In this book, Ales Debeljak offers a refreshing alternative to postmodernists such as Baudrillard, who declare the death of art conceived as yet another source of rootless, circulating fictions. Inspired by the melancholy critical theory of Adorno and Benjamin, and drawing on Weber, Debeljak shows that with the dawning of modernity, art was made autonomous. Art production was effectively emancipated from the exigencies of everyday life and its guiding ideal of purposive rationality. The Renaissance brought on the first stage in a long, gradual withdrawal of art from the hitherto dominant mythological, religious, and aristocratic legitimization. Yet it was not until the 18th century that art assumed the separate status of a commodity to be bought and sold. However, art paid a price for its autonomy; through commodification art production ultimately become an extension of capitalist logic and control. The deterioration of bourgeois liberal individualism into the narcissism of mass society accompanied the decomposition of art into simplified mass art and commercialized kitsch. Maintaining its formal autonomy (museums, galleries, etc.), its content became the universal object of indirect corporate exploitation. Today postmodern art, argues Debeljak, is subjected to infinite reproducibility, total integration into mass society, and political resignation-no longer representing an alternative reality. The postmodern institution of art thus cannot be simply cured of modern structures and assumptions, but is, instead, fated to a continuous and painful relationship with modernity.

The Hidden Handshake uses four distinct, yet intertwined essays to address the questions surrounding our notions of citizenship, national identity, and cosmopolitan belonging. The violent disintegration of Yugoslavia and the undercurrent of EU enlargement stand out as two contrasting movements that highlight the importance of having a national identification while also defying it to avoid both the rigidity of nationalist exclusivism and the blithe nonsense of "global citizenship." Through the exploration of sociohistorical material and artistic visions as well as the author's layered identity as a Slovene, a Yugoslav, a Central European, and a European, Ale? Debeljak tries to show that it is possible to remain faithful to geography, history, and community even as one fosters links to global cultural movements. Not surprisingly, the book itself shares some of this hybrid identity. It uses not only theoretical concepts and empirical data, but also historical sketches on art, national life, and society, along with poetic autobiographical reminiscences and personal anecdotes. Ultimately, the book calls for an adoption of liberal nationalism, which is commensurate with democratic order, and for a more ecumenical understanding of artistic visions that does not discriminate on the grounds of one's place of origin.

The poems in Smugglers move through rapid historical shifts and meditations on personal experience, exploring the depths and limits of comprehension through the people and geography of the Balkans. Ultimately, Ales Debeljak's urban imagination creates a mosaic-intimate and historical-of a vanished people and their country. Every poem in Smugglers is sixteen lines long-four quatrains, a common form for Debeljak. This structural regularity is reinforced by a commitment to visual balance, with each poem working as a kind of grid into which the poet pours memories and associative riffs. From "Bookstore": At least you are blessed. Winter's here. In darkness, awake since yesterday, I came to browse again through the titles of old books, wobbly skyscrapers, writers of my youth and stiffened honey. No opening hours on the door, a minor poet with no woman sits behind files in the front. I know him from when we all shouted in one loyal voice, collected works on sale for a handful of cents, read the holy Kapital like zealots. Well, okay: not exactly all. Some of us took another road ...Ales Debeljak's books have appeared in English, Japanese, German, Croatian, Serbian, Polish, Hungarian, Czech, Spanish, Slovak, Finnish, Lithuanian, and Italian translations. He teaches in the department of Cultural Studies at the University of Ljubljana in Slovenia. Brian Henry is the author of ten books of poetry and won the 2011 Best Translated Book Award. He teaches at University of Virginia in Richmond, Virginia.