The lukewarm wave of young Serbian poetry

Instead of a classic introduction to the essay, I would like to begin my thoughts on the climate of contemporary Serbian poetry with a bold claim: ‘In the 21st century, Serbian poetry is notably superior to Serbian prose.’ And to make this claim even bolder: ‘Certain trends within contemporary Serbian poetry merit comparison with the most daring trends in the wider European poetic discourse.’

Perhaps, this text should be dedicated to those poets, the quiet heroes who renew our faith in the power of the written language and in literature that transcends commercial interests. The reality is that while contemporary Serbian prose often struggles with clichés, careless narrative techniques, and being constrained by imposed themes, each year brings forth a poet who overcomes these challenges, rising above the mediocrity and Baudrillard-esque transparency.

However, since these poetic voices are insufficiently visible in the local framework due to content inflation and hyperproduction or are confined to intellectual enclaves, it may be more pressing now to identify certain symptoms contributing to a climate of resistance towards diverse and nuanced discourse, which has dulled the impact of subversive and rebellious writing among young poets.

Poets or copywriters

This dilemma can be reframed: are we so preoccupied with the fear that artificial intelligence might surpass natural intelligence that we overlook how willingly we are harnessing our imagination and surrendering our intellect to algorithms? Instead of questioning humanity’s future where machines emulate humans, perhaps we should pause our trajectory towards resembling machines ourselves. Currently, much of our communication happens either between machines or through them, yet we often overlook Marshall McLuhan’s assertion that the medium shapes the message. The transference of social interaction into heightened visibility and literature into constant readability is steering literature toward an unforeseen evolution.

Writing has evolved into a form of media writing – an applied art and a quantifiable skill. While the constraints of mediums and literary genres have always demanded creativity and discipline from authors, contemporary writing appears increasingly defined by filling space around keywords dictated by algorithms, whether consciously or subconsciously. At times, it feels as though we are consuming text akin to chewing a flavourless pill – a substitute for sustenance – where the scent of literature and poetry lingers but true depth and meaning are absent.

Under the guise of enhanced communicativeness and personal expression, a current of neo-sentimental poets has emerged among young Serbian poets, prevailing by crafting content aimed at maintaining attention within the narrow confines of social media validation. What distinguishes these poets? Their poetry surgically strips away everything symbolic, ‘everything that transcends mere meaning.’ They eschew intricate, evocative imagery, layers of meaning, and above all, imagination. Their two-dimensional verse caters to readers who lack the time or inclination to intellectually and emotionally engage with deeper content – essentially, non-readers.

The enrolment in humanities studies has sharply declined over the past 5–10 years, leading literary studies to increasingly pivot towards trends, identity-focused readings, and case studies to sustain relevance. Many students aspiring to become authors find themselves drawn instead into roles as copywriters within marketing agencies, where a different set of rules and objectives apply. This raises the question of where the line between content creation and copywriting for networks ends and genuine literature begins.

Literary criticism finds itself in a precarious position, often navigating an academic realm focused on metrics, such as citations, self-citations and the quantity of references – a consequence of the Bologna Process. This approach limits genuine dialogue, leaving little room for criticism to thrive if market reach becomes the primary measure of poetic success. Aleksandar Drakulić’s research underscores this shift, revealing that only 2% of book buyers make purchases based on media articles, indicating a widespread distrust of critics and journalists’ recommendations or critiques.

In the virtual sphere, traditional literary criticism has been overshadowed by personal endorsements and promotional reviews from ordinary readers on platforms like Instagram, YouTube and TikTok. Unfortunately, these platforms typically adopt an affirmative tone that does little to foster the growth of young poets.

Over the past decade, shaping young poetic consciousness has increasingly occurred within creative writing schools. While American universities have long integrated serious methodologies into their creative writing programs to nurture future authors, Serbia has not established such systemic efforts. Some professors at the University of Belgrade and Novi Sad have offered classes, but systemic support and notable authorial products from these courses are lacking.

Conversely, non-institutional creative writing courses led by individual poets and writers have gained popularity, heavily promoted on social media with varied methodologies aimed at capturing market attention. However, these often lead to a proliferation of homogeneous poetic voices, contributing to a culture of mediocrity based on mediocre models.

