Galloway's The Cellist of Sarajevo: War in Your Home and in Your Identity

The following is the first post of our latest roundblog; more intriguing thoughts from Wollstonecraft and Melville are coming soon! For now, here's Shelley's impression:

In Steven Galloway’s The Cellist of Sarajevo, all three main characters in war-torn Sarajevo maintain a deep connection with and pride for their city—for their home and identity. Despite the fear, anger, and doubt that constantly pervade their internal thoughts and actions—feelings understandably arising from trying to survive in a violent and uncertain setting—Kenan, Arrow, and Dragan act with much resolve and conviction (however subtle such behavior is displayed) because of the love and honor they have for Sarajevo. Whether they are nostalgically contemplating the pre-war Sarajevo of old, or reflecting upon the decisive meaning of remaining in or fleeing the city, it’s clear the characters have much difficulty witnessing and experiencing their beloved home and all that it represents being destroyed and brutally altered. At the same time, an undying hope of a beautiful Sarajevo rising from the ashes still persists.


Kenan: “How do you build it all up again? Do the people who destroyed the city also rebuild it…if a city is made anew by men of questionable character, what will it be?” (48-9)

Arrow: “Is there a difference between disappearing and going into a grave…There is, of course, the question of survival. She doesn’t want to die…But the young girl who was overcome by what it means to be alive…doesn’t want to die either. That girl may be gone for now, may have no place in the city of today, but Arrow believes it’s possible that someday she might return. And if Arrow disappears, she knows she’s killing that girl” (173).

Dragan: “Dragan is terrified, has never been so afraid. But he can’t force himself to move any faster. After a while he stops trying. He keeps his eyes on the safe area he’s heading toward, and he tries not to think about anything other than putting one foot in front of the other. He begins to understand why he isn’t running. If he doesn’t run, then he’s alive again. The Sarajevo he wants to live in is alive again” (224).

Even though the characters worry about the future of their city, and essentially, the life of their personal and cultural identity, they all act as Dragan does as he attempts to cross the road amidst targeted gunfire: with a calm, brave determination, echoed in the tone of the language throughout the novel. Subsequently, not only does the old Sarajevo become “alive again,” but the individuals themselves actively live in a city ravaged by violence and death. By vigorously living in such a hostile environment, even if much of this “living” exists within the characters’ mindset, or appears to be understated, Kenan, Arrow, and Dragan illustrate their intense pride as natives of Sarajevo.

Understanding this makes me wonder, how culturally connected am I to my hometown, where I have long-since moved from? If my hometown was being destroyed in war, with defenseless citizens being killed in the streets, would I stay or would I go, if I had the choice? To be honest, for better or worse, I think my desire for survival outweighs any cultural connection or identity to a specific place, however meaningful that place might be, and has been in my life. So why is it different for me than it is for these inhabitants of Sarajevo? Perhaps their relationship with their city is stronger because their families have lived there for much longer, for generations. Consequently, they are more attached to Sarajevo—to a physical place—than I, an American descendant of pioneers, could ever be. But maybe I would be if it came down to it, if my “home” was ever confronted with war, though there’s no way to ever be sure until it happens. In the same vein, it’s extremely difficult (perhaps even futile) to compare the Bosnian Sarajevo to the American California; they are so different, it’s tough to completely understand or identify with the nature of the characters, especially in terms of their relationship with their culture and city.

This text also makes me wonder, how would I behave in such conflictive times? I kept waiting for one of the characters to start sobbing, to scream in fear or anger, or to completely break down and panic, but none of them do. At his worst, Kenan is immobilized by his fear, but even this depiction emphasizes a certain level of composure—a composure highlighted by the courage of the cellist and his beautiful music. From the point of view of the novel, it’s obvious that the characters experience mental and emotional anguish, but none of this angst clearly reveals itself in their actions. Why might this be? How and why do they maintain such a level of control? Is it the means of survival, or are they showing that they will not be overtly intimidated in their beloved city and home? Regardless, Galloway’s account of civilians living in war makes readers consider their own cultural identity, specifically in reference to place. The novel also works to provoke readers’ thoughts concerning their own supposed behavior in times of strife and battle: would you “live” through acts of courage and conviction, or would you act otherwise?