No-Signal Area by Robert Perisic

Author:Robert Perisic
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: eastern europe;books about croatia;corruption;21st century;best translated books;balkan fiction;balkan novel;fiction about balkans;novels about war;uncut gems;croatian novel;slavic novel;slavic;croatian fiction;slavic fiction;capitalism;socialism;global capitalism;post-soviet;william gibson;world literature;globalization;art world;arms dealers;yugoslav wars;yugoslavia;translation;literary fiction;small town;book club recommendations;book club books;novels;fiction;top books;fiction books
Publisher: Seven Stories Press
Published: 2020-03-23T15:41:22+00:00

15

THE DINNER BECAUSE of which he’d had to travel, where Oleg and Lorena met the editor, was wonderful. Oleg was wonderful, the fact that he’d heard nothing about the turbines was wonderful. Everything was wonderful. Everything but the journalist, who, as the editor put it, always brought a touch of irony to his work. He was just that kind of guy; he couldn’t write anything without a little teasing note, most likely so as not to lose his critical distance. This is what the editor said of the journalist, in a somewhat ironic voice. “What can you do? He is that way. I can’t interfere with his article unless something is clearly wrong because that would be violating the freedom of the press.” But all right, he said, he, the editor, would take a look at the piece’s layout. Titles and subtitles went with the editorial remit, so he would. He’d take a look. Then he looked over at Oleg as if they were old friends, actually new friends, but as if Oleg were an old friend because the editor drew no big distinction between old and new friends.

Now Oleg understood: he had dispatched a journalist who couldn’t write without a little provocation, who had scribbled God-knows-what, and heaven forbid he’d interfere with the freedom of the press. However, Oleg felt that freedom of the press began before the article was written, as soon as you decided to send a guy like that off on such an assignment. And then you even wink to him. Surely, at that point, you already know what the freedom will be like. But things were not so bad. They weren’t interested in the turbines. Given the circumstances, things could not have turned out any better. This was actually great, and the dinner was delicious—was there anything better? Anything more dinner-like?

Oleg drank some more and also snorted a couple of lines. He realized this business was very unhealthy for him. But all this would pass, let them have their fun. What mattered was they had no interest in the turbines whatsoever, for the editor showed no sign of having smelled a bigger story than that Oleg was a slightly oddball bohemian businessman. Therefore, he could continue acting like this. Just avoid major outbursts—he kept saying to himself—avoid major outbursts.

Oddball yet no major outbursts—he had to find this middle ground.

• • •

Nikola saw Šeila talking to a man in the town square. He was walking toward them when—and this happened in a split second—because of the way she looked at him, maybe just a tiny twitch of her facial muscles, he decided she was not glad to see him. He slowed down and, not knowing what to do, stopped in front of a dusty shop window, and then, realizing it was empty, he went to a neighboring kiosk and asked for a packet of tissues.

The vendor with thick glasses said to him, “It says in Novi dan that the main actor in the TV series Triumph of Love was lucky to escape death in a plane crash.

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