66 pages • 2 hours read
Ismail KadareBroken April
Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 1978A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more. For select classroom titles, we also provide Teaching Guides with discussion and quiz questions to prompt student engagement.
Summary
Chapter Summaries & Analyses
Character Analysis
Themes
Symbols & Motifs
Important Quotes
Essay Topics
Tools
BetaThemes
Normalized Violence Causes a Cycle of Pain and Death
Broken April crafts a cautionary message about the prolonged damage normalized violence causes. To address and build this message, Kadare employs multiple perspectives, each one shining a new light on the horrors of violence. Gjorg offers a close view of the violence perpetuated by the blood feuds. He partakes in the feuds directly, and Kadare gives the reader a visceral account of a killing. Although the bloods feuds have been practiced for hundreds of years Gjorg’s people his people, the experience sickens him: “He felt like vomiting, and he told himself several times that it must be because of the blood. A few moments later he was fleeing down the deserted road, almost at a run” (9). Gjorg was born and raised in the High Plateau, but he is a complex human being, and immediately the experience of killing Zef has a dramatic effect on his body and mind.
Gjorg spends the rest of the novel mulling over what he did, examining what good, if any, his violence brought. By Chapter 5, after seeing Zef’s grave, Gjorg sees no point: “All that torment, sleepless nights, the silent struggle with his father, his own hesitations, his brooding, his suffering, had brought about nothing more than these meaningless bare stones” (157-58). Even though Zef killed his brother, Gjorg holds no resentment toward him, recognizing that Zef acted only in accordance with the Code. Their blood feud lacks passion and is performed out of habit. Kadare hints that the cycle will continue for Gjorg’s family until there is no one left. During a family discussion, Gjorg’s aunt exclaims, “Look, they’ll kill Gjorg, and then they’ll kill one of the Kryeqyqe, then it will be the turn of Gjorg’s father, and the Berisha family will be extinct. Don’t do it” (46). The other Berishas dismiss her advice, in turn perpetuating the cycle and leading their family closer to extinction. With Gjorg’s perspective, Kadare offers a first-hand account of the horrors of normalized violence. Because of their obedience to violent traditions, the family drives itself towards its own destruction.
Diana and Bessian give an observational perspective to the habitual violence on the High Plateau. Bessian has made a living writing about the Kanun, but he still recognizes the barbarism of its customs. When the doctor tells him about a man who makes a living off being wounded, Bessian responds with one word: “Horrible.” Diana responds similarly during her time spent in the mountainous region. When Bessian tells her about the black ribbons, marking those who have killed or seek revenge, Diana’s response is short: “How horrible.” As tourists to the area, Diana and Bessian find the High Plateau to be filled with shocking details. Their shock demonstrates how the blood feuds traumatize different people.
By the end, Diana has fallen into a perpetual state of silence, noticeably marred by her experience. Bessian looks over to her as they leave, finding Diana to be “Pale, rigid in a way that was heightened rather than lessened by the jolting of the carriage, she was frightening to him. She seemed strange to him, mad, a body that had left its soul in the high country” (207). After entering the tower of refuge, Diana is never the same. The violence of the High Plateau, and its aftermath, bares a heavier and heavier weight on her, finally