Customer Reviews

The Siege

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The fact that no reviews have yet been posted to Amazon for THE SIEGE more than three months after its hardcover release is testimony to the misfortune that American readers have not yet discovered Ismail Kadare and his remarkable body of work. Mr. Kadare, often rumored (and deservedly so) as a candidate for the Nobel Prize in Literature, is an Albanian whose subject matter is, loosely speaking, Albanian history. However, his work merely uses that history to explore universal themes and (more than occasionally) satirize the foibles and ineffectualities of autocrat government. In that respect, Kadare might be seen as a disciple or descendant of Franz Kafka, although Kadare's works are more firmly, if sometimes fabulously, rooted in Balkan, Albanian, and Ottoman history.

Written in 1970 and first published as "The Castle," THE SIEGE tells the story of a fifteenth century invasion of Albania by the Ottoman Turks under the leadership of Ugurlu Tursun Pasha. At the Albanian border, the Pasha is confronted by a citadel that he must take to begin his conquest of this Eastern fringe of Europe. The fortress appears to be protected by George Castrioti, a real historical figure known as Skanderbeg who died in 1468 but is often credited as having stemmed the advance of the Ottoman Turks into Western Europe.

Skanderbeg is an important figure in Kadare's book, but we never see or meet him. Instead, the author has chosen to tell his story almost exclusively from the Turkish side, making the citadel as impenetrable and unknown to the reader as it appears to the Pasha and Skanderbeg as ghostly a force for the reader as the Ottoman army perceives him to be. Kadare delivers events primarily through the viewpoint of one Mevla Celebi, an historian and seemingly witless and ineffectual writer who has accompanied the Pasha in order to chronicle the events of his glorious triumph over the Albanians and their fortress. In most respects, Celebi is as clueless as to the siege events around him as the regular soldiers are, reinforcing the notion (doubtless reminiscent of modern Albania) that history is not about facts but propaganda, creating a suitable reality that will become official history.

Kadare uses lengthy chapters to describe the siege events from the Turks' standpoint, and he intersperses these with very short commentaries from someone on the Albanian side who appears to be a cleric. What makes the author's approach even more interesting is that this story of a military siege is related, from the Turkish side, exclusively through the eyes of non-military figures rather than the captains or generals. Thus, the important players in THE SIEGE are the chronicler Celebi, the unnamed Quartermaster General, the engineer Saruxha, the archtect Giaour, the blind poet Sadedin, the doctor Sirri Selim, and the Pasha's harem women.

As the siege progresses, Kadare's story takes a fascinating turn in which both the invader and the invaded can be seen as representing the same thing: Albania. On the one side, those inside the fortress heroically and cleverly defend their country from the Ottoman intrusion, upholding the honor of Albania. However, on the Turkish side, difficulties in the siege spawn a series of show trials, summary executions, banishments, punishments that are effectively death sentences, and unseemly political jostling for power and influence coupled with efforts at blame avoidance among the Pasha's subordinates. The autocratic (but moderately sympathetic) Pasha might perhaps be seen as Albania's long-time dictator Enver Hoxha. Regardless, Kadare's setup effectively pits Albania at war with itself, using ever more devastating technology (symbolized here by engineer Saruxha's remarkable cannons).

THE SIEGE, as with much of Kadare's writing, offers its worldview in allegorical form, packaged as a fascinating, eminently readable tale of assault on a well-fortified and well-manned castle. As such, it joins an admirable portfolio of Kadare's works now translated into English, including THE SUCCESSOR, THE PYRAMID, THE PALACE OF DREAMS, THE THREE-ARCHED BRIDGE, THE FILE ON H., THE GENERAL OF THE DEAD ARMY, and CHRONICLE IN STONE. Thankfully, these translations insure a rich body of work available in English when that Nobel-winning day finally arrives.

Originally published in Albania in 1970, and then translated into French in the mid-90s, this excellent novel has finally made it into English. It tells the story of a fictional 15th-century siege of an Albanian castle by an Ottoman army. The details of this appear to be largely drawn from accounts of the 1474 siege of Shkoder, as well as the exploits of Gjergj Kastrioti Skanderbeg (aka The Dragon of Albania), who led the resistance to the Ottomans for about twenty years, until his death in 1468.

The siege is mainly told from the Ottoman perspective, as we are taken into the Pasha's tent for discussions of strategy, wander around the camp with the hapless scribe/historian sent to chronicle the impending great victory, and listen to the monologues of the quartermaster who has to keep the siege logistically afloat. There are also occasional brief interludes written from the perspective of the Christian defenders trying to conserve their water until the arrival of the rainy season that would effectively save them.

The mechanics and psychology of the siege are wonderfully brought to life, as the Ottomans struggle to bring their superior manpower and technology to bear in an effective manner. In that sense, it's a gripping, effective, and often bloody, work of historical fiction which will appeal to fans of that genre. At the same time, the story appears to function as allegory for the plight of Soviet-dominated Albania during the Cold War. The Ottoman army -- cowering under an absolute ruler abetted by a pervasive secret police, riven by internal factions (warlords, mystics, technocrats, etc.), and subject to show-trials and cruel and unusual punishments -- bears striking similarities to Albania under the rule of Enver Hoxha. Meanwhile, the castle's desperate defenders take on the role of freedom-loving intelligentsia within that same society. The symbolism is stark, since history tells us that the Ottoman Empire does eventually conquer Albania, and the castle does fall.

