Robert Perišić’s novel No-Signal Area is the book behind the TV series The Last Socialist Artifact; it is a bleakly comic, humane portrait of post‑socialist transition that follows two urban outsiders as they try to resurrect a dead turbine factory and, with it, a depopulated town. It blends social satire, workplace drama, and quiet political reflection into a story about work, dignity, and the lingering ghosts of Yugoslav socialism in contemporary capitalism.
Plot and setting: reviving a dead factory
The novel follows two men from Zagreb—a businessman and an engineer—who travel to a remote, economically ruined town to restart an abandoned turbine factory on behalf of a mysterious investor. The town, once a proud industrial hub under socialism, has been left with decaying infrastructure, jobless residents, and little hope, so the prospect of reopening the plant sparks both skepticism and fragile optimism.
As the project unfolds, the protagonists confront opaque orders from their investor, local political intrigues, and the practical impossibility of resurrecting a complex industrial enterprise in a globalized, unequal market. Relationships with the townspeople deepen, exposing personal wounds and generational divides while showing how the mere promise of meaningful work begins to re‑knit a frayed community—even as it remains unclear whether the project is viable or ethical.
What the novel does especially well
A key strength is Perišić’s ability to capture the texture of a post‑industrial town: shuttered buildings, half‑remembered glories, and people suspended between nostalgia for socialist security and the harshness of market capitalism. Critics praise the way the novel makes economic questions—privatization, foreign investors, the “right to work”—feel intimate and concrete, embodied in specific workers, friendships, and anxieties rather than abstract debates.
The book also excels at tone: it is wry without cruelty, mixing irony with genuine tenderness for characters who are frequently confused, compromised, or ridiculous. Reviewers often single out its ensemble cast and slow accumulation of detail, which together create a convincing picture of a community tentatively rediscovering collective purpose in the shadow of both socialism’s collapse and capitalism’s broken promises.
Where it can feel uneven
Because the novel juggles many characters and subplots, some readers find the pacing uneven, with stretches of technical or bureaucratic detail about the factory and business arrangements that can feel dry or overlong. The ambiguity around the investor’s motives and the ultimate fate of the project, while thematically appropriate to a world of opaque deals and precarious hope, leaves a few readers wishing for a clearer resolution or sharper critique of the forces driving deindustrialization.
There is also a trade‑off between local specificity and broader accessibility: the book’s deep embedding in Croatian and ex‑Yugoslav history is a major virtue, but some international readers report needing to “catch up” on context to fully appreciate the nuances of its political and social references.
Style, voice, and atmosphere
Perišić writes in a realist, often deadpan style that interweaves workplace minutiae, dialogue, and internal reflections, producing a quietly ironic voice that never fully abandons empathy for even the most flawed characters. The prose (in translation) tends to be clear and unshowy, using small, concrete observations—about machinery, landscapes, or gestures—to suggest larger themes of decay, resilience, and compromised idealism.
The atmosphere oscillates between grey melancholy and flashes of collective joy: scenes of shared work, bar talk, or small civic rituals hint at the possibility of rebuilding solidarity, even as economic realities continually threaten to undo it. This balance of skepticism and hope is one reason the story adapted so effectively into the acclaimed TV series The Last Socialist Artifact, which has been praised for conveying the novel’s mix of regional specificity and universal concerns about work and community.
Place in Perišić’s body of work
Within Perišić’s bibliography, No-Signal Area follows the success of Our Man in Iraq and confirms his reputation as a key chronicler of societies in transition from socialism to globalized capitalism. Where Our Man in Iraq focused on media, war, and the disorientation of early‑2000s Croatia, this later novel shifts the lens to economic structures and the fate of industrial towns, broadening his exploration of how ordinary people navigate systemic change.
Perišić’s critics and publishers highlight that both Our Man in Iraq and No-Signal Area became bestsellers in Croatia and gained international translations, signaling that his tragicomic depictions of post‑Yugoslav life resonate beyond the region. The television adaptation further solidifies this book’s status as one of his central works, translating his concern with work, dignity, and collective life into a visual narrative that has attracted festival awards and cross‑European audiences