Miodrag Stošić: SATIRIST ON THE EDGE OF A VOLCANO

Many will say that Jovan Zafirović did not simply appear on the Serbian satirical scene. He happened. Much like a natural disaster that suddenly strikes the world, unnoticed, unexpected, and without warning, this young man from Kosovo and Metohija burst into the somewhat stagnant shallows of contemporary satire and claimed a place of his own among his peers.

Of course, anyone who has the (mis)fortune of living satire knows very well that this is merely a superficial impression. Talent is neither an excess nor an accident, nor is it something one simply wakes up with one morning. Therefore, the relatively quick recognition of this author within the satirical community, as well as this book itself, is the result of years spent observing and reflecting on everything around us.

Zafirović did not have to search for inspiration in moments of leisure. Inspiration sought him out. A man who, to borrow the metaphor of Dr Nele Karajlić, lives on the edge of a volcano must possess wit in order to survive. And it was over the fire of the volcano called Serbia that everything Zafirović eventually poured onto the pages of this book had been simmering for years. That is why this book, although his first, is not the work of a beginner. It has simply been a long time in the making.

This is evident above all in the style and form of the aphorisms presented here. They are finely polished, carved almost to perfection. They possess a phonetic rhythm that many authors spend years, if not decades, developing. The road from idea to realization is by no means short, yet this author seems to travel it with ease, almost in passing. There is nothing superfluous in his aphorisms. Every word carries weight, has its place and serves a purpose. He is not merely brief and clear, but precise: “The election will be a dead heat. Not a living soul will vote.”; “I’m for the king! That’s how I feel...”

The author does not reach for familiar combinations of metaphors, nor for ambiguities we have encountered many times before in the books of older colleagues. Despite his youth, he also avoids going for the obvious punchline. His aphorisms should be read slowly, and more than once.

Another trap he successfully avoids is topicality — or, more precisely, the short shelf life of aphorisms. In a world of social media and news items that come and go like bottles of beer at a graduation party, many authors become slaves to the daily headlines, which may easily earn likes but turn into stale jokes within three days. Zafirović, by contrast, follows the method of the Greek philosophers. He extracts the essence from the topical: that which is universal, human, and understandable even to someone who happens upon this book several decades from now.

In other words, he writes about universal and already familiar subjects, but not in familiar ways. And that is one of the hardest things to achieve in satire. Some of the aphorisms deal with Kosovo and Metohija, but this book is not only about that. Its meaning extends across the Serbian experience and, indeed, to humanity as a whole. It is concerned with people and their paradoxes, which, unfortunately or fortunately, are the same everywhere: “How can people stand behind their words when they have spent their whole lives silent?”; “You will come to your senses when your children leave you.”

Some aphorisms contain a trace of archaism. They are entirely timeless and recall traditional folk proverbs — sayings one might attribute to “folk wisdom” or to wise old women at the marketplace. Yet even these correspond perfectly with our present moment.

Thematically, the aphorisms in this book belong to the realms of politics, the social environment, corruption, and the flaws of our mentality. In other words, there is no trace of “light comedy” or of all those more colourful and attractive topics such as relations between men and women, show business, or celebrities. It is precisely the absence of such subjects that saves this book from becoming yet another piece of literary lemonade suitable for the hairdresser’s waiting room or a Facebook wall. This is sharp, powerful, courageous satire, not some mild humour for aunts and retired schoolteachers.

Although we live in a time when subjectivity is considered legitimate, when an author is entitled to hold political and other convictions and to create from them, Zafirović nevertheless seems able to remain “one of us.” While reading him, the reader does not know whom he votes for, which team he supports, what he thinks about the collapse of Western European liberalism, or what his views are on vegans. This, too, is an achievement of his satirical narrative: he panders to no one, yet manages, if not to please everyone, then at least to appear objective to all.

There were once certain “uncles” who could do that, though today there are hardly any left: Uncle Jova Zmaj, Uncle Duško Radović, Uncle Raša Popov... Who knows — perhaps one day Jovan Zafirović, too, will become “Uncle Joca” to the generations yet to come and to a world that somehow refuses to pass away. Someone quoted and read by both Grobari and Delije, monarchists and communists, lovers of both Coca-Cola and Fanta. In other words, the gold standard. I sincerely wish that for him.

Miodrag Stošić is a writer, satirist, journalist, screenwriter, and radio host.

PHOTOGRAPH: Courtesy of Miodrag Stošić’s personal archive / Editing: KOZA Publishing