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Free: A Child and a Country at the End of History
For precocious 11-year-old Lea Ypi, Albania’s Soviet-style socialism held the promise of a preordained future, a guarantee of security among enthusiastic comrades. That is, until she found herself clinging to a stone statue of Joseph Stalin, newly beheaded by student protests.
Communism had failed to deliver the promised utopia. One’s “biography”—class status and other associations long in the past—put strict boundaries around one’s individual future. When Lea’s parents spoke of relatives going to “university” or “graduating,” they were speaking of grave secrets Lea struggled to unveil. And when the early ’90s saw Albania and other Balkan countries exuberantly begin a transition to the “free market,” Western ideals of freedom delivered chaos: a dystopia of pyramid schemes, organized crime, and sex trafficking.
With her elegant, intellectual, French-speaking grandmother; her radical-chic father; and her staunchly anti-socialist, Thatcherite mother to guide her through these disorienting times, Lea had a political education of the most colorful sort—here recounted with outstanding literary talent. Now one of the world’s most dynamic young political thinkers and a prominent leftist voice in the United Kingdom, Lea offers a fresh and invigorating perspective on the relation between the personal and the political, between values and identity, posing urgent questions about the cost of freedom.
Communism had failed to deliver the promised utopia. One’s “biography”—class status and other associations long in the past—put strict boundaries around one’s individual future. When Lea’s parents spoke of relatives going to “university” or “graduating,” they were speaking of grave secrets Lea struggled to unveil. And when the early ’90s saw Albania and other Balkan countries exuberantly begin a transition to the “free market,” Western ideals of freedom delivered chaos: a dystopia of pyramid schemes, organized crime, and sex trafficking.
With her elegant, intellectual, French-speaking grandmother; her radical-chic father; and her staunchly anti-socialist, Thatcherite mother to guide her through these disorienting times, Lea had a political education of the most colorful sort—here recounted with outstanding literary talent. Now one of the world’s most dynamic young political thinkers and a prominent leftist voice in the United Kingdom, Lea offers a fresh and invigorating perspective on the relation between the personal and the political, between values and identity, posing urgent questions about the cost of freedom.
288 pages, Hardcover
First published October 28, 2021
About the author
Lea Ypi
9 books252 followersLea Ypi is professor of political theory at London School of Economics, and adjunct associate professor of philosophy at the Australian National University, with expertise in Marxism and critical theory. A native of Albania, she has degrees in philosophy and in literature from the University of Rome La Sapienza, a Ph.D. from the European University Institute and was a post-doctoral prize research fellow at Nuffield College, Oxford University. Her latest book, a philosophical memoir entitled “Free: Coming of Age at the End of History,” published by Penguin Press in the UK and W. W. Norton & Company in North America, won the 2022 Royal Society of Literature Ondaatje Prize and the Slightly Foxed First Biography Prize. She lives and works in London.
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July 30, 2022Over the years, I have grown wary of the literature (both fiction and non-fiction) produced around Albanian communism and its immediate aftermath. If not going the route of sterile allegories, those who write about Albania's past tend to portray life under Communism in a way that flattens all complexities for the sake of condensing as much pain on the page as possible. And there are several reasons for that, chief being a belief in the power of narrative to bring about justice. But more often than not these stories are published because they respond to the Western market's demand for such narratives, often to justify the need for the neoliberal reforms pushed by the EU and the NGO industrial complex.
Free does not fall into any of these traps. It is nuanced, oftentimes hilarious, a masterful blend of the personal and political, and above all original in its confrontation with Communism and Albania's long transition into a liberal and "democratic" country.
From this side of history (and especially to Western readers), there are many aspects to life under Communism that may seem absurd, or improbable. And in reading about those experiences, there can be a tendency to exoticize them, or to feel pity, both on the part of the reader and the writer. It ends up feeling too expository or not genuine. But Ypi manages to sidestep this minefield by inhabiting and writing from the position of the child she used to be, a charming kid who took everything at face value. In doing so, the complex mechanisms of Communism are always present, but rarely interrogated, which allows us to live as little Lea lived: loving xhaxhi Enver and believing in Stalin, yes, but also exchanging gum wrappers for a chance at a sniff, and feeling genuine happiness at having an empty can of Coke to display on top of the TV.
This first section had me in stitches. It felt so real, including the tendency to remember communism through the lens of humor. There is this frank quality to Ypi's writing that manages to capture the atmosphere of Albania in those years. I can't quite explain it, unless you've experienced it yourself. It's all in the details really, the brands, the shops, the classes, the vocabulary that managed to survive the end of Communism through the decades.
But if the first part of Ypi's book is brilliant in its narrative, the second portion - focusing on Albania in the early 90s - is an absolute tour de force. It is harrowing, poignant, and a masterful analysis of the policies that led to the 1997 civil war; it is also a brilliant takedown of the groups and ideas that were meant to make of Albania a "western" democracy, with a "market economy" and the human costs of these "structural reforms."
It is astounding to read how the vocabulary of neoliberalism swiftly replaced a socialist vocabulary; and what's even more astounding is to realize that it's been 30 years, and we are still stuck in the same carousel. It's the same organizations and structures making the same promises and demands; the same dreams of achieving European standards, of being told to fight for freedom, and rule of law -- all while institutions like the World Bank recommend that our government lower its minimum wage requirements to attract more investments. At a time when, the minimum wage requirement is not enough to survive on. And as people leave en masse, Western-sponsored media publish articles where they speak of lazy Albanian workers who are no longer willing to work for scraps, thus "requiring" companies to hire foreign workers. Meanwhile, Albania's putative socialist Prime Minister jokes that foreign workers are better for business because they don't speak Albanian and thus can't unionize.
This is a thought-provoking book that I'm going to return to over and over. I did have some minor qualms. As an Albanian reader, I found some of the exposition a bit jarring, and I could always feel the Albanian vocabulary underneath the English, which made it a clunky reading experience at times. The discussion about freedom felt forced in, especially toward the beginning. But still, a wonderful read that doesn't fall into the trap of forgetting that life under a so-called authoritarian regime can be just as uneventful and routine as life anywhere else. Sometimes it's just life.
Free does not fall into any of these traps. It is nuanced, oftentimes hilarious, a masterful blend of the personal and political, and above all original in its confrontation with Communism and Albania's long transition into a liberal and "democratic" country.
From this side of history (and especially to Western readers), there are many aspects to life under Communism that may seem absurd, or improbable. And in reading about those experiences, there can be a tendency to exoticize them, or to feel pity, both on the part of the reader and the writer. It ends up feeling too expository or not genuine. But Ypi manages to sidestep this minefield by inhabiting and writing from the position of the child she used to be, a charming kid who took everything at face value. In doing so, the complex mechanisms of Communism are always present, but rarely interrogated, which allows us to live as little Lea lived: loving xhaxhi Enver and believing in Stalin, yes, but also exchanging gum wrappers for a chance at a sniff, and feeling genuine happiness at having an empty can of Coke to display on top of the TV.
This first section had me in stitches. It felt so real, including the tendency to remember communism through the lens of humor. There is this frank quality to Ypi's writing that manages to capture the atmosphere of Albania in those years. I can't quite explain it, unless you've experienced it yourself. It's all in the details really, the brands, the shops, the classes, the vocabulary that managed to survive the end of Communism through the decades.
But if the first part of Ypi's book is brilliant in its narrative, the second portion - focusing on Albania in the early 90s - is an absolute tour de force. It is harrowing, poignant, and a masterful analysis of the policies that led to the 1997 civil war; it is also a brilliant takedown of the groups and ideas that were meant to make of Albania a "western" democracy, with a "market economy" and the human costs of these "structural reforms."
It is astounding to read how the vocabulary of neoliberalism swiftly replaced a socialist vocabulary; and what's even more astounding is to realize that it's been 30 years, and we are still stuck in the same carousel. It's the same organizations and structures making the same promises and demands; the same dreams of achieving European standards, of being told to fight for freedom, and rule of law -- all while institutions like the World Bank recommend that our government lower its minimum wage requirements to attract more investments. At a time when, the minimum wage requirement is not enough to survive on. And as people leave en masse, Western-sponsored media publish articles where they speak of lazy Albanian workers who are no longer willing to work for scraps, thus "requiring" companies to hire foreign workers. Meanwhile, Albania's putative socialist Prime Minister jokes that foreign workers are better for business because they don't speak Albanian and thus can't unionize.
This is a thought-provoking book that I'm going to return to over and over. I did have some minor qualms. As an Albanian reader, I found some of the exposition a bit jarring, and I could always feel the Albanian vocabulary underneath the English, which made it a clunky reading experience at times. The discussion about freedom felt forced in, especially toward the beginning. But still, a wonderful read that doesn't fall into the trap of forgetting that life under a so-called authoritarian regime can be just as uneventful and routine as life anywhere else. Sometimes it's just life.
December 24, 2022
*3.5 stars *
It’s always fascinating to read of other cultures, and Lea Ypi’s memoir of growing up in Albania is no exception. Albania was the last Stalinist state in Europe, and as such, very little was known about it. That all changed with the creation of independent political parties, bringing about the fall of communism, just a year after the fall of the Berlin Wall.
If some Albanians thought they were already free, they were about to discover what real freedom meant. It would be a time of many firsts, as the Ypi family traveled to Greece, the birthplace of Lea’s grandmother, and a time when Lea’s parents finally dared to admit that their country had been an open-air prison for almost half a century. They wouldn’t have dared express such an opinion previously!
Sometimes sad, sometimes amusing, Lea Ypi’s memoir brings both communist and post communist Albania vividly to life. It’s a country I knew very little about, so it was both interesting and informative, and although I thought it was a little rushed at times, it was still well worth the read.
*Thank you to Netgalley and Penguin Press UK for an ARC in exchange for an honest unbiased review*
It’s always fascinating to read of other cultures, and Lea Ypi’s memoir of growing up in Albania is no exception. Albania was the last Stalinist state in Europe, and as such, very little was known about it. That all changed with the creation of independent political parties, bringing about the fall of communism, just a year after the fall of the Berlin Wall.
If some Albanians thought they were already free, they were about to discover what real freedom meant. It would be a time of many firsts, as the Ypi family traveled to Greece, the birthplace of Lea’s grandmother, and a time when Lea’s parents finally dared to admit that their country had been an open-air prison for almost half a century. They wouldn’t have dared express such an opinion previously!
Sometimes sad, sometimes amusing, Lea Ypi’s memoir brings both communist and post communist Albania vividly to life. It’s a country I knew very little about, so it was both interesting and informative, and although I thought it was a little rushed at times, it was still well worth the read.
*Thank you to Netgalley and Penguin Press UK for an ARC in exchange for an honest unbiased review*
January 14, 2023
A book against simplification and generalisation and against thinking of perpetrators and victims. A thoughtful book on regime change and what events in the newspapers, in far away small countries mean for people of flesh and blood
He knew everything had a price but was unwilling to accept that price
A thoughtful book on a country I knew next to nothing about. Sometimes I was a bit confused where in time I was and what the author was working towards, but a thought provoking book on societal systems, change, and the role of the individual in all this, and history in general. Both communism (Albanian style, which was particularly isolated) and crash capitalism after the fall of the regime of Enver Hoxha are critiqued in a show, don't tell manner, from the perspective of the author growing up. The oblique talk on people graduating from universities, an adult cover-up of the camps and prisons of the regime, is chilling. The shift in perception from especially Italy, who first welcomes refugees and when they come in the 10.000's per boat puts them in camps and extradites them, is very familiar, if not any less cynical than what we see in the current day refugee crises.
The transformation of Lea Ypi from a model communist girl to a London School of Economics professor focussed on the meaning of freedom is very impressive and subtly captured in the book. Also the reflection on the nature of both her mother and father, who need to find a way, after being prosecuted by the regime, to fit into a rapidly changing post-communist state, whose people collectively try to find it's footing is thoughtfully narrated in Free: Coming of Age at the End of History.
Especially the author's mother is rendered in a complex manner, from one of the prosecuted, to a free market liberalist and a politician, who still needs to rely on the rather inert father of the family to really make it in Albanian civil society. The 1997 civil war, again an event I remember next too nothing about, triggered in part by a Ponzi scheme of shadow banks falling apart due to over exaggerated expectations of the boons of capitalism and liberalisation, is chillingly described near the end of the book.
A book that really makes one think and brings a hardly talked about nation to the spotlight.
