Dubravka Ugresic is perhaps less well-known in the English-speaking world than the other Croatian "dissident" writer Slavenka Drakulic, which is unfortunate. Both Ugresic's essays and especially fiction are far superior to that of Drakulic. "Culture of Lies" includes the author's observations of Croatian society and politics of the last ten years, both of which have been none too kind to her (indeed, while achieving great acclaim in other European countries, she was branded a "traitor" and worse by Croatian politicians and the pro-regime press for her uncompromising criticism of Croatian nationalism, etc.). In this book, Ugresic shows the many ways in which nationalism imbued all levels of society in Croatia, making people increasingly hostile to different views and people who were/are "different." Her particular area of interest is the way this was reflected in the behavior of intellectuals, who-at least one would like to think-are not supposed to be as susceptible to the appeal of God-and-country patriotism and nationalistic kitsch. Her description of an incident in a Zagreb tram, in which a young man accosts and beats an old destitute drunken man, is particularly vivid and sadly indicative. In fact, this whole section of the book, called "Souvenirs from Paradise" is an excellent collection of impressions and observations of the underside of Croatian life. Despite the recent sweeping political changes in Croatia, many of the negative aspects of society in this country as described by Ugresic are still here, and they will haunt this country for some time to come.

It tells truth of thousends of people manipulated with mass media on Balkans. If you want an expert book on how wars started in ex-yugoslavia you should read this one.

Although it has taken the English translation of this collection of essays a few years to come into print (it was first published in Dutch),this is a highly relevant, illuminating, and moving book. Most of the essays were written between '92 and '94, with more recent postscripts. With rare clarity and complexity of thought, gift of articulation, emotional courage and absence of pretence or squeamishness, Ugresic has carried out a highly accessible investigation into the Yugoslav war, the demise of communist Europe, the East-West polarity, the ambiguities of exile. With references to other East European writers and thinkers (Milan Kundera, Miroslav Krleja, Danilo Kis, Josiph Brodsky), she explores the tyranny of the new constructs of national identity in the Balkan states, the enforced collective amnesia of the former Yugoslavs, the many traumas of their history, as well as the common psycho-cultural lanscape of the 'Eastern block'. There are many deeply moving episodes and revealing insights here, delivered in the familiar 'Central European' style of ironic, melancholic, bitter humanism. Vaguely reminiscent of Milan Kundera, only better because of the lack of smugness and the final doubting humility of someone who has felt intense pain and articulated the nature of this pain.

Smart, to the point and funny. Book of life in the sense. My favorite story - "Steffi Speck in The Jaws of Life". Ms. Ugresic's power of the observation is amazing. She has a way of presenting sad and ironic experiences of every day middle class life in hillariosly funny terms. Her "patchwork" (of stories) book is so true, no wonder she can move any reader. I am looking forward to reading her "Fording the Stream of Concioussness" book. Hopefully, there will be more books coming from this talented writer

What a pity Ms Ugresic is not known in this country - or if she is, as a Yugoslav/Croat, with all the heavy baggage that implies nowadays. These stories are absolutely delightful -- I can't remember the last time I laughed out loud when reading. Nothing escapes her wit and derision -- love affairs, relationships, writers, serious literature -- and we come out of one of her stories (in particular Hot Dog in a Warm Bun, Lend Me Your Character or Kreutzer Sonata -- not to mention the title novella)-- tonified and with our faith in life restored, as after a sauna or a refreshing cold shower. Ms Hawkeworth's translations are excellent too, it's hard to believe this wasn't written in English. Let's hope Ms Ugresic has kept her sense of humour, and that a major publisher will make her prose known to more of us..

Umberto Eco once said (in his book called The name of the rose):"Only thing that makes a man different than the animal is his ability to laugh" Different author (which doesen't have anything to do with the literature, at least not in the one they call clasic), once said:"There is only one kind of sickness that only humans can suffer from, and it is called - nostalgia."
And this is the book, about it. This is the book, about the feeling you get when you lie at your bed late at night, thinking about all the places and person you have visited and got to know and like, this is the book about irreversibility of the time, and book about stupid mass making stupid mistakes.
Wraped in a form where exile is the main focus, with added retrospective of the war which held place on Balcan in the 90's, told with beautiful language skill (I read the book in the original language, wasn't to difficul considering that I'm native speaker of it :), so I cannot judge the quality of translation,) this book is a masterpiece.
Four stars because fourth part of the book is really bad when compared to rest, with flat prosaic skills, and simple sentences.

Seriously, I have become skillful at avoiding books written on the topic of my former homeland and its vicissitudes. After 10 years of exile (7 years Deutschland, 3 years US) and statelessness, a refugee is supposed to have grown a thick skin... Ugresic gets me. I cry and I shiver when I read her. I feel as if going through a dark tunnel while holding somebody's hand. However, I don't know (and I don't want to know)if a person with a permanent citizenship and a stable state of mind would like it.