The translation is very good, as the camp comes alive on every page, and the battle scenes resound off the page. But it's to Kadare's immense credit that the story remains gripping while conveying its densely layered message. Well worth reading if you have any interest in the Ottoman Empire, Albania, military history, or simply excellent world literature.

In the Seige, Kadare writes a disconcertingly modern and exquisitely detailed account of medieval warfare and nation-building. Most of the book focuses on the Ottoman Turks' command as they encircle a medieval Albanian fortress and, over a long and frustrating summer, fail to breach the walls. There are interstitial passages between the chapters giving a glimpse of the thoughts of the Albanians within during the seige. The parallels between medieval and modern nations and conflicts lie constantly under the surface.

This may be the most overtly politicized Kadare that I have read. It was first written in Albania at the height of Hoxsa's regime, and then subsequently rewritten and rereleased in Paris. This translation is of the later French version. Kadare's messages are playfully ambiguous; the entire heroic drama of the Albanian stand plays out in the shadow of what we know to be the ultimate Turkish conquest, and Kadare reminds the reader continually during the book that it is only a question of whether this army or the next brings the fortress down.

A wonderful book, and as good a fictional version of the Ottoman period in the Balkans as The Bridge on the Drina (Phoenix Fiction Series).

I was in Albania for a week this past July and was looking through the airport library when I found this title. I had never heard of Kadare, but couldn't miss the Booker prize credential on the cover. Reading the back flap I was sold, I study history and fall into these kinds of books. Suffice to say I didn't put the book down for several days. A beautifully written story that pits two cultures and their faiths against each other in a marvelous way. If you love history this book transplants you into the 15th century - such a rich experience. These other reviews do an excellent job at detailing the plot, so I will only add that the details are for the most part accurate and that the events loosely follow a historically accurate framework. Do yourself a favor and put down the "Brown/Berry-esque" historical fiction and read something that will entertain and enlighten.

Ismail Kadare's work has an eery timeless feel to it. Even though it describes a conflict around a quaint and unnamed fortress in the Balkans, its story line could be juxtaposed to any number of past and current conflicts and give a flavor of war. In particular, the work provides a flavor of both the emotions present in war and the deeper politics of war. For instance, Kadare describes the horrors of war that make any war unpleasant for all involved whether they are attacking or defending or caught in the crossfire. Kadare also describes the political tensions inside the besiegers' camp that can describe the mood inside any hierarchical command system, not limited to armed forces. In my mind, I thought of both past and present links. The political situation, with show trials, a decision-making tribunal, and hard labor punishments for those suspected of subverting the chance of victory, could resemble the setup of the most capitalist corporation or the most authoritarian regime (ahem, North Korea). So even though Kadare says that the novel was not written to be 'historical', it sure seems historical because of its ageless story. It can speak of past and present Communist regimes, military campaigns, and hierarchical command structures.

I fear that there are passages where something is lost in the translation from Albanian to French to English. Some sections are quite dry. In the course of reading the novel, I occasionally found myself wondering when the bloody siege would end or when the pasha would finally order a decisive attack on the fort. Still, upon completing the book, I think that almost all, if not all, of the details described in the story add to the story's ageless aura and ability to satirize any variety of situations.

In short, I recommend this book if you are a fan of historical fiction, books with deeper political meanings, or just books that shed light on the emotions evoked by human actions.

A wonderful and provocative work of art from the master storyteller Kadare. This is not a work of historical fiction for mass paperback publication but a rich description of another time with deep significance to the events of today. It is at once an entertaining story and moral lessons wrapped in rich pros with profound insights. Many of Kadare's works have gone unnoticed but it is no mistake that his name continues to come up for Nobel prize consideration.

In this great work, the underlying question is in a state gripped in paranoia, how does the besieged differ from the besieger? Of course, with that underlying theme are many varied themes interwoven as well. It is a complex and very entertaining novel with historical reality and color. Certainly a classic in literature.

Kadare is, one reads, often on the list of nominees for the literature Nobel. This very satisfying and thought-inspiring book suggests that he'd deserve his prize, if he gets it. It has plenty of gravity, depth, and subtlety, while still being very engaging to read. I echo many of the other reviewers' praises. But I was particularly struck by his highly original choice of telling the story from the viewpoint of Ottoman non-combatants (astrologers, poets, historians, ladies of the pasha's harem, and logistics and munitions experts among them). From personal experience I know how tough it is to structure even a non-fiction book. So I'm knocked out with admiration at the imagination it took to structure this novel as Kadare did, especially when the subject matter (to say nothing of ambient political pressures) would suggest several more obvious alternatives.

