By Abeer Hoque
Sofija Stefanovic’s wry and thoughtful memoir Miss Ex-Yugoslavia is about growing up across Serbian and Australian cultures. It takes place as the country of her birth, Yugoslavia, slowly and brutally disintegrates. She’s an introverted anxious child, always watching and internalizing, yet she still craves the limelight and to feel safe. Somehow, despite impending (and then catastrophic) war, street protests, school bullying, parents in constant argument, devastating illness, culture shock, language woes, and more, Stefanovic manages wit and charm in abundance.
When the Bosnian War officially ended in 1995, there were over 100,000 dead and over 2 million displaced, with residents of former Yugoslav regions flung all over the world. Stefanovic explores the idea of inherited trauma and her take is compelling: “War doesn’t actually end when a date is stamped on it for the textbooks, when the headlines are printed, when the newscasters announce it. After the tanks roll out and the bodies are buried, those that are left alive are left with nightmares, anxiety, twitches, and fear that is passed on to their children.”
Stefanovic’s mother is one of the most powerful characters. She is a profane, chain-smoking, anti-nationalist professor and child psychologist in Belgrade whose house is filled with intellectuals and artists discussing everything under the sun. In Australia, she becomes a stay at home mom, relegated to watching her beloved country implode on television. This stifles her and makes her lonely. Her brusque laissez-faire parenting leads to some of the funnier scenes in the book. Perhaps they sometimes result in semi-traumatic overly adult understanding for young Stefanovic, but also led to lovely revelations such as this one: “I loved the idea of someone not being bound by one gender; it seemed transcendent and divine.”
I loved the instances of translated Serbian phrases, words, and proverbs, and the details of city and family life in Belgrade in the ‘80s. It’s these kinds of interludes that take a universal fish out of water story and make it particular and present. They make you realize that someone who might be quite like you can engender this resonance even when coming from a very different place. There’s a truism in Bangladesh about how you need 3 people to form political parties: two to join forces, and 1 to split off into another faction. There’s apparently a similar Serbian sentiment about two Serbs having three opinions. We’re the same all over the world.
I read Miss Ex-Yugoslavia in a couple of days – it’s breezy and warm and winning, despite its often heavy-hearted subject. Stefanovic is a born storyteller and it’s apparent from her memoir how she got there. Because I’ve had the pleasure of hearing her tell her stories on stage and in person, I would recommend the audio book – she reads it herself.
Miss Ex-Yugoslavia
Sofija Stefanovic
Atria Books
ISBN: 978-1501165740
