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Love Novel
Love in late capitalism: Ivana Sajko takes us into a war between kitchen and bedroom. He, an unemployed Dante scholar, is trying to change the world and write a novel. She, a passable actress, has given up her safe job at the theatre to care for their child. He is delirious, she is on edge. With the rent overdue and violence looming on all sides, the two of them circle one another in a dizzying dance towards the abyss.
Winner of the HKW Internationaler Literaturpreis
Winner of the HKW Internationaler Literaturpreis
160 pages, Paperback
First published July 1, 2015
18 people are currently reading
1314 people want to read
About the author
Ivana Sajko
18 books26 followersSpisateljica i kazališna autorica. Peterostruka dobitnica nagrade za dramu Marin Držić i nagrade za prozno djelo Ivan Goran Kovačić.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 108 reviews
July 24, 2023
Shortlisted for the Dublin Literary Prize 2023
Translated into English by Mima Simic
I’ve been waiting to review this after finishing all the Dublin Literary Prize shortlistees that I’d wanted to read.
Ivana Sajko is a Croatian author from Zagreb. The Love novel is the story of a marriage on the edge of destruction. The man is a Dante scholar without a proper job but with a lot of unfinished drafts for a novel. She is an average actress, who gave up her career to raise their daughter. There is no money. The rent is overdue. They are both out of their minds. They fight and get back together and so on. I really like the way the novel was written, in different styles, non-linear, changing the POV and tone. The atmosphere was grim and quite depressing but I thought the rhythm of the writing kept me reading. I am sorry it did not gather more ratings here on GR, especially after it was shortlisted for the Dublin prize.
Translated into English by Mima Simic
I’ve been waiting to review this after finishing all the Dublin Literary Prize shortlistees that I’d wanted to read.
Ivana Sajko is a Croatian author from Zagreb. The Love novel is the story of a marriage on the edge of destruction. The man is a Dante scholar without a proper job but with a lot of unfinished drafts for a novel. She is an average actress, who gave up her career to raise their daughter. There is no money. The rent is overdue. They are both out of their minds. They fight and get back together and so on. I really like the way the novel was written, in different styles, non-linear, changing the POV and tone. The atmosphere was grim and quite depressing but I thought the rhythm of the writing kept me reading. I am sorry it did not gather more ratings here on GR, especially after it was shortlisted for the Dublin prize.
May 28, 2024
What a banger! This slim little novel packs a punch and WOW is the prose electric.
Love Novel centers around a couple that is struggling in every sense of the word. The outer turmoil of their country at large has put pressure on their relationship, a pressure that is felt from page one and continues to build until you think they cannot take it anymore, we, the readers, cannot take anymore, something has to give, an explosion is imminent, is necessary, because there’s no going back, the damage is done, words have been said that cannot be unsaid and any hope for understanding or compassion are long gone.
It’s about dreams that are never realized and how marrying our self worth to our levels of productivity can allow those feelings of failure to seep into and poison every aspect of life. It’s about living and loving when both are impossible.
Sajko’s sentences are long, but they are sharp and use hyperbole expertly to convey the desperation of the couple’s situation. Again and again, she puts feelings and emotions into words and sentences that almost take your breath away with their relatability and pinpoint accuracy.
This book is so small but does so much, it’s claustrophobic and absolutely propulsive.
Love Novel centers around a couple that is struggling in every sense of the word. The outer turmoil of their country at large has put pressure on their relationship, a pressure that is felt from page one and continues to build until you think they cannot take it anymore, we, the readers, cannot take anymore, something has to give, an explosion is imminent, is necessary, because there’s no going back, the damage is done, words have been said that cannot be unsaid and any hope for understanding or compassion are long gone.
It’s about dreams that are never realized and how marrying our self worth to our levels of productivity can allow those feelings of failure to seep into and poison every aspect of life. It’s about living and loving when both are impossible.
Sajko’s sentences are long, but they are sharp and use hyperbole expertly to convey the desperation of the couple’s situation. Again and again, she puts feelings and emotions into words and sentences that almost take your breath away with their relatability and pinpoint accuracy.
This book is so small but does so much, it’s claustrophobic and absolutely propulsive.
March 10, 2024
This is a short but very powerful Croatian novel about a dysfunctional relationship suffering from poverty and frustrated by failed dreams.
She's an actress, he has studied Dante, and so there is no employment in the post-financial crisis economy. They have a child, which leads to further frustrations and financial trouble. He takes it out on the state, she takes it out on his passive nature. He says love will conquer all, but she's knows there is no escape.
The writing is something special and so is the outstanding translation. The sentences are very long, almost stories in themselves - not complicated at all, but very easy to read. In the translator's words:
"I would translate a sentence (and Ivana’s sentences, as you have witnessed, are living organisms –each twisting across the page, demanding you harness it, and have it lead you) –and then I would need a break. Sometimes those breaks between sentences lasted for weeks."
She's an actress, he has studied Dante, and so there is no employment in the post-financial crisis economy. They have a child, which leads to further frustrations and financial trouble. He takes it out on the state, she takes it out on his passive nature. He says love will conquer all, but she's knows there is no escape.
The writing is something special and so is the outstanding translation. The sentences are very long, almost stories in themselves - not complicated at all, but very easy to read. In the translator's words:
"I would translate a sentence (and Ivana’s sentences, as you have witnessed, are living organisms –each twisting across the page, demanding you harness it, and have it lead you) –and then I would need a break. Sometimes those breaks between sentences lasted for weeks."
