In Zoran Drvenkar’s funny, sad, vital novel, after a long conversation, a grandfather is no longer who the grandson used to believe.
At the beginning, the first rays of the day’s sun travel across the floor of a room and over an eleven-year-old boy who is gagged and bound; on the last page, a hundred-year-old man and the same boy sit leaning together on the ground as the evening sun fades. “I’m Kai. I’m your memory,” the boy explained to his demented grandfather that morning. Together they went back to the old man’s scraps of memory of the war in which he had to fight and to the heroic stories that inspired him grandson always told.
