakulic herself admits are paradoxes – about shopping and consumerism in an age of the new economic logic of capitalism, especially her old habit of seeking out sales – a habit which she can’t seem to finally kick. “Invisible Walls Between Us” looks at the bizarre and discriminatory travel strictures imposed on Easterners, who are often looked down upon as suspicious foreigners while traveling in Western Europe. “A King for the Balkans” is an insightful look at the political psychology in Yugoslavia as Prince Alexander Karadjordjevic makes his first post-exilic visit to an unusually warm reception given the country’s history under previous monarchy.
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