December 20, 2023
"Words comparable to quicksand. Crumbling between their teeth, getting crushed into slimy sand, slipping from their lips like muddy bubbles with no meaningful content. Dripping down their chins. They should both look in the mirror and commit the image to memory. To make them sick of it. But they won't. They'd rather keep the mud gurgling until they run out of oxygen, until their last bubbles dribble down to the floorboards and they finally mop them up; they can't live in a pigsty, after all."
I had not really given it much thought when I had requested this title from the publisher but now, I am glad I did because it is easily one of the best books I have read all year. It's exquisitely written with frequent long, lilting brilliant sentences. It is a short book—in fact, Love Novella is more fitting—but I took my time with it and repeatedly found myself going back over entire passages that had delighted me. It's a book for people who appreciate the play of language, its emotive and expressive qualities heightened to the max. The credit goes to Mima Simić who has translated it into such stunning English from the Croatian.
This is not really a novel where "things" happen. It's all in reported speech without tags and even then there is barely any dialogue. Sajko nails the mind-numbing emptiness of late capitalism, the oppressive atmosphere of precarity, and how people fall through the cracks due to inertia, seen as cogs in the machine, replaceable goods, and surplus labour. There is a routine to daily life, a deadening of the human soul where passion is ceded, particularly in a market-driven economy run on competition, for dead-end jobs to meet one's basic needs. In this mix, introduce patriarchy and gender norms. It makes for an intense, transformative read.
(I received a finished copy from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.)
May 4, 2023
Uluslararası Dublin Edebiyat Ödülü’nde (IMPAC) kısa listeye kalmasıyla haberdar olduğum bir yazar Ivana Sajko. Roman da türlü ekonomik zorluklar altında ezilen (küçük bir evde yaşamaya mahkum olan, ek iş yapmak zorunda kalan vs.) bir çiftin evliliğine yakın plan bakış olarak özetlenebilir. Zamanında ne kadar aşık olursa olsunlar şimdi geldikleri noktada sürekli kavga eden bu çift, günümüz insanının nerede yaşarsa yaşasın aslında nasıl da benzer sosyoekonomik güvensizliklerle yaşamaya çalıştığının, nasıl beyhude bir mücadele içinde olduğunun da bir göstergesi. Yazar, karakterlerle aramıza koyarak bir durum tespiti yaptığının altını çiziyor adeta. Taraf tutmamızı, yargıya varmamızı istemiyor. Tüm bu var olma savaşının aslında nasıl sancılı bir şey olduğunu söylüyor. Dil ve anlatım konusunda giriştiği denemeler de bu hissi çok iyi destekliyor. Fikir olarak yapmaya çalıştığı şey (ekonomik güvensizliğin, bozuk sistemin bir ilişkiye nasıl yansıdığını anlatmak) çok güzel olsa da gözüm biraz daha derin karakterleri aradı. Buna rağmen kısa ama çarpıcı bir roman bence.
December 2, 2023
Dublin Literary Award Nominee for Shortlist (2023)
Love Novel (2022) is translated by Mima Simić from the Croatian original by Ivana Sajko (2015) Ljubavni roman.
This is a powerful novel, short in page but intense in its content, with lengthy but propulsive sentences, telling the story of a relationship between a husband (an unemployed Dante scholar with pretensions to be a novelist) and wife (an actress who ends up accepting promotional work). Their underlying love for each other is highly challenged by the economic environment in which they are trying to raise their young child, leading to a dysfunctional, and biolent (at times physically and often with words) relationship.
Impressive.
Extract 1 - introducing herself to the neighbours at a coffee morning to celebrate Easter
The child grabbed the egg and rolled it over the saints and domestic animals, and she did nothing to stop it; in fact, she felt like inflicting some damage herself, so she went on throwing stone after stone until she’d given answers to each question, in detail, starting with the fact that her husband did nothing, since his so-called education had not enabled him to do anything, he simply doesn’t have the necessary qualifications, and the job market is awash with highly educated and well-bred people like him who seemingly don’t want to work at all, even though they’ve spent half their lives learning Dante by heart, in the original, certain that this too would count as a job they’d be able to charge for; certain, indeed, that they’re essential for the aforementioned struggle, as they’d know exactly how to put each person in their rightful place; dip some into boiling tar, let others be chased by hornets and wasps, have the third lot whipped with lizards’ tails, drench the fourth with faeces, bind the fifth using ice; that’s how they’d get rid of all the so-called scum, with poetry they could do it, and her husband could do it, his only legacy from reading Dante now being his contempt for people, especially those teeming with spirit and tradition, those who gave their lives for the same, those who think he’s now indebted to them because of it, and above all, those like him, who obediently keep paying that debt back, selling all their books off and buying a cheap couch on which to wallow in depression, no longer caring about the contents of another person’s soul, just the contents of their fridge, because souls can lie but the fridge, shoes or car never do, so claims her husband, and she agrees, because she too fell victim to the same damn historical struggle, but she didn’t just lie there, she took up the first offer she got, and ever since then she’s been shooting commercials for a supermarket chain, reciting idiotic lines about detergent, chocolate and chicken nuggets, and that’s why her voice sounds familiar to them, that’s where they know it from, but they failed to sense pathos in her interpretation, it never ever occurred to them that lines like those are only ever spoken out of desperation, she was sure they didn’t give a rat’s arse about drama, just like they didn’t give a rat’s arse about their neighbours; they listened to her reciting lines about discounts in the meat department and they went on consuming, consuming, consuming…
They didn’t applaud her when she was done.