Public reception, especially among literary circles and readers, remains divided on these workshops. Skepticism is understandable, as many workshops are conducted by authors who themselves exhibit literary flaws, according to critics. Nevertheless, these workshops thrive, reflecting young authors’ pursuit of affirmation under the guise of literary authority, where workshops serve as portfolios for creative personalities and platforms for networking, occasionally promising publication opportunities for debut works. 

Some of today’s most prominent young Serbian poets have emerged from various creative writing schools led by the greatest poetic breakthrough of recent decades, Radmila Petrović. Her debut collection, Moja mama zna šta se dešava u gradovima (My Mom Knows What Happens in Cities, PPM Enklava 2020), reportedly sold about 20,000 copies – an exceptional achievement in contemporary poetry, where print runs rarely exceed 1,000 copies. This success should encourage poetry enthusiasts, even those who might be suspicious of the book’s mainstream appeal and ability to generate media hype.

However, it’s somewhat disheartening that Serbia’s exported poetic product reflects a trend that has been evolving for two decades, albeit with diminishing quality as it moves further from its origins. This trend follows in the footsteps of Milena Marković, Zvonko Karanović and Srđan Valjarević, who injected excitement into the literary scene at the turn of the 21st century. Their poetics persist, somewhat vampirically, supported by creative writing workshops led by figures like Karanović and Ognjenka Lakićević.

The perspective of youth typically brings rebellion and the desire to redefine tradition, explore new territories and expand the boundaries of poetic discourse, ushering in a new wave. However, today’s youth movement lacks the fervor and disruptive potential to break free from the ossified forms of the previous generation. There’s a noticeable absence of critical dialogue and meaningful collaborations that could lead to innovative breakthroughs. Instead, the current generation seems content to flow along with the mainstream, even if they end up as tributaries swallowed by a larger river.

A recent attempt to challenge this status quo was seen in Caché, a poetic collective that boldly implemented radical ideas about poetry’s contemporary role. Rejecting compromises with publishers, formalities and nepotism in literary awards, they chose self-publishing and handmade editions of poetry books, refusing to register their works in the National Library. Despite operating outside of the established literary system and its value scales, this group’s actions influenced several new poetic generations, including my own. Their defiance of market pressures through self-publishing reached a symbolic peak with a closed meeting arranged with Jacques Rancière during his visit to Belgrade in 2014.

Sadly, self-publishing is now gaining traction as an alternative market model, but it’s a separate topic deserving further exploration.

Algorithmic Literature: ‘Voluntary Slavery’

In the era of the supposed democratisation of art, it’s disappointing that this freedom often becomes entangled in the free market. While there’s an appearance of openness, there’s a conservative approach to emotion, poetry and digital media. Advertising spaces serve as pilot platforms for authors to knock on the doors of established publishers, armed with portfolios and guaranteed follower counts – essentially, potential buyers. Social media isn’t merely chosen; it’s often a result of unaffirmed authors seeking attention or a calculated market strategy by those aiming to attract as many followers (and buyers) as possible.

Algorithms wield editorial influence, colonising our desires by creating lists and anticipating our next interests before we can even conceive of them. While artificial intelligence streamlines processes, it’s rarely harnessed for creative, unconventional projects. Poets conform to expectations, making their work predictable. Algorithms reduce literary narratives and poetic imagery to binary code, stripping away fictional layers and the added value they offer, turning readers into consumers rather than cultivating their minds.

Literature on the internet captivates many cultural institutions and traditional media in Serbia, yet for two decades, discussions have merely scratched the surface of the relationship between the internet and art as well as the presence of art and criticism in the virtual realm. Rarely do these discussions elevate assumed media truths to a deeper level, acknowledging that art will always find its place among people, including in the virtual world. There’s little exploration of whether literature on the internet thrives or merely camouflages itself in multimedia to regain visibility.

Bold and coherent experimentation with literature alongside other media is hindered by a fear of breaching perceived boundaries separating different art forms. Thus, responses to market demands become automatic: when Instagram gains favor, literary texts gain accompanying images for visibility. When algorithms favor video, poetry is read or written over moving images. When one-minute videos dominate, shorter poems or excerpts become prevalent. These visual elements often serve as mere decoration for the text, failing to breathe alongside or complement poetic verse.

