The novel Mrena by the Serbian author Milica Mićić-Dimovska (1947–2013) provides insight into 1990s Serbia and how the manipulative regime of Slobodan Milošević was perceived and endured. Sibelan Forrester's superb translation of it as The Cataract is a welcome addition to the body of contemporary east European fiction available to English speakers. First published in 2002, the novel takes place in Novi Sad before and during the NATO bombings in 1999; the characters represent primarily the intelligentsia, each coping in her or his own unique way. Mićić-Dimovska follows them intermittently but seamlessly throughout the book as a series of contemporaneous individual plots that emerge and illustrate how quotidian life fits into and is informed by tumultuous, painful, and bewildering political times. The nightmare created by Milošević and fueled by nationalism hovers stubbornly over ordinary events: the emotions and excitement of youthful romance; the bitter agony of crumbling marital relationships; and the pitiful, utterly forlorn existence of old age. Mrena—Mićić-Dimovska's political commentary on what occurred in her own Novi Sad and Serbia—relates the depth of human experience as it simultaneously offers a trenchant critique of nationalist ideology and the power it can assume. As a work of fiction, it subtly yet powerfully addresses questions of contemporary nationalism; we are lucky that it has now been so thoughtfully translated into English.

Forrester's translation effectively engages the reader and flows—almost without exception—smoothly and naturally. There is a directness of narration in Mićić-Dimovska's literary style that Forrester fluently adopts. Indeed she remains very faithful to the Serbian—most of the time expressively rendering the style of the original (such as in the excerpt in the following paragraph)—although sometimes arguably too faithful to it: a sentence such as “Ritual brijanja, baš je uživao u njemu” (Mrena 74), is translated literally as “The ritual of shaving, he really enjoyed it” (59).

The word mrena (cataract) is invoked throughout the book in relation to matriarch Miroslava Prodanović—an elderly, recluse widow and crazy but beloved mother and grandmother of several central characters. She is in dire need of cataract surgery but refuses to undergo it because in so doing she can deny and reject the present. As she tells her daughter-in-law: “Why should I get them removed? So I can see the world better. Thanks a lot. The world doesn't interest me” (27). “Cataracts”—blindness without action—typify what affects virtually all of Mićić-Dimovska's characters in the midst of 1990s Serbia.

The text presents challenges to be sure. One relates to providing context for “outsider” readers. While universal in its meaning and message, the novel is local in its detail. Ensuring that it resonate as a whole for an audience that likely knows little about Novi Sad or the Yugoslav secret police, let alone how to pronounce the glut of Serbian names and places is, therefore, a necessity. Forrester has geared her translation to this audience (although it clearly works for more informed readers as well). The volume includes a useful introduction by Jasmina Lukić (i–ix), a Serbian pronunciation guide and lists of the characters, organizations, and “actual and literary personages” in the text (x–xiv). This is all very helpful although by no means exhaustive. The list of organizations (xiii) includes only LUJ and SOS, defined as leftist and rightist organizations respectively, as well as OTPOR (Resistance). Many acronyms, however, are not identified, such as, UDBA (25), AFŽ (73), OZNA (73), KNOJ (148), and some others. Furthermore, some Serbian words, titles, names, and references are simply left unexplained, including, gusle (67), the “Jabuka” Store (138), Vreme (124), (Radoje) Domanović (183), and Skull Tower (69). Expanding the existing lists of terms and providing occasional explanatory footnotes would further clarify contextual references. Another challenge involves capturing each personage's verbal style—especially demanding due to the large cast of characters in the novel. Forrester bravely tackles and successfully accomplishes this, adeptly reproducing in English a variety of convincing styles of speech—one of the novel's most vital attributes.

Finally, apparently reflecting the low-budget production of the publisher, Parnilis Media, there are unfortunately frequent typographical and layout errors, such as “nrespapers” (139) (newspapers), or a sentence is accidentally printed three times consecutively (iv–v).

Mićić-Dimovska's literary works are too little known in the Anglophone world, but thanks to Forrester, The Cataract will surely rectify this. Forrester captures with remarkable skill and sensitivity the spirit and significance of Mrena and, in so doing, makes accessible to a new audience Mićić-Dimovska's powerful literary account of the chaotic, agonizing, and tragic final decade of the twentieth century in Serbia.