Dutch quotes:
Je kan beter een ontevreden mens te zijn dan een tevreden varken
Hij wist waar hij tegen was maar vond het moeilijk om te verdedigen waar hij voor stond
Ik had geen ingang tot de juiste antwoorden omdat ik niet wist hoe ik de juiste vragen moest stellen
Ik leerde de waarheid kennen toen hij niet meer gevaarlijk was
Ze was nooit niet verantwoordelijk geweest
Falen was de kust waarvan we ons losmaakten het kon niet de haven zijn waaraan we aanmeerden
Zonder daders bleven er alleen ideeën over om de schuld te geven
Iedereen wilde weg
Als je geld hebt zijn wegen natuurlijk wel open
Hij wist dat alles een prijs had, maar hij was niet bereid die prijs te accepteren
Mijn vader bewonderde politici enkel na hun dood
He knew everything had a price but was unwilling to accept that price
A thoughtful book on a country I knew next to nothing about. Sometimes I was a bit confused where in time I was and what the author was working towards, but a thought provoking book on societal systems, change, and the role of the individual in all this, and history in general. Both communism (Albanian style, which was particularly isolated) and crash capitalism after the fall of the regime of Enver Hoxha are critiqued in a show, don't tell manner, from the perspective of the author growing up. The oblique talk on people graduating from universities, an adult cover-up of the camps and prisons of the regime, is chilling. The shift in perception from especially Italy, who first welcomes refugees and when they come in the 10.000's per boat puts them in camps and extradites them, is very familiar, if not any less cynical than what we see in the current day refugee crises.
The transformation of Lea Ypi from a model communist girl to a London School of Economics professor focussed on the meaning of freedom is very impressive and subtly captured in the book. Also the reflection on the nature of both her mother and father, who need to find a way, after being prosecuted by the regime, to fit into a rapidly changing post-communist state, whose people collectively try to find it's footing is thoughtfully narrated in Free: Coming of Age at the End of History.
Especially the author's mother is rendered in a complex manner, from one of the prosecuted, to a free market liberalist and a politician, who still needs to rely on the rather inert father of the family to really make it in Albanian civil society. The 1997 civil war, again an event I remember next too nothing about, triggered in part by a Ponzi scheme of shadow banks falling apart due to over exaggerated expectations of the boons of capitalism and liberalisation, is chillingly described near the end of the book.
A book that really makes one think and brings a hardly talked about nation to the spotlight.
Dutch quotes:
Je kan beter een ontevreden mens te zijn dan een tevreden varken
Hij wist waar hij tegen was maar vond het moeilijk om te verdedigen waar hij voor stond
Ik had geen ingang tot de juiste antwoorden omdat ik niet wist hoe ik de juiste vragen moest stellen
Ik leerde de waarheid kennen toen hij niet meer gevaarlijk was
Ze was nooit niet verantwoordelijk geweest
Falen was de kust waarvan we ons losmaakten het kon niet de haven zijn waaraan we aanmeerden
Zonder daders bleven er alleen ideeën over om de schuld te geven
Iedereen wilde weg
Als je geld hebt zijn wegen natuurlijk wel open
Hij wist dat alles een prijs had, maar hij was niet bereid die prijs te accepteren
Mijn vader bewonderde politici enkel na hun dood
February 22, 2022
An insightful and highly original memoir. A moving and witty story about growing up in Albania in the final days of the last Stalinist outpost of the 20th century.
Lea Ypi grew up in one of the most isolated countries in Southern Europe. A place where communist ideals had officially replaced religion. Albania, the last Stalinist outpost in Europe, was almost impossible to visit, almost impossible to leave. It was a place of queuing and scarcity, of political executions and secret police. To Lea, it was home. People were equal, neighbours helped each other, and children were expected to build a better world. There was community and hope.
Then, in December 1990, a year after the fall of the Berlin Wall, everything changed. The statues of Stalin and Hoxha were toppled. Almost overnight, people could vote freely, wear what they liked and worship as they wished. There was no longer anything to fear from prying ears. But factories shut, jobs disappeared and thousands fled to Italy on crowded ships, only to be sent back. Predatory pyramid schemes eventually bankrupted the country, leading to violent conflict. As one generation's aspirations became another's disillusionment, and as her own family's secrets were revealed, Lea found herself questioning what freedom really meant.
It’s a fascinating read, funny, tragic and insightful. I really enjoyed the glimpse into life in Albania and the fall of communism through the eyes of Lea. What moved me was the huge adjustment from one way of life to another and how people coped and changed their views on religion and politics. It’s not a heavy memoir and yet I leaned so much and enjoyed everything about the book. I knew nothing about Albania so delighted when a fellow goodreads reviewer recommended this one.
I listened to Free: A Child and a Country at the End of History on audible and while the narrator was good I am really sorry I didn’t purchase a hard copy of this one as I have a feeling there were photographs and maps that I may have missed out on.
Lea Ypi grew up in one of the most isolated countries in Southern Europe. A place where communist ideals had officially replaced religion. Albania, the last Stalinist outpost in Europe, was almost impossible to visit, almost impossible to leave. It was a place of queuing and scarcity, of political executions and secret police. To Lea, it was home. People were equal, neighbours helped each other, and children were expected to build a better world. There was community and hope.
Then, in December 1990, a year after the fall of the Berlin Wall, everything changed. The statues of Stalin and Hoxha were toppled. Almost overnight, people could vote freely, wear what they liked and worship as they wished. There was no longer anything to fear from prying ears. But factories shut, jobs disappeared and thousands fled to Italy on crowded ships, only to be sent back. Predatory pyramid schemes eventually bankrupted the country, leading to violent conflict. As one generation's aspirations became another's disillusionment, and as her own family's secrets were revealed, Lea found herself questioning what freedom really meant.
It’s a fascinating read, funny, tragic and insightful. I really enjoyed the glimpse into life in Albania and the fall of communism through the eyes of Lea. What moved me was the huge adjustment from one way of life to another and how people coped and changed their views on religion and politics. It’s not a heavy memoir and yet I leaned so much and enjoyed everything about the book. I knew nothing about Albania so delighted when a fellow goodreads reviewer recommended this one.
I listened to Free: A Child and a Country at the End of History on audible and while the narrator was good I am really sorry I didn’t purchase a hard copy of this one as I have a feeling there were photographs and maps that I may have missed out on.
February 6, 2022
My knowledge of Albania was, until reading this, almost non existent. This historical memoir begins when Lea is a child, totally convinced that her country under communism was free. She was taught in school to revere Enver Hosta and couldn't understand why her family, unlike other famous, didn't have a framed picture of him. She couldn't understand why her biography, actually status, wasn't as promise nent as her classmates. She wouldn't find out the answer to her questions until the death of their leader, and the protests for true freedom that followed.
An interesting book that shows a country fighting for democracy, the challenges faced and how things changed, for not only her family, but for the country as a whole. She finds out the many secrets her family kept, and that their political views had been different from those they were forced to expouse.
I loved how this started when she was young because one can chart her personal and political evolution. As her country changed so did she.
An interesting book that shows a country fighting for democracy, the challenges faced and how things changed, for not only her family, but for the country as a whole. She finds out the many secrets her family kept, and that their political views had been different from those they were forced to expouse.
I loved how this started when she was young because one can chart her personal and political evolution. As her country changed so did she.
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July 19, 2023In my opinion this book is gold. I enjoyed it so much that I read it twice, first unofficially for a while sitting in a park on one of those Spring days when it is warm enough to sit outside so long as you are in the sunlight, laughing away to myself, then a second time officially on Goodreads posting updates of parts I thought amusing and short enough.
Perhaps you have seen the episode of the Simpsons cartoon called the Crepes of Wrath which features an Albanian? In it we are told that Albania's primary export is furious political debate, this might be the book that undermines that joke.
While reading I heard of a study done on the grandchildren of people who had been killed or sent to live in the countryside during the Chinese Cultural revolution, they found that generally they were at the same or higher socio-economic level of privilege as their grandparents. I fear that is a bit of a spoiler for this book, sorry about that.
To say that I love Voltaire's Candide would be too strong, but I do think it is an amusing and clever book, but this is better in my opinion. It is a philosophical memoir written by Ypi to explain her personal Marxism to her mother despite her early childhood in the last years of Albania's peculiar Communist regime.
I doubt that this is a strictly accurate or literal account - apart from criticism about factual accuracy it strikes me that the three significant adults in her life: paternal grandmother, father, and mother are a bit too Goldilocks to be true, for example when seeing a legless beggar, her father turns out his pockets to give the man all the money he has, while her mother would not give the man a penny and would explain that his poverty was is own fault, the grandmother however would give him some money but would be sure to keep enough to buy the young Ypi an ice cream - which is an important consideration to a child. The mother comes across as Margaret Thatcher's twin sister - mysteriously born years later than her twin in Communist Albania. She is too busy being fierce to listen to other people's opinions, she knows that she is correct, her favourite revolution was the English one , and she never bothers to look in a mirror to brush her hair. Ypi's father idolises dead revolutionaries, his favourite revolution is yet to come, actual revolutions so far have only been a disappointment, through an odd series of events in ends up in Parliament as Albania descends into civil war. The Grandmother insists on speaking French to Ypi which Lea learnt to speak before she learnt Albanian, her favourite revolution was the French revolution. Young Ypi preferred the Russian revolution her ears are open to words of her elementary school teacher; Nora. Nora's criticisms of Capitalist societies are reasonable enough, but the reader can quickly see that what she says about Albanian society is misleading. If in Albania the state supports and allows people to develop their own talents freely then how come is Ypi's mother a Maths teacher when she hates Maths while her father was forbidden to study Science and is working in Forestry? The answers lie in their mysterious biographies.
Throughout the book Ypi shows us different ideas of freedom which we can weigh up and compare as we go. As a child she has absolute freedom to decide whether to go left or right when she comes out of school, as either way will get her home. As a teenager the freedom of others to loot Government arsenals means it is not safe to leave the house for fear of gunfire. For years Albanians were not free to leave their country, but when Communism ends can they afford to travel abroad and if they can other countries have effectively closed their borders to them by imposing visa regimes.
She shows us a naive matter of factness that dominated the years around the end of communism how smuggling (drugs, women , guns) is perceived simply as legitimate free market activity, the country goes crazy for pyramid investment schemes - when these collapse disappointed investors seize weapons as mentioned above and take to the streets. Young Ypi has an interesting double consciousness at the time she accepts the message she hears in foreign media that the fighting is due to ethnic differences within the country even though she knows that her parents are from the two different groups and she herself doesn't know to which she might belong.
Just as if things are not going badly enough, international development agencies arrive to begin to push neo-liberal policies on to the Government.
Any way lots of things happen. And Ypi's narration is often very funny, but occasionally poignant, and perhaps overall the story is a tragedy, and if you read this book, which has been translated into a fistful of languages (many of which she speaks herself ), you will see why yes moves philosophically to Marxism and insists on taking the experience of Communist societies seriously to understand how a society can provide its members freedom.
Perhaps you have seen the episode of the Simpsons cartoon called the Crepes of Wrath which features an Albanian? In it we are told that Albania's primary export is furious political debate, this might be the book that undermines that joke.
While reading I heard of a study done on the grandchildren of people who had been killed or sent to live in the countryside during the Chinese Cultural revolution, they found that generally they were at the same or higher socio-economic level of privilege as their grandparents. I fear that is a bit of a spoiler for this book, sorry about that.
To say that I love Voltaire's Candide would be too strong, but I do think it is an amusing and clever book, but this is better in my opinion. It is a philosophical memoir written by Ypi to explain her personal Marxism to her mother despite her early childhood in the last years of Albania's peculiar Communist regime.
I doubt that this is a strictly accurate or literal account - apart from criticism about factual accuracy it strikes me that the three significant adults in her life: paternal grandmother, father, and mother are a bit too Goldilocks to be true, for example when seeing a legless beggar, her father turns out his pockets to give the man all the money he has, while her mother would not give the man a penny and would explain that his poverty was is own fault, the grandmother however would give him some money but would be sure to keep enough to buy the young Ypi an ice cream - which is an important consideration to a child. The mother comes across as Margaret Thatcher's twin sister - mysteriously born years later than her twin in Communist Albania. She is too busy being fierce to listen to other people's opinions, she knows that she is correct, her favourite revolution was the English one , and she never bothers to look in a mirror to brush her hair. Ypi's father idolises dead revolutionaries, his favourite revolution is yet to come, actual revolutions so far have only been a disappointment, through an odd series of events in ends up in Parliament as Albania descends into civil war. The Grandmother insists on speaking French to Ypi which Lea learnt to speak before she learnt Albanian, her favourite revolution was the French revolution. Young Ypi preferred the Russian revolution her ears are open to words of her elementary school teacher; Nora. Nora's criticisms of Capitalist societies are reasonable enough, but the reader can quickly see that what she says about Albanian society is misleading. If in Albania the state supports and allows people to develop their own talents freely then how come is Ypi's mother a Maths teacher when she hates Maths while her father was forbidden to study Science and is working in Forestry? The answers lie in their mysterious biographies.