This book deserves high marks -- well written, well translated, it gives an unusual and sensitive picture of the life of an exile from the former Yugoslavia. But exiles are not always displaced people: they can be elderly, alone, disoriented, misunderstood -- all prey to an inner exile. Ms. Ugresic's intriguing juxtaposition of stories shows the many different ways in which people construct their own biographies or those of others, but ultimately share many of the same emotions and insoluble problems. There are a lot of wise and touching observations in this "collection" of pieces which ultimately form a moving and poetic whole.

I certainly agree with the previous review that this is Ugresic's 'weakest' work. Otherwise, Ugresic is perhaps the greatest living Croatian prose writer. I actually read the Croatian original edition, titled "Americki fikcionar," and while I did enjoy many of the author's observations and insights, I often found her brooding over her plight tedious. While I agree that Ugresic was grossly mistreated and maligned for her anti-nationalist stance by the government-controlled media in Croatia, she left Croatia, or the former Yugoslavia, basically unscathed with at least some certainty of being able to build a new life elsewhere. This stands in contrast to the thousands of refugees who left this region with absolutely nothing and little hope of any secure future for themselves or their children. A vast majority of them were/are as equally blameless for their plight as Ugresic. In addition, I found the scene in which Ugresic tells a black homeless man in Central Park that she "is a nigger in her own country" somewhat pretentious to say the least. However repugnant the hyped-up nationalism of today's Croatia may be to Ugresic, her alienation is the result of personal choice, not of birth. Nonetheless, Ugresic's book is still worth reading, for if nothing else, it reflects the feelings of confusion and estrangement felt by many intellectuals from throughout the former Yugoslavia.

This is the weakest literary work of one of the respected contemporary writers from former Yugoslavia. While I simply LOVED Ms. Ugresic's book "In the Jaws of Life", this book of her impressions on life in America is not quite worthy of her talents. In many of Ms. Ugresic's stories I could see myself - foreigner in thie huge country of choices, weird characters, people who mean good, but always say the wrong thing. It took me many years to get the answers for which Ms. Ugresic is herself trying to find answers to in this work. I can only think: a) Ms. Ugresic has not been in USA long enough to learn the "rules of the game" and b) she simply made wrong choice of friends during her stay in USA (like that superficial guy Norman, mentioned in several of her stories). I only hope that Ms. Ugresic will find better life and nicer impressions during her current stay in Berlin. While I admire Ms. Ugresic's respect for both Danilo Kis and Ivo Andric (she quotes both of these writers in her book; first at the beginning and the second in the last story of her book) - I must admit that "Have a Nice Day" does not deserve comparison worth the works of Kis and Andric. Ms. Ugresic's simple way of storytelling simply clashes with complexity of thought of both Kis and Andric. I sincerely hope Ms. Ugresic will focus on issues that make her work really good. It is painfull to loose one's country. That pain however should never interfere with great talent this writer has. I am looking forward to Ms. Ugresic's new work which, I am sure, will get to the world the best of her.

Ugrešic aptly cites Voltaire's Ulug asking, "How can you prefer stories that are senseless and mean nothing?" to preface her novel about a literary conference in Zagreb. The novel is a good one, winning prizes in Yugoslavia when it was first published in 1988. But it is not a great one. It weaves together smartly the stories of sundry writers and critics, each with idiosyncrasies and human foibles. It ruminates on the contrasts between westerners and eastern Europeans, a theme that provides grist for both insightful humor and sad cynicism.

Ultimately, the book answers Voltaire's question. It is senseless, but it is amusing and has plenty of clever scenes. Prša explaining how he sprained his finger while giving a silly artistic performance and had to go on half-pay and accept a larger state-subsidized apartment; the Russian Troshin's scathing musings about western visitors to eastern Europe, "What was the lure of Moscow? A love of fear?... How quickly they adapted to paranoia as a way of life."; the Croatian critic sizing up an American and concluding, "America's out. Has been for ages.... Europe is in! Mitteleuropa!"; the Czech writer of a stolen manuscript who struggles when the police ask him for a description of the stolen goods, because he can't possibly give a good plot summary in a few lines on a police report.

There are some fun plot twists at the end as the role of the Flagus the pompous Frenchman is clarified. The British sensibility of Michael Henry Heim's translation occasionally jars an American reader, particularly when Marc, the prototypical American, speaks with British usages. Ugrešic opens and closes the book with a series of real-life journal entries, chronicling her back problems, her travels, and her struggle with writer's block. She is interesting, and she seems to love writers and being a writer. It is this playful joy that carries the book and makes it fun to read, but in the end, it is a bit senseless.