How does one define himself, and find an identity? These are questions that are hard enough in a "normal" life - ideas that one continues to explore through out his life. Now, imagine a life torn apart by war, foreign travel/escape, and the effort to reestablish yourself as a war-torn immigrant in your early twenties. This sets the stage for Shards, by Ismet Prcic. The main character, also Ismet Prcic, is faced with the choice of leaving his family in civil-war-torn Bosnia for a chance at a new life in the States. The narrative, however, is not linear. Rather, we get "shards" of the story as told through journal entries, much like shards of shrapnel scattered by a mortar. There is an apt comparison in the book about a young neighborhood boy going around to collect pieces of shrapnel to try and recreate a whole mortar, which we know is impossible. And so Ismet, on his journey away from family and to the States, attempts to piece together his identity and memory while his life is falling apart. Ismet writes about a parallel character named Mustafa, who's life looks suspiciously similar to Ismet's, but he chooses to stay and fight in the war. These characters' lives run closer and closer together as the book proceeds, and the reader is left questioning which is real. This is a beautiful, brutal book, that is part memoir and part fiction. The writing will have you glued, and the imagery in the middle of the action. You won't be disappointed, but maybe frustrated as I was, left questioning what was real and what was imagined.

Yet another book that moves from reality to fantasy (?). I was interested in this book since I'm going to Croatia later this year and thought some fiction related to the conflict there would be interesting. I think I'll have to find another book on the subject since this one didn't do it for me.

i didnt particularly like it, but it wasnt bad. i really liked the writing style, but parts confused me. it was funny and sad and i liked bits a lot.

A memoir within a memoir, fiction, parallel lives, identity, love, war, death, family, tragedy, and madness.

I won this book in a Goodreads giveaways and I was utterly astounded by the force of the author's writing. Shards provides a powerful metaphor for not only the shards created by war, but also, for the shards of writing that come together to tell this incredible story.

I have no idea what happened - except it being a remarkable creative representation of trauma experiences - and that's okay; I liked it.

I admire the quality of writing but this book was hard to read and finish

I can't think of another book that could be so aptly described as VISCERAL. People get eviscerated, viscera are exposed, and the writing itself originates in the visceral realm of the gut. That's why a book this sad can also be this funny. There's a thin veneer between what's inside and outside--the book is full of puke, piss, and blood--and what's inside of a person is always trying to get out, to paraphrase Denis Johnson. It's hard to keep up a facade when you're being pierced by shards, blown into shards, or when you are a shard.

How does one define himself, and find an identity? These are questions that are hard enough in a "normal" life - ideas that one continues to explore through out his life. Now, imagine a life torn apart by war, foreign travel/escape, and the effort to reestablish yourself as a war-torn immigrant in your early twenties. This sets the stage for Shards, by Ismet Prcic. The main character, also Ismet Prcic, is faced with the choice of leaving his family in civil-war-torn Bosnia for a chance at a new life in the States. The narrative, however, is not linear. Rather, we get "shards" of the story as told through journal entries, much like shards of shrapnel scattered by a mortar. There is an apt comparison in the book about a young neighborhood boy going around to collect pieces of shrapnel to try and recreate a whole mortar, which we know is impossible. And so Ismet, on his journey away from family and to the States, attempts to piece together his identity and memory while his life is falling apart. Ismet writes about a parallel character named Mustafa, who's life looks suspiciously similar to Ismet's, but he chooses to stay and fight in the war. These characters' lives run closer and closer together as the book proceeds, and the reader is left questioning which is real. This is a beautiful, brutal book, that is part memoir and part fiction. The writing will have you glued, and the imagery in the middle of the action. You won't be disappointed, but maybe frustrated as I was, left questioning what was real and what was imagined.

complicated and confusing in a good way. Some of the writing is crystalline.