Even though I’m left with questions regarding plot and purpose I could only admire and love the main character, Baba Dunja, for her drive and determination to have her home in the place she loves the most. She creates an almost magical world in which the living and the dead are both real and seem to support each other. Mixed with humour and compassion it makes a very enjoyable read.
When the reactor happened, I counted myself among those who got off lightly. My children were safe, my husband wasn’t going to live much longer anyway, and my flesh was already toughened with age. In essence I had nothing to lose. And anyway, I was prepared to die. My work had always taught me always to keep that possibility in mind so as never to be caught by surprise. I marvel every single day at the fact that I’m still here. And every second day I ask myself whether I might be one of the many dead who wander around unwilling to acknowledge that their name is already inscribed on a gravestone somewhere. They need to be told, but who is that brazen? I’m happy that nobody has anything left to say to me. I’ve seen everything and have no more fears. Death can come, just let it come gracefully, please.