Young poets today seem to have no history. Instead, they have theories — or perhaps "patterns of code." Their work promotes the environmental movement, for example. Many of them, I believe, are still deconstructing something or other. Filip Marinovich, however, does have a history, which is visible in his name. He’s a Serbian, or more precisely an American grandson of Serbia (if I understand correctly). This book, despite its abstract title (and cover), is an exploration of Filip’s ambiguous "homeland." (But what else could he call it: "Serbia, My Serbia"?)
Serbia is a pile of involuted questions, some of which (like many questions) take the form of answers. Yugoslavia (whose capital was Belgrade, the largest city of Serbia) was the most successful Communist nation, most would argue. So Communism becomes a character in Zero Readership. So do the complex and horrific Balkan wars of the 90s.
I just opened to "Quotations from Irradiated Belgrade":
yr mother in ’91
on the eve of Balkan
orange
quotations
My English
is not very goodnik!
(steel beams — lines
skyscraper times
Babel Towers sliced
limes for cocktail Oceanside –)
…
Grandpa Mercy on Che —
"He was a real revolutionary
because he got rule,
gave up all the privileges of rule,
and went to Bolivia to
raise a revolt with the Indians."
Within battle-scarred Belgrade, Filip’s Grandpa Mercy (what a name!) rhapsodizes on heroic Che Guevara. Zero Readership displays the devotion of the heartfelt student, learning the bitter and invaluable lessons only a grandmother — with "not very goodnik" English — can teach. (That was just part 1 of the poem.)
Rarely do I feel about a book: "This story could only have been told in poetry." But that is my opinion of Filip’s "epic."