Extract 2 - he attends a demonstration against a building project, where he realises the guard who is attempting to protect the site is likely a veteran of the 1990s Yugoslav wars
He had a feeling the guard might be one of those cases, with PTSD and shrapnel in his buttocks–he might have a wife who could never give him comfort, as she herself had gone mute with shock, worry and uncertainty, then guilted him with her silence, and even though she’d always thought she’d leave, she never did, she gave him a child and turned into a beast–but the child left home as soon as they could, ran for their life and enrolled at college so they wouldn’t end up like their father, who still keeps waiting for the child to call and ask him how he’s doing, if everything’s all right, even though he knows the child isn’t really interested in the answer, and they won’t call, because the child doesn’t give a fuck about their father and his integrity, because the child can’t bear to listen to the same rant about there being no justice in the world, which he’d been repeating since forever in various contexts; when he left for Germany to work in construction at the age of twenty and learned that work can be shameful; when he spent the last dime of his savings at the age of thirty and realised he should never have gone back; when he lay in a ditch in some ruinous rural back of beyond at the age of forty, as mortar rounds sifted the ground around his feet; and at the age of fifty when he finally realised that all this hadn’t made him a hero in the eyes of others, but an idiot; and now because he’s already sixty and hasn’t yet paid off the mortgage on his tiny flat in the suburbs, from his low-paying job which he’ll most likely lose that day–so when he thinks again that there’s no justice, he’s actually giving the correct, albeit well-worn diagnosis of the situation, because for him there’s no justice on either side of the fence, just as there was never justice on either side of the barricades; and he could probably stomach those girls’ shoes recklessly trampling the last line of defence that he failed to protect, he could tolerate the cynical whistles celebrating yet another defeat he won’t get paid for, he could even endure that stupid commie song that talks about him far more than any of them, he could perhaps take many more real and symbolic slaps and never hit back, but when a person points a sign at him calling him a crook for everyone to see, a crook with an exclamation mark no less, someone who could well be his son, that’s where he draws the line and strikes back with all his might–he grabs the sign-wielder by the jacket, grips his throat, snatches the cardboard away from him and rips it into pieces, spits in his face, and as someone’s hands are pulling him away so he doesn’t kill this man, he’s still yelling: you ungrateful piece of shit, you should be ashamed of yourself!
Reviews from blogs
Reading in Translation
neverimitate
The publisher
V&Q Books is the English-language imprint of one of Germany’s most exciting independent publishing houses, Voland & Quist. Headed by renowned translator Katy Derbyshire, V&Q Books launched its first titles in autumn 2020, focusing distribution on the UK and Ireland, and publishes up to 5 to 6 books per year. V&Q Books publishes commercial and literary fiction and narrative non-fiction showcasing remarkable writing from Germany. Much of the writing is translated from German, as well as from other languages written within the country, and we will also champion English-language writing produced in Germany.
Love Novel (2022) is translated by Mima Simić from the Croatian original by Ivana Sajko (2015) Ljubavni roman.
This is a powerful novel, short in page but intense in its content, with lengthy but propulsive sentences, telling the story of a relationship between a husband (an unemployed Dante scholar with pretensions to be a novelist) and wife (an actress who ends up accepting promotional work). Their underlying love for each other is highly challenged by the economic environment in which they are trying to raise their young child, leading to a dysfunctional, and biolent (at times physically and often with words) relationship.
Impressive.
Extract 1 - introducing herself to the neighbours at a coffee morning to celebrate Easter
The child grabbed the egg and rolled it over the saints and domestic animals, and she did nothing to stop it; in fact, she felt like inflicting some damage herself, so she went on throwing stone after stone until she’d given answers to each question, in detail, starting with the fact that her husband did nothing, since his so-called education had not enabled him to do anything, he simply doesn’t have the necessary qualifications, and the job market is awash with highly educated and well-bred people like him who seemingly don’t want to work at all, even though they’ve spent half their lives learning Dante by heart, in the original, certain that this too would count as a job they’d be able to charge for; certain, indeed, that they’re essential for the aforementioned struggle, as they’d know exactly how to put each person in their rightful place; dip some into boiling tar, let others be chased by hornets and wasps, have the third lot whipped with lizards’ tails, drench the fourth with faeces, bind the fifth using ice; that’s how they’d get rid of all the so-called scum, with poetry they could do it, and her husband could do it, his only legacy from reading Dante now being his contempt for people, especially those teeming with spirit and tradition, those who gave their lives for the same, those who think he’s now indebted to them because of it, and above all, those like him, who obediently keep paying that debt back, selling all their books off and buying a cheap couch on which to wallow in depression, no longer caring about the contents of another person’s soul, just the contents of their fridge, because souls can lie but the fridge, shoes or car never do, so claims her husband, and she agrees, because she too fell victim to the same damn historical struggle, but she didn’t just lie there, she took up the first offer she got, and ever since then she’s been shooting commercials for a supermarket chain, reciting idiotic lines about detergent, chocolate and chicken nuggets, and that’s why her voice sounds familiar to them, that’s where they know it from, but they failed to sense pathos in her interpretation, it never ever occurred to them that lines like those are only ever spoken out of desperation, she was sure they didn’t give a rat’s arse about drama, just like they didn’t give a rat’s arse about their neighbours; they listened to her reciting lines about discounts in the meat department and they went on consuming, consuming, consuming…
They didn’t applaud her when she was done.
