The Successor is one of those rare books that can be read with equal pleasure by lovers of psychological or analytical writings, and by readers looking for “action.” Written in the form of a thriller, the novel manages in some miraculous way to go to the essence not only of Communism, but of all dictatorships, revealing with unusual psychological finesse how throughout history there are some archetypal dramas that keep repeating themselves, from Greek myths to Macbeth to the history of the Balkans. Here too, Kadare’s most powerful gift resides in inserting a “regional” story within a universal model, in finding mythological equivalents to contemporary events, and in reading the signification of one through the other.The novel’s plot, a fictionalized version of a political crime that happened in 1981 in Albania, is simple: on the night of December 13 the designated Successor of Communist dictator Enver Hoxha is mysteriously shot dead. From the beginning to the end of the novel, Kadare crafts a successful drama, in which the answer to the questions “Was it suicide or murder? And if it was murder, who was the killer?” shifts—as the genre of the murder mystery demands—from one chapter to the next. But unlike the usual mystery novel, The Successor doesn’t have a “shocking ending.” In fact, the narrator tells the facts as if even he didn’t know the answer. Moreover, the dictator himself, referred to as “the Guide”—an appellative shared by most Communist leaders—doesn’t seem to possess the key to the entire story either, although he obviously is the gray eminence behind the crime.Kadare’s skill in creating an ambiguous situation that triggers the reader’s curiosity to the maximum matches his genius in going straight to the essence of things, particularly in the scenes involving the Guide before and after the Successor’s death, which reveal the mechanism of power in Communist dictatorships. To begin with, when the Guide summons to his office the Successor’s successor—Hasobeu—he never pronounces the words “Kill him!” though this is what he is getting at. What he says is so vague and ambiguous—he orders Hasobeu to go to the Successor’s house and do “what is to be done,” and, in spite of his confusion, Hasobeu doesn’t dare ask “What?”—that Hasobeu goes twice to the house, wandering around and trying to interpret the Guide’s words. The game of interpreting is present throughout the book whenever the Guide appears, revealing a system in which everything is a sign demanding to be interpreted correctly if one wants to keep his head. But the absurdity is that there are no rules one could follow in order to properly decipher the signs, and any head could fall at any time. Because of the system’s total arbitrariness it seems at times that the Guide himself, although theoretically the one who makes and changes the rules, doesn’t know everything, as if Power secreted itself like a mythological monster mortals cannot touch, but can only surrender to. Thus, Kadare’s numerous comparisons of the Communist regime to a religion aren’t simply metaphors, but deep insights into its power structure. He compares the ties of comradeship forged at the beginning of Communism between those who spilled blood to come to power, with "the ties of clan and family, because it too was a tie of blood—but with a difference. It wasn’t based on inner blood, the blood in your veins, identical to the blood of your family going back a thousand years, according to genetics, but on the other kind, on outer blood. That’s to say, on the blood of others, blood they had drunkenly spilled in the name of Doctrine." Trying to decipher the mystery of the Successor’s death, Hasobeu keeps asking himself what did the Guide actually believe? "Perhaps, like half the population of Tirana, the Guide took him for the killer. Or did he suspect that his minister [i.e., Hasobeu:] had intended to commit murder, but hadn’t managed to do so, seeing as someone else got his bullet in first? Or that the Successor has beaten both his assassins to the wire by pulling the trigger on himself?” After leading us to believe that Hasobeu is the killer, Kadare implies that in fact he isn’t. But he also tells us that the Guide himself is engulfed in his own guessing game and deciphering of the signs, as if he didn’t know either who the killer was. Indeed, a few pages further we are told that the Guide “didn’t know and never had known, what had really happened at the Successor’s residence on that night of December 13. And since he didn’t know, it could take a thousand years for anyone else to find out.” At this point, what we have suspected so far is confirmed: no one knows who the killer is. But immediately after this revelation we are led to another possible suspect: we are told that, apart from Hasobeu, the only other individual that seemed to have been implicated is the Architect of the Successor’s house. And then the story suddenly takes a turn, but the move is so subtle that the reader might still believe he is reading a murder mystery, when in fact the novel has become a reflection on art and the condition of the artist.We know that the Architect had had his own reasons to hate the Successor for having been once publicly humiliated by him. We know that he had thought of punishing him, but when asked by the Successor to remodel his residence, the desire of punishing him by building something ugly is immediately replaced by a much stronger impulse: that of building something of unsurpassed beauty. In a Communist country where almost all buildings were state property and of a monotonous, uniform gray, the Architect has the rare chance of realizing his artistic vocation by building something unique. Indeed, once finished, his work is so beautiful that at the Successor’s party where the Guide himself is present, the gasps of admiration let out by the guests are indirectly saying the unsayable: the Successor’s house is more beautiful even than the Guide’s house!Kadare’s psychological analysis of the oldest and most common reason for committing a crime—envy—is doubled by another legend, this time a Hungarian one, which narrates a monarch’s revenge on a vassal who not only had the cheek to have a castle built that was finer than his, but he had invited him to the inauguration party. Now, it appears that the Guide had been, after all, the one who had ordered the Successor’s death, because he was jealous of his house. But this hypothesis is, again, undermined in the last chapter written in the voice of the Successor, who speaks from beyond the grave, and we are back to the idea that the enigma remains unsolved. Even the opening of the secret archives after the fall of Communism hasn’t managed to uncover the secret, says the Successor. And if he tried to explain it, there is only one person who could understand him, Lin Biao, who had once been the Successor of Mao Tse-Tung, and whose life ended in circumstances similar to those of the Albanian Successor. No one will ever know what really happened on the night of December 13. Although, right before the end of the novel, the Successor seems to remember how that night, as he was dozing off, he saw his wife—whom the Guide called “Comrade Clytemnestra” after her husband’s death—point a gun at him... But did he really see her or was it just the vision of a man who was falling asleep?