Throughout the book Ypi shows us different ideas of freedom which we can weigh up and compare as we go. As a child she has absolute freedom to decide whether to go left or right when she comes out of school, as either way will get her home. As a teenager the freedom of others to loot Government arsenals means it is not safe to leave the house for fear of gunfire. For years Albanians were not free to leave their country, but when Communism ends can they afford to travel abroad and if they can other countries have effectively closed their borders to them by imposing visa regimes.
She shows us a naive matter of factness that dominated the years around the end of communism how smuggling (drugs, women , guns) is perceived simply as legitimate free market activity, the country goes crazy for pyramid investment schemes - when these collapse disappointed investors seize weapons as mentioned above and take to the streets. Young Ypi has an interesting double consciousness at the time she accepts the message she hears in foreign media that the fighting is due to ethnic differences within the country even though she knows that her parents are from the two different groups and she herself doesn't know to which she might belong.
Just as if things are not going badly enough, international development agencies arrive to begin to push neo-liberal policies on to the Government.
Any way lots of things happen. And Ypi's narration is often very funny, but occasionally poignant, and perhaps overall the story is a tragedy, and if you read this book, which has been translated into a fistful of languages (many of which she speaks herself ), you will see why yes moves philosophically to Marxism and insists on taking the experience of Communist societies seriously to understand how a society can provide its members freedom.
April 20, 2024
What an extraordinary memoir this was - beautifully written and immensely clever.
The cherry on this exquisite cake was the many uncanny similarities in our experiences, although we grew up in different countries, albeit with similar regimes, Ypi is Albanian, I'm Romanian, and she's a few years younger than me.
Growing up, Albania was never much on my radar - I knew they were a communist country (NB: Ypi refers to all as socialism, I always think of it as communism, regardless, it was pretty much the same - obviously, they played by the same book). Growing up in a closed border country very few goods were making their way in, most of them were from other communist countries. Some of my favourite treats to eat when growing up were a whole date jam and some sesame bars, both imported from Albania. Even for those goodies you had to have contacts to purchase them. I was privileged in that way.:-) Like in Albania, we had to queue up for basic necessities, there were rations etc. This might explain my phobia when it comes to queuing.
This memoir is mostly told from the perspective of a child, who absorbs the school's propaganda and her parents' and grandmother's views and opinions - which I thought was a clever way to go about telling a story that is complex and layered. Given her family's diverse biography, this provides the readers with a full-bodied, personal history that overlaps with a revolution, and a civil war, after all, when big historical events take place, people still live their small lives, sometimes, without realising they're living through important historical moments.
Ypi is a professor of political theory. The author's afterword is a must-read/listen as well.
I'm so glad I took the time to listen to this and I'm grateful to the public library system for making this audiobook available for free.
Highly recommended
NB: While I don't mind this cover, I absolutely love the alternative covers with the Coca-Cola can, if you read this book, you'll realise its relevance.
The cherry on this exquisite cake was the many uncanny similarities in our experiences, although we grew up in different countries, albeit with similar regimes, Ypi is Albanian, I'm Romanian, and she's a few years younger than me.
Growing up, Albania was never much on my radar - I knew they were a communist country (NB: Ypi refers to all as socialism, I always think of it as communism, regardless, it was pretty much the same - obviously, they played by the same book). Growing up in a closed border country very few goods were making their way in, most of them were from other communist countries. Some of my favourite treats to eat when growing up were a whole date jam and some sesame bars, both imported from Albania. Even for those goodies you had to have contacts to purchase them. I was privileged in that way.:-) Like in Albania, we had to queue up for basic necessities, there were rations etc. This might explain my phobia when it comes to queuing.
This memoir is mostly told from the perspective of a child, who absorbs the school's propaganda and her parents' and grandmother's views and opinions - which I thought was a clever way to go about telling a story that is complex and layered. Given her family's diverse biography, this provides the readers with a full-bodied, personal history that overlaps with a revolution, and a civil war, after all, when big historical events take place, people still live their small lives, sometimes, without realising they're living through important historical moments.
Ypi is a professor of political theory. The author's afterword is a must-read/listen as well.
I'm so glad I took the time to listen to this and I'm grateful to the public library system for making this audiobook available for free.
Highly recommended
NB: While I don't mind this cover, I absolutely love the alternative covers with the Coca-Cola can, if you read this book, you'll realise its relevance.
April 21, 2024
4,5/Bir süredir kitap okuma ve odaklanma konusunda zorlanıyordum. Bu kitap bana o motivasyonu tekrar kazandırdı. Bu yıl okuduklarım arasında beni en çok etkileyen üç kitaptan birisi.
En başından şunu belirteyim eğer ihtiyacınız olan şey bir hikayenin sizi alıp götürmesi ve soluksuz okutmasıysa bu kitabı çok sevmeyebilirsiniz. Çünkü kitap yazarın 1989 ile iç savaşın başladığı 1997 yılları arasında Arnavutluk’ta geçen çocukluk- gençlik anıların kronolojik ilerleyişi üzerinden ülkenin tarihini aktarıyor. Fakat bu tarihi Enver Hoca rejimine maruz kalan bir çocuğun gözünden izlemeniz kitabın en vurucu yanlarından biri. Tıpkı Magda Szabo’nun kitaplarında -özellikle de İza’nın Şarkısı’nda- görülen çocukların beyinlerinin okulda yıkanması ve eğer rejime uygun bir ailenin içinde değilse o aileden uzaklaştırılması, Szabo’nun tabiriyle “küçük askerlere” dönüştürülmesi adım adım görülüyor burada da. İlkokul çağındaki çocukların siyasetle ilişkileri, aileleri üzerindeki denetleyici yaklaşımları, okulda, bir topluluğun arasındayken öğrendikleri şeylerin aile ortamında öğrendiklerinden daha doğru görülmesi ve bu masum itaatın devlet eliyle nasıl parti çıkarları için kullanıldığını okumak, hikayenin gerçekliği yanı başınızda dururken çok daha rahatsız edici hale geliyor. Tabii kitap kişisel anılarla devam etse de bir yandan da Arnavutluk’un İkinci Dünya Savaşı öncesi ile iş savaş süreci arasında geçişlerle ülkenin siyasi ve toplumsal yapısına ve bu yapılardaki değişimlere dair çok fazla bilgiye de sahip oluyorsunuz. Çünkü Lea Ypi’nin ailesi siyasal açıdan hem geçmişle hem de sonrasıyla ilgili çokça farklı bağlara sahip.
Kitap bir bütün olarak çok iyi olsa da son bölümü; ülkesi bir iç savaşa sürüklenmişken ailesinin her bir üyesi için ayrı ayrı endişelenmek zorunda kalan ve bir yandan da geleceğini belirlemeye çalışan bir genç kızın günlüğünden okumak çok zorlayıcıydı. 240 sayfalık bir kitap okumama rağmen sanki 500-600 sayfa okumuş gibi hissediyorum. Bunu kötü anlamda söylemiyorum asla.Kitapta anlatılan şeyler o kadar yoğun ve dolu ki siz okudukça genişliyor adeta. Kitap bittiğinde yazarın günümüzde düşüncelerini ifade ettiği “Sondeyiş” kısmı ise ayrıca kıymetli. Kitap boyunca size düşündürdüğü “özgürlük” kavramına dair bir yeni kol daha ekliyor. Benim gibi, 97 yılında Arnavutluk’ta olanları televizyondan ve gazetelerden görmüş takip etmiş yaşlarda olanlar içinse; çocuk zihniyle uzaktan gördüğü ve anlam vermeye çalıştığı olaylar silsilesine biraz daha içeriden bakmak açısından ayrı bir yere sahip olacaktır. Ben çok sevdim, herkese tavsiye ederim.
En başından şunu belirteyim eğer ihtiyacınız olan şey bir hikayenin sizi alıp götürmesi ve soluksuz okutmasıysa bu kitabı çok sevmeyebilirsiniz. Çünkü kitap yazarın 1989 ile iç savaşın başladığı 1997 yılları arasında Arnavutluk’ta geçen çocukluk- gençlik anıların kronolojik ilerleyişi üzerinden ülkenin tarihini aktarıyor. Fakat bu tarihi Enver Hoca rejimine maruz kalan bir çocuğun gözünden izlemeniz kitabın en vurucu yanlarından biri. Tıpkı Magda Szabo’nun kitaplarında -özellikle de İza’nın Şarkısı’nda- görülen çocukların beyinlerinin okulda yıkanması ve eğer rejime uygun bir ailenin içinde değilse o aileden uzaklaştırılması, Szabo’nun tabiriyle “küçük askerlere” dönüştürülmesi adım adım görülüyor burada da. İlkokul çağındaki çocukların siyasetle ilişkileri, aileleri üzerindeki denetleyici yaklaşımları, okulda, bir topluluğun arasındayken öğrendikleri şeylerin aile ortamında öğrendiklerinden daha doğru görülmesi ve bu masum itaatın devlet eliyle nasıl parti çıkarları için kullanıldığını okumak, hikayenin gerçekliği yanı başınızda dururken çok daha rahatsız edici hale geliyor. Tabii kitap kişisel anılarla devam etse de bir yandan da Arnavutluk’un İkinci Dünya Savaşı öncesi ile iş savaş süreci arasında geçişlerle ülkenin siyasi ve toplumsal yapısına ve bu yapılardaki değişimlere dair çok fazla bilgiye de sahip oluyorsunuz. Çünkü Lea Ypi’nin ailesi siyasal açıdan hem geçmişle hem de sonrasıyla ilgili çokça farklı bağlara sahip.
Kitap bir bütün olarak çok iyi olsa da son bölümü; ülkesi bir iç savaşa sürüklenmişken ailesinin her bir üyesi için ayrı ayrı endişelenmek zorunda kalan ve bir yandan da geleceğini belirlemeye çalışan bir genç kızın günlüğünden okumak çok zorlayıcıydı. 240 sayfalık bir kitap okumama rağmen sanki 500-600 sayfa okumuş gibi hissediyorum. Bunu kötü anlamda söylemiyorum asla.Kitapta anlatılan şeyler o kadar yoğun ve dolu ki siz okudukça genişliyor adeta. Kitap bittiğinde yazarın günümüzde düşüncelerini ifade ettiği “Sondeyiş” kısmı ise ayrıca kıymetli. Kitap boyunca size düşündürdüğü “özgürlük” kavramına dair bir yeni kol daha ekliyor. Benim gibi, 97 yılında Arnavutluk’ta olanları televizyondan ve gazetelerden görmüş takip etmiş yaşlarda olanlar içinse; çocuk zihniyle uzaktan gördüğü ve anlam vermeye çalıştığı olaylar silsilesine biraz daha içeriden bakmak açısından ayrı bir yere sahip olacaktır. Ben çok sevdim, herkese tavsiye ederim.
January 30, 2022
(3.75) I knew next to nothing about Communist Albania (apart from what showed up in the novel Brass) before picking this up on account of its shortlisting for the Costa Award. It’s pretty astonishing that there was a country still in this condition in the 1970s-80s: Ypi writes, “When I was born, the chances of survival were put at thirty per cent. My parents dared not give me a name but celebrated the hospital number I was assigned: 471.” Days-long queues for food and kerosene were common. The cover tells a humorous yet troubling story: an empty Coke can, displayed as a decoration, was a status symbol fought over by her family and their neighbours. People were desperate to get out of the country.
There came a turning point in December 1990, when the first free election in decades was held, but civil war was still on the way in 1997, a time Ypi records through her diary entries from the time. I enjoyed the recreation of her childhood perspective, though I might have liked at least a short retrospective section from adulthood. The book is quite funny despite the often sobering realities of life as she recounts her parents’ shifting fortunes and the fates of friends and classmates. I was surprised to learn that the family was Muslim, and that the author’s first language was French thanks to her grandmother; Albania is a real mix of cultures (I had to look on a map: it’s above Greece and just across a short stretch of water from Italy).
In an epilogue, Ypi writes that this book was initially going to be more of a political and philosophical study “about the overlapping ideas of freedom in the liberal and socialist traditions”; I’m glad we got this instead, as there were already two general nonfiction studies of freedom published in 2021, by Olivia Laing and Maggie Nelson, and a third would have felt like overkill plus would have lacked the charm of a memoir of childhood. “This book was written mostly from a cupboard in Berlin during the Covid-19 pandemic,” she says. In her grandmother’s words, “When it’s difficult to see clearly into the future, you have to think about what you can learn from the past.”
