It’s not surprising that Kassabova—who has written three poetry collections, a novel and three memoirs—demonstrates a descriptive sensitivity on the page. . . . But she also possesses a gift that’s bestowed on only the best of travel writers: an ability to zero in on characters who illuminate the condition of a place in time.”—The New York Times Book Review
“Kassabova’s sense of adventure and spontaneity, combined with a lack of artifice . . . are winning qualities in a narrator. . . . Kassabova’s gifts as a poet shine when she describes the mystical, powerful landscape, the book’s true protagonist.”—Newsday
“Rich with a profound sense of the region’s political and cultural history, this travelogue moves at an often meandering pace, its narrative broken up by condensed musings on personal conflict, historical ephemera or folklore. . . . Kassabova devotes herself to intimate vignettes that sparkle with the dark charm of fairy tales and mystical fables. . . . Hosts and drivers, fellow travelers and cynical locals provide a constant hum that reinforces the tension of a territory under constant contest.”—Star Tribune (Minneapolis)
"Kassabova is local enough to dig out the details, and at the same time detached enough to see things without judging them. She observes, listens, and narrates without distorting the story with her opinion. She’s a messenger. A very fair one. In the current state of the world’s refugee crisis, Border is a reminder that those who cross the borders are not just numbers. They are people, and bearers of stories that deserve to be heard."—The Christian Science Monitor
“It’s the story of migration, both modern and historical, of boundaries crossed and crossed out, a story as old as the soil itself.”—Literary Hub
“[A] marvelous new travelogue. . . . Border is that rarest of things: a travel book with a conscience that is also a compendium of wonders.”—Los Angeles Review of Books
“Kassabova’s sense of adventure and spontaneity, combined with a lack of artifice . . . are winning qualities in a narrator. . . . Kassabova’s gifts as a poet shine when she describes the mystical, powerful landscape, the book’s true protagonist. . . . We are left with a clear emotional and sensory imprint of the Balkan borderlands.”—Pioneer Press (St. Paul)
“A poetic, thoughtful, and timely exploration of the borderlands of the eastern Balkans.”—Geist
“An ethereal siren’s song woven from the myths, legends, and languages that converge in the borderland. . . . The result is a portrait of a place out of time, separate from the countries the speakers inhabit—a distinctive space that the reader can enter too after falling under Kassabova’s spell. Reading Border is a dizzying reminder of the common humanity found on either side of any border.”—The Christian Century
“This may very well be the best book I’ve read this decade.”—Alex Balk, The Awl
“Kassabova’s book is closer to a superbly executed work of anthropology. What sets it apart is the brilliance of her prose: time and again the lurking poet bursts forth.”—Current History
“[An] engrossing travelogue. . . . Kassabova proves to be a penetrating and contemplative guide through rough terrain.”—Publishers Weekly, starred review
“As Kassabova travels through the hinterlands of Bulgaria, along the border where that country meets Turkey and Greece, she discovers that borders shape the lives of both those who attempt to cross them and those who live nearby. . . . Border offers a dark look at a world of smugglers and spies, where the past maintains its hold even as people struggle to reach a brighter future."—Booklist
“A dreamlike account that subtly draws readers into the author’s ambivalent experience of a homeland that has changed almost beyond recognition.”—Kirkus Reviews
“This is an exceptional book, a tale of travelling and listening closely, and it brings something altogether new to the mounting literature on the story of modern migration. . . . [At a moment] when asylum-seekers are adrift from one end of the world to the other, Border makes for timely reading.”—New Statesman (UK)
“Riveting, beautifully written. . . . Kassabova, a poet and novelist as well as an essayist, is ideally placed to take us on a journey to a corner of Europe that even today seems exotic and little known. . . . In this region nearly everyone is at only one or two generational removes from exile and displacement, scattered among three alphabets and several nations; and along the way Kassabova meets treasure-hunters, refugees, retired spies, smugglers, hunters, botanists, healers, artists, Gypsies (Roma), forest rangers and -border guards. . . . Her wry wit leavens the narrative and keeps it from collapsing under the weight of cumulative tragedy. . . . This is travel writing with lexical precision (“transhumance”, “karst”) and a sense of adventure, but with a distinctively female slant. . . . With the best of travel writers, Kapka Kassabova is an explorer, viewing everything with the eyes of discovery, even as she uncovers strata of history and legend. She makes us long to peer closely at the map, and see these wondrous places for ourselves.”—The Times Literary Supplement (UK)
2017-07-03
A writer who has lived in Scotland for many years chronicles her return to her birthplace to explore the idea and reality of boundaries between nations.Poet and memoirist Kassabova (Twelve Minutes of Love: A Tango Story, 2013, etc.) left Bulgaria with her family when she was a child, eventually settling in the U.K. She returned to the Balkans, where "Bulgaria, Greece, and Turkey converge and diverge," to explore tiny, almost-abandoned mountain villages and border points where, in the communist era of her childhood, those who attempted to cross in either direction might be killed. She found a new group of immigrants, from Syria, in the region, trying to get to Greece or Bulgaria but stuck either in camps or trying to make a living as individuals in Turkey. This is far from a conventional travel narrative. The book is as much about Kassabova's emotions and misgivings as the world of the senses, with digressions about dragons, magical springs, ghosts, and the evil eye. A woman traveling by herself in a part of the world where doing so opens her to being perceived as a prostitute, the author met and talked to men while the women stayed hidden. These men, whose real names she alters, are shepherds, ex-spies, Eastern Orthodox priests, smugglers, and former border guards. They told her long, complicated, and possibly true stories. She suspected two, probably drug dealers, of kidnapping her and fled in terror to the safety of three strangers living in "a paradise of lemon balm and fig trees." Telling her story, she includes bits of the layered history of the region, not so systematically that an outsider can piece it all into a coherent narrative but nonetheless studded with flashes of insight. A dreamlike account that subtly draws readers into the author's ambivalent experience of a homeland that has changed almost beyond recognition.