Based on real events, The Successor tells the story of Mehmet Shehu who was considered as the successor to the office of Albanian dictator Enver Hoxha who many people hated. However, on the night of December 13, 1981, Shehu was found dead inside his room with bolt-in lock from the inside. Despite the lock, people did not believe that it was suicide but foul play. His daughter, an architect and the minister of interior told different versions of the story based on the last interactions with Shehu. People also suspected the new successor, Adrian Hasobeu because he was the automatic heir to the position. But was it really not a suicide? You have to read up to the last page of the last chapter to find out. Many of my friends here on Goodreads think that the last chapter was a letdown. Me? No. I thought it was clever as I did not expect it. I will not tell you who suddenly became the narrator in the end as I do not want to spoil your fun. But believe me, the thrill in eating the cake is in the icing. According to Wiki, Kadare served as a member of the Albanian government during the Communist rule between 1970-1982. When he was accused of using his writings in deliberately evading politics, he claimed asylum in France where he wrote most of his novels that got included in the 1001 books.This is my first time to read a work of Ismail Kadare (born in 1936) and I have a mixed feelings whether to like this book or not. The novel is short and easy to read. However, the prose felt (for me) verbose but considering that this book was originally written in French, maybe there were somethings that got lost in translation. Or maybe I had high expectations from Kadare considering that at least 3 of his books are included in the 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die and he won The Man Booker International Prize (2009). Or maybe I was expecting something like Kundera in Kadare because their books were originally written in French. The only difference is that Kundera was originally a Czech while Kadare was an Albanian. But they are both well-renowned and frequently rumored as strong contenders to Nobel Prize for Literature.Well, at this point, I am more for Kundera rather than Kadare. But again, it's me.
Do You like book The Successor (2005)?
Albanias "succesor" gets iced out and who is to blame? At first it looks to be a suicide, but after further review someone murdered him.But who and why for? Hmmmmmmmm. Pretty good book, not great, but good, writing is clear and a bit like a journalistic entry, just the facts mam, the political fettering is entertaining and interesting.I will hold my judgment of Kadare for another book, at present I could take him or leave him, leaning closer to the latter at this point. Good thing for Mr. Kadare he has 3 more books on the list!
—Steve mitchell
Based on real events, The Successor tells the story of Mehmet Shehu who was considered as the successor to the office of Albanian dictator Enver Hoxha who many people hated. However, on the night of December 13, 1981, Shehu was found dead inside his room with bolt-in lock from the inside. Despite the lock, people did not believe that it was suicide but foul play. His daughter, an architect and the minister of interior told different versions of the story based on the last interactions with Shehu. People also suspected the new successor, Adrian Hasobeu because he was the automatic heir to the position. But was it really not a suicide?
—OMITIRAN ADEBAYO
Mid 3. This novel captures the paranoia and psychological manipulation which characterise the rule of a totalitarian regime, as Kadare provides a damning portrait of his country's oppression under 'the Guide', a fictionalised portrait of Albanian dictator, Enver Hoxha. The author weaves a plot centered on the mystery surrounding the apparent suicide of the designated successor to the regime - a plot based on real life events. The story of whether this was an opportune suicide or politically motivated murder is related from the perspectives of multiple narrators, and is an engaging and, overall, well-crafted read. However, it does falter in pace and style at times, while the ending lacks resonance.
—Steve