Despite pervasive ideological overlays, poets distribute their works across various platforms with minimal hesitation, driven by the overarching logic of capital. They justify their presence in these spaces as small entrepreneurs obliged to the market. A notable development in the virtual Balkans is Željko Belinić’s creation of Čovjek-časopis (Man-Magazine), a Facebook page and website that essentially acts as an open platform for poets and writers without editorial curation. While this provides visibility, questions arise about its criteria – is it truly a magazine if there are no discernible standards? Despite this, Čovjek-časopis serves as a solid advertisement and opportunity for authors to showcase their work, featuring poems by both significant and lesser-known names.

Art evolves regardless of our perception or desires, prompting questions about where compromises are made and where artists find space for their subversions. Video games, for instance, offer one avenue for postmodern authors to engage readers in the creation process. However, literature appears to cling stubbornly to established boundaries, reproducing rather than breaking or expanding them.

My editorial work at a major commercial publisher (Kontrast Izdavaštvo), which manages a substantial poetry library and maintains a dedicated poetry network channel, has provided insights. Out of 500 to 600 manuscripts received annually, half are poetry manuscripts, yet fewer than five attempt to engage with the present moment or respond to the challenges of this generation. These manuscripts reflect an understanding of poetry akin to late 19th and early 20th century modernism, both in form (often hymnic tone, abstract nouns and simplistic rhyme devoid of sonority) and content (sentimental love poetry). On TikTok, for instance, the most viral video material often features canonised poets whose cultural significance is firmly established, yet their aesthetic relevance and connection to contemporary issues and the challenges of modern life remain uncertain. In essence, it’s the sentimental-nostalgic inclination of young people to consume rather than critically reassess, innovate upon, and reshape the literary legacy of the past that warrants scrutiny.

A Space of DATA Hope

It is, however, encouraging that avant-garde practices still occasionally flicker in our culture, and this should be mentioned. Uroš Krčadinac is an artist who, using digital natural language processing technologies in unforeseen, unconventional ways, creates new forms of digital literature. In collaboration with Darija Medić, he created two sister books, Tactical Poetics and Optimized Poetics, which describe new poetic practices for producing text in the age of mass surveillance, artificial intelligence and digital commodification. The texts of this DATAism include ‘artificial poetry’ (generated by computer programs), ‘optimised poetry’ (literary texts optimised with the help of Google Keyword Planner software), as well as ‘tactical poetry’ (texts that draw their poetics from attempts to deceive text emotion recognition algorithms). In Krčadinac’s words:

This literature, intertwined with the technical protocols of contemporary algorithmic culture, starts from the assumption that in the contemporary moment, writing as such necessarily implies reexamining software tools and the social, economic, and technological systems that underlie that writing. As Kenneth Goldsmith said: ‘Today’s writer resembles a programmer more than a tortured genius.’

Works of this type refer to various projects from the near and distant past, from Moretti’s concept of ‘distant reading’ to Goldsmith’s ‘uncreative writing’. They also refer to the manifestos of Zenithism and Dadaism. It is appropriate to remember this in the year when the centenary of Breton’s surrealist manifesto is being celebrated in France and the world, as at that time, the Serbian literary scene was reaching its peak despite the difficult historical circumstances after World War I. Between the wars, there was a lively dialogue between Europe and the Balkans, a cultural exchange, so it is not surprising that the Balkans created local -isms, including Zenithism and Hypnism in that climate. Numerous magazines and correspondences have been preserved, bearing witness to a time when youth had zeal as well as a critical, combative and rebellious spirit, ready to reckon with the mistakes of history, and, more importantly, to relate to tradition, regardless of the tone of that relation.

The question arises: where is that rebellion today? Without idealising the past or trivialising the relationship between two very different historical periods, this final detour and concluding diversion are simply a loud wondering: are we at a moment when we have exhausted the possibility of subversion? Have experiments in language and form become superfluous? Have we lost faith in the power of words to awaken, to change, to surprise? Have we renounced the space of pleasure, the dialectic of desire? Is a revolution possible in this new order, or are there only, as Baudrillard believes, ‘convulsions’?

Proofread by Ajla Dizdarević