In May, I traveled to Prishtina, where the International Literature Festival “Polip” was being held. In the evening, I found myself in a slightly hippie environment, under the smoke of tobacco, the smell of Peja beer and energetic conversations between the writers and the audience, before we lined up in the small and dark stairwell of the Oda Theatre to listen to some short literary readings. The evening opened with a recital of lyric verse in Serbian and continued with pleasant readings in German, Croatian, Albanian and English by different authors from the region and the rest of Europe. Then came two excerpts from “The Flowers of Srebrenica” by Aidan Hehir and David Frankum. The excerpts’ descriptions of shells falling in Sarajevo’s streets and mass graves being opened around Srebrenica were so dramatic and heavy that they felt more like scenes from a movie. “The Flowers of Srebrenica,” published this June, is not an ordinary book about inhumane crimes that occured in Bosnia. Hehir, ...