Extract 2 - he attends a demonstration against a building project, where he realises the guard who is attempting to protect the site is likely a veteran of the 1990s Yugoslav wars
He had a feeling the guard might be one of those cases, with PTSD and shrapnel in his buttocks–he might have a wife who could never give him comfort, as she herself had gone mute with shock, worry and uncertainty, then guilted him with her silence, and even though she’d always thought she’d leave, she never did, she gave him a child and turned into a beast–but the child left home as soon as they could, ran for their life and enrolled at college so they wouldn’t end up like their father, who still keeps waiting for the child to call and ask him how he’s doing, if everything’s all right, even though he knows the child isn’t really interested in the answer, and they won’t call, because the child doesn’t give a fuck about their father and his integrity, because the child can’t bear to listen to the same rant about there being no justice in the world, which he’d been repeating since forever in various contexts; when he left for Germany to work in construction at the age of twenty and learned that work can be shameful; when he spent the last dime of his savings at the age of thirty and realised he should never have gone back; when he lay in a ditch in some ruinous rural back of beyond at the age of forty, as mortar rounds sifted the ground around his feet; and at the age of fifty when he finally realised that all this hadn’t made him a hero in the eyes of others, but an idiot; and now because he’s already sixty and hasn’t yet paid off the mortgage on his tiny flat in the suburbs, from his low-paying job which he’ll most likely lose that day–so when he thinks again that there’s no justice, he’s actually giving the correct, albeit well-worn diagnosis of the situation, because for him there’s no justice on either side of the fence, just as there was never justice on either side of the barricades; and he could probably stomach those girls’ shoes recklessly trampling the last line of defence that he failed to protect, he could tolerate the cynical whistles celebrating yet another defeat he won’t get paid for, he could even endure that stupid commie song that talks about him far more than any of them, he could perhaps take many more real and symbolic slaps and never hit back, but when a person points a sign at him calling him a crook for everyone to see, a crook with an exclamation mark no less, someone who could well be his son, that’s where he draws the line and strikes back with all his might–he grabs the sign-wielder by the jacket, grips his throat, snatches the cardboard away from him and rips it into pieces, spits in his face, and as someone’s hands are pulling him away so he doesn’t kill this man, he’s still yelling: you ungrateful piece of shit, you should be ashamed of yourself!
Reviews from blogs
Reading in Translation
neverimitate
The publisher
V&Q Books is the English-language imprint of one of Germany’s most exciting independent publishing houses, Voland & Quist. Headed by renowned translator Katy Derbyshire, V&Q Books launched its first titles in autumn 2020, focusing distribution on the UK and Ireland, and publishes up to 5 to 6 books per year. V&Q Books publishes commercial and literary fiction and narrative non-fiction showcasing remarkable writing from Germany. Much of the writing is translated from German, as well as from other languages written within the country, and we will also champion English-language writing produced in Germany.
October 13, 2021
Was für ein deprimierendes Buch. Die völlig kaputten Hauptpersonen verlieren sich in einer destruktiven, hoffnungslosen und gewalttätigen Beziehung. Es herrscht Hass und Sprachlosigkeit, zugleich wirtschaftliche Armut und gesellschaftlicher Abstieg. In endlosen Sätzen (einer ging über 64 Zeilen, also drei Seiten!) und vielfältigen Sprachbildern zeichnet die Autorin eine düstere Spirale, die sich verheerend immer schneller in den Abgrund dreht.
June 27, 2025
An exquisite piece of writing. Such beautiful prose and those long winding sentences. My first ever Croatian translation and I loved this one where nothing much happens. Story of a couple, who are married and have a child. How they struggle to make ends meet. The everyday bourgeois mundane struggles of life, thanks to Capitalism. What happens to their individual wants and desires? Translation is very well done and that Translator's note is also very special
March 19, 2016
Umjesto da napišem, stavit ću link na video snimku rasprave o ovoj knjizi.
May 14, 2023
Only a short book but it felt like a slog. Pretty grim, despairing and hopeless. Some beautiful sentences, but overall too damn depressing for me.
November 28, 2019
Autorica romana rekla je da je imala potrebu pisati ga u dugim izdisajima, bez previše interpunkcijskih znakova. Takvo stilsko rješenje pomaže u doživljavanju atmosfere odnosa muškarca i
žene koji se iz početnoga ljubavnog zanosa pretvara u nepodnošljivo supostojanje tih dvaju likova.
Glas muškarca i glas žene podjednako su zastupljeni, što je jako bitno kada želimo sagledati situaciju iz dvaju različitih očišta. Autorica se figurativno izražava u trenucima kada je potrebno osjetiti svu muku kroz koju prolaze muškarac, žena, ali i dijete koje je plod njihova odnosa.
Ljubavni roman naslov je koji postavlja određena očekivanja u čitatelja - praćenje romanse s hepiendom, a najbolji dio je što su ta očekivanja u potpunosti iznevjerena pa je čitav roman pisan s naglašenim ironičnim prizvukom.
žene koji se iz početnoga ljubavnog zanosa pretvara u nepodnošljivo supostojanje tih dvaju likova.
Glas muškarca i glas žene podjednako su zastupljeni, što je jako bitno kada želimo sagledati situaciju iz dvaju različitih očišta. Autorica se figurativno izražava u trenucima kada je potrebno osjetiti svu muku kroz koju prolaze muškarac, žena, ali i dijete koje je plod njihova odnosa.
Ljubavni roman naslov je koji postavlja određena očekivanja u čitatelja - praćenje romanse s hepiendom, a najbolji dio je što su ta očekivanja u potpunosti iznevjerena pa je čitav roman pisan s naglašenim ironičnim prizvukom.
August 20, 2024
absolutely fucking depressing and so, so, so good.
December 14, 2024
Moral of the story don’t fuck broke men
May 16, 2024
Time for my favourite game; is it the translation or is this book actually ass
Survey says… this book just sucks!! (Maybe) not to be a two star fiend or anything rn but honestly this book didn’t do it for me. And what’s even worse is, fine I could deal with that, me not liking a book happens all the time, but I cannot think of ANYONE (alive or dead) who would POSSIBLY be the target audience for this. The main characters don’t have names, the setting is by and large unclear. Not withstanding that the MC’s or either the original Empaths or the book was switching perspectives without being clear about that.
And to add insult to injury. To kick a reader who was already down… what the heck was the message 😃 life sucks. The governments corrupt. And it doesn’t matter because life sucks for everyone. Also we hate each other xx??
I genuinely don’t believe the MC’s were EVER in love? And the book is literally called Love Novel
I’m going to sleep.
Survey says… this book just sucks!! (Maybe) not to be a two star fiend or anything rn but honestly this book didn’t do it for me. And what’s even worse is, fine I could deal with that, me not liking a book happens all the time, but I cannot think of ANYONE (alive or dead) who would POSSIBLY be the target audience for this. The main characters don’t have names, the setting is by and large unclear. Not withstanding that the MC’s or either the original Empaths or the book was switching perspectives without being clear about that.
And to add insult to injury. To kick a reader who was already down… what the heck was the message 😃 life sucks. The governments corrupt. And it doesn’t matter because life sucks for everyone. Also we hate each other xx??
I genuinely don’t believe the MC’s were EVER in love? And the book is literally called Love Novel
I’m going to sleep.
August 27, 2025
he’s clueless. she’s stuck. save her
November 29, 2016
Ljubezenski roman hrvaške pisateljice in gledališke režiserke Ivane Sajko, katere drame so prevedene v več kot deset jezikov in uprizarjane na odrih širom sveta, je neprizanesljiv kot ena sama ponavljajoča se nesreča v ranjenem naročju od tranzicije razdejane države, od lažnih obljub razočaranega posameznika. Zgodba je kratka. Udari na zgolj dobrih stotih straneh, pa vendar se zavleče pod kožo in se kot virozna vročina raztegne v brezoblične dneve klanjanja družbi večnega trošenja, v kateri je najlažje in najhitreje mogoče poteptati dostojanstvo. Za položnice, za hrano, za otroka.
"Zdaj ve.
Neuspeh odbija ljudi.
Neuspeh in majhni otroci."
Produkt takšne družbe sta mož in žena, pisatelj in igralka, ki se v svoji prekarnosti znajdeta na robu, kjer ju nova realnost zmelje in prebavi v nepomembno gmoto, ki se lahko oblikuje po željah drugih, nikoli njiju samih, in v tem nista nič posebnega, sta del toksičnega toka, v katerega so ju pahnili in v katerem zdaj hlastata za zrakom, medtem ko navznoter gnijeta od brezupa in skomercializiranega prostituiranja ter užaljeno odrivata bližino, ki se počasi oddaljuje od dosega rok.
"Ljubezen ubije takoj, ko dobi priložnost."
V tej mlaki morata vzdrževati sebe, svoje duševno zdravje, smiselno prekrižati svoj partnerski odnos, ki preveč zlahka odmre že v zaspanem blagostanju, kaj šele v zgaranem, razčlovečenem okolju, posutem zgolj z nekaj krušnimi drobtinicami. Predvsem pa morata poskrbeti za otroka, ki ne razume, da se starša vedno bolj pogrezata v lastno slino, ki se jima od ponižnega kimanja vedno močnejšemu in brezbrižnemu svetu suši pod nogami in jima preprečuje, da bi naredila korak. Otrok ne razume, ko se starš obrne stran, zapre vrata za sabo in izlije solze predaje, ki načenjajo že tako krhke vezi. Otrok čuti le zavračanje.
"Otrok prebiva v posledicah, v njunem blatu, in ne spomni se, da to nista ista človeka, da to niso niti isti zidovi, pojma nima, da so jih nekoč podpirale knjige, ki so v gostih stebrih vznikale iz parketa in rasle vse do stropa, z lahkoto odpirale vrata, okna in vesolja, v katerih je bilo vse mogoče, brez vsakega pretiravanja, kjer je za vsako vprašanje že obstajal preverjen odgovor in kjer so za vsako iskanje že čakali cesta, sopotnik in prostor pod soncem, in kjer sta za vsako uro ljubezni lahko našla verz, ki ubija, pa tudi nešteto novih življenj za nešteto takih smrti. Potem pa sta knjige poceni razprodala, vse do zadnje, do Danteja, samo da sta se lahko najedla in potem kmalu spet postala lačna, prestrašena in osupla, ko je skozi oluščene zidove fikcije vdrl ta usrani, usrani svet.
Brez poezije.
Brez humorja.
Brez dohodkov."
V takem svetu, v katerem je en sam objem tako blizu in tako daleč, je zadušljivo, vse v njem je obsojeno na životarjenje z gotovim koncem, na katerega so z vrvico povezane nerazumljene poteze, obrambne reakcije in napadalne kretnje, nesporazumi, ki vzniknejo v pregretem vzdušju brezizhodnosti odnosa, skvarjenega s pretečenim rokom ekonomije sveta in skozi zobe izgovorjenim sporočilom, da je za prosti pad v blato kriva zgolj lastna lenoba, neumnost, neodzivnost, neprilagodljivost. Občutek krivde in glodajoča vest, ki načenjata in pokorita našo pokončnost, sta popolna.
To je ljubezenski roman.
Odvija se hitro, brez prestanka in postanka, kot življenje, zarito v boj za obstanek, ki zmelje počasne, neuspešne, odvečne, pozabljene. Stavki se vijejo čez cela poglavja, celo čez več strani. Ne dopuščajo vdiha. Ne dopuščajo življenja. Samo teptajo, teptajo, teptajo. Olajšanje bo morda prišlo jutri. Morda. Toda zelo verjetno ne.
To je ljubezenski roman. Izjemno.
Objavljeno na damjanzorc.net
April 11, 2022
Novella set in the BALKANS
This is a short novel of around 100 pages that opens with a blast of powerful writing. A couple is in the middle of a frantic verbal exchange that captures the heat and power of stark words. It is one of the most powerful openers I have read.
The couple is incarcerated in what seems to be a small apartment. The female escapes to take on small acting roles and returns to the heated and visceral atmosphere of home. I imagine them living in a grey, dormitory suburb where the pleasures of life are diminished, incarcerated in Ostblock architecture.
Soon the author introduces a child bawling from its cot, affected by the combative parents, a tragedy for any child to witness.
This novel is lacerating in style, long sentences weave their way across the page, an incessant parade of words, clauses and subclauses, a roiling of paragraphs that reflect to the content. The translator, in the Translator’s Note at the end, says that it took her a year to translate, although it was a short read – every time she opened the book, it felt like a punch in the gut, a punch by someone I knew, a family member. This is the nub of the novel, the familiarity of two people confined within four walls, a fire just waiting to be lit at every turn, the wrecking ball of love in such close proximity to hate.
This is a short but intense read.
This is a short novel of around 100 pages that opens with a blast of powerful writing. A couple is in the middle of a frantic verbal exchange that captures the heat and power of stark words. It is one of the most powerful openers I have read.
The couple is incarcerated in what seems to be a small apartment. The female escapes to take on small acting roles and returns to the heated and visceral atmosphere of home. I imagine them living in a grey, dormitory suburb where the pleasures of life are diminished, incarcerated in Ostblock architecture.
Soon the author introduces a child bawling from its cot, affected by the combative parents, a tragedy for any child to witness.
This novel is lacerating in style, long sentences weave their way across the page, an incessant parade of words, clauses and subclauses, a roiling of paragraphs that reflect to the content. The translator, in the Translator’s Note at the end, says that it took her a year to translate, although it was a short read – every time she opened the book, it felt like a punch in the gut, a punch by someone I knew, a family member. This is the nub of the novel, the familiarity of two people confined within four walls, a fire just waiting to be lit at every turn, the wrecking ball of love in such close proximity to hate.
This is a short but intense read.
August 19, 2024
Love Novel captures the ugliest side of love, the kind of love that is so full of resentment and old pain that it makes you want to hurt, to scream, to suffocate one another in it.
Our two unnamed protagonists blame one another for their shortcomings: one a failed actress, the other a failed Dante scholar who can’t seem to write anything. Their relationship then becomes a long series of rather unfortunate events: she becomes pregnant, he turns to alcohol, neither seem to be able to keep a job for long which leads to piles and piles of debt to accumulate.
Their 2-bedroom apartment becomes their own personal hell, one that they can’t even begin to fathom escaping… nor would they if they had the chance. The resentment and hatred that grows between them creates a lethal stubbornness where neither will call it quits. This was very much reflected in Sajko’s writing and Simić’s translation, each sentence ran right into the other, no breaks between paragraphs, thus creating an atmosphere that feels as though you’re suffocating right alongside them.
Our two unnamed protagonists blame one another for their shortcomings: one a failed actress, the other a failed Dante scholar who can’t seem to write anything. Their relationship then becomes a long series of rather unfortunate events: she becomes pregnant, he turns to alcohol, neither seem to be able to keep a job for long which leads to piles and piles of debt to accumulate.
Their 2-bedroom apartment becomes their own personal hell, one that they can’t even begin to fathom escaping… nor would they if they had the chance. The resentment and hatred that grows between them creates a lethal stubbornness where neither will call it quits. This was very much reflected in Sajko’s writing and Simić’s translation, each sentence ran right into the other, no breaks between paragraphs, thus creating an atmosphere that feels as though you’re suffocating right alongside them.
August 9, 2018
DAS IST KEIN LIEBESROMAN! Das einmal klargestellt, ist das Buch alles Mögliche: ein Anti-Liebesroman, Gesellschaftskritik, Psychogramm, Poesie oder Beobachtung einer Beziehung, die mit vollem Karacho gegen eine Wand rennt.
Obwohl der Roman bezaubernd geschrieben (und übersetzt) ist, ist er kein Lesegenuss. Zu trist ist der Blick auf die „Liebenden“, zu erschöpfend die Bestandsaufnahme der korrupten Gesellschaft.
„Liebesroman“ fordert die Leser*innen heraus und zwingt sie den Protagonisten in die Spirale der grausamen Auswegslosigkeit zu folgen.
Kritikpunkt: ich blieb distanziert, habe das Scheitern eher mit Interesse als mit Anteilnahme verfolgt.
Obwohl der Roman bezaubernd geschrieben (und übersetzt) ist, ist er kein Lesegenuss. Zu trist ist der Blick auf die „Liebenden“, zu erschöpfend die Bestandsaufnahme der korrupten Gesellschaft.
„Liebesroman“ fordert die Leser*innen heraus und zwingt sie den Protagonisten in die Spirale der grausamen Auswegslosigkeit zu folgen.
Kritikpunkt: ich blieb distanziert, habe das Scheitern eher mit Interesse als mit Anteilnahme verfolgt.
Read
March 5, 2016hm. da bi se obradila tema ljubavi kroz ekonmsku krizu trebalo je ići mnogo dublje i šire. čini mi se da je autorica u želji da stvori simbolički snažan i stilski pročišćen tekst ostala na razini skupa stereotipa koji bi trebali ocrtati likove i društvene skupine, a jezično poigravanje s frazama iz svakodnevnog govora jednostavno ne funkcionira, očuđuje, ali premalo značenja nudi da bi bilo opravdano, budući stilski uistinu ne zadovoljava. subverzivni odnos prema romantičnoj heteroseksualnoj ljubavi kao književnom motivu postoji, ipak, s tradicionalnom podjelom rodnih uloga.
October 23, 2024
I can understand why some people would appreciate this as the writing is very poetic, but it was not for me
February 13, 2024
A sharply scathing and unapologetically relentless tale of the dissolution of marriage and society years after financial and military collapse. The writing is to the core. I thought it was a mix of the militarised marriage movies Marriage Story and War of the Roses, dashed with the realist of destituteness of financial ruin of Death of Salesman. Cunning and courageous some brutal honesty about the harsh side of modern living.
"And then they sold the books for peanuts, down to the last one, Dante, just to fill their stomachs and soon have them empty again, hungry, frightened and startled when the peeling walls of fiction cracked, and the sh*tty, f*cked up work burst in.
With no poetry.
With no humour.
And no income.
And it wasn't survivable anymore, she told him way back then, we can't live like this, and she leaned over wanting him to hug her, nothing more, she swears, but he didn't understand the gesture, he only heard the words, sensed a provocation in them, took a few steps back, his neck hair standing on end as if h had to defend himself, and from this retreat, he launched an attack."
"He embraced her. Both her and the ball. He might have even said he was sorry. But she kept shaking and holding her belly in her hands as if she were indeed alone in the room as if she were alone in the whole world, the world where everyone had their heads stuck to their own shit and their TVs, and there was no one to turn to for help, for support, for some understanding or a grain of optimism, because like they said on the news, and like he always claimed too, it will only get worse, and this in fact had nothing to do with her hormones."
"Maybe she shouldn't say such things to him after all. Maybe all of this isn't his fault after all. It's this shitty government and Jesus who are to blame. They're the ones who fucked them over right from the start."
"If you don't value history, you can't value yourself either, right? And if you're not interested in drama, you can't have any interest in your neighbours, isn't that right?"
"He reckons this is what it was like in the war, too. Those you fight for despise you the most. Your own people will always hurt you most deeply."
"Then she told him she hated him. He said he knew that. That she really hated him. He knew that too. From the bottom of her heart. He believed that. Then they embraced."
"If he were writing this novel, she would probably do all that, but he doesn't have money, nor room of his own, nor her wholehearted support; he always has to have someone to blame."
"F*ck this revolution, f*ck these people, f*ck this state."
"But again he has no words to describe this state. He doesn't even have enough alcohol to escape it either. And besides, he's missing the most important parts of the story."
"There's still a revolution to be won, aristocracy to be overthrown, new cadres to be appointed, and old regime to be reinstalled under a different name, closing the circle, and only then will there be time for a piss followed by wine-and-cheese reception."
"And it didn't matter that they'd tightened their belts down to the size of a noose, for other people had done the same, and yet they fell victims to a depressed market, physically alive yet economically dead, dragging through the streets wrapped in red maternity coats they'd found in the rubbish."
"She'd sharpen the hook of the question mark and drive it straight into your back. What the f*ck are you fighting for then?"
"And here we are in the stairwell, here we are on the road, here we are in the dark, this is our story, we're driving and getting nowhere, it's past dinner time, and it's as if nothing ever happened."
"
"And then they sold the books for peanuts, down to the last one, Dante, just to fill their stomachs and soon have them empty again, hungry, frightened and startled when the peeling walls of fiction cracked, and the sh*tty, f*cked up work burst in.
With no poetry.
With no humour.
And no income.
And it wasn't survivable anymore, she told him way back then, we can't live like this, and she leaned over wanting him to hug her, nothing more, she swears, but he didn't understand the gesture, he only heard the words, sensed a provocation in them, took a few steps back, his neck hair standing on end as if h had to defend himself, and from this retreat, he launched an attack."
"He embraced her. Both her and the ball. He might have even said he was sorry. But she kept shaking and holding her belly in her hands as if she were indeed alone in the room as if she were alone in the whole world, the world where everyone had their heads stuck to their own shit and their TVs, and there was no one to turn to for help, for support, for some understanding or a grain of optimism, because like they said on the news, and like he always claimed too, it will only get worse, and this in fact had nothing to do with her hormones."
"Maybe she shouldn't say such things to him after all. Maybe all of this isn't his fault after all. It's this shitty government and Jesus who are to blame. They're the ones who fucked them over right from the start."
"If you don't value history, you can't value yourself either, right? And if you're not interested in drama, you can't have any interest in your neighbours, isn't that right?"
"He reckons this is what it was like in the war, too. Those you fight for despise you the most. Your own people will always hurt you most deeply."
"Then she told him she hated him. He said he knew that. That she really hated him. He knew that too. From the bottom of her heart. He believed that. Then they embraced."
"If he were writing this novel, she would probably do all that, but he doesn't have money, nor room of his own, nor her wholehearted support; he always has to have someone to blame."
"F*ck this revolution, f*ck these people, f*ck this state."
"But again he has no words to describe this state. He doesn't even have enough alcohol to escape it either. And besides, he's missing the most important parts of the story."
"There's still a revolution to be won, aristocracy to be overthrown, new cadres to be appointed, and old regime to be reinstalled under a different name, closing the circle, and only then will there be time for a piss followed by wine-and-cheese reception."
"And it didn't matter that they'd tightened their belts down to the size of a noose, for other people had done the same, and yet they fell victims to a depressed market, physically alive yet economically dead, dragging through the streets wrapped in red maternity coats they'd found in the rubbish."
"She'd sharpen the hook of the question mark and drive it straight into your back. What the f*ck are you fighting for then?"
"And here we are in the stairwell, here we are on the road, here we are in the dark, this is our story, we're driving and getting nowhere, it's past dinner time, and it's as if nothing ever happened."
"
February 23, 2024
i’m so sorry to the author…the prose was absolutely amazing, but this is literally a wall of text and it legitimately gave me a headache to try and read. i skimmed the last 25% and was extremely eager to shelve it for good.
May 21, 2024
Croatian author Ivana Sajko has a compelling way of putting all the shitty love emotions into words and throwing them on the page to create a couple with all the really irrational, obsessive no-basis thinking between people in love. She really shows us how Real life love has no bounds.
She’s also really good at run on sentences that wind around the hemispheres of your brain and dive deep into your feelings that you have definitely had during a dark time in a relationship—unfortunately because so many of the really good ones were about a page long, I will not share them and ask you to read the book for yourself—it’s a short book (which is sad) and you won’t be disappointed.
I will share a note from the translator which I felt represented my feelings on the book and the writer: ‘…Ivana’s sentences, as you have witnessed, are living organisms…’ pg 108
The character dynamic in this book is raw, emotions may be easy to read but they run real deep and even the cruddy-est of emotions are evoked with reality and destruction that I’m sure we have all felt at one time. The writing was superb and very engaging and my life feels validated knowing I’m not the only one to feel so deeply about silly and not so silly things.
She’s also really good at run on sentences that wind around the hemispheres of your brain and dive deep into your feelings that you have definitely had during a dark time in a relationship—unfortunately because so many of the really good ones were about a page long, I will not share them and ask you to read the book for yourself—it’s a short book (which is sad) and you won’t be disappointed.
I will share a note from the translator which I felt represented my feelings on the book and the writer: ‘…Ivana’s sentences, as you have witnessed, are living organisms…’ pg 108
The character dynamic in this book is raw, emotions may be easy to read but they run real deep and even the cruddy-est of emotions are evoked with reality and destruction that I’m sure we have all felt at one time. The writing was superb and very engaging and my life feels validated knowing I’m not the only one to feel so deeply about silly and not so silly things.
August 29, 2024
I need to catch my breath. WOW. I understand that Sajko’s writing style may not be for everyone, but this - I just loved it. Reading her phrasing made me feel like- ‘oh, this is how to breathe’ - realizing that I’ve been doing it wrong my whole life. The phrasing scooped me up into her world and transported me out of my physical world. The words melted into my brain like butter or a perfect piece of cake. Her similes made my heart flutter with warmth. I loved that there were no character names and that we were left a little on the outside, as if we are watching the interactions and the emotions happening right next to us… within us? Her writing makes me feel so comfortable and understood- like I know this story even though it’s new. I am, clearly, obsessed.
December 13, 2023
As if a cartoon fight-cloud, the kind that bops down the street, fists, feet and grawlix intermittently breaching the surface and disappearing into the chaotic void, were probed with NASA satellite precision, here’s Love Novel, with it’s angry empathy and disturbing relatableness; a spotlight and laserscope sight on domestic blitz.
November 15, 2025
Great literature binds us together; here, I felt how the plight of millennial powerlessness, disenfranchisement, and precarity spans my two-room apartment on the West Coast to a two-room apartment in Croatia. Sajko has her finger on the pulse of a generation scraping against failed promises: economic, creative, romantic. She renders, with precision and fury, the slow erasure of hope and the spiral that follows—where selfhood slips through our hands and we try to reclaim it in TV news, in perfect parenting, in the perfect pair of heels.
This is a meaty, angry novel about language and collapse. A novel about a novel. A novel about a novel that might not exist but feels true. It’s about how hatred can still carry the remnants of tenderness. It’s about how we write toward understanding when reality refuses to cooperate. Completely, totally brilliant. I was transfixed.
This is a meaty, angry novel about language and collapse. A novel about a novel. A novel about a novel that might not exist but feels true. It’s about how hatred can still carry the remnants of tenderness. It’s about how we write toward understanding when reality refuses to cooperate. Completely, totally brilliant. I was transfixed.
May 17, 2024
So not for me.
Well-written at times but very boring and pointless. Unlikable characters who hate each other but are stuck because they have a child. No names. Just he/she/child and a reaaaally confusing constant abrupt narrative switch between characters, tenses, and truth/imagination.
Loved the painful truth of two people always at each other’s throats working up the vulnerability to extend an olive branch and it gets interpreted as just another attack.
Well-written at times but very boring and pointless. Unlikable characters who hate each other but are stuck because they have a child. No names. Just he/she/child and a reaaaally confusing constant abrupt narrative switch between characters, tenses, and truth/imagination.
Loved the painful truth of two people always at each other’s throats working up the vulnerability to extend an olive branch and it gets interpreted as just another attack.
August 5, 2024
4/5
A crushing portrait of how circumstance affects quality of life and whether or not love survives, if it even exists in that place to begin with. A bit more pessimistic than I’d hoped until the very end, and I don’t think that the stream-of-consciousness style really worked for me, but I appreciated the novella on a general level.
A crushing portrait of how circumstance affects quality of life and whether or not love survives, if it even exists in that place to begin with. A bit more pessimistic than I’d hoped until the very end, and I don’t think that the stream-of-consciousness style really worked for me, but I appreciated the novella on a general level.
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