Far From Brooklyn

The Question of Bruno, by Aleksandar Hemon

This was one of those literary debuts that garners the sorts of reviews that writers daydream about while sharpening pencils. “Not just extraordinary stories but an extraordinary writer…” “The man is a maestro, a conjurer, a channeler of universes…”

Good grief, I’m not sure I ever came up with anything that good about myself, and believe me it wasn’t for lack of trying.

And yes, Hemon is in fact a very good writer.  But still, “a conjurer of universes?"  What in the world could that reviewer have been thinking?

For myself, I liked the realistic stories best – the evocation of a Bosnian childhood, or the flat toned tracing of the struggles of a displaced Bosnian essentially trapped in America during Yugoslavia’s collapse. (In one scene, the author’s alter ego, Pronek, snaps during his work as a sandwich maker in a fast food chain, unable to understand how iceberg and romaine lettuce can possibly make any difference to a customer.)

The rest – the odd spy fantasies, historical set-pieces – left me cold.

And nothing, ever, could have lived up to the noise.  But he’s a good writer and I expect I will read more.