I read the French edition on which this English translation is based. An unsigned introduction sets Kadare's historical context as the 1960 Albanian-Soviet conflict, during which the Warsaw Pact nations enforced an economic blockade of Albania. It's unclear to what extent this historical reference was a cover story to disguise Kadare's intended criticism of the regime in Albania, and to what extent it was a sincere inspiration. The book was published in Albania in 1970 and the French edition first published in 1979, so Kadare may have been feeling some need to keep up pretenses if the Albanian government really was his target. OTOH, favoring the sincere interpretation is that this story is set in the era of Gjergj Kastrioti Skanderbeg, who resisted the Turks for 25 years, and who remains the Albanian national hero; the country didn't fall to the sultanate until after his death. So perhaps we should be more agnostic about whether pretenses were intended. Unraveling this puzzle has little relevance to enjoyment of the book, which is a meditation on war, friendship, writing, human motivations and much else. Out of 30 or so first-time-read works of fiction in the past 2 years, solidly in my top 5 favorites.

I did buy this book and it is quite interesting to read if you have an interest in the Ottoman empire and warfare in general. It is more allegory than history. The book is not necessarily borrowing from Barleti's Seige of Scutari but more on Barleti's Story of Scanderbeg. The latter does have many seiges in it. One passage is almost identical and surprisingly it is also found in Lezi's 'Scanderbeg General of the Eagles' who also burrows from the same passage. Scanderbeg was dead when the siege of Scutari happened in 1479. Most comments say that for this reason it is clear that Kadare is therefore clearly indicating the end of Hoxha's regime. Not necessarily. His story is about a time when Scanderbeg (allegorical Hoxha) was alive. Kadare himself has considered this novel of his as very weak ideologically. At that time he was not the same person he is today. My interpretation may be wrong but this time I am siding with those that critisize Kadare for supporting a bad regime or at least for not being clear enough against it. It is too dim to be considered as such.

As a teenager and young adult, I was fascinated by the country of Albania. Here was a European country that appeared to be something like North Korea with its' sealed borders, life-long dictator, and virtually no outside contact with the rest of the world. In the late 1970's or early 1980's, after the fall of Hoxha (I think I got that right), the country went through a period of anarchy with an economy fueled by Ponzi schemes. The problems persist in that area which has a unique history. About 5 years ago I discovered an Albanian author by the name of Ismail Kadare and I have enjoyed 5 or 6 books by him. It has helped me understand the Albanian mind and culture somewhat more than I had before.

"The Siege" doesn't actually focus on the Albanians. It focusses on a fictional siege in the Fifteenth Century that takes place in Albanian land. The image of the Albanians is subdued but it's an image that enhances the mystique of the enigmatic people. The Turks throw everything they've got at them but, well, I don't want to give away what happens. The outcome is a look at the futility of war, an inquiry into the nature of leadership, a fascinating portrait of Fifteenth Century weapons and tactics, and a mishmash of other interesting topics.

I have found more profundity in most of the other Kadare books I've read but I could be missing the boat on "The Siege". I may have missed the subject of style vs substance, flamboyance vs survival. Perhaps beyond the glitz, the strategies, and the numbers lies the real story of the Albanians; a country that stuck with its' simplistic lifestyle, ignored the rest of the world and overcame ascending cultures with stubborn stoicism. Then again, "The Siege" might just be a somewhat deep, rather exciting tale about a 15th Century battle. Either way it's worth reading.

The Siege by Ismail Kadare is an allegory for our time of the pressures of empire to expand and the affect on proximate lands that are the object of expansion. To cut straight to the chase, Kadare raises three important questions in this text that is most memorable because of the thought invested in it: 1) is it possible to wipe out a nation? 2) how? and 3) is it desirable?

The story of the siege of an Albanian fortress by an Ottoman army is set in the 15th century, but readers will recognize many of the themes as relevant to today's world especially, more than 40 years after the book was originally published.

In answer to the first question, Kadare develops a beautiful metaphor of a nation that creates a heaven as a repository for all that it holds dear while it is under siege. In this safe place, no invader can reach it, especially as long as the host language survives. This especially resonates as the number of languages on Spaceship Earth shrinks. But Kadare takes it a step further by examining how the Christian Albanian takes his resistance a step further by crucifying his country to lend it immortality.

In examining the second question, Kadare examines the creation of new armaments and strategies and the virutes associated with those in addition to the creation of a mythology that superior technologies guarantee victory in the minds of the invaders. The first illusion to spring from these delusions is that war against an enemy with inferior arms is bound to be short and punctuated with victory and parade home. Too bad Rumsfeld, Cheney, and Bush didn't read this, no?

And, the third question is answered not on the grounds of morality, but on effectiveness. In the end, as with all wars, we are left with fields of destruction, and an endless cycle of wars to come. I particularly thought of the delusion of those who think of missles as peace keepers.

One warning: This is a novel to be read for its thought. I suspect that since the text is twice removed from the original Albanian (this edition was translated into English from French), some things got garbled along the way. For instance, at one point a character plans to pass some time visiting with a colleague. This is referred to as "hanging out." There are one or two other unfortunate translations that frankly jar. But given the thought Kadare has invested in the text, these are quibbles.

I'll remember this book for a long time.