There came a turning point in December 1990, when the first free election in decades was held, but civil war was still on the way in 1997, a time Ypi records through her diary entries from the time. I enjoyed the recreation of her childhood perspective, though I might have liked at least a short retrospective section from adulthood. The book is quite funny despite the often sobering realities of life as she recounts her parents’ shifting fortunes and the fates of friends and classmates. I was surprised to learn that the family was Muslim, and that the author’s first language was French thanks to her grandmother; Albania is a real mix of cultures (I had to look on a map: it’s above Greece and just across a short stretch of water from Italy).
In an epilogue, Ypi writes that this book was initially going to be more of a political and philosophical study “about the overlapping ideas of freedom in the liberal and socialist traditions”; I’m glad we got this instead, as there were already two general nonfiction studies of freedom published in 2021, by Olivia Laing and Maggie Nelson, and a third would have felt like overkill plus would have lacked the charm of a memoir of childhood. “This book was written mostly from a cupboard in Berlin during the Covid-19 pandemic,” she says. In her grandmother’s words, “When it’s difficult to see clearly into the future, you have to think about what you can learn from the past.”
February 2, 2022
This is an intensely moving, beautifully written book of political philosophy, which happens to take the form of a personal memoir. 'Free' recounts the author's childhood experience of late-communism, transition, liberalism, civil war, and state failure.
Author Lea Ypi presents us with two broad conceptions of freedom, mapping loosely onto what Isaiah Berlin referred to as 'positive' and 'negative' liberty. She describes an idyllic childhood under latter-day Albanian Stalinism - a poor and frustrated society, but one with little destitution and a strong sense of collective solidarity and security. She then describes her traumatic teenage years under the transition to capitalism, a society where hope and endless possibility gave way to new and unforeseen forms of injustice and brutality.
We find ourselves bearing witness to the fate of Ypi's parents, and the contrast with her own fate. Her parents were doomed to a meagre, stifling existence under socialism because they were the children of high ranking fascists. Ypi herself, a model young pioneer of communism, was betrayed by the violence of the 'free' society her own parents personally ushered into being.
Ypi also describes the never-to-be society that lives in the hearts of dreamers. The society wished for by liberals like Ypi's father - who watched in horror as Albania was burned to the ground in the name of post-socialist 'structural adjustment' - and by the Western leftists she later befriended, who refused to recognise any socialism other than in the effigies of revolutionaries who were lucky enough to be killed before they became killers.
Although the text is not prescriptive - it is a work of philosophy, not a manifesto - it is hard not feel that Ypi's ultimate sympathies lie with Stalinists of her childhood rather than the neoliberals of her adolescence. In some ways, the torturers of Albania's prison camps are painted in more sympathetic colours than her own mother. The character of Ypi's mother emerges as an Ayn Rand-esque libertarian who, after brief moments of triumph during the fall of communism, ends her days cleaning the homes of strangers as a refugee from the Hobbesian nightmare she did her utmost to set in motion. Further, Ypi's gentle denouncement of dreamers leads me to feel that she has - in some Faustian sense - reconciled herself with old Uncle Enver.
However, in a text as rich and complex as Free, it's easy to speculate about the author's motives. It's also easy to project your own convictions and preconceptions onto the text, and perhaps that's what I've done above. However, this is why the book is such a delight to read. Heartbreaking though it is, 'Free' has the enjoyment value of a great novel, while challenging the reader as thoroughly as any theoretical tract.
I would place Lea Ypi into the school of 'revisionist' scholars who have, in recent years, been weighing in the balance both the failures and the achievements of post-war European socialism. An analysis that has only recently become possible now that the totalising atmosphere of liberal triumph has begun to exhaust itself. I would read her alongside authors like Kristen R. Ghodsee and Gal Kirn, and no doubt many contemporary socialists will do likewise. Free, however, seems to have achieved wild success well beyond a left wing audience and has been lauded by the liberal mainstream. I wonder to what extent that mainstream will take its insights to heart.
Author Lea Ypi presents us with two broad conceptions of freedom, mapping loosely onto what Isaiah Berlin referred to as 'positive' and 'negative' liberty. She describes an idyllic childhood under latter-day Albanian Stalinism - a poor and frustrated society, but one with little destitution and a strong sense of collective solidarity and security. She then describes her traumatic teenage years under the transition to capitalism, a society where hope and endless possibility gave way to new and unforeseen forms of injustice and brutality.
We find ourselves bearing witness to the fate of Ypi's parents, and the contrast with her own fate. Her parents were doomed to a meagre, stifling existence under socialism because they were the children of high ranking fascists. Ypi herself, a model young pioneer of communism, was betrayed by the violence of the 'free' society her own parents personally ushered into being.
Ypi also describes the never-to-be society that lives in the hearts of dreamers. The society wished for by liberals like Ypi's father - who watched in horror as Albania was burned to the ground in the name of post-socialist 'structural adjustment' - and by the Western leftists she later befriended, who refused to recognise any socialism other than in the effigies of revolutionaries who were lucky enough to be killed before they became killers.
Although the text is not prescriptive - it is a work of philosophy, not a manifesto - it is hard not feel that Ypi's ultimate sympathies lie with Stalinists of her childhood rather than the neoliberals of her adolescence. In some ways, the torturers of Albania's prison camps are painted in more sympathetic colours than her own mother. The character of Ypi's mother emerges as an Ayn Rand-esque libertarian who, after brief moments of triumph during the fall of communism, ends her days cleaning the homes of strangers as a refugee from the Hobbesian nightmare she did her utmost to set in motion. Further, Ypi's gentle denouncement of dreamers leads me to feel that she has - in some Faustian sense - reconciled herself with old Uncle Enver.
However, in a text as rich and complex as Free, it's easy to speculate about the author's motives. It's also easy to project your own convictions and preconceptions onto the text, and perhaps that's what I've done above. However, this is why the book is such a delight to read. Heartbreaking though it is, 'Free' has the enjoyment value of a great novel, while challenging the reader as thoroughly as any theoretical tract.
I would place Lea Ypi into the school of 'revisionist' scholars who have, in recent years, been weighing in the balance both the failures and the achievements of post-war European socialism. An analysis that has only recently become possible now that the totalising atmosphere of liberal triumph has begun to exhaust itself. I would read her alongside authors like Kristen R. Ghodsee and Gal Kirn, and no doubt many contemporary socialists will do likewise. Free, however, seems to have achieved wild success well beyond a left wing audience and has been lauded by the liberal mainstream. I wonder to what extent that mainstream will take its insights to heart.
April 20, 2022
3.5 stars
An interesting memoir, one I didn’t entirely connect with but still found to be a worthwhile read. Lea Ypi grew up in Albania, which until she was 11 was an isolated nation under one-party Stalinist rule. Not knowing anything else, she was a happily indoctrinated kid, and in for a shock when the regime fell and she learned about her family’s secrets and her country’s dark side. The memoir is about her childhood and teenage years, and largely told from a child’s perspective, which allows the reader to enter into her worldview and make discoveries alongside her (I admit, I hadn’t figured out her family’s code either before she explained it). And it is well-written and insightful about the key people in her life, namely her mother, father and grandmother. The author relates many episodes from her life quite vividly, and I learned a fair bit about Albania both during and after one-party rule.
That said, the author is now a philosophy professor and it shows, as she spends a lot of time analyzing the worldviews of her adult relatives, while increasingly coming across as a passive observer in her own memoir. I was startled at the end to discover that this book began as a project to explain to her politically conservative mother how she became a professor of Marxist theory after all the family had been through. Hopefully her mother now gets it, but I’m afraid I didn’t quite follow: her childhood indoctrination and disillusionment is there, and we see some insightful critiques of western society’s inequalities and hypocrisies from the Albanians, as well as the very mixed blessing of “freedom.” (After the end of Stalinist rule, Albanians can freely leave the country—only to promptly be refused entry by everyone else as unwanted migrants, unless they happen to be rich. They can vote, but many lose their jobs, lose their savings to pyramid schemes, and see neighborhood solidarity and mutual assistance break down as violence and trafficking flourish.) In the epilogue, Ypi goes to college in Italy and is unsettled to see classmates romanticizing socialism without taking into account the experiences of countries like Albania. Then the book ends, without ever showing how she came back around to Marxism—we can make some educated guesses based on her prior observations, but no more than that.
So as a tale of a woman’s intellectual journey, this book feels rather incomplete. But as a collection of stories illuminating a childhood in a country most people know little about, I found it engaging, thoughtful and well-written, a window onto a world with which I was not familiar. Certainly worth a read for the interested.
An interesting memoir, one I didn’t entirely connect with but still found to be a worthwhile read. Lea Ypi grew up in Albania, which until she was 11 was an isolated nation under one-party Stalinist rule. Not knowing anything else, she was a happily indoctrinated kid, and in for a shock when the regime fell and she learned about her family’s secrets and her country’s dark side. The memoir is about her childhood and teenage years, and largely told from a child’s perspective, which allows the reader to enter into her worldview and make discoveries alongside her (I admit, I hadn’t figured out her family’s code either before she explained it). And it is well-written and insightful about the key people in her life, namely her mother, father and grandmother. The author relates many episodes from her life quite vividly, and I learned a fair bit about Albania both during and after one-party rule.
That said, the author is now a philosophy professor and it shows, as she spends a lot of time analyzing the worldviews of her adult relatives, while increasingly coming across as a passive observer in her own memoir. I was startled at the end to discover that this book began as a project to explain to her politically conservative mother how she became a professor of Marxist theory after all the family had been through. Hopefully her mother now gets it, but I’m afraid I didn’t quite follow: her childhood indoctrination and disillusionment is there, and we see some insightful critiques of western society’s inequalities and hypocrisies from the Albanians, as well as the very mixed blessing of “freedom.” (After the end of Stalinist rule, Albanians can freely leave the country—only to promptly be refused entry by everyone else as unwanted migrants, unless they happen to be rich. They can vote, but many lose their jobs, lose their savings to pyramid schemes, and see neighborhood solidarity and mutual assistance break down as violence and trafficking flourish.) In the epilogue, Ypi goes to college in Italy and is unsettled to see classmates romanticizing socialism without taking into account the experiences of countries like Albania. Then the book ends, without ever showing how she came back around to Marxism—we can make some educated guesses based on her prior observations, but no more than that.
So as a tale of a woman’s intellectual journey, this book feels rather incomplete. But as a collection of stories illuminating a childhood in a country most people know little about, I found it engaging, thoughtful and well-written, a window onto a world with which I was not familiar. Certainly worth a read for the interested.
May 1, 2024
Five round, loving stars for a memoir is almost unheard of for me – in fact it has only happened once before. And I don’t have my copy so I can’t write a proper review. Tsk.
But the basics: Lea Ypi writes of her Albanian childhood under socialism, and her adolescence as the free economy replaced it. What makes this different from what you (certainly I) might expect is her subtlety, her ability to hold multiple truths in mind at once, and above all her voice and sense of humour. A blend of innocence and irony is the tone for both halves of the book, and they really are halves. Reality unfolds against this voice, and reality changes drastically, but the voice doesn’t: it is the same voice telling us of her childhood love of Stalin, of her mother receiving a French feminist delegation in a nightgown which she considers to be eveningwear, of an orphan who thinks she is his mother and wants to go home with her (the real mother is a prostitute who sends money home from Greece).
I read this with a book club, and was surprised that some people found it sad. And yet how could it not be sad, with the anecdote above? I think the book’s peculiar magic is to take material that would be very sad in another book, and transform it into something funny and wondrous. And deeply ironic.
An example: post-fall, a Dutchman comes to town. He is some kind of development expert who has been all over the world. Everyone calls him The Crocodile, because he has one on every shirt. They throw a party of him on Ypi’s street, where they prepare their traditional food, drink their traditional liquor and do their usual dancing. The Crocodile watches and comments, “ah, this is just like in Ghana. This food reminds me of Ecuador. I’ve had this liquor before in Greece.” The people begin to feel like their customs have no value, that they hardly exist, that nothing they have is in fact theirs.
We have all met a Crocodile, I think, and possibly we have all been a Crocodile.
There is a great deal in the 200 pages of this book. A philosophical examination of what freedom means. A truly striking family history. Well-drawn portraits of very different people.
Everyone in the family had their favourite revolution, Ypi writes, just as they had their favourite fruit. Her mother: watermelon and the English revolution. Young Lea: figs and the Russian revolution. Her father says that he sympathizes with all revolutions, but his favourite is yet to come.
But the basics: Lea Ypi writes of her Albanian childhood under socialism, and her adolescence as the free economy replaced it. What makes this different from what you (certainly I) might expect is her subtlety, her ability to hold multiple truths in mind at once, and above all her voice and sense of humour. A blend of innocence and irony is the tone for both halves of the book, and they really are halves. Reality unfolds against this voice, and reality changes drastically, but the voice doesn’t: it is the same voice telling us of her childhood love of Stalin, of her mother receiving a French feminist delegation in a nightgown which she considers to be eveningwear, of an orphan who thinks she is his mother and wants to go home with her (the real mother is a prostitute who sends money home from Greece).
