MY HEART

The struggle of memory against forgetting tracked through three intimate journeys.

Entering the increasingly crowded autofiction field, Mehmedinović examines the effort to remember—or more precisely, to not forget—our “brief and unrepeatable time in this indescribably beautiful world.” The first section concerns Mehmedinović’s authorial stand-in, Me’med, who has a heart attack in 2010 at age 50 that requires him to take medication that can lead to memory loss. The second details a road trip in Arizona that Me’med takes with his son, Harun, in 2015. The trip begins in Phoenix, with a visit to the apartment where the family lived upon first arriving in America from Bosnia 20 years earlier. His son is a photographer specializing in images of the night sky, capturing those moments that we don’t always register upon first reflection. The third—and longest—section focuses on the aftermath of a stroke that Me'med's wife, Sanja, suffers in 2016. The fears of forgetting grow painfully tangible because Sanja loses the last four years of her life, to the point that she wants a cigarette because she's forgotten that she quit smoking. Me’med must relive the same events, answer the same questions, day after day, in the hope that they will both remember. He bounces between his present in the U.S. and his past in Sarajevo, both before the war and during the siege that began in 1992. Friends, often other writers, appear, but the focus here is family. Mehmedinović’s poetic side reveals itself via achingly beautiful imagery and recurring motifs. And he is a remarkably prescient observer of America, including its “closing up” over the past 20 years, shown in the way foreign languages used to “arouse...curiosity, not aversion, certainly not fear.”

A deeply personal and incisive look at memory, anchored by astute observations.