What do You think about The Three-Arched Bridge (2005)?
As the title of the book says, Ismail Kadare's De brug met drie bogen is about a bridge. It is constructed in the period 1377-1379 in a small Albanian village. The narrator, a monk named Gjon, intents to chronicle the construction of the bridge during bleak times. I am a proponent of a political reading: the bridge is constructed at a time when the Ottoman Empire expands on to the Balkan and threatens the people of the village. This is also a time of flowering capitalism. The bridge connects these two: the economic tide has demanded a bridge to be built, in order to ensure a stable route for trade, thereby enabling the Ottomans to approach faster. The villagers fear the bridge and they fear the Ottomans. Theirs is a world of myths and legends, some of which are crushed by the things the new era brings. Kadare remains true to these people: he doesn't condemn them, nor does he idealise them.Where I think he falls short, is when Gjon tries to say something about the Ottoman invasion. At one point, he is sent to the border of Albania with the Ottoman Empire. He remarks that this is where Asia now starts. Asia is in Europe! I find it somewhat strange to believe somebody from the end of the fourteenth century thinks like that. Or, when he hears of Albanian counties adopting the Muslim calendar, which effectively throws them back 600 years, he mocks them. That, to me, feels to modern to be believable.
—Jesse
As the narrator says, this is a simple but complex story. The narrator, a monk, called upon to translate for the rulers of his tiny universe, watches and reports on the building of a bridge and the changing landscape.There is the imagery of the middle ages, its superstition, its brutality, its insularity and the, perhaps, self fulfilling outlook that the world is beyond their control.The ruler of this area refuses a good strategic marriage for his daughter without concern for the wider world and the ramifications of his refusal on his citizens.Larger interests want a bridge. Those with vested interests for and against its construction use myths and superstition to manipulate the public.Once built, the bridge opens new worlds to people who are afraid to cross it. Eventually there is no alternative for crossing the river. Then, people have to pay to use the bridge. The world intrudes in ways that the ruler has no control over. The bridge is not the cause of these intrusions, but clearly aids and abets them.This book should be more compelling. It's hard to say why it isn't. The problem could be could be a weak translation or it could be that the personality of the narrator is not developed. This book has a great theme and presents a very good sketch of life in the middle ages, the subtle intrusion of the Ottoman Empire and the evolution of technology. While it is a good narrative, the content is powerful and deserves an even stronger narrative.
—Louise
In 1377 a monk, Gjon [John] Ukcama, begins his chronicle of the events of that time in his corner of Albania. What follows is a mesmerizing, frightening tale. It can be read on several levels; the straightforward narrative of a bridge being built over a raging river, the Ujana e Keqe ["Wild waters"], construction undermined by sabotage, bitter rivalry between two entities: Boats & Rafts and Roads & Bridges. Byzantium is crumbling; the Ottoman Empire encroaches on Albania; Gjon writes on the last page of his chronicle, "times are black; soon night may fall..." "I, the monk Gjon, sonne of Gjorg Ukcama, who hath finished this knowynge that ther is no thynge wrytene in owre tonge about the Brigge of the Ujana e Keqe and the euil whyche is upon us, and for the love of owre worlde." Or the novella can be read on an allegorical level. Kadare lived during the brutal dictatorship of Enver Hoxha, so most of what he wrote is purposely veiled in hidden meaning. This tale could be the bloody history of his people, possibly present-day [well, when Kadare wrote it in 1976-78] events. The author used the conflict of the 14th century as a metaphor. The man walled up in the bridge, a sacrifice to propitiate the bridge, seemed like a symbol that Albania would not progress without violence and shedding of blood. The short chapters ranging from one to five pp. brought to my mind old Hollywood movies where tearing off calendar pages would indicate passage of time. I have read other Kadare and he can be difficult to understand, but this parable seemed unambiguous. It reminds me of the surreal, grotesque stories of Kafka in how this story and those of Kafka's can have layered meanings. The atmosphere of desolation and foreboding is conveyed marvelously throughout.
—Jane
