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Hence, Yugoslav is primarily an elegiac poem about the time the protagonist spent with her father, with a special emphasis on the time spent in the murdered Yugoslavia, in a better time, described in an extraordinarily refined manner which doesn’t stem from a post-facto study of origins, but rather from her memories. And they hurt, too. Thus, guided by her own linguistic gift and talent, Ana Vučković’s loser manages to push her way through the irrevocably passed, bygone time, and reach the exit nevertheless. This exit is actually high-quality literature, harrowing, poignant and clever as it is. Belles lettres. That is as much as was possible in this world of ours, such as it is.