I read this with a book club, and was surprised that some people found it sad. And yet how could it not be sad, with the anecdote above? I think the book’s peculiar magic is to take material that would be very sad in another book, and transform it into something funny and wondrous. And deeply ironic.
An example: post-fall, a Dutchman comes to town. He is some kind of development expert who has been all over the world. Everyone calls him The Crocodile, because he has one on every shirt. They throw a party of him on Ypi’s street, where they prepare their traditional food, drink their traditional liquor and do their usual dancing. The Crocodile watches and comments, “ah, this is just like in Ghana. This food reminds me of Ecuador. I’ve had this liquor before in Greece.” The people begin to feel like their customs have no value, that they hardly exist, that nothing they have is in fact theirs.
We have all met a Crocodile, I think, and possibly we have all been a Crocodile.
There is a great deal in the 200 pages of this book. A philosophical examination of what freedom means. A truly striking family history. Well-drawn portraits of very different people.
Everyone in the family had their favourite revolution, Ypi writes, just as they had their favourite fruit. Her mother: watermelon and the English revolution. Young Lea: figs and the Russian revolution. Her father says that he sympathizes with all revolutions, but his favourite is yet to come.
December 1, 2023
Bayıldım bu kitaba. 1979'da, komünist Arnavutluk'ta doğan ve çocukluğunu komünist bir devlette geçiren, ardından ilk gençlik döneminde rejim değişikliğine ve liberal ekonomiye geçişi deneyimleyen ve bildiği dünyanın tamamen tepetaklak olmasına, sosyalist olduğunu düşündüğü anne-babasının bile aslında hayatta kalmak için kendilerini gizleyen muhalifler olduğuna tanık olan bir kadın Lea Ypi. Kitabın alt başlığındaki gibi "her şey parçalanırken büyüme"yi öyle güzel anlatıyor ki, hayranlıkla okudum. Kendisi siyaset bilimi alanında çalışan bir akademisyen olduğu için hem bu büyük toplumsal konuyu mükemmelen çerçeveliyor, hem de özellikle çocukluğunu anlattığı dönemleri yazarken büyük bir maharetle geri dönüp bir çocuğun anlamlandırma ihtiyacını, dünyanın belirsizliğini ve tanımsızlığını mükemmelen hissettirerek yazıyor. Dolayısıyla hem çok akışkan, hem çok derinlikli bir metin çıkıyor ortaya.
Aslında sosyalizme dair bir inceleme yazmak niyetiyle başlamış Ypi bu kitaba ancak bunu salt teorik bir çerçeveden, kendi tanıklığını katmadan yazamayacağını anlamış ve kitap bir anı kitabına dönüşmüş, iyi ki de öyle olmuş çünkü bence tanıklığı müthiş kıymetli. Kitabın adına dair bir not: her iki sistemin farklı biçimlerde tanımladığı özgürlük kavramına ve aslında her ikisinin de insanlara sunduğu şeyin özgürlük olmayışına dair çok derinlikli bir sorgulamaya da girişiyor Ypi. "Avrupa'nın kıyısında olma" hâli açısından Arnavutluk'un deneyiminin bizim ülkemizinkiyle de pek çok açıdan benzerlik gösterdiğini düşündüğüm için okumanızı çok arzu ederim. Bonus: izleyenler, Annie Ernaux'nun oğluyla yaptığı "Süper 8 Yılları" belgeselindeki Arnavutluk seyahatini de hatırlasınlar okurken.
Şu alıntıyla bitireyim: "Benim ailem sosyalizmi sınırlanmayla eşit sayıyordu: kim olmak istediklerinin, hata yapma ve bu hatalardan öğrenme haklarının, dünyayı kendi koşullarıyla keşfetmelerinin sınırlanmasıyla. Ben liberalizmi tutulmamış vaatlerle, dayanışmanın yok edilişiyle, ayrıcalıklara sahip olma hakkıyla, adaletsizliği görmezden gelmekle bir tutuyordum. (...) Benim dünyam da, annemle babamın kaçmaya çalıştıkları dünya kadar uzak özgürlükten. İki dünya da o idealden uzak."
Aslında sosyalizme dair bir inceleme yazmak niyetiyle başlamış Ypi bu kitaba ancak bunu salt teorik bir çerçeveden, kendi tanıklığını katmadan yazamayacağını anlamış ve kitap bir anı kitabına dönüşmüş, iyi ki de öyle olmuş çünkü bence tanıklığı müthiş kıymetli. Kitabın adına dair bir not: her iki sistemin farklı biçimlerde tanımladığı özgürlük kavramına ve aslında her ikisinin de insanlara sunduğu şeyin özgürlük olmayışına dair çok derinlikli bir sorgulamaya da girişiyor Ypi. "Avrupa'nın kıyısında olma" hâli açısından Arnavutluk'un deneyiminin bizim ülkemizinkiyle de pek çok açıdan benzerlik gösterdiğini düşündüğüm için okumanızı çok arzu ederim. Bonus: izleyenler, Annie Ernaux'nun oğluyla yaptığı "Süper 8 Yılları" belgeselindeki Arnavutluk seyahatini de hatırlasınlar okurken.
Şu alıntıyla bitireyim: "Benim ailem sosyalizmi sınırlanmayla eşit sayıyordu: kim olmak istediklerinin, hata yapma ve bu hatalardan öğrenme haklarının, dünyayı kendi koşullarıyla keşfetmelerinin sınırlanmasıyla. Ben liberalizmi tutulmamış vaatlerle, dayanışmanın yok edilişiyle, ayrıcalıklara sahip olma hakkıyla, adaletsizliği görmezden gelmekle bir tutuyordum. (...) Benim dünyam da, annemle babamın kaçmaya çalıştıkları dünya kadar uzak özgürlükten. İki dünya da o idealden uzak."
October 31, 2022
Free: A Child and a Country at the End of History is a fascinating and compelling memoir of growing up in 1980s and 90s Albania before, during, and after the fall of the communist regime. Ypi (which autocorrect insists should be 'you') narrates as her younger self, to very striking effect. As she grows older she starts to understand life around her better, just as it begins to change dramatically. Her perspective and that of her family give a witty insight into daily life under a Stalinist dictatorship, as well as the chaos that followed it. I found Ypi to be an uncommonly thoughtful and observant writer:
I particularly appreciated her comments on the new vocabulary that replaced communist terminology:
Another particularly astute and powerful section describes her father's job after the fall of communism, running a port where he's expected to fire many of the workers in the name of efficiency:
The narrative is at its most powerful and stripped back in chapter 21, in which Ypi recounts the 1997 civil war via extracts from her teenage diary. The whole book is insightful, by turns amusing and moving. I knew nothing much about Albania before reading it, despite being in high school by the time its civil war broke out. Ypi interrogates the concept of freedom via the experiences of transformational political change that she and her family went through. She refuses to draw any simple conclusions and instead invites the reader to consider difficult questions of political ideology and practise. I found Free: A Child and a Country at the End of History extremely readable, thought-provoking, and distinctive. I highly recommend it.
When my father spoke of the revolution in general, he got as excited as my grandmother did when she spoke about the French Revolution in particular. In my family, everyone had a favourite revolution, just as everyone had a favourite summer fruit. My mother's favourite fruit was watermelon and her favourite revolution was the English one. Mine were figs and Russian. My father emphasised that he was sympathetic to all revolutions but his favourite was the one that had yet to take place. As to his favourite fruit, it was quince - but it could choke you when it wasn't fully ripe, so he was often reluctant to indulge.
I particularly appreciated her comments on the new vocabulary that replaced communist terminology:
'Civil society' was the new term recently added to the political vocabulary, more or less as a substitute for 'Party'. It was known that civil society had brought the Velvet Revolution to Eastern Europe. It had accelerated the decline of socialism. In our case, the term became popular when the revolution was already complete, perhaps to give meaning to a sequence of events that at first seemed unlikely, then required a label to become meaningful. It joined the other new keywords, such as 'liberalisation', which replaced 'democratic centralism'; 'privatisation', which replaced 'collectivisation'; 'transparency', which replaced 'self-criticism'; 'transition', which stayed the same but now indicated the transition from socialism to liberalism instead of the transition from socialism to communism; and 'fighting corruption', which replaced 'anti-imperialist struggle'.
Another particularly astute and powerful section describes her father's job after the fall of communism, running a port where he's expected to fire many of the workers in the name of efficiency:
My father assumed, like many in his generation, that freedom was lost when other people tell us how to think, what to do, where to go. He soon realised that coercion need not always take such a direct form. Socialism had denied him the possibility to be who he wanted, to make mistakes and learn from them, and to explore the world on his own terms. Capitalism was denying it to others, the people who depended on his decision, who worked in the port. Class struggle was not over. He could understand as much. He did not want the world to remain a place where solidarity is destroyed, where only the fittest survive, and where the price of achievement for some is the destruction of hope in others.
The narrative is at its most powerful and stripped back in chapter 21, in which Ypi recounts the 1997 civil war via extracts from her teenage diary. The whole book is insightful, by turns amusing and moving. I knew nothing much about Albania before reading it, despite being in high school by the time its civil war broke out. Ypi interrogates the concept of freedom via the experiences of transformational political change that she and her family went through. She refuses to draw any simple conclusions and instead invites the reader to consider difficult questions of political ideology and practise. I found Free: A Child and a Country at the End of History extremely readable, thought-provoking, and distinctive. I highly recommend it.
September 16, 2021
"It wouldn't be exploitation without consent. It would be violence"
The story follows a young Lea, learning about daily Albanian life, when the Berlin wall falls, regime change comes and life changes quickly. 1990 was a year like no other for Albania and the migration, rise of pyramid schemes, civil unrest and structural reforms are presented from a very personal perspective.
I anticipated an Albanian memoir from which I could learn more about an area of the world and a history that I know little of, yet what I found what something, much, much more. Lea is an incredible writer who engages the reader and takes you on a journey with her. I found myself equally infuriated, as she recalled stories of her family talking in code and her frustrations in not understanding the meaning until later on - an experience recreated in the novel as the reader must reach halfway through the book to also 'crack the code'. But it was worth it, as I was covered in goosebumps and eagerly devoured every breakthrough and realisation. Perhaps what makes the book so good is the totally unexpected twists that surely aren't real - but are.
I've never been excessively enthusiastic about philosophy or ideologies, yet the passion and manner Lea discussed them with has left me with a desire to learn more. The way in which she engaged with the ideologies, analysed them and directly applied them whilst seeking more answers was exhilarating and highlighted the importance of true self awareness of our surroundings - not just believing we are 'free' because we are told so.
Thank you to NetGalley for the ARC, absolutely 5/5.
The story follows a young Lea, learning about daily Albanian life, when the Berlin wall falls, regime change comes and life changes quickly. 1990 was a year like no other for Albania and the migration, rise of pyramid schemes, civil unrest and structural reforms are presented from a very personal perspective.
I anticipated an Albanian memoir from which I could learn more about an area of the world and a history that I know little of, yet what I found what something, much, much more. Lea is an incredible writer who engages the reader and takes you on a journey with her. I found myself equally infuriated, as she recalled stories of her family talking in code and her frustrations in not understanding the meaning until later on - an experience recreated in the novel as the reader must reach halfway through the book to also 'crack the code'. But it was worth it, as I was covered in goosebumps and eagerly devoured every breakthrough and realisation. Perhaps what makes the book so good is the totally unexpected twists that surely aren't real - but are.
I've never been excessively enthusiastic about philosophy or ideologies, yet the passion and manner Lea discussed them with has left me with a desire to learn more. The way in which she engaged with the ideologies, analysed them and directly applied them whilst seeking more answers was exhilarating and highlighted the importance of true self awareness of our surroundings - not just believing we are 'free' because we are told so.
Thank you to NetGalley for the ARC, absolutely 5/5.
February 11, 2023
I cyk, kolejna ulubiona książka tego roku. Co to są za świetne wspomnienia! Ogromnie podoba mi się to, jak autorka odnosi własne doświadczenia z dzieciństwa w socjalistycznej Albanii do szerszej idei, jaką jest wolność. I to wolność jednostek w ustroju, wolność grup w obliczu nowego porządku politycznego. A także wolność języka. Niezmiernie podobało mi się to, jak Ypi pisze o zmieniającym się słownictwie, o dorastaniu społeczności do pojęć, które przyszły z zewnątrz, o tym, jak obywatele nie nadążają za zmieniającym się językiem, który opisuje ich świat. Super to jest książka, mówię wam!
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January 31, 2022I'm listening to this on BBC Radio 4. You can catch up here: https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m001...
September 2, 2022
Lea Ypi född 1979 växer upp i proletariatets diktatur i Albanien. 1985 dör statschefen ”farbror Enver” och 1990 faller regimen. I Fri berättar hon om sin uppväxt, först i ett helt isolerat land där straffet för olovlig utresa är dödsstraff, sen i ett så kallat ”fritt” land med marknadsekonomi och inbördeskrig (pyramidkrisen). Hon är i skrivande stund professor i politisk teori och problematiserar också frihetsbegreppet. Kort sagt: Fri är en fantastisk läsupplevelse och jag instämmer i hyllningskören.
Det mest slående med den här berörande och varma autofiktiva uppväxtromanen som förstås tilltalar den som intresserar sig för sydeuropeisk historia, mänsklig existens, frihet och politik är författarens perfekta humor.
Som barn är Lea väldigt nöjd med sitt land och sin tillvaro. Alla har samma saker, ingen är utan och alla är fria på riktigt. Hon tycker synd om fattiga som lever i ”väst” för i kapitalistiska länder är ju bara de rika fria. Information om levernet präglat av liberalism får hon via turister (som luktar märkligt – solkräm, förstår hon senare) och svårinställda tv-kanaler. Omslagets röda burk – en eftertraktad inredningsdetalj som ju verkligen inte alla hade – är en slående metafor för den här tiden då få visste hur Coca cola smakade och semestrarna finansierades av partiet.
”Vår lärare Nora hade förklarat att utanför Albanien visste folk inte namnet på den som tillverkade saker, namnen på arbetarna. Hon berättade att i väst kände man bara till namnen på fabrikerna där sakerna tillverkades, människorna som ägde dem och deras barn och barnbarn.”
Sen faller regeringen och inifrånskildringen av att leva under kommunistiskt enpartistyre växlar över till en berättelse om kaos och förvirring som omställningsperioden medför. En helt ny begreppsapparat introduceras i takt med att planekonomin raseras. Nu får hon veta vad girighet och avundsjuka är för något. Tidigare fanns det nästan inga varor att köpa även om man hade pengar, nu finns det varor men inga pengar att köpa för. Hennes familj och släkt har burit på hemligheter som nu uppdagas. Så småningom kommer hon i kontakt med konstigheter som vi här tar för givna: bäst-före-datum, bananer, religion, cv, kundvagnar (varför handla mer än man kan bära?), att ha flera personer att välja mellan när man ska rösta. Friheten som kom var dock som en kallnad maträtt man tog några tuggor av, hungern bestod. De som försöker lämna landet blir nämligen tillbakaskickade.
”Väst hade ägnat decennier åt att kritisera öst för dess stängda gränser, bekostat insatser för att kräva rörelsefrihet, fördömt det omoraliska hos stater som inte erkände rätten att ge sig av. Exilalbaner hade tagit emot som hjältar. Nu behandlades de som brottslingar. […] vilket värde har rätten att ge sig av när det inte finns någon rätt att bli mottagen? Var gränser och murar förkastliga enbart när deras syfte var att hålla människor inne till skillnad från när de höll människor ute?”
Frågan om vad det innebär att vara fri är filosofisk och låter sig inte lätt besvaras. Hur förhåller sig frihet till människans funktioner och behov, vilja, samhälle och lagar? Jag tycker mycket om Ypis nyanserade funderingar som uppmuntrar läsaren att fundera på vad hon själv tycker. Författaren sätter fingret på direkta och indirekta tvång och hur övergången från socialism till liberalism medför förändrade tankesätt och normsystem. Det första hör samman med solidariska ideal exempelvis har en handikappad person inte sig själv att skylla och en socialist ser som moralisk plikt att kollektivt hjälpa personer i nöd. Det liberalistiska synsättet vars ledord är frihet bereder plats för egoism: det är inte mitt fel att hen är i nöd, tänker man.
”Min familj likställde socialismen med förnekelse: en förnekelse av det de egentligen ville vara, av rätten att göra misstag och lära av dem, att utforska världen på sina egna villkor. Jag jämställde liberalismen med brutna löften, en raserad solidaritet, med rätten att ärva privilegier och blunda för orättvisor.”
Mina tankar går till Schopenhauer som påtalade människans bristande förmåga att nöja sig, hennes ständiga jakt: när vi inte har det vi vill ha blir vi frustrerade och när vi har fått det vi vill ha blir vi snabbt uttråkade. Mycket vill ha mer och hur får vi stopp på det? Jag tänker också på Kant som med sin pliktetik lyfter fram att det alltid finns en frihet i ofriheten.
”Vi förlorade aldrig vår inre frihet: friheten att göra det som är rätt.”
Vi som lever i högerlandet Sverige i senkapitalismens era där konkurrens, hårdporr, jaget och aktiemarknaden är prioriterade områden, där allt är till salu för rätt pris och distinktionen mellan människor och varumärken upplöses. Orättvisor, avundsjuka, roffarmentalitet och brottslighet frodas. Av våra tidigare gemensamheter finns nästan inget kvar. Den här boken är lite som plåster på såren. Läs den, annars åker kanske ”kökskniven fram och kittlar lite grann”.
PS Grymt bra översatt av Amanda Svensson. DS
Det mest slående med den här berörande och varma autofiktiva uppväxtromanen som förstås tilltalar den som intresserar sig för sydeuropeisk historia, mänsklig existens, frihet och politik är författarens perfekta humor.
Som barn är Lea väldigt nöjd med sitt land och sin tillvaro. Alla har samma saker, ingen är utan och alla är fria på riktigt. Hon tycker synd om fattiga som lever i ”väst” för i kapitalistiska länder är ju bara de rika fria. Information om levernet präglat av liberalism får hon via turister (som luktar märkligt – solkräm, förstår hon senare) och svårinställda tv-kanaler. Omslagets röda burk – en eftertraktad inredningsdetalj som ju verkligen inte alla hade – är en slående metafor för den här tiden då få visste hur Coca cola smakade och semestrarna finansierades av partiet.
”Vår lärare Nora hade förklarat att utanför Albanien visste folk inte namnet på den som tillverkade saker, namnen på arbetarna. Hon berättade att i väst kände man bara till namnen på fabrikerna där sakerna tillverkades, människorna som ägde dem och deras barn och barnbarn.”
Sen faller regeringen och inifrånskildringen av att leva under kommunistiskt enpartistyre växlar över till en berättelse om kaos och förvirring som omställningsperioden medför. En helt ny begreppsapparat introduceras i takt med att planekonomin raseras. Nu får hon veta vad girighet och avundsjuka är för något. Tidigare fanns det nästan inga varor att köpa även om man hade pengar, nu finns det varor men inga pengar att köpa för. Hennes familj och släkt har burit på hemligheter som nu uppdagas. Så småningom kommer hon i kontakt med konstigheter som vi här tar för givna: bäst-före-datum, bananer, religion, cv, kundvagnar (varför handla mer än man kan bära?), att ha flera personer att välja mellan när man ska rösta. Friheten som kom var dock som en kallnad maträtt man tog några tuggor av, hungern bestod. De som försöker lämna landet blir nämligen tillbakaskickade.
”Väst hade ägnat decennier åt att kritisera öst för dess stängda gränser, bekostat insatser för att kräva rörelsefrihet, fördömt det omoraliska hos stater som inte erkände rätten att ge sig av. Exilalbaner hade tagit emot som hjältar. Nu behandlades de som brottslingar. […] vilket värde har rätten att ge sig av när det inte finns någon rätt att bli mottagen? Var gränser och murar förkastliga enbart när deras syfte var att hålla människor inne till skillnad från när de höll människor ute?”
Frågan om vad det innebär att vara fri är filosofisk och låter sig inte lätt besvaras. Hur förhåller sig frihet till människans funktioner och behov, vilja, samhälle och lagar? Jag tycker mycket om Ypis nyanserade funderingar som uppmuntrar läsaren att fundera på vad hon själv tycker. Författaren sätter fingret på direkta och indirekta tvång och hur övergången från socialism till liberalism medför förändrade tankesätt och normsystem. Det första hör samman med solidariska ideal exempelvis har en handikappad person inte sig själv att skylla och en socialist ser som moralisk plikt att kollektivt hjälpa personer i nöd. Det liberalistiska synsättet vars ledord är frihet bereder plats för egoism: det är inte mitt fel att hen är i nöd, tänker man.
”Min familj likställde socialismen med förnekelse: en förnekelse av det de egentligen ville vara, av rätten att göra misstag och lära av dem, att utforska världen på sina egna villkor. Jag jämställde liberalismen med brutna löften, en raserad solidaritet, med rätten att ärva privilegier och blunda för orättvisor.”
Mina tankar går till Schopenhauer som påtalade människans bristande förmåga att nöja sig, hennes ständiga jakt: när vi inte har det vi vill ha blir vi frustrerade och när vi har fått det vi vill ha blir vi snabbt uttråkade. Mycket vill ha mer och hur får vi stopp på det? Jag tänker också på Kant som med sin pliktetik lyfter fram att det alltid finns en frihet i ofriheten.
”Vi förlorade aldrig vår inre frihet: friheten att göra det som är rätt.”
Vi som lever i högerlandet Sverige i senkapitalismens era där konkurrens, hårdporr, jaget och aktiemarknaden är prioriterade områden, där allt är till salu för rätt pris och distinktionen mellan människor och varumärken upplöses. Orättvisor, avundsjuka, roffarmentalitet och brottslighet frodas. Av våra tidigare gemensamheter finns nästan inget kvar. Den här boken är lite som plåster på såren. Läs den, annars åker kanske ”kökskniven fram och kittlar lite grann”.
PS Grymt bra översatt av Amanda Svensson. DS
September 3, 2022
• FREE: A Child and a Country at the End of History by Lea Ypi, 2021.
"Things were one way, and then they were another. I was someone, then I became someone else.”
Ypi's memoir recounts a cleaved existence, the before and after rift of childhood in 1980/1990s Albania - a totalitarian communist country shifting nearly overnight to a liberal democracy.
Told through a child's eyes yet never "juvenile", Ypi has a group of 4 elders who shape her world: each of her parents, who share different spaces on the socialist spectrum, her French-speaking grandmother, and her true-believer Stalin-loving teacher, Ms. Nora.
What is remarkable about the book is the emotional depth: family secrets and political struggles, funny and humorous moments, as well as dramatic sadness, separation, and uncertainty.
Ypi's writing is easy to read (or listen to!). The book follows a narrative chronological style for most of the way, and closes with a series of Ypi's diary entries, which she reads herself in the audiobook.
Ypi's interest in politics clearly grew out of her experiences, and she is now a Political Theorist and scholar of Marxism at London School of Economics.
✨ A fascinating book, blending coming-of-age with political history. Highly recommended.
"Things were one way, and then they were another. I was someone, then I became someone else.”
Ypi's memoir recounts a cleaved existence, the before and after rift of childhood in 1980/1990s Albania - a totalitarian communist country shifting nearly overnight to a liberal democracy.
Told through a child's eyes yet never "juvenile", Ypi has a group of 4 elders who shape her world: each of her parents, who share different spaces on the socialist spectrum, her French-speaking grandmother, and her true-believer Stalin-loving teacher, Ms. Nora.
What is remarkable about the book is the emotional depth: family secrets and political struggles, funny and humorous moments, as well as dramatic sadness, separation, and uncertainty.
Ypi's writing is easy to read (or listen to!). The book follows a narrative chronological style for most of the way, and closes with a series of Ypi's diary entries, which she reads herself in the audiobook.
Ypi's interest in politics clearly grew out of her experiences, and she is now a Political Theorist and scholar of Marxism at London School of Economics.
✨ A fascinating book, blending coming-of-age with political history. Highly recommended.
January 27, 2024
"Pardonner oui,oublier jamais" Bağışla ama asla unutma.
Felsefeci,yazar,akademisyen Lea Ypi Özgür- Her şey Parçalanırken Büyümek adlı kitabı beni son zamanlarda en çok etkileyen kitaplardan biri oldu.
Komünist Arnavutluk'un dönemlerini,çöküşünü önce küçük bir çocuğun ardından da bir gencin gözünden anlatarak bir ülkenin tarihine,coğrafyasına,insan ilişkilerine tanıklık etmemizi isterken aynı anda hem anı,hem tarih hem siyaset,hem de kurgu içeren kitabını okuruna sunarken hiç sıkmayan,yormayan dili ile sizi büyülüyor adeta.
Rejim çökerken insanların umutlarının da yer yer düştüğü, bir ülkenin yakın tarihine tanıklık ettiği bu kitap okuru kuşbakışı gözlem gücüne de davet ediyor.
Felsefeci,yazar,akademisyen Lea Ypi Özgür- Her şey Parçalanırken Büyümek adlı kitabı beni son zamanlarda en çok etkileyen kitaplardan biri oldu.
Komünist Arnavutluk'un dönemlerini,çöküşünü önce küçük bir çocuğun ardından da bir gencin gözünden anlatarak bir ülkenin tarihine,coğrafyasına,insan ilişkilerine tanıklık etmemizi isterken aynı anda hem anı,hem tarih hem siyaset,hem de kurgu içeren kitabını okuruna sunarken hiç sıkmayan,yormayan dili ile sizi büyülüyor adeta.
Rejim çökerken insanların umutlarının da yer yer düştüğü, bir ülkenin yakın tarihine tanıklık ettiği bu kitap okuru kuşbakışı gözlem gücüne de davet ediyor.
August 18, 2022
I expected this "biography" about coming of age near the end of socialism in Albania to be more critical of socialism than it was. Ypi doesn't really share her (current) thoughts on communism, Marx and capitalism, or agues for theoretical frameworks. Instead she shows us how she lived through the history of it. As a reader, both her childhood under socialism and her youth under capitalism and civil unrest feel unhappy, both don't feel "free" at all.
I wish the second part of the book, post-socialism, could have been a little longer and a bit more detailled. It read a little rushed and some connections seemed unclear - the way her family situationed seemed to change so suddenly. Apart from that, I found this an entertaining and thought-provoking book that taught me some history about Albania and made me think about my own political stances.
I wish the second part of the book, post-socialism, could have been a little longer and a bit more detailled. It read a little rushed and some connections seemed unclear - the way her family situationed seemed to change so suddenly. Apart from that, I found this an entertaining and thought-provoking book that taught me some history about Albania and made me think about my own political stances.
December 26, 2022
Το πιο αυθόρμητο και τίμιο πενταρι που έχω βάλει εδώ και καιρό
August 30, 2023
“Umut, uğruna mücadele etmen gereken bir şeydir. Ama öyle bir an gelir ki umut yanılsamaya dönüşür, çok tehlikelidir. Mesele olguların nasıl yorumlandığıdır.”
.
Sadece umut değil özgürlüğün, batının, doğunun, Avrupa’nın, sosyalizmin, liberalizmin kısaca aklımızda ne kadar birbirini besleyen ya da tam zıttı gibi görünen kavram varsa onların bir yanılsamadan mı ibaret olduğunu sorguladığımız bir kitap: Özgür.
Büyüme çağındaki bir kız çocuğunun çözülmeye başlayan bir ülkeyi -Arnavutluk’u- anlatması aynı zamanda. İçine doğulan, ilk cümlelerinin kurulduğu, okuma yazmayı çözdüğünüz okulun bağlı olduğu sistem nasıl anlatılır peki? Lea Ypi hanesinden ülkesine kocaman bir değişimi gösteriyor. Arzu edilen ama aynı anda delicesine korku duyulanı. Bilinmeyeni ama bilinmesi için kanların döküldüğü değişimi.
Köklerini keşfettikçe köksüz olduğunu anlıyor sanki o.
‘Her şey parçalanırken büyümek’ mümkün mü, o parçalar kendinden de bir şey götürmez mi görüyoruz.
.
Elimden bırakamadım Özgür’ü. Hakkında bir şeyler bildiğim bir ülkeyi bir çocuk gözüyle okudum. O çocuğun nasıl büyüdüğünü de araştırdım tabi, sesini pek çok videoda da duydum/izledim. Bolca düşündüm. Özgürlük derken neyi kastediyoruz? Özgür müyüz? İstediğimiz yere gitmek mi özgürlük? İstediğimiz içeceği almak- istediğimiz kişiyle konuşabilmek mi? Gerçekten bu kadar sığ olabilir mi bize dayatılan o büyülü özgürlük?
Ödenmesi gereken bedelleri katlayıp raflara mı kaldırdık?
.
Bir anı kitabı değil Özgür. Bir tarih kitabı da değil. Mini bir ülke rehberi, bir genç kızın günlüğü, bir ailenin soy dökümü, bir milletin denizin dibini boylayan hayalleri, bir tohumun fidana evrilmesi..
.
‘Herkesin okumasını isterim’ listemde artık Lea Ypi’den Özgür.
.
İlknur Özdemir çevirisiyle ~
.
Sadece umut değil özgürlüğün, batının, doğunun, Avrupa’nın, sosyalizmin, liberalizmin kısaca aklımızda ne kadar birbirini besleyen ya da tam zıttı gibi görünen kavram varsa onların bir yanılsamadan mı ibaret olduğunu sorguladığımız bir kitap: Özgür.
Büyüme çağındaki bir kız çocuğunun çözülmeye başlayan bir ülkeyi -Arnavutluk’u- anlatması aynı zamanda. İçine doğulan, ilk cümlelerinin kurulduğu, okuma yazmayı çözdüğünüz okulun bağlı olduğu sistem nasıl anlatılır peki? Lea Ypi hanesinden ülkesine kocaman bir değişimi gösteriyor. Arzu edilen ama aynı anda delicesine korku duyulanı. Bilinmeyeni ama bilinmesi için kanların döküldüğü değişimi.
Köklerini keşfettikçe köksüz olduğunu anlıyor sanki o.
‘Her şey parçalanırken büyümek’ mümkün mü, o parçalar kendinden de bir şey götürmez mi görüyoruz.
.
Elimden bırakamadım Özgür’ü. Hakkında bir şeyler bildiğim bir ülkeyi bir çocuk gözüyle okudum. O çocuğun nasıl büyüdüğünü de araştırdım tabi, sesini pek çok videoda da duydum/izledim. Bolca düşündüm. Özgürlük derken neyi kastediyoruz? Özgür müyüz? İstediğimiz yere gitmek mi özgürlük? İstediğimiz içeceği almak- istediğimiz kişiyle konuşabilmek mi? Gerçekten bu kadar sığ olabilir mi bize dayatılan o büyülü özgürlük?
Ödenmesi gereken bedelleri katlayıp raflara mı kaldırdık?
.
Bir anı kitabı değil Özgür. Bir tarih kitabı da değil. Mini bir ülke rehberi, bir genç kızın günlüğü, bir ailenin soy dökümü, bir milletin denizin dibini boylayan hayalleri, bir tohumun fidana evrilmesi..
.
‘Herkesin okumasını isterim’ listemde artık Lea Ypi’den Özgür.
.
İlknur Özdemir çevirisiyle ~
March 8, 2023
Η συγγραφέας, μεγαλώνει στην Αλβανία της δεκαετίας του '80. Ως παιδί, γαλουχείται σε ένα κομμουνιστικό καθεστώς, που τό Κόμμα ξέρει και που το Κόμμα δεν κάνει λάθος. Όταν λοιπόν ξεκινούν οι διαδηλώσεις στα τέλη του '89, αναρωτιέται γιατι ακούγονται οι λέξεις Δημοκρατία-Ελευθερία. Οι γονείς της, όπως και όλοι γύρω της, ποτέ δεν εκφράστηκαν αρνητικά για το καθεστώς. Με έκανε λοιπόν να σκεφτώ, πως τα παιδιά είναι θύματα των καθεστώτων και πόσο δύσκολο είναι όταν συμβαίνει μια τέτοια αλλαγή στη ζωή τους, να μην μπορούν αν προσαρμοστούν και να αμφισβητούν τα πάντα: το κράτος, τους δασκάλους, τους φίλους και τους γονείς τους. Το δεύτερο μέρος του βιβλίου, αναφέρεται στις μεγάλες αλλαγές που συνέβησαν στη γείτονα χώρα τα επόμενα 8 και πλέον χρόνια και όλ��υς όσους συνετέλεσαν σε αυτές και είναι εξαιρετικά ενδιαφέρον, πώς και οι απόψεις της συγγραφέως αλλάζουν κατά τη διάρκεια της εφηβείας της. Η απόφαση των γονιών της να ασχοληθούν ενεργά με την πολιτική, δείχνει την απόλυτη μεταστροφή τους σε σχέση με το παρελθόν.
Τι σημαίνει ελευθερία τελικά?
3,5 αστέρια
Τι σημαίνει ελευθερία τελικά?
3,5 αστέρια
September 4, 2021
A few years ago, I took a holiday in Dubrovnik. Local tour companies were offering day trips to Albania: a long day trip, passing through Montenegro and into one of the least well-known countries in Europe. I resisted. Honestly, I didn't need to put myself through such a long journey just for the kudos of being able to say I'd been there. Albania still holds that sense of difference. Whether it's the remnants of the most authentically Stalinist regime in the world (a regime that looked down upon other communist regimes for being a bit soft) or the fascination with the underworld crime that's been so well publicised by films in which various members of Liam Neeson's family are abducted, you can't deny that Albanis is not like other places.
Lea Ypi knows more than most about that difference. And she writes well - if a little dully in places - about her childhood and coming of age at one of the most interesting times in Albania's history. About half the book precedes the end of the Stalinist regime, the rest covers life after, life through the Albanian Civil War, and eventually her decision to leave the country.
What I like about this book is that it feels very genuine. As children, we are inclined to be what we're told to be; to support the regime, to sing the patriotic songs loudest and long for a bigger picture of our dear leader on the mantelpiece. It takes almost half of the book for us to learn that all is not as it seems in the Ypi house. Her mysterious French-speaking grandmother, the coincidence of the family surname and a long-gone leader by the same name. All starts to fall into place.
Lea learns that freedom is sometimes over-rated and that the end of one regime doesn't always mean paradise from the next. She tells us about the infighting, the politics, the Kalashnikov celebrations, the downfall of the finance 'firms' through a massive pyramid investment scandal, and the wholesale flight of Albanians looking to find safety and fortune in Italy or further west.
Many reviewers comment that this is a funny book. I didn't find that to be the case. Mildly amusing at times, but funny is not the adjective I'd choose. Authentic might be. Unapologetic (not that she has anything to apologise for) might be another. She's just a kid with an unusual family living in historically challenging times.
It's a good account of a period that I have to admit to knowing little about. I think Albania's challenges may have got lost to the general public amongst the horrors of the extended Balkan conflicts. I recall trying to keep on top of it all when the Balkans first started to fall apart, believing that surely there was a good side and a bad side, good countries and bad ones, good ethnic groups and evil ones. What soon became apparent was that there were many many shades of grey in that part of the world. Albania and the plight of ethnic Albanians in other Balkan countries all got way too complicated for many of us to understand. Perhaps though, the account of one person, one ordinary person and her lived experience can be more powerful than a blow by blow account of everything that was happening in the late 1990s.
This isn't horrific. I have read a lot of books from that part of the world at that period and some of them leave me unable to sleep at night. This isn't one of those. You won't read of terrifying or blood-curdling events. it's matter-of-fact, from the eyes of a young person, and I felt an unfiltered honesty in the words. It's about the snob value of an empty Coca Cola tin, about hospitality to strangers and fear of tourists, and about fitting in with some ways and sticking out like a sore thumb in others.
Well worth a read.
Thanks to Netgalley and the publishers for my copy.
Lea Ypi knows more than most about that difference. And she writes well - if a little dully in places - about her childhood and coming of age at one of the most interesting times in Albania's history. About half the book precedes the end of the Stalinist regime, the rest covers life after, life through the Albanian Civil War, and eventually her decision to leave the country.
What I like about this book is that it feels very genuine. As children, we are inclined to be what we're told to be; to support the regime, to sing the patriotic songs loudest and long for a bigger picture of our dear leader on the mantelpiece. It takes almost half of the book for us to learn that all is not as it seems in the Ypi house. Her mysterious French-speaking grandmother, the coincidence of the family surname and a long-gone leader by the same name. All starts to fall into place.
Lea learns that freedom is sometimes over-rated and that the end of one regime doesn't always mean paradise from the next. She tells us about the infighting, the politics, the Kalashnikov celebrations, the downfall of the finance 'firms' through a massive pyramid investment scandal, and the wholesale flight of Albanians looking to find safety and fortune in Italy or further west.
Many reviewers comment that this is a funny book. I didn't find that to be the case. Mildly amusing at times, but funny is not the adjective I'd choose. Authentic might be. Unapologetic (not that she has anything to apologise for) might be another. She's just a kid with an unusual family living in historically challenging times.
It's a good account of a period that I have to admit to knowing little about. I think Albania's challenges may have got lost to the general public amongst the horrors of the extended Balkan conflicts. I recall trying to keep on top of it all when the Balkans first started to fall apart, believing that surely there was a good side and a bad side, good countries and bad ones, good ethnic groups and evil ones. What soon became apparent was that there were many many shades of grey in that part of the world. Albania and the plight of ethnic Albanians in other Balkan countries all got way too complicated for many of us to understand. Perhaps though, the account of one person, one ordinary person and her lived experience can be more powerful than a blow by blow account of everything that was happening in the late 1990s.
This isn't horrific. I have read a lot of books from that part of the world at that period and some of them leave me unable to sleep at night. This isn't one of those. You won't read of terrifying or blood-curdling events. it's matter-of-fact, from the eyes of a young person, and I felt an unfiltered honesty in the words. It's about the snob value of an empty Coca Cola tin, about hospitality to strangers and fear of tourists, and about fitting in with some ways and sticking out like a sore thumb in others.
Well worth a read.
Thanks to Netgalley and the publishers for my copy.
December 6, 2021
How does a child define freedom? What criteria do they use? How do they know whether they are (or are not) free? These and other relevant questions asks Lea Ypi, Albanian author and professors of Political Theory at the LSE in “Free. Coming of Age at the End of History”, a memoir about her growing up in the country governed by one of the harshest communist regimes in the world.
Ypi is a few months younger than me, was brought up - like myself - behind the Iron Curtain, but our experiences couldn’t be more different. When I was playing with Barbie dolls, chewing Wrigley’s Juicy Fruit, wearing German clothes and listening to music from all over the world, Ypi was hugging the statue of Stalin and her mum was arguing with a neighbour about a stolen Coca Cola can one (or both) of them had bought already empty. The world as Ypi had known it changed as she grew older and understood more. Funny anecdotes became sinister, her family’s “biography” (a key word in her childhood) turned out to be more complex than she had thought it was, and words she comprehended in a literal sense depicted another reality once she learned what code had been used by her parents.
Ypi’s memoir is a superbly balanced collection of personal stories and a portrayal of Albania in the 1980s and 1990s. Her observations on the fall of communism and a new order are astute and she brilliantly combines a perspective of a child and a teenager with that of her grown-up, educated self. The major questions Ypi asks about freedom, personal independence, self-determination are universal ones, which add the book a philosophical dimension. And the language! Besides writing gripping stories, Ypi is a phenomenal master of language and she knows how to dose suspense. An absolute must-read - this book is really great literature.
Ypi is a few months younger than me, was brought up - like myself - behind the Iron Curtain, but our experiences couldn’t be more different. When I was playing with Barbie dolls, chewing Wrigley’s Juicy Fruit, wearing German clothes and listening to music from all over the world, Ypi was hugging the statue of Stalin and her mum was arguing with a neighbour about a stolen Coca Cola can one (or both) of them had bought already empty. The world as Ypi had known it changed as she grew older and understood more. Funny anecdotes became sinister, her family’s “biography” (a key word in her childhood) turned out to be more complex than she had thought it was, and words she comprehended in a literal sense depicted another reality once she learned what code had been used by her parents.
Ypi’s memoir is a superbly balanced collection of personal stories and a portrayal of Albania in the 1980s and 1990s. Her observations on the fall of communism and a new order are astute and she brilliantly combines a perspective of a child and a teenager with that of her grown-up, educated self. The major questions Ypi asks about freedom, personal independence, self-determination are universal ones, which add the book a philosophical dimension. And the language! Besides writing gripping stories, Ypi is a phenomenal master of language and she knows how to dose suspense. An absolute must-read - this book is really great literature.
Read
December 9, 2023Mbi të gjitha jam e lumtur që vuajtjet tona, tani i njeh gjithë bota. Nuk i mbajta shënim sa herë e kam shitur sivjet tek të huajtë në anglisht dhe gjermanisht këtë libër kur punoja në librari… por ishin plot fare shumë herë; këtë dhe librat e Kadaresë. Të njohësh Shqipërinë apo historinë e saj, është modë botërore tashmë. Kjo, edhe më gëzon edhe më frikëson. Do presim e do shohim ku do të dalë.
Se për pak harrova! Florinjtë e arkës së shtetit i përkisnin Familjes Mbretërore. Mbreti Zog thjesht rimori ato që kishte investuar për të ndërtuar Shqipërinë më të mirë që ka njohur historia deri më sot. Kujt do ia linte sipas Leas? Italianëve?! Apo Enverit?!
P.S. Pamundësia e hedhjes së të dhënave të këtij libri në shqip në Goodreads, rrjedhimisht u bë shkak për krijimin e “Mirëlexuesve Shqiptarë”, nga ku, më pas, Joni, pasi hodhi këtë libër, më mundësoi të hedh sa libra të dua/doni nëpërmjet adresës së tij me të drejta autori/librari, kështu që do të ngelet përfare në kujtesën time… përveç faktit që ishte dhuratë nga burri për Shën Valentin! 😍😁
Se për pak harrova! Florinjtë e arkës së shtetit i përkisnin Familjes Mbretërore. Mbreti Zog thjesht rimori ato që kishte investuar për të ndërtuar Shqipërinë më të mirë që ka njohur historia deri më sot. Kujt do ia linte sipas Leas? Italianëve?! Apo Enverit?!
P.S. Pamundësia e hedhjes së të dhënave të këtij libri në shqip në Goodreads, rrjedhimisht u bë shkak për krijimin e “Mirëlexuesve Shqiptarë”, nga ku, më pas, Joni, pasi hodhi këtë libër, më mundësoi të hedh sa libra të dua/doni nëpërmjet adresës së tij me të drejta autori/librari, kështu që do të ngelet përfare në kujtesën time… përveç faktit që ishte dhuratë nga burri për Shën Valentin! 😍😁
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 21, 2024
Lea Ypi escreveu um clássico, uma leitura compulsiva e altamente recomendada. "Free: A Child and a Country at the End of History" (2022) é livro de memórias escrito com base numa estrutura coming-of-age que nos leva da sua infância à adolescência, enquanto disserta sobre a vida na Albânia nos anos 1980-90, entre os últimos anos do comunismo e os primeiros do liberalismo. Na primeira parte, Ypi regressa à infância, desvelando o modo como o mundo de ideais era criado e mantido ao seu redor pela professora da escola primária e pelas meias-verdades dos pais e avós. Quando em 1990 a ditadura cai, o seu mundo transforma-se de um dia para o outro, com os seus pais a revelar-lhe que nunca tinham apoiado o partido, nem Enver Hoxha ou Estaline. Ypi descobre do dia para a noite que todas as suas referências tinham sido construídas sobre uma mentira...
Continuar a ler, com excerto e vídeo, no blog: https://narrativax.blogspot.com/2024/...
Continuar a ler, com excerto e vídeo, no blog: https://narrativax.blogspot.com/2024/...
November 2, 2023
Un recuento de los hechos sucedidos en Albania durante el régimen socialista encabezado por el dictador Enver Hoxha (1908-1985) y la posterior transición durante los años 90 del siglo XX hacia otros regímenes políticos que dan inicio con las primeras elecciones multipartidistas para desembocar en una economía liberal, todo contado a través de los ojos de una niña que luego se convertiría en esta muy buena escritora albanesa llamada Lea Ypi (1979).
El tono de la historia es muy ameno, muy bien llevado y con hechos y personajes que nos cautivan poco a poco. Estas memorias contienen, además de la descripción del entorno que dominaba en aquel entonces, situaciones de su vida familiar y escolar con tintes novelados y con el contrapunto de las reflexiones e interpretaciones que a través de los años se ha hecho de la autora.
Sus padres forman parte muy importante de estas memorias y a veces utiliza el pensamiento antagónico de ellos para mostrarnos dos diferentes visiones del mundo de aquel entonces. Además de sus padres, su abuela tuvo un papel muy importante en la vida de la autora y nos la describe de cuerpo entero. El otro personaje importante en la formación de Lea es su maestra Nora de quien recibe sus primeras nociones de la doctrina socialista y de Stalin.
Cuando ya todos los países del orbe se habían desmarcado del estalinismo, Albania lo siguió siendo bastantes años más con sus secretos, escasez de alimentos, falsas acusaciones, policía secreta, presos políticos, sin libre albedrío o libertad de expresión y tantas cosas más. Las páginas de este libro nos permiten constatar, una vez más, que en la política no existen las convicciones, ni los principios sino solamente los intereses.
Una parte muy importante de este momento de transición política en Albania ocurre en diciembre de 1990 en donde parecía que todo cambiaría con el Glasnost y la Perestroika y todas las tendencias liberalizadoras que esto conllevó. Cómo no recordar la canción “Winds of Change” del grupo alemán “Scorpions” lanzada precisamente en 1990 y que es un canto a la libertad relacionado con la simbólica caída del muro de Berlín y con las medidas liberalizadoras que se estaban tomando. Auténticos vientos de cambio se percibían para todos los países socialistas que habían estado bajo la órbita soviética.
Otro año muy importante en este período de transición es 1997 en donde tienen lugar protestas, inconformidades y revueltas provocadas básicamente por unas elecciones populares caóticas y por el colapso financiero que generó una estafa masiva, todo esto desencadenó una especie de rebelión o guerra civil con aproximadamente 2,000 muertos. Pero en esos hechos electorales y financieros subyacen las divisiones étnicas y religiosas. Estos hechos son registrados en un diario de la autora que se incluye en este libro.
Si bien las propias memorias son un testimonio de las deficiencias socialistas, la autora también pone en tela de juicio al liberalismo: “Es sinónimo de promesas incumplidas, de destrucción de la solidaridad, del derecho a heredar privilegios, de hacer la vista gorda ante la injusticia”.
Emotivo y atrapante el estilo de Lea Ypi que nos permite palpar cómo era el entorno político, económico y social en los países que estaban detrás de la “Cortina de Acero” en especial en un pequeño país de los Balcanes llamado Albania.
El tono de la historia es muy ameno, muy bien llevado y con hechos y personajes que nos cautivan poco a poco. Estas memorias contienen, además de la descripción del entorno que dominaba en aquel entonces, situaciones de su vida familiar y escolar con tintes novelados y con el contrapunto de las reflexiones e interpretaciones que a través de los años se ha hecho de la autora.
Sus padres forman parte muy importante de estas memorias y a veces utiliza el pensamiento antagónico de ellos para mostrarnos dos diferentes visiones del mundo de aquel entonces. Además de sus padres, su abuela tuvo un papel muy importante en la vida de la autora y nos la describe de cuerpo entero. El otro personaje importante en la formación de Lea es su maestra Nora de quien recibe sus primeras nociones de la doctrina socialista y de Stalin.
Cuando ya todos los países del orbe se habían desmarcado del estalinismo, Albania lo siguió siendo bastantes años más con sus secretos, escasez de alimentos, falsas acusaciones, policía secreta, presos políticos, sin libre albedrío o libertad de expresión y tantas cosas más. Las páginas de este libro nos permiten constatar, una vez más, que en la política no existen las convicciones, ni los principios sino solamente los intereses.
Una parte muy importante de este momento de transición política en Albania ocurre en diciembre de 1990 en donde parecía que todo cambiaría con el Glasnost y la Perestroika y todas las tendencias liberalizadoras que esto conllevó. Cómo no recordar la canción “Winds of Change” del grupo alemán “Scorpions” lanzada precisamente en 1990 y que es un canto a la libertad relacionado con la simbólica caída del muro de Berlín y con las medidas liberalizadoras que se estaban tomando. Auténticos vientos de cambio se percibían para todos los países socialistas que habían estado bajo la órbita soviética.
Otro año muy importante en este período de transición es 1997 en donde tienen lugar protestas, inconformidades y revueltas provocadas básicamente por unas elecciones populares caóticas y por el colapso financiero que generó una estafa masiva, todo esto desencadenó una especie de rebelión o guerra civil con aproximadamente 2,000 muertos. Pero en esos hechos electorales y financieros subyacen las divisiones étnicas y religiosas. Estos hechos son registrados en un diario de la autora que se incluye en este libro.
Si bien las propias memorias son un testimonio de las deficiencias socialistas, la autora también pone en tela de juicio al liberalismo: “Es sinónimo de promesas incumplidas, de destrucción de la solidaridad, del derecho a heredar privilegios, de hacer la vista gorda ante la injusticia”.
Emotivo y atrapante el estilo de Lea Ypi que nos permite palpar cómo era el entorno político, económico y social en los países que estaban detrás de la “Cortina de Acero” en especial en un pequeño país de los Balcanes llamado Albania.
December 17, 2021
4,5 - I love memoirs that place a life in the wider historical context. They are a very effective learning device. This one was particularly interesting to me because I did not know much of Albania at all, let alone about its peculiar brand of communism. Also Lea Ypi's family is a very unique bunch of characters with 'biographies' relevant to the larger story. It was fascinating, but what makes it stand out is its humour, warmth and intelligence. The style is deceivingly simple, given that we have a child experiencing the world, but the examples and anecdotes are very well chosen and thought provoking. I thought it was excellent and would highly recommend to anyone with an interest in history and politics.
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