Ivo Andric: The Bridge over the Drina

October 8, 2015

51p5h3T72JL._AA160_I bought this book three and a half years ago; I began reading it in August and have only just finished it: this might give the impression that it wasn’t very good, perhaps a bit of a chore; not so.

Andric‘s style is cosy, warm, almost welcoming, rapidly drawing you into the tale of the bridge over the river at Visegrad – yes it actually exists – the time before, the decision of the Turks in the sixteenth century that it should be built, and their cruelty. I’ve never read a detailed description of an impalement before, and one is enough.

The slow passage of time, the mingling of the peoples in this corner of the Balkans, the slow effect of the centuries on the town and the bridge is almost hypnotic. And there is the complexity of the relations between the peoples with their different faiths, their violent politics, and the casual cruelty that seems a natural part of life. The stonework of the bridge endures whilst people come and go, are born and die, their memory fading away.

After three centuries, things speed up as the Turks retreat and the Austrians march in: we are in the 1880s, in relentless buildup to the Great War and our hindsight (and that of the author) adds an ominous feel to the unfolding of events and lives. And yet, in spite of the changes, tempestuous events, impending doom, the measured tone of the narrative carries us along like the flow of the river Drina, giving a certain sense of permanence which we see in the enduring of the bridge itself.

Andric weaves together stories of the town and its outlying villages with vignettes of individual, no doubt representative characters, and detailed and touching elements of local colour.

We feel a very clear sense of the end of an era as the war draws ever closer and sucks many of the town’s inhabitants into its madness, as the outsiders which are the armies move in, take over, mine the bridge for when it will be necessary to destroy it: Andric captures this sense of ending as cleverly as does Lampedusa in The Leopard, or Philip Larkin in MCMXIV. Calamity strikes, the bridge is blown, one of the characters whom we have been following for quite some time, reaches his end too.

I found the book very moving, in a low-key kind of way, if that makes any sense. Through fiction, I have learned something about the complexity of this region and these peoples, whose tragedy has been replayed in my lifetime. Andric drew me in, kept me interested, drew me back after a gap of over a month; it was worth it, it is a marvellous book.

2 Responses to “Ivo Andric: The Bridge over the Drina”

  1. Lenny Gill Says:

    I bought this when I arrived in the Balkans and whilst there is no doubting its scale and the relevance of its message, I have always found it rather hard work. I was disappointed with myself as I love the style of Marquez and have come to actually enjoy Bulgakov since expanding my literary horizons over the last decade. I struggled to find any optimism throughout the novel and found it all a bit depressing! Probably worth reading it again at a different time of my life.

    Like

  2. litgaz Says:

    Yes, it wasn’t an easy or riveting read, but I’d wanted to read something from the literature of that part of Europe for a while, and there’s not a lot available in translation. I suppose what did it for me was the way Andric succeeded with a bridge as the central character, if you like, and conveyed such a strong sense of place. I’ve no idea if Visegrad is anything like that, of course, but he made me feel like a part of it for the duration of the book.

    I’m glad you have enjoyed Bulgakov and Marquez; two of my favourites, as you may perhaps recall…

    Like


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: