What do you think?
Rate this book
Black Butterflies
Sarajevo, spring 1992. Each night, nationalist gangs erect barricades, splitting the diverse city into ethnic enclaves; each morning, the residents – whether Muslim, Croat or Serb – push the makeshift barriers aside.
When violence finally spills over, Zora, an artist and teacher, sends her husband and elderly mother to safety with her daughter in England. Reluctant to believe that hostilities will last more than a handful of weeks, she stays behind while the city falls under siege. As the assault deepens and everything they love is laid to waste, black ashes floating over the rooftops, Zora and her friends are forced to rebuild themselves, over and over. Theirs is a breathtaking story of disintegration, resilience and hope.
When violence finally spills over, Zora, an artist and teacher, sends her husband and elderly mother to safety with her daughter in England. Reluctant to believe that hostilities will last more than a handful of weeks, she stays behind while the city falls under siege. As the assault deepens and everything they love is laid to waste, black ashes floating over the rooftops, Zora and her friends are forced to rebuild themselves, over and over. Theirs is a breathtaking story of disintegration, resilience and hope.
256 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 5, 2022
About the author
Priscilla Morris
2 books112 followersI’m a British author who lives in County Monaghan, Ireland. When it gets too dark and cold, my husband and I scuttle off to our house in the hills near Girona, Spain. Born to a Bosnian mother and a Cornish father, I grew up mostly in London, spending childhood summers in my mother's hometown of Sarajevo.
I wrote my debut novel BLACK BUTTERFLIES (2022) to understand the siege that devastated Sarajevo from 1992-1996. It turned many of my maternal relatives, including my grandparents, into refugees. It's inspired by their stories and, in particular, by the extraordinary tale of my great-uncle, the Bosnian landscape painter Dobrivoje Beljkasic.
BLACK BUTTERFLIES was shortlisted for the Women’s Prize for Fiction 2023, the RSL Ondaatje Prize, the Authors’ Club Best First Novel Award, the Wilbur Smith Adventure Writing Prize and the Nota Bene Prize. It was chosen as Indie Fiction Book of the Month in May 2022.
I love teaching as well as writing and teach creative writing, most recently at University College Dublin. I have a PhD in Creative Writing from the University of East Anglia and read Spanish, Italian and Social Anthropology at Cambridge University.
Find out more at www.priscillamorris.org.
Connect with me on instagram on @priscillamorriswriter.
I wrote my debut novel BLACK BUTTERFLIES (2022) to understand the siege that devastated Sarajevo from 1992-1996. It turned many of my maternal relatives, including my grandparents, into refugees. It's inspired by their stories and, in particular, by the extraordinary tale of my great-uncle, the Bosnian landscape painter Dobrivoje Beljkasic.
BLACK BUTTERFLIES was shortlisted for the Women’s Prize for Fiction 2023, the RSL Ondaatje Prize, the Authors’ Club Best First Novel Award, the Wilbur Smith Adventure Writing Prize and the Nota Bene Prize. It was chosen as Indie Fiction Book of the Month in May 2022.
I love teaching as well as writing and teach creative writing, most recently at University College Dublin. I have a PhD in Creative Writing from the University of East Anglia and read Spanish, Italian and Social Anthropology at Cambridge University.
Find out more at www.priscillamorris.org.
Connect with me on instagram on @priscillamorriswriter.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 769 reviews
March 28, 2024
This book specifically documents one woman's experience living in Sarajevo during the Bosnian War, but also speaks to a wider truth of human perseverance in times of conflict. It recounts the trauma, isolation, and devastation of war, but also the remarkable power of the human spirit, and the way communities come together to provide a glimmer of hope in the bleakest of times.
One scene that will always stick with me is when it starts snowing in Sarajevo, and the temporary peace this brings our protagonist. The purity and perfection of the snow (think of the intricacy of each snowflake, a beauty produced entirely by nature) is problematised by the inevitability that it will eventually melt. Initially coating the evidence of war's destruction with a shimmering white blanket, the snow eventually disappears into a brown slush. If anything, this causes the protagonist to feel an even grander sense of emptiness, having been offered a momentary refuge - it serves as a reminder of what she has lost.
I loved the way this book depicted the importance of art, presented here as the antithesis of war, though also deeply intertwined. I think of this Bertolt Brecht quote, which remains as pertinent as ever:
"In the dark times
Will there also be singing?
Yes, there will also be singing.
About the dark times.”
One scene that will always stick with me is when it starts snowing in Sarajevo, and the temporary peace this brings our protagonist. The purity and perfection of the snow (think of the intricacy of each snowflake, a beauty produced entirely by nature) is problematised by the inevitability that it will eventually melt. Initially coating the evidence of war's destruction with a shimmering white blanket, the snow eventually disappears into a brown slush. If anything, this causes the protagonist to feel an even grander sense of emptiness, having been offered a momentary refuge - it serves as a reminder of what she has lost.
I loved the way this book depicted the importance of art, presented here as the antithesis of war, though also deeply intertwined. I think of this Bertolt Brecht quote, which remains as pertinent as ever:
"In the dark times
Will there also be singing?
Yes, there will also be singing.
About the dark times.”
April 26, 2023
*Shortlisted for the 2023 Women's Prize for Fiction*
4.5⭐️
Set in 1992 Sarajevo, Black Butterflies by Priscilla Morris is a harrowing (fictional) account of the first year of the Siege as seen from the perspective of fifty- five year old painter and Professor of Art at the Academy of Fine Arts , Zora Kočović, a civilian trapped in the war-torn city that has always been her home.
“Half of Sarajevo is Muslim, a quarter Serb, and fewer than one in ten Croat. A third of marriages are mixed, the children simply calling themselves ‘Yugoslav’.”
Predominantly secular and home to a multi-ethnic population, April 1992 saw Bosnian Serb Nationalists place Sarajevo under siege, intending to remove Bosnian Muslims – an act of “ethnic cleansing”. Anti-nationalist peace marches were met with sniper attacks and widespread violence. Zora, a Serb whose family has called Sarajevo home for generations, is heartbroken with what is happening around her. As the situation begins to worsen she sends her husband and her elderly mother to England to live with her daughter and her family with hopes that the situation is a temporary one and life would return to normal soon enough. Left on her own, she spends her time painting her favorite bridges and landscapes in her studio on the top floor of the Vijećnica (Town Hall), teaching and hoping for better days.
“There’s a new category here now: the good Serb, i.e. the Serb who is not a nationalist, who does not want to divide the country, to ethnically cleanse. I’m constantly having to reassure people that I’m a good Serb. It’s driving me insane.”
But when the unrest intensifies and all avenues to leave are gradually shut down, she is trapped, alone but for her neighbors and students, deriving comfort and support from one another. Braving the elements and coping with food shortages no electricity, no heat and no water while trying to stay alive amid mortar fire and sniper bullets they also bear witness to the destruction of the city they all love and the lives they built around it.
“We’re all refugees now, Zora writes to Franjo. We spend our days waiting for water, for bread, for humanitarian handouts: beggars in our own city.”
This is a brutally honest, informative and hard-hitting story. Given the subject matter, that is not surprising and the author paints a vivid picture of the struggles of daily life amidst a horrific war. Zora’s pain and despair are palpable as she tries to contact her family and find a way to leave when her living conditions become unbearable. While on one hand, the author is brutal in her description of the volatile political climate, violence and horrific living conditions, she also paints a poignant picture of strength and resilience, humanity and a sense of family and unity among those struggling to survive the war. The symbolism of Zora’s art and the significance of the title “Black Butterflies” against the upheaval and devastation Zora witnesses is of particular significance to this story. Zora's art is not only a source of engagement and comfort for her during those difficult times but also provides readers a brief glimpse into the folklore and historical Ottoman architecture of Bosnia-Herzegovina. I would urge you to read the Author’s Note wherein Morris talks about her family and the real events that inspired this novel.
Overall, I found this novel to be a well-researched, beautifully-written work of historical fiction. It is hard to believe that this is the author’s debut novel and I look forward to reading more from this author in the future.
4.5⭐️
Set in 1992 Sarajevo, Black Butterflies by Priscilla Morris is a harrowing (fictional) account of the first year of the Siege as seen from the perspective of fifty- five year old painter and Professor of Art at the Academy of Fine Arts , Zora Kočović, a civilian trapped in the war-torn city that has always been her home.
“Half of Sarajevo is Muslim, a quarter Serb, and fewer than one in ten Croat. A third of marriages are mixed, the children simply calling themselves ‘Yugoslav’.”
Predominantly secular and home to a multi-ethnic population, April 1992 saw Bosnian Serb Nationalists place Sarajevo under siege, intending to remove Bosnian Muslims – an act of “ethnic cleansing”. Anti-nationalist peace marches were met with sniper attacks and widespread violence. Zora, a Serb whose family has called Sarajevo home for generations, is heartbroken with what is happening around her. As the situation begins to worsen she sends her husband and her elderly mother to England to live with her daughter and her family with hopes that the situation is a temporary one and life would return to normal soon enough. Left on her own, she spends her time painting her favorite bridges and landscapes in her studio on the top floor of the Vijećnica (Town Hall), teaching and hoping for better days.
“There’s a new category here now: the good Serb, i.e. the Serb who is not a nationalist, who does not want to divide the country, to ethnically cleanse. I’m constantly having to reassure people that I’m a good Serb. It’s driving me insane.”
But when the unrest intensifies and all avenues to leave are gradually shut down, she is trapped, alone but for her neighbors and students, deriving comfort and support from one another. Braving the elements and coping with food shortages no electricity, no heat and no water while trying to stay alive amid mortar fire and sniper bullets they also bear witness to the destruction of the city they all love and the lives they built around it.
“We’re all refugees now, Zora writes to Franjo. We spend our days waiting for water, for bread, for humanitarian handouts: beggars in our own city.”
This is a brutally honest, informative and hard-hitting story. Given the subject matter, that is not surprising and the author paints a vivid picture of the struggles of daily life amidst a horrific war. Zora’s pain and despair are palpable as she tries to contact her family and find a way to leave when her living conditions become unbearable. While on one hand, the author is brutal in her description of the volatile political climate, violence and horrific living conditions, she also paints a poignant picture of strength and resilience, humanity and a sense of family and unity among those struggling to survive the war. The symbolism of Zora’s art and the significance of the title “Black Butterflies” against the upheaval and devastation Zora witnesses is of particular significance to this story. Zora's art is not only a source of engagement and comfort for her during those difficult times but also provides readers a brief glimpse into the folklore and historical Ottoman architecture of Bosnia-Herzegovina. I would urge you to read the Author’s Note wherein Morris talks about her family and the real events that inspired this novel.
Overall, I found this novel to be a well-researched, beautifully-written work of historical fiction. It is hard to believe that this is the author’s debut novel and I look forward to reading more from this author in the future.
April 27, 2022
In a Nutshell: An enlightening and traumatising fictional account of a war I wasn’t much aware of – the Bosnian war of the early 1990s. Well-researched, well-written, bitter-sweet.
Story:
First, know a little more about the Bosnian War to realise how historically significant (and monumentally stupid and infinitely wasteful) it was. Estimates suggest around 100,000 people were killed during the war. Over 2.2 million people were displaced, making it the most devastating conflict in Europe since the end of World War II. In addition, an estimated 12,000–50,000 women were raped, mainly carried out by Serb forces, with most of the victims being Bosniak women. The author focusses on the experiences of those surviving in the part of Sarajevo that was under attack by the Serbs. I was grateful that she didn’t include any rape narratives in her story – I don’t think I could have handled that. Simply reading this statistic is enough to depress me.
Where the book worked for me:
💐 It was an eye-opener! There were so many situations I simply couldn't fathom - your family property being distributed among strangers because of a communist government's weird beliefs, being on the waiting list for more than a decade to get a flat allotted, the government declaring that anyone can move into empty house as the owners have “abandoned” them… and this is even before the actual war began! How we take our privileges under democracy for granted! Sigh.
💐 The author pays fair attention to each of the ethnic groups in Sarajevo. To use her stats, “half of Sarajevo is Muslim, a quarter Serb and fewer than one in ten are Croat. About a third of the population are in mixed marriages.” All of these are represented fairly in the story through characters coming from various ethnic identities. More importantly, no sides are taken. (The author mentions in her note that there are no ethnic identities but national identities in Bosnia, but unless you read her note entirely, you won’t understand why. So I stuck to the word “ethnic” in this review.)
💐 There are no breaks through regular chapters. Instead, the narrative is divided in long sections named by season – Spring, Summer,... This was a great way to highlight how time passes differently under situations of siege. (Don’t we all remember how time almost stopped during the lockdown?!?) This feels like one endless story that spirals slowly into a kind of claustrophobic hopelessness.
💐 The title has a special significance in the story, and this gets revealed only about the midway mark in a distressing event. I would have thought it to be an exaggeration but when I read that part, I remembered a scene from the first episode of the TV series ‘Chernobyl” where a similar experience with “black butterflies” was shown. That scene helped me visualise this event properly. In addition, you can search online for the meaning of “black butterfly” and once you read the book, you will see what an apt title it is for this story.
💐 There is a strong underlying theme of bridges, which is so ironic in a war story. Zora’s specialty is painting bridges. Her latest artwork is set around one of the main bridges of the city. Some folk stories within the narrative are set around bridges. And yet, all the bridges between Sarajevo and the outside world have been destroyed by the war, as have the internal metaphorical bridges between the different ethnic groups.
💐 There are many situations in the book that will show you a side of war you have hardly ever seen in fiction. Some scenes create a claustrophobic feeling; others are way too disquieting. The story hits hard on your emotions. The writing enhances the impact. Sample this line written by Zora in a letter: “We're all refugees now. We spend our days waiting for water, for bread, for humanitarian handouts: beggars in our own city.”
💐 The ending is perfect for such a story.
💐 The author has researched her book well and it shows in the detailed and precise penning of incidents and feelings.
💐 The author’s note clarifies which two persons' experiences she combined and adapted into this story. That lends a lot of validity to what would otherwise have seemed as fictional events improbable in real life.
�� I couldn’t believe that this was a debut novel. It has a maturity lacking in the writing of far more experienced authors.
Where the book could have worked better for me:
⚠ If there was one thing that strongly took away from my experience, it was the romantic track. Yes, yes, I understand… war time, living in the present, exceptional circumstances, absent spouses, can’t function within normal societal rules,.. blah blah.. But it was still forced and unnecessary to the main plot.
⚠ There are a lot of lengthy descriptions of the city and its sites. It felt like an emotional ode to Sarajevo, a tad overdone. (This is understandable given the topic of the book.)
⚠ I wasn’t much familiar with the details of these events except for a skeletal knowledge of the war having taken place. So I found myself a little lost at times in understanding the geography and the politics of the region. I also didn’t understand what issue the war began over. (Then again, one of the characters says that even they fail to understand why the war started in the first place. So I guess there’s no easy answer to this question.) I would have appreciated a brief note at the end on the facts behind the cause of the war and the political climate at the time, just like the facts behind the ethnic groups were clarified in the author’s note.
⚠ The book is marked as literary fiction but it is more of a commercial historical fiction. This didn’t make any difference to me this time but to those who expect a book to cater to its advertised genre, this could be a minor problem.
I couldn’t help connecting this story with the situation in Ukraine right now. Of course, the author hasn’t written this book to capitalise on the current war because I had received this book from Netgalley in January and it is meant to be published on the 30th anniversary of the ‘Siege of Sarajevo’. But there are so many similarities between the experience of Zora and what we read about Ukraine citizens in the newspaper. It makes me feel like no matter how much our technology progresses, we humans don’t progress in “humanity” – our thoughts are still all about power and control, whether over nature or over other people. We are truly a selfish species on the whole. 😟
All I can say is, if you are looking for a book that unveils the hidden costs of war on the citizens forced into it, and that juxtaposes many opposite feelings - vulnerability and resilience, hope and hopelessness, devastation and creation, this is the book for you. But please note, if you are in an anxious or depressed state of mind, I suggest you stay away from this book until you are in a happier mental place.
4.5 stars. (Yes, I said 4.25 here earlier today, but it’s a debut novel, and it is still in my mind after the entire day has passed by. It deserves more!)
My thanks to Duckworth Books and NetGalley for the DRC of “Black Butterflies”. This review is voluntary and contains my honest opinion about the book.
***********************
Join me on the Facebook group, Readers Forever! , for more reviews, book-related discussions and fun.
Story:
1992, Sarajevo. Zora is a 55 year old artist who teaches art at college and loves to paint bridges and nature scenes in her spare time. She stays with her 70 year old husband and also has her 83 year mother staying nearby. When the war begins, Zora’s family doesn’t believe that it would go on for long. But when the law and order situation degrades after some ethnic groups tussle over their rights, Zora’s husband plans to take his sick mother-in-law to the UK where his daughter lives with her family. However, the transport lines are closed soon after his departure and Zora find herself stuck all alone in a war-torn city, with hardly any resources, very few trustworthy neighbours, and no hope of escape.
The story is narrated in the third person perspective of Zora.
First, know a little more about the Bosnian War to realise how historically significant (and monumentally stupid and infinitely wasteful) it was. Estimates suggest around 100,000 people were killed during the war. Over 2.2 million people were displaced, making it the most devastating conflict in Europe since the end of World War II. In addition, an estimated 12,000–50,000 women were raped, mainly carried out by Serb forces, with most of the victims being Bosniak women. The author focusses on the experiences of those surviving in the part of Sarajevo that was under attack by the Serbs. I was grateful that she didn’t include any rape narratives in her story – I don’t think I could have handled that. Simply reading this statistic is enough to depress me.
Where the book worked for me:
💐 It was an eye-opener! There were so many situations I simply couldn't fathom - your family property being distributed among strangers because of a communist government's weird beliefs, being on the waiting list for more than a decade to get a flat allotted, the government declaring that anyone can move into empty house as the owners have “abandoned” them… and this is even before the actual war began! How we take our privileges under democracy for granted! Sigh.
💐 The author pays fair attention to each of the ethnic groups in Sarajevo. To use her stats, “half of Sarajevo is Muslim, a quarter Serb and fewer than one in ten are Croat. About a third of the population are in mixed marriages.” All of these are represented fairly in the story through characters coming from various ethnic identities. More importantly, no sides are taken. (The author mentions in her note that there are no ethnic identities but national identities in Bosnia, but unless you read her note entirely, you won’t understand why. So I stuck to the word “ethnic” in this review.)
💐 There are no breaks through regular chapters. Instead, the narrative is divided in long sections named by season – Spring, Summer,... This was a great way to highlight how time passes differently under situations of siege. (Don’t we all remember how time almost stopped during the lockdown?!?) This feels like one endless story that spirals slowly into a kind of claustrophobic hopelessness.
💐 The title has a special significance in the story, and this gets revealed only about the midway mark in a distressing event. I would have thought it to be an exaggeration but when I read that part, I remembered a scene from the first episode of the TV series ‘Chernobyl” where a similar experience with “black butterflies” was shown. That scene helped me visualise this event properly. In addition, you can search online for the meaning of “black butterfly” and once you read the book, you will see what an apt title it is for this story.
💐 There is a strong underlying theme of bridges, which is so ironic in a war story. Zora’s specialty is painting bridges. Her latest artwork is set around one of the main bridges of the city. Some folk stories within the narrative are set around bridges. And yet, all the bridges between Sarajevo and the outside world have been destroyed by the war, as have the internal metaphorical bridges between the different ethnic groups.
💐 There are many situations in the book that will show you a side of war you have hardly ever seen in fiction. Some scenes create a claustrophobic feeling; others are way too disquieting. The story hits hard on your emotions. The writing enhances the impact. Sample this line written by Zora in a letter: “We're all refugees now. We spend our days waiting for water, for bread, for humanitarian handouts: beggars in our own city.”
💐 The ending is perfect for such a story.
💐 The author has researched her book well and it shows in the detailed and precise penning of incidents and feelings.
💐 The author’s note clarifies which two persons' experiences she combined and adapted into this story. That lends a lot of validity to what would otherwise have seemed as fictional events improbable in real life.
�� I couldn’t believe that this was a debut novel. It has a maturity lacking in the writing of far more experienced authors.
Where the book could have worked better for me:
⚠ If there was one thing that strongly took away from my experience, it was the romantic track. Yes, yes, I understand… war time, living in the present, exceptional circumstances, absent spouses, can’t function within normal societal rules,.. blah blah.. But it was still forced and unnecessary to the main plot.
⚠ There are a lot of lengthy descriptions of the city and its sites. It felt like an emotional ode to Sarajevo, a tad overdone. (This is understandable given the topic of the book.)
⚠ I wasn’t much familiar with the details of these events except for a skeletal knowledge of the war having taken place. So I found myself a little lost at times in understanding the geography and the politics of the region. I also didn’t understand what issue the war began over. (Then again, one of the characters says that even they fail to understand why the war started in the first place. So I guess there’s no easy answer to this question.) I would have appreciated a brief note at the end on the facts behind the cause of the war and the political climate at the time, just like the facts behind the ethnic groups were clarified in the author’s note.
⚠ The book is marked as literary fiction but it is more of a commercial historical fiction. This didn’t make any difference to me this time but to those who expect a book to cater to its advertised genre, this could be a minor problem.
I couldn’t help connecting this story with the situation in Ukraine right now. Of course, the author hasn’t written this book to capitalise on the current war because I had received this book from Netgalley in January and it is meant to be published on the 30th anniversary of the ‘Siege of Sarajevo’. But there are so many similarities between the experience of Zora and what we read about Ukraine citizens in the newspaper. It makes me feel like no matter how much our technology progresses, we humans don’t progress in “humanity” – our thoughts are still all about power and control, whether over nature or over other people. We are truly a selfish species on the whole. 😟
All I can say is, if you are looking for a book that unveils the hidden costs of war on the citizens forced into it, and that juxtaposes many opposite feelings - vulnerability and resilience, hope and hopelessness, devastation and creation, this is the book for you. But please note, if you are in an anxious or depressed state of mind, I suggest you stay away from this book until you are in a happier mental place.
4.5 stars. (Yes, I said 4.25 here earlier today, but it’s a debut novel, and it is still in my mind after the entire day has passed by. It deserves more!)
My thanks to Duckworth Books and NetGalley for the DRC of “Black Butterflies”. This review is voluntary and contains my honest opinion about the book.
***********************
Join me on the Facebook group, Readers Forever! , for more reviews, book-related discussions and fun.
June 3, 2023
I searched high and low for this since its publication last year. Even crossed a continent but couldn’t land a copy until I found one online this year. Finally.
This is the story of the Sarajevo siege that raged from 1992-1996. A story of Zora, an artist, who didn’t travel with her daughter, husband and mother to England. While they were gone, she became trapped within her city. Hunger, fear, cold. Their constants.
An ugly history and an annihilation. What started as a war for territory shifted to one of religion, with muslims being targeted.
Black Butterflies fluttering the landscape. The ashes from the fires that took the library books, the artist’s canvasses and other historical items of significance.
The writing captivating. The art a reflection of the beauty Sarajevo had before the war. The landscape; the bridges; the people.
The cost of war: devastating.
4.5⭐️
This is the story of the Sarajevo siege that raged from 1992-1996. A story of Zora, an artist, who didn’t travel with her daughter, husband and mother to England. While they were gone, she became trapped within her city. Hunger, fear, cold. Their constants.
An ugly history and an annihilation. What started as a war for territory shifted to one of religion, with muslims being targeted.
Black Butterflies fluttering the landscape. The ashes from the fires that took the library books, the artist’s canvasses and other historical items of significance.
The writing captivating. The art a reflection of the beauty Sarajevo had before the war. The landscape; the bridges; the people.
The cost of war: devastating.
4.5⭐️
July 1, 2024
A remarkable account of the strength of art, love, and hope in the face of war. The prose was beautiful, showing the limitlessness of inspiration and human connection as clear and bright as paint on a canvas. I also very thoroughly appreciated that this story helped to uplift the voices of a people seldom heard in mainstream media. A haunting and resonating new novel.
Thank you so much to Priscilla Morris and Book Sirens for this ARC. Please read this book, it will stay with you, especially if you have a connection to the arts.
Thank you so much to Priscilla Morris and Book Sirens for this ARC. Please read this book, it will stay with you, especially if you have a connection to the arts.
May 25, 2022
My thanks to Duckworth Books and NetGalley for a review copy of this book.
Black Butterflies is a beautiful, powerful, heart-wrenching, and haunting story of a city torn by war, and of its people, coping not only with the adversities of daily living, but also the helplessness and heartbreak of seeing the city they love destroyed before their own eyes. Based on real-life incidents and experiences from her own family and relatives, author Pricilla Morris paints a picture from a few decades ago, that has resonance and relevance in the present context.
Zora Kočović is a professor of art at the Academy of Fine Arts at the University in Sarajevo, where she lives with her husband Franjo, a former journalist and eighty-three-year-old mother, who spends winters at their flat. Sarajevo is a city Zora knows and loves deeply, so much so, that she can’t envision living anywhere else:
She loves Sarajevo. She knows all its alleys and courtyards, all its scents and sounds—the way the light falls at the end of their street in wintertime, the rattle of the tram, the blowsy roses that bloom each June in the mosque gardens, the plums and fogs in the autumn, the ponderous old men playing chess in the cafés, the mahalas—the old neighbourhoods—that radiate from the centre like the spiral of a snail’s shell.
Sarajevo has always been multicultural—its people living and mixing harmoniously, most families mixed—most celebrating the festivals of all cultures. But now there is unrest. Conflict is brewing—people starting to leave, and refugees allowed to occupy any flat that’s empty. Zora decides that while she will stay back a while for her painting and her job, Franjo and her mother are to travel to England for their annual visit to their daughter Dubravka, married to an Englishman, Stephen and their little daughter Ruby. Zora will join them later.
While things are difficult and there are small obstacles she must face, Zora begins to enjoy the solitude and the chance it gives her to engage in her painting. But before long, things take a turn for the worse, and the conflict turns into a full-blown war. The city is being destroyed all around her, going to university or her studio is no longer an option, and her own apartment building is damaged in the shelling. Things start to get scarce—food, water, electricity—and then completely vanish. The little contact she had with her family on the telephone too comes to an end, when lines are cut off. All the residents of Zora’s apartment building come together, helping each other cope with a situation most of them find hard to understand. We follow Zora as she tries to come to terms with all that’s going on.
This was a wonderful though heart-breaking book which kept me reading all through, and one which I highly recommend.
The Bosnian war of 1992–1995 was something I knew little about, and this book helped me get some context. While the book doesn’t go into the motivations and differences that led to the conflict (indeed, the characters themselves are at a loss to point a finger at why), it goes give one an insight into the kind of multicultural space Sarajevo was. I had no idea that it was part of the Ottoman empire once, and enjoyed getting glimpses of its culture like how festivals were celebrated and some folklore as well as some of its bridges and landmarks. Sarajevo’s people continue to fight against the seeds of division that the conflict tries to sow (there are some of course, who hold radical views, too). A particularly beautiful, yet highly distressing moment is where people get together to save what they can from the library which is on fire:
Have you ever heard of such a thing? A human chain to rescue books. A moment of coming together, of resistance. But what good did it do? They say almost two million documents burnt in there. First editions, rare manuscripts, land records, newspaper archives. Our heritage destroyed in a night.
The focus of our story is Zora’s experiences. With her we too watch as a rich, bustling, lovely city is plunged into war—as a relatively normal life (there is unrest already when the story opens) deteriorates into a struggle for day-to-day survival—a battle not only against the war and its weapons, but also against its impacts, whether lack of basic necessities or the elements or the constant insecurity and uncertainty. Before long it seems—there are no beginnings and endings. Just war.
Zora must cope with much—the struggle for survival, the pain of watching the city she loves being torn to pieces around her, her art that she lives for and through which she expresses herself destroyed, separation from her family (whom she needs more than ever at these times), grappling with the question of leaving versus staying, and really also wondering about the war itself which makes no sense. Morris gets us to experience every little emotion with Zora—the shock, the hurt, the cold, the hunger, also the few moments of comfort or happiness snatched amidst it all. And she treats it with subtlety and sensitivity—we feel pain, loss, helplessness, hopelessness—and without bringing in the slightest hint of drama.
Art is also an important thread of the book. This is what Zora does and also really the way she expresses her love for the city and also her emotions towards it. Initially we see her painting its bridges and landscapes—and later the destruction and fires that take over the city. Art also ends up offering her solace, when she feels lost, for her neighbours sending their little daughter Una for lessons gives her (in fact them both) something to look forward to.
While we see and experience everything though Zora’s perspective, we also get a sense of the community—her neighbours particularly who turn into a source of much needed comfort and support for each other during the ordeal—while each also deals with their own problems.
A beautiful and poignant read. 5 stars!
Black Butterflies is a beautiful, powerful, heart-wrenching, and haunting story of a city torn by war, and of its people, coping not only with the adversities of daily living, but also the helplessness and heartbreak of seeing the city they love destroyed before their own eyes. Based on real-life incidents and experiences from her own family and relatives, author Pricilla Morris paints a picture from a few decades ago, that has resonance and relevance in the present context.
Zora Kočović is a professor of art at the Academy of Fine Arts at the University in Sarajevo, where she lives with her husband Franjo, a former journalist and eighty-three-year-old mother, who spends winters at their flat. Sarajevo is a city Zora knows and loves deeply, so much so, that she can’t envision living anywhere else:
She loves Sarajevo. She knows all its alleys and courtyards, all its scents and sounds—the way the light falls at the end of their street in wintertime, the rattle of the tram, the blowsy roses that bloom each June in the mosque gardens, the plums and fogs in the autumn, the ponderous old men playing chess in the cafés, the mahalas—the old neighbourhoods—that radiate from the centre like the spiral of a snail’s shell.
Sarajevo has always been multicultural—its people living and mixing harmoniously, most families mixed—most celebrating the festivals of all cultures. But now there is unrest. Conflict is brewing—people starting to leave, and refugees allowed to occupy any flat that’s empty. Zora decides that while she will stay back a while for her painting and her job, Franjo and her mother are to travel to England for their annual visit to their daughter Dubravka, married to an Englishman, Stephen and their little daughter Ruby. Zora will join them later.
While things are difficult and there are small obstacles she must face, Zora begins to enjoy the solitude and the chance it gives her to engage in her painting. But before long, things take a turn for the worse, and the conflict turns into a full-blown war. The city is being destroyed all around her, going to university or her studio is no longer an option, and her own apartment building is damaged in the shelling. Things start to get scarce—food, water, electricity—and then completely vanish. The little contact she had with her family on the telephone too comes to an end, when lines are cut off. All the residents of Zora’s apartment building come together, helping each other cope with a situation most of them find hard to understand. We follow Zora as she tries to come to terms with all that’s going on.
This was a wonderful though heart-breaking book which kept me reading all through, and one which I highly recommend.
The Bosnian war of 1992–1995 was something I knew little about, and this book helped me get some context. While the book doesn’t go into the motivations and differences that led to the conflict (indeed, the characters themselves are at a loss to point a finger at why), it goes give one an insight into the kind of multicultural space Sarajevo was. I had no idea that it was part of the Ottoman empire once, and enjoyed getting glimpses of its culture like how festivals were celebrated and some folklore as well as some of its bridges and landmarks. Sarajevo’s people continue to fight against the seeds of division that the conflict tries to sow (there are some of course, who hold radical views, too). A particularly beautiful, yet highly distressing moment is where people get together to save what they can from the library which is on fire:
Have you ever heard of such a thing? A human chain to rescue books. A moment of coming together, of resistance. But what good did it do? They say almost two million documents burnt in there. First editions, rare manuscripts, land records, newspaper archives. Our heritage destroyed in a night.
The focus of our story is Zora’s experiences. With her we too watch as a rich, bustling, lovely city is plunged into war—as a relatively normal life (there is unrest already when the story opens) deteriorates into a struggle for day-to-day survival—a battle not only against the war and its weapons, but also against its impacts, whether lack of basic necessities or the elements or the constant insecurity and uncertainty. Before long it seems—there are no beginnings and endings. Just war.
Zora must cope with much—the struggle for survival, the pain of watching the city she loves being torn to pieces around her, her art that she lives for and through which she expresses herself destroyed, separation from her family (whom she needs more than ever at these times), grappling with the question of leaving versus staying, and really also wondering about the war itself which makes no sense. Morris gets us to experience every little emotion with Zora—the shock, the hurt, the cold, the hunger, also the few moments of comfort or happiness snatched amidst it all. And she treats it with subtlety and sensitivity—we feel pain, loss, helplessness, hopelessness—and without bringing in the slightest hint of drama.
Art is also an important thread of the book. This is what Zora does and also really the way she expresses her love for the city and also her emotions towards it. Initially we see her painting its bridges and landscapes—and later the destruction and fires that take over the city. Art also ends up offering her solace, when she feels lost, for her neighbours sending their little daughter Una for lessons gives her (in fact them both) something to look forward to.
While we see and experience everything though Zora’s perspective, we also get a sense of the community—her neighbours particularly who turn into a source of much needed comfort and support for each other during the ordeal—while each also deals with their own problems.
A beautiful and poignant read. 5 stars!
May 9, 2022
Sorry, I don't want to sound like a book-snob, but this is far more commercial in writing style, tone and attitude than I expected (lots of those 'cold needles of panic pierced my stomach' type sentences - ugh!). I was interested in the subject matter but this feels superficial in treatment and with no subtlety or nuance or additional historical insight, or any sense of knowledge beyond that which anyone outside of the former Yugoslavia could have read in the newspapers. Just not my type of book
May 10, 2023
In her twenties, when she returned home from her six years in Paris and Belgrade, she realised she couldn't live anywhere else. And now, she wants to stay in the city she loves as it's shaken, to see things through.
This is the third book in my quest to read all of the shortlisted books for this year's Women's Prize for Fiction.
Black Butterflies tells the story of Zora, a woman who decides to remain behind in her war torn home of Sarajevo, while her husband and mother leave to stay in England with Zora's daughter. The devastation of the war - the death, the hunger, the destruction of the city, the freezing cold of winter with no heat, and more - plays out on these pages. The story is a harrowing one, but there are also glimmers of hope throughout, through new love, painting, community gatherings, and dinner parties. People still manage to show kindness amidst the darkness.
The story is impactful, but it did not impact me as much as I had hoped. I felt disconnected from the characters - they weren't well-fleshed out and I didn't feel like I really knew them. There is a very sad death towards the end that I could acknowledge as heartbreaking but I didn't feel the sorrow because of that disconnection. As a reader, characters and dialogue are my two biggest interests so, unfortunately, this fell a bit flat.
This is certainly a compelling choice for the Shortlist but not my favorite, as it stands.
My 2023 Women's Prize for Fiction Shortlist Rankings (so far)
1.) Trespasses by Louise Kennedy
2.) Black Butterflies by Priscilla Morris
3.) The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O'Farrell
Rating: 3.5 / 5
Currently reading
February 8, 2024This was just Long Listed for the Women’s Prize for Fiction That is my favorite awards competition.
I am especially interested in this book, as I remember the atrocities in Sarajevo. I just ordered the book now, so another book I can’t wait to Read 🥰📚📚📚📚
The 2023 Women’s Prize for Fiction went to Demon Copperhead, Barbara Kingsolver. I have 3 to finish and think reading them closely helps decide which book strikes me as the best. I think this year’s nominations were all good.
Now how have I pushed this book aside and not Read It Yet! Maybe, because I have about 40 books ‘I’m Reading”. I Really Must Prioritize this One and Start 🥰
I am especially interested in this book, as I remember the atrocities in Sarajevo. I just ordered the book now, so another book I can’t wait to Read 🥰📚📚📚📚
The 2023 Women’s Prize for Fiction went to Demon Copperhead, Barbara Kingsolver. I have 3 to finish and think reading them closely helps decide which book strikes me as the best. I think this year’s nominations were all good.
Now how have I pushed this book aside and not Read It Yet! Maybe, because I have about 40 books ‘I’m Reading”. I Really Must Prioritize this One and Start 🥰
October 16, 2023
4.5★
A few years after the event/s I became quite obsessed with the rolling wars that brought about the end of the former Yugoslavia, and read about it voraciously, but it was always the siege of Sarajevo that made my heart hurt the most. It's been a long time since then and I thought I'd had my fill until this novel by Priscilla Morris came along with its enticing cover, for the 30th anniversary of the siege. Morris's story is based upon the real life experience of older members of her own family, and I think it's an essential additional to the canon. It covers the first 10 months, and while it doesn't shy away from the horror and desperation, it also provides an insight to the warmth and humanity of the multicultural populace, trying to go about their ordinary lives under extraordinary circumstances. Rachel Atkins' narration is excellent.
Because I read the audiobook edition I wasn't able to read the Author's Note, but I found this article that explains how the novel relates to the author's family. https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/bo...
This book was shortlisted for The Women’s Prize for Fiction 2023, and I recommended it highly.
A few years after the event/s I became quite obsessed with the rolling wars that brought about the end of the former Yugoslavia, and read about it voraciously, but it was always the siege of Sarajevo that made my heart hurt the most. It's been a long time since then and I thought I'd had my fill until this novel by Priscilla Morris came along with its enticing cover, for the 30th anniversary of the siege. Morris's story is based upon the real life experience of older members of her own family, and I think it's an essential additional to the canon. It covers the first 10 months, and while it doesn't shy away from the horror and desperation, it also provides an insight to the warmth and humanity of the multicultural populace, trying to go about their ordinary lives under extraordinary circumstances. Rachel Atkins' narration is excellent.
Because I read the audiobook edition I wasn't able to read the Author's Note, but I found this article that explains how the novel relates to the author's family. https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/bo...
This book was shortlisted for The Women’s Prize for Fiction 2023, and I recommended it highly.
September 26, 2022
Drawing on her own family history, Morris has crafted an absorbing story set in Sarajevo in 1992, the first year of the Bosnian War. Zora, a middle-aged painter, has sent her husband, Franjo, and elderly mother off to England to stay with her daughter, Dubravka, confident that she’ll see out the fighting in the safety of their flat and welcome them home in no time. But things rapidly get much worse than she is prepared for. Phone lines are cut off, then the water, then the electricity. “We’re all refugees now, Zora writes to Franjo. We spend our days waiting for water, for bread, for humanitarian handouts: beggars in our own city.”
When even the haven of her studio is taken away from her, she’s reduced to the bare bones of existence, with just a few beloved neighbours to keep her spirits up. Her painting, more an obsession than a hobby, keeps her human as she awaits space on a Red Cross convoy. The title has heartrending significance: ‘black butterflies’ are fragments of paper carried on the breeze after the burning of the National Library of Sarajevo, 30 years ago last month. It was especially poignant to be reading this during the war in Ukraine and think about the sorts of daily dangers and deprivation that people face in conflict zones. The pages turned quickly and I was reminded of Girl at War, one of my absolute favourites, as well as The Pianist.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
When even the haven of her studio is taken away from her, she’s reduced to the bare bones of existence, with just a few beloved neighbours to keep her spirits up. Her painting, more an obsession than a hobby, keeps her human as she awaits space on a Red Cross convoy. The title has heartrending significance: ‘black butterflies’ are fragments of paper carried on the breeze after the burning of the National Library of Sarajevo, 30 years ago last month. It was especially poignant to be reading this during the war in Ukraine and think about the sorts of daily dangers and deprivation that people face in conflict zones. The pages turned quickly and I was reminded of Girl at War, one of my absolute favourites, as well as The Pianist.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
April 17, 2023
I was overwhelmed with emotion by this novel of the siege of Sarajevo. Zora, a known Bosnian artist (and our heroine) and her husband are long time residents of Sarajevo. The reader understands that Sarajevo is a city in which people of many nationalities and religions live in relative harmony. When the fighting starts (1992), Zora’s mother and husband flee to England, leaving Zora in Sarajevo. With beautiful writing and incredible insight, this novel deals with the many facets of the ensuing siege and war. We see Zora, the artist, as she continues to paint and to teach art, until her workplace is destroyed and her art takes on a different form. We see the suffering of (mostly Muslim) refugees who have been forced from their homes with nothing but scars and are trying to continue their lives in Sarajevo. We see young men forced into military service. We see how the war pits nationalities and religions – and therefore neighbors - against each other. We see and feel the effects of constant shelling and the related fear and deaths. As the siege continues and winter comes, we see people suffering without food, power or water. We see the incredible emotional toll this takes upon all those living in Sarajevo. In the midst of it all, we see love – both family and romantic. Zora’s perspective, as a woman alone in a city under a brutal siege, who has watched the city she loves evolve into terror and destruction, will stay with me for a long time.
May 4, 2023
"We're all refugees now...We spend our days waiting for water, for bread, for humanitarian handouts: beggars in our own city"
Set in 1992, Zora Kočović is an art professor who lives in Sarajevo with her husband, Franjo (a former journalist), and her 83 years old mother. Sarajevo is a multicultural city (where the city is full of the Muslim, Serb, Croat, and Yugoslav populations) but racial sentiments, and ethnic tensions have arisen, and conflict is brewing. At this point in time, Zora decided to stay in Sarajevo for her painting and her job while Franjo and her mother traveled to England to visit their daughter Dubravka. Unfortunately, subsequent to the recognition of Bosnia as an independent and sovereign nation, the Bosnian War broke out and Sarajevo was under siege. Zora is trapped in Sarajevo and she is forced to maneuver around the constant bombings, shellings, and violence happening in the city, together with her neighbors and friends, and she has to resort to art to keep herself sane.
It was mentioned in the Author's Note that Black Butterflies is inspired by Priscilla Morris's great-uncle's story (where her great-uncle, an artist, was devastated and vowed not to paint after the destruction of the Vijećnica, the National Library of Bosnia) and the rescue of Priscilla Morris's maternal grandparents by her father from the Siege of Sarajevo. Black Butterflies is definitely an eye-opening read as it is premised on a European historical backdrop in 1992 that I am not familiar with: the Breakup of Yugoslavia, the Bosnian War, and the Siege of Sarajevo. The atmosphere surrounding the siege (the constant fear, the uneasiness, the hurdles that the citizens faced, the despair and oppressive state of the citizens), in particular, the dehumanization and degradation that occurred during that period are depicted very well by Morris. The other aspect of this novel would be the role of art in the state of war, where Zora resorts to art as a tool of comfort. When the Vijećnica was completely destroyed on 25 August 1992 (as a result of Serbian shelling during the Siege of Sarajevo), which resulted in the destruction of a majority of rare and unique collections of manuscripts and books in the library, Zora's despair, fear and desperation are amplified. The term "Black Butterflies" is used to describe the "burnt fragments of poetry and art catching in people's hair". It signifies the destruction of the last comfort and refuge that the citizens of Sarajevo have during the siege. "Have you ever heard of such a thing? A human chain to rescue books. A moment of coming together, of resistance. But what good did it do? They say almost two million documents burnt in there. First editions, rare manuscripts, land records, newspaper archives. Our heritage destroyed in a night".
Though the historical events during the Bosnian War are intriguing and there are certain heartwrenching moments in the book, there is a lack of depth in characterization, particularly the examination of the relationships between the character (especially the relationship between Zora and Mirsad, a bookseller whose romantic relationship with Zora bloomed during the siege). The book reads like a typical historical fiction without any uniqueness in form or distinctiveness in writing or prose (PS: I know I shouldn't be too harsh as this is a debut work by Morris). While it's shortlisted for the 2023 Women's Prize for Fiction, this is just a 3.5/5 star rating (and I can't believe the judges opted this over I'm A Fan!).
Set in 1992, Zora Kočović is an art professor who lives in Sarajevo with her husband, Franjo (a former journalist), and her 83 years old mother. Sarajevo is a multicultural city (where the city is full of the Muslim, Serb, Croat, and Yugoslav populations) but racial sentiments, and ethnic tensions have arisen, and conflict is brewing. At this point in time, Zora decided to stay in Sarajevo for her painting and her job while Franjo and her mother traveled to England to visit their daughter Dubravka. Unfortunately, subsequent to the recognition of Bosnia as an independent and sovereign nation, the Bosnian War broke out and Sarajevo was under siege. Zora is trapped in Sarajevo and she is forced to maneuver around the constant bombings, shellings, and violence happening in the city, together with her neighbors and friends, and she has to resort to art to keep herself sane.
It was mentioned in the Author's Note that Black Butterflies is inspired by Priscilla Morris's great-uncle's story (where her great-uncle, an artist, was devastated and vowed not to paint after the destruction of the Vijećnica, the National Library of Bosnia) and the rescue of Priscilla Morris's maternal grandparents by her father from the Siege of Sarajevo. Black Butterflies is definitely an eye-opening read as it is premised on a European historical backdrop in 1992 that I am not familiar with: the Breakup of Yugoslavia, the Bosnian War, and the Siege of Sarajevo. The atmosphere surrounding the siege (the constant fear, the uneasiness, the hurdles that the citizens faced, the despair and oppressive state of the citizens), in particular, the dehumanization and degradation that occurred during that period are depicted very well by Morris. The other aspect of this novel would be the role of art in the state of war, where Zora resorts to art as a tool of comfort. When the Vijećnica was completely destroyed on 25 August 1992 (as a result of Serbian shelling during the Siege of Sarajevo), which resulted in the destruction of a majority of rare and unique collections of manuscripts and books in the library, Zora's despair, fear and desperation are amplified. The term "Black Butterflies" is used to describe the "burnt fragments of poetry and art catching in people's hair". It signifies the destruction of the last comfort and refuge that the citizens of Sarajevo have during the siege. "Have you ever heard of such a thing? A human chain to rescue books. A moment of coming together, of resistance. But what good did it do? They say almost two million documents burnt in there. First editions, rare manuscripts, land records, newspaper archives. Our heritage destroyed in a night".
Though the historical events during the Bosnian War are intriguing and there are certain heartwrenching moments in the book, there is a lack of depth in characterization, particularly the examination of the relationships between the character (especially the relationship between Zora and Mirsad, a bookseller whose romantic relationship with Zora bloomed during the siege). The book reads like a typical historical fiction without any uniqueness in form or distinctiveness in writing or prose (PS: I know I shouldn't be too harsh as this is a debut work by Morris). While it's shortlisted for the 2023 Women's Prize for Fiction, this is just a 3.5/5 star rating (and I can't believe the judges opted this over I'm A Fan!).
May 31, 2022
4.5 Stars
Thanks @BookSirens and the author/publisher for a complimentary eARC of #BlackButterflies upon my request. All opinions are my own.
In the spring of 1992, fifty-five year old Zora can’t imagine that the Siege of Sarajevo will last long. Her husband and elderly mother leave for England, and she stays behind to continue working as an artist and teacher. The situation deteriorates quickly and Zora has waited too long to leave. The places she loves are destroyed and black ashes float around. Zora joins with her friends to survive the days, offer comfort to each other, and find reasons to hope.
“Everything is better when done together. The taste of food and water, the touch when they hug each other hello. They’ve made it through one more day, each reunion a confirmation that they’re still alive.”
Told from Zora’s POV, the use of third-person helped remind me that this beautifully written, descriptive, heartbreaking, and reflective story wasn’t a memoir!
The story starts with an element of denial which is also common in the World War11 stories I’ve read. Citizens can’t imagine circumstances could get worse, that the rumors are true, that the occupying force would really threaten lives or cause destruction or take away freedoms or imprison responsible citizens. I think most of us felt a bit of denial early in the Pandemic. This will be over in two weeks. It couldn’t possibly get worse or last for years. It’s human nature to deny that the worst could happen. We see this situation in Ukraine today. Before the Russian invasion, I saw an interview with some Ukrainian citizens and they reported that they were not concerned and planned to continue on with their normal activities…..they are threats we have heard and lived with for years and we’re not worried they said.
The author depicts the complexities of war that includes turning neighbor against neighbor, making difficult decisions to leave or stay, caring for strangers, family, and friends, waking up one day as a refugee, loyalty to neighborhood and homeland, friends and acquaintances of different ethnicities are suddenly enemies, separation of families, etc.
Black Butterflies vividly details the costs of war, the extent of destruction, and survival strategies for people who are caught in it. The author brings war down to the most personal level. I appreciate the themes of people helping people, resilience, determination, hope, human kindness, and compassion for refugees.
Those who have an appreciation for art will find lots to love about Black Butterflies. Among other subjects, Zora loves to paint bridges and I thought often about those bridges as a metaphor for human connection and in terms of physical escape or entrapment. Art is a tool for survival.
I’m recommending Black Butterflies for fans of beautifully written historical fiction, for readers who might be familiar with Sarajevo, for readers who love stories about ordinary people in the most difficult circumstances, and for those who appreciate a memoir-like narrative.
Content Consideration: If you are negatively affected by the coverage of conditions in Ukraine, you might need to know that some content in this book is similar.
For more reviews visit my blog www.readingladies.com where this review was first published.
Thanks @BookSirens and the author/publisher for a complimentary eARC of #BlackButterflies upon my request. All opinions are my own.
In the spring of 1992, fifty-five year old Zora can’t imagine that the Siege of Sarajevo will last long. Her husband and elderly mother leave for England, and she stays behind to continue working as an artist and teacher. The situation deteriorates quickly and Zora has waited too long to leave. The places she loves are destroyed and black ashes float around. Zora joins with her friends to survive the days, offer comfort to each other, and find reasons to hope.
“Everything is better when done together. The taste of food and water, the touch when they hug each other hello. They’ve made it through one more day, each reunion a confirmation that they’re still alive.”
Told from Zora’s POV, the use of third-person helped remind me that this beautifully written, descriptive, heartbreaking, and reflective story wasn’t a memoir!
The story starts with an element of denial which is also common in the World War11 stories I’ve read. Citizens can’t imagine circumstances could get worse, that the rumors are true, that the occupying force would really threaten lives or cause destruction or take away freedoms or imprison responsible citizens. I think most of us felt a bit of denial early in the Pandemic. This will be over in two weeks. It couldn’t possibly get worse or last for years. It’s human nature to deny that the worst could happen. We see this situation in Ukraine today. Before the Russian invasion, I saw an interview with some Ukrainian citizens and they reported that they were not concerned and planned to continue on with their normal activities…..they are threats we have heard and lived with for years and we’re not worried they said.
The author depicts the complexities of war that includes turning neighbor against neighbor, making difficult decisions to leave or stay, caring for strangers, family, and friends, waking up one day as a refugee, loyalty to neighborhood and homeland, friends and acquaintances of different ethnicities are suddenly enemies, separation of families, etc.
Black Butterflies vividly details the costs of war, the extent of destruction, and survival strategies for people who are caught in it. The author brings war down to the most personal level. I appreciate the themes of people helping people, resilience, determination, hope, human kindness, and compassion for refugees.
Those who have an appreciation for art will find lots to love about Black Butterflies. Among other subjects, Zora loves to paint bridges and I thought often about those bridges as a metaphor for human connection and in terms of physical escape or entrapment. Art is a tool for survival.
I’m recommending Black Butterflies for fans of beautifully written historical fiction, for readers who might be familiar with Sarajevo, for readers who love stories about ordinary people in the most difficult circumstances, and for those who appreciate a memoir-like narrative.
Content Consideration: If you are negatively affected by the coverage of conditions in Ukraine, you might need to know that some content in this book is similar.
For more reviews visit my blog www.readingladies.com where this review was first published.
July 3, 2023
I read this as a consequence of the book’s shortlisting for the Women’s Prize for Literature, 2023.
I’m surprised the book achieved this acclaim since I found it worthy, heartfelt and uncomplicated. That’s damning the book with faint praise.
The number of fictionalised stories or historical accounts of siege is many and longstanding. From Troy to Stalingrad, and Ukraine, the subject is endlessly interesting and horrifying. The reader cannot help but be transported to the setting and to put yourself in that situation.
Priscilla Morris writes her story surrounding the siege of Sarajevo (starting in 1992). It’s a very personal story in which she, and especially older memories of her family, recall events from a first hand perspective. Morris spent some time back ‘home’ researching the events, and drawing on oral history.
There’s not too much to say about the novel. The human interest element revolves around a talented painter, and her fascination with the bridges of Sarajevo (Goats bridge in particular) is well described. Also highlighted is The Vijecnica, site of the University and (in) famous scene of the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand in 1914.
This is all pleasant enough but it doesn’t stir the blood. Ironically I rarely felt any visceral sense of the fear that would have been prevalent as the city ran out of supplies.
I regard this as a comfort read ( though the subject matter would suggest otherwise). Not one to linger long in the memory however.
I’m surprised the book achieved this acclaim since I found it worthy, heartfelt and uncomplicated. That’s damning the book with faint praise.
The number of fictionalised stories or historical accounts of siege is many and longstanding. From Troy to Stalingrad, and Ukraine, the subject is endlessly interesting and horrifying. The reader cannot help but be transported to the setting and to put yourself in that situation.
Priscilla Morris writes her story surrounding the siege of Sarajevo (starting in 1992). It’s a very personal story in which she, and especially older memories of her family, recall events from a first hand perspective. Morris spent some time back ‘home’ researching the events, and drawing on oral history.
There’s not too much to say about the novel. The human interest element revolves around a talented painter, and her fascination with the bridges of Sarajevo (Goats bridge in particular) is well described. Also highlighted is The Vijecnica, site of the University and (in) famous scene of the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand in 1914.
This is all pleasant enough but it doesn’t stir the blood. Ironically I rarely felt any visceral sense of the fear that would have been prevalent as the city ran out of supplies.
I regard this as a comfort read ( though the subject matter would suggest otherwise). Not one to linger long in the memory however.
May 18, 2022
"Black Butterflies." was a terrific book and had a pace that was really fast.
The prose was beautiful. Beyond writing, it was well crafted in order to draw us into the story.
Characterization is what makes a book transcend storytelling and move into a memorable experience. As a member of the US military in the 1990s, I was part of the teams that were involved the war. So, I can honestly say this book is very accurate knowledge that I have of the situation, even though it is a novel – – historical fiction.
Very well written book that I recommend.
I received an advance review copy for free, and I am leaving this review voluntarily.
The prose was beautiful. Beyond writing, it was well crafted in order to draw us into the story.
Characterization is what makes a book transcend storytelling and move into a memorable experience. As a member of the US military in the 1990s, I was part of the teams that were involved the war. So, I can honestly say this book is very accurate knowledge that I have of the situation, even though it is a novel – – historical fiction.
Very well written book that I recommend.
I received an advance review copy for free, and I am leaving this review voluntarily.
March 11, 2022
“War couldn’t happen here in Sarajevo. Not here where everyone loved each other, she’d told herself with the simplicity of a child.”
Priscilla Morris took me inside the siege of Sarajevo through the eyes of Zora Kocovic, a Bosnian Serb painter, who finds herself trapped in the Bosnian capital and survives to escape during the bitter winter of 1992.
As the shelling begins, Zora pleads with her husband to take her elderly mother to stay with her married daughter in England. When he arranges to return to Sarajevo, he discovers that the Sarajevo Airport has been taken over by the Yugoslav National Army and it’s impossible to enter Bosnia. Meanwhile, Zora is trapped in her hometown as it falls apart around her. I sat in tears reading about the description of violence and anarchy and how quickly things escalated. I read about looting, snipers on rooftops, empty grocery stores, water and electricity cuts, barricades and no-go zones, labyrinths of tank traps, trapping pigeons on window sills for food and lineups for humanitarian handouts. I held it all together until I came to a letter dated July 18, 1992, and the dam broke and I sobbed. On the flip side, I noted hope and determination. The residents of Zora’s apartment building stuck together and supported each other revealing their resilience and love for their community as they painted, sang and watched out for one another. I may have been raised at the height of ‘the troubles’ in Northern Ireland but I have no concept of life in a war zone. It was eye-opening.
I was appreciative of an opportunity to read about a period in history I knew absolutely nothing about. I discovered that it was the longest siege in modern warfare and it gave me insight into what living in a war zone must be like for those Ukrainians who are unable to leave. Now I know the conditions they are fleeing from and the battle within their hearts as they struggle to make the right choice. The people in Bosnia who left were labelled ‘deserters’ while those who stayed were labelled ‘good Serbs.’ Now I know that it’s not always possible to leave a war zone, especially when I read about how quickly things escalated.
I liked the symbolism in the title even though it was heartrending.
This book will be published on the 30th anniversary of the Siege of Sarajevo. It’s an informative novel allowing readers to develop compassion for refugees and those who seek asylum today.
I received an advance review copy for free from BookSirens and am leaving this review voluntarily.
Priscilla Morris took me inside the siege of Sarajevo through the eyes of Zora Kocovic, a Bosnian Serb painter, who finds herself trapped in the Bosnian capital and survives to escape during the bitter winter of 1992.
As the shelling begins, Zora pleads with her husband to take her elderly mother to stay with her married daughter in England. When he arranges to return to Sarajevo, he discovers that the Sarajevo Airport has been taken over by the Yugoslav National Army and it’s impossible to enter Bosnia. Meanwhile, Zora is trapped in her hometown as it falls apart around her. I sat in tears reading about the description of violence and anarchy and how quickly things escalated. I read about looting, snipers on rooftops, empty grocery stores, water and electricity cuts, barricades and no-go zones, labyrinths of tank traps, trapping pigeons on window sills for food and lineups for humanitarian handouts. I held it all together until I came to a letter dated July 18, 1992, and the dam broke and I sobbed. On the flip side, I noted hope and determination. The residents of Zora’s apartment building stuck together and supported each other revealing their resilience and love for their community as they painted, sang and watched out for one another. I may have been raised at the height of ‘the troubles’ in Northern Ireland but I have no concept of life in a war zone. It was eye-opening.
I was appreciative of an opportunity to read about a period in history I knew absolutely nothing about. I discovered that it was the longest siege in modern warfare and it gave me insight into what living in a war zone must be like for those Ukrainians who are unable to leave. Now I know the conditions they are fleeing from and the battle within their hearts as they struggle to make the right choice. The people in Bosnia who left were labelled ‘deserters’ while those who stayed were labelled ‘good Serbs.’ Now I know that it’s not always possible to leave a war zone, especially when I read about how quickly things escalated.
I liked the symbolism in the title even though it was heartrending.
This book will be published on the 30th anniversary of the Siege of Sarajevo. It’s an informative novel allowing readers to develop compassion for refugees and those who seek asylum today.
I received an advance review copy for free from BookSirens and am leaving this review voluntarily.
April 14, 2023
4.5 stars.
Review to come.
Review to come.
May 19, 2023
Shortlisted for the Women's Prize for Fiction but this is more historical than literary. Undoubtedly paints a vivid picture of a besieged Sarajevo in 1992, and deserves to be read for that reason. But the writing is often clichéd, with no nuance, and the characterisation weak. I really don't feel I know any of the characters in the book at all. Perhaps the point is that they are meant to be 'everyman'? It's difficult to sustain interest, though, when you can't connect with anyone The book is told in the present tense and describes all and everything almost from afar. Perhaps this is meant to convey a dream-like quality, showing a disbelief, an incredulity at what is happening as the city falls? But again, it gets in the way of connection. Things that should have moved me intensely didn't. On a more pedantic note, the book has several grammatical errors and it's puzzling how they got through the editing process.
July 23, 2023
The siege of Sarajevo is told through the eyes of Serbian artist, Zora Kocovic,as she witnesses her city crumble from the shelling of snipers in the mountains surrounding Sarajevo. Her apartment building, art studio (which sits above the library), are obliterated by the incessant bombing. The most devastating results in the death of innocent children and adults murdered while attempting to lead their “normal” and ordinary lives.
Colors shape this story. The sky is cerulean blue until it dims to black, with the shelling and devastation of innocent lives lost, historic buildings demolished, books and papers blown by the wind. The pages of all the burned books becoming something called “black butterflies.” “Black butterflies…burnt fragments of poetry and art catching in people’s hair.”
“Sometimes just before dawn, she dreams of black butterflies, their charred wings opening and closing as they drift down in their hundreds and thousands, alighting on her cheeks, her eyes, her mouth.”
“Sarajevo Red. That’s what people call that color now, as if it were the name of an oil paint.”
I feel Priscilla Morris is showing the reader that art, and in this instance the creative art form of painting, the painter’s view of the world in all its vibrant colors cannot be extinguished by the hatred and terror of war.
Finally, I must note that I learned about this book/writer because it was shortlisted for the Women’s Prize for fiction. I think the title is perfect because the story is devastatingly tragic yet beautifully written. Highly recommended.
Colors shape this story. The sky is cerulean blue until it dims to black, with the shelling and devastation of innocent lives lost, historic buildings demolished, books and papers blown by the wind. The pages of all the burned books becoming something called “black butterflies.” “Black butterflies…burnt fragments of poetry and art catching in people’s hair.”
“Sometimes just before dawn, she dreams of black butterflies, their charred wings opening and closing as they drift down in their hundreds and thousands, alighting on her cheeks, her eyes, her mouth.”
“Sarajevo Red. That’s what people call that color now, as if it were the name of an oil paint.”
I feel Priscilla Morris is showing the reader that art, and in this instance the creative art form of painting, the painter’s view of the world in all its vibrant colors cannot be extinguished by the hatred and terror of war.
Finally, I must note that I learned about this book/writer because it was shortlisted for the Women’s Prize for fiction. I think the title is perfect because the story is devastatingly tragic yet beautifully written. Highly recommended.
June 17, 2022
In its story of a diverse, peaceful community transformed by nationalism into a place of fear, death and destruction, it’s impossible to read Black Butterflies without thinking of the current war in Ukraine and, in particular, the siege of Mariupol. Through the experiences of Zora and others like her who remain in the city – increasingly not by inclination but due to the impossibility of doing anything else – the reader witnesses what it was like to live (although ‘exist’ might be a better world) through what became known as the siege of Sarajevo. Cut off from the outside world and at the mercy of snipers and enemy shelling, food shortages, lack of power and fresh water turn a once civilised thriving city into a virtual wasteland. And when winter comes, bringing with it sub-zero tempratures, every day becomes a battle of survival.
For Zora, being deprived of her ability to make art is almost as bad; being an artist is part of her very identity. It’s why the obliteration of cultural sites within the city and along with it the destruction of books, works of art and Zora’s studio has such a devastating effect on her. Gradually, however, the making of art becomes something akin to an act of resistance, of cultural defiance and an example of a determination to ‘carry on’. For Zora, it also provides a distraction from day-to-day concerns and the increasing privations. Indeed, her experiences bring about a change in her art, transforming her style into something more experimental than the landscapes she produced before. Out of necessity she incorporates the detritus of war into her art, producing bold collages.
Amongst the horror and deprivation, there are snatched moments of happiness: a shared meal assembled from scraps of food, the telling of stories around a makeshift fire, a ‘bring your own art’ exhibition, the warmth of another body next to yours. The possibility of making a perilous escape from the city brings Zora hope that she might be reunited with her family but also a feeling of guilt for others left behind.
Based on the experiences of those who lived through the Bosnian war, including the author’s own family, Black Butterflies demonstrates the strength of the human spirit, the power of art but also, as the people of Ukraine have discovered, that the peace and security we enjoy can vanish in a moment. To quote from John Buchan’s The Power-House, ‘You think that a wall as solid as the earth separates civilisation from barbarism. I tell you the division is a thread, a sheet of glass.’ Black Butterflies is an impressive debut novel.
For Zora, being deprived of her ability to make art is almost as bad; being an artist is part of her very identity. It’s why the obliteration of cultural sites within the city and along with it the destruction of books, works of art and Zora’s studio has such a devastating effect on her. Gradually, however, the making of art becomes something akin to an act of resistance, of cultural defiance and an example of a determination to ‘carry on’. For Zora, it also provides a distraction from day-to-day concerns and the increasing privations. Indeed, her experiences bring about a change in her art, transforming her style into something more experimental than the landscapes she produced before. Out of necessity she incorporates the detritus of war into her art, producing bold collages.
Amongst the horror and deprivation, there are snatched moments of happiness: a shared meal assembled from scraps of food, the telling of stories around a makeshift fire, a ‘bring your own art’ exhibition, the warmth of another body next to yours. The possibility of making a perilous escape from the city brings Zora hope that she might be reunited with her family but also a feeling of guilt for others left behind.
Based on the experiences of those who lived through the Bosnian war, including the author’s own family, Black Butterflies demonstrates the strength of the human spirit, the power of art but also, as the people of Ukraine have discovered, that the peace and security we enjoy can vanish in a moment. To quote from John Buchan’s The Power-House, ‘You think that a wall as solid as the earth separates civilisation from barbarism. I tell you the division is a thread, a sheet of glass.’ Black Butterflies is an impressive debut novel.
May 16, 2023
4.5 stars
Shortlisted for this year's Women's Prize, Black Butterflies is a beautifully written debut novel that tells the haunting and terrifying story of the siege of Sarajevo. War can creep up on a population: it can begin ever so gradually as freedoms are slowly eroded before suddenly reaching a tipping point, erupting and changing lives and families forever.
The book opens with a chilling scene in Sarajevo in the spring of 1992. Zora receives a phone call from her mother's neighbour to say that squatters have moved into Zora's mother's unoccupied apartment. This unsettling episode evokes real fear in the reader and it set my nerves on edge after just a few pages.
Zora is a landscape artist, obsessed with painting bridges. Following a period of ill health for her mother, Zora urges her husband and her mother to go to England to visit Zora's daughter and granddaughter. Gradually it becomes clear that what they envisage will be a temporary separation becomes something altogether more permanent as Zora is trapped in Sarajevo, a city surrounded. Neighbours and friends of differing nationalities (the author prefers this term to ethnicities) come together to survive through the toughest of times in this tale of humanity, art, community and what it takes to survive.
I went to Bosnia, Croatia and Montenegro on holidays in May 2006, accidentally stumbling on an independence referendum in the latter, when it seceded from Serbia. Gunshots and fireworks broke out in the capital Podgerica in jubilant scenes that I will never forget.
My abiding memory of that holiday though is Sarajevo and the Bosnian countryside. Looking back now, it was a mere 14 years after the siege and the city had not recovered. It had a vibrancy though and a carpe diem pulse to it that I imagine only a city and its inhabitants that have been to the brink can really comprehend. The countryside was still littered with landmines, dotted with unoccupied houses and pockmarked with graves marked with simple white crosses here and there. It was sobering. The Stari Most (the old bridge in Mostar) had been rebuilt two years earlier (in 2004) and stands as a symbol of reconciliation today.
I think this might be the first work of fiction that I have read about the Bosnian War; it won't be the last. Thoroughly deserving of its place on the shortlist, this is a worthy contender for the overall prize. I loved it. 4.5-5/5 stars
Shortlisted for this year's Women's Prize, Black Butterflies is a beautifully written debut novel that tells the haunting and terrifying story of the siege of Sarajevo. War can creep up on a population: it can begin ever so gradually as freedoms are slowly eroded before suddenly reaching a tipping point, erupting and changing lives and families forever.
The book opens with a chilling scene in Sarajevo in the spring of 1992. Zora receives a phone call from her mother's neighbour to say that squatters have moved into Zora's mother's unoccupied apartment. This unsettling episode evokes real fear in the reader and it set my nerves on edge after just a few pages.
Zora is a landscape artist, obsessed with painting bridges. Following a period of ill health for her mother, Zora urges her husband and her mother to go to England to visit Zora's daughter and granddaughter. Gradually it becomes clear that what they envisage will be a temporary separation becomes something altogether more permanent as Zora is trapped in Sarajevo, a city surrounded. Neighbours and friends of differing nationalities (the author prefers this term to ethnicities) come together to survive through the toughest of times in this tale of humanity, art, community and what it takes to survive.
I went to Bosnia, Croatia and Montenegro on holidays in May 2006, accidentally stumbling on an independence referendum in the latter, when it seceded from Serbia. Gunshots and fireworks broke out in the capital Podgerica in jubilant scenes that I will never forget.
My abiding memory of that holiday though is Sarajevo and the Bosnian countryside. Looking back now, it was a mere 14 years after the siege and the city had not recovered. It had a vibrancy though and a carpe diem pulse to it that I imagine only a city and its inhabitants that have been to the brink can really comprehend. The countryside was still littered with landmines, dotted with unoccupied houses and pockmarked with graves marked with simple white crosses here and there. It was sobering. The Stari Most (the old bridge in Mostar) had been rebuilt two years earlier (in 2004) and stands as a symbol of reconciliation today.
I think this might be the first work of fiction that I have read about the Bosnian War; it won't be the last. Thoroughly deserving of its place on the shortlist, this is a worthy contender for the overall prize. I loved it. 4.5-5/5 stars
April 4, 2023
Longlisted for 2023 Women’s Prize for Fiction
A harrowing examination into the siege of Sarajevo in 1992, a period in history of which I knew nothing. This book explores both the atrocity of war, including the desperate toll on innocent people who are just trying to live. It also does a wonderful job examining what makes life worth living at all, including the power of human connection and the transcendence of art. This book reads very quickly, and it placed me within the setting so well.
However, I wanted a bit more from the characterization. Zora’s strength, resilience, and love for her family and her art were on full display, but I wish we had seen more of the nuances of her character. I also wanted more from the side characters. The ending also felt a bit abrupt. I get that in the horrors of war some threads will never be tied up fully, but it was a bit too open-ended for my taste. This book also includes one of my least favorite tropes , and the fallout of that was never examined in any real depth.
I do appreciate this novel for its ability to bring me deeply into a previously-unknown period of human history. It was a short, but powerful, read.
A harrowing examination into the siege of Sarajevo in 1992, a period in history of which I knew nothing. This book explores both the atrocity of war, including the desperate toll on innocent people who are just trying to live. It also does a wonderful job examining what makes life worth living at all, including the power of human connection and the transcendence of art. This book reads very quickly, and it placed me within the setting so well.
However, I wanted a bit more from the characterization. Zora’s strength, resilience, and love for her family and her art were on full display, but I wish we had seen more of the nuances of her character. I also wanted more from the side characters. The ending also felt a bit abrupt. I get that in the horrors of war some threads will never be tied up fully, but it was a bit too open-ended for my taste. This book also includes one of my least favorite tropes , and the fallout of that was never examined in any real depth.
I do appreciate this novel for its ability to bring me deeply into a previously-unknown period of human history. It was a short, but powerful, read.
February 25, 2022
Black Butterflies is a compelling piece of historical fiction, a very readable account of civilian life during the 1992 siege of Sarajevo. Empathic and immersive, it’s a story of humanity and community in a war zone: a story of survival when everything seems to be falling apart.
Morris is interested in the everyday practicalities of living in a war zone – how to eat, sleep and stave off boredom – and her unassuming prose reflects that. It’s clear and easy to read, but she also captures some real moments of beauty and gut-wrenching brutality. The ‘black butterflies’ are a brilliant example of this, an image which is poetic, tragic and literal all at once. The writing may seem understated, but I was impressed at how skilfully crafted it is, especially for a debut.
Black Butterflies is a rare gem of a novel that celebrates kindness amidst horror, without romanticising war in any way. Highly recommended.
*Thank you to Netgalley for the arc in exchange for an honest review*
Morris is interested in the everyday practicalities of living in a war zone – how to eat, sleep and stave off boredom – and her unassuming prose reflects that. It’s clear and easy to read, but she also captures some real moments of beauty and gut-wrenching brutality. The ‘black butterflies’ are a brilliant example of this, an image which is poetic, tragic and literal all at once. The writing may seem understated, but I was impressed at how skilfully crafted it is, especially for a debut.
Black Butterflies is a rare gem of a novel that celebrates kindness amidst horror, without romanticising war in any way. Highly recommended.
*Thank you to Netgalley for the arc in exchange for an honest review*
June 17, 2023
Za sada jedina knjiga iz ovogodišnje Women's prize for fiction selekcije koja me je privukla i to zato što je tema romana opsada Sarajeva. Nisam baš sigurna šta sam tačno očekivala, ali ovo što sam dobila je onako, recimo ok, tačno pisana za zapadnjake.
Meni su utisak pokvarile rečenice tipa sve je lakše udvoje, noževi u mom srcu i slično, koje autorka ubacuje kad god pokušava da opiše napetu situaciju ili neki trenutak solidarnosti. Predvidljiva je dosta: vrlo lako možeš da proceniš ko će preživeti a ko neće (mada me je ipak malo žacnulo kad sam došla do pogibije) i kraj je zbrzan, cap, cap, cap, tako da ostajemo bez razrešenja za sve ostale ljude iz zgrade (koja, naravno, funkcioniše kao mala Jugoslavija, samo svi ostaju složni do kraja romana), što je bzvz jer se poprilično potrudila da izgradi sve junake i junakinje.
Meni su utisak pokvarile rečenice tipa sve je lakše udvoje, noževi u mom srcu i slično, koje autorka ubacuje kad god pokušava da opiše napetu situaciju ili neki trenutak solidarnosti. Predvidljiva je dosta: vrlo lako možeš da proceniš ko će preživeti a ko neće (mada me je ipak malo žacnulo kad sam došla do pogibije) i kraj je zbrzan, cap, cap, cap, tako da ostajemo bez razrešenja za sve ostale ljude iz zgrade (koja, naravno, funkcioniše kao mala Jugoslavija, samo svi ostaju složni do kraja romana), što je bzvz jer se poprilično potrudila da izgradi sve junake i junakinje.
December 10, 2023
An enthralling read. Where was I at this time in history and unaware of this suffering and destruction during basically a genocide or civil war?
The characters, the setting, and story will draw you in, close you into the dark and narrow confines of a hiding place where characters become a family of circumstance. Then propel you into the light and the norm where nothing has changed… but you… forever.
The characters, the setting, and story will draw you in, close you into the dark and narrow confines of a hiding place where characters become a family of circumstance. Then propel you into the light and the norm where nothing has changed… but you… forever.
May 22, 2023
I feel churlish for reconsidering my ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ review and knocking off two stars, but in reflecting on the experience of reading the book, it occurs to me that I really was never intellectually grabbed by anything in the writing. The story was distressing and had the strong ring of truth and authenticity, although it was not ostensibly based on any single life during the siege of Sarajevo.
When reading other fiction I find myself pausing to let the author’s ideas sink in. It’s a kind of philosophical experience; the action is set aside in order to ponder on life’s meaning. This was the case in “Demon Copperhead”, in the stories of Nada Alic’s collection, and in “Cursed Bread”, but didn’t really happen in “Black Butterflies”. Action, plot, description, internal monologue, yes. But not a lot of penetrating insight.
On a production note… it seems as though there was a pagination confusion, and the inside and outside margins were flopped, so that you had wide inner margins an narrow outer margins. And while I love the types of Frederic Goudy, I don’t think it was the right call here. I would have looked at something Slavic and more contemporary. (Or at the very least European and from the era, like Scala, which you couldn’t escape at the time.) Goudy was American and iconoclastic, but he died in 1947…
When reading other fiction I find myself pausing to let the author’s ideas sink in. It’s a kind of philosophical experience; the action is set aside in order to ponder on life’s meaning. This was the case in “Demon Copperhead”, in the stories of Nada Alic’s collection, and in “Cursed Bread”, but didn’t really happen in “Black Butterflies”. Action, plot, description, internal monologue, yes. But not a lot of penetrating insight.
On a production note… it seems as though there was a pagination confusion, and the inside and outside margins were flopped, so that you had wide inner margins an narrow outer margins. And while I love the types of Frederic Goudy, I don’t think it was the right call here. I would have looked at something Slavic and more contemporary. (Or at the very least European and from the era, like Scala, which you couldn’t escape at the time.) Goudy was American and iconoclastic, but he died in 1947…
June 11, 2023
The Bosnian conflict of the early to mid 90’s was the first war I was conscious of. There was a lot of graphic media content and there are still images which crop up in my mind now and then. Although I don’t actively seek out literature about this topic, I do like it when i come across one.
Zora is an art professor in Sarajevo. Having returned to Sarajevo from visiting her daughter in the UK in order to start the academic year, the bombing starts. Since her husband is still in the UK, Zora begins to experience all the horrors that came with the war and bond with her neighbours. The Black Butterflies of the title refers to the art college bombing where books were burnt and their pages fly in the air like butterflies.
As the situation worsens, Zora wants to reunite with husband and she tries to finds way to escape. As this is a historically accurate book, it’s interesting to see how people escaped Sarajevo and made their way into safer countries.
Priscilla Morris’ writing is serviceable but the book excels at created an emotive atmosphere. The reader will feel Zora’s pain and pleasure when finding ways to survive and her eventual bid for freedom.
Black Butterflies is a good solid novel that serves as a good primer for anyone who is interested in how the conflict began and the black market operations that were taking place.
Zora is an art professor in Sarajevo. Having returned to Sarajevo from visiting her daughter in the UK in order to start the academic year, the bombing starts. Since her husband is still in the UK, Zora begins to experience all the horrors that came with the war and bond with her neighbours. The Black Butterflies of the title refers to the art college bombing where books were burnt and their pages fly in the air like butterflies.
As the situation worsens, Zora wants to reunite with husband and she tries to finds way to escape. As this is a historically accurate book, it’s interesting to see how people escaped Sarajevo and made their way into safer countries.
Priscilla Morris’ writing is serviceable but the book excels at created an emotive atmosphere. The reader will feel Zora’s pain and pleasure when finding ways to survive and her eventual bid for freedom.
Black Butterflies is a good solid novel that serves as a good primer for anyone who is interested in how the conflict began and the black market operations that were taking place.
April 18, 2023
Women's Prize Longlist / Book #16
April 19, 2023
Kiepskie w stylu, nużące i mocno komercyjne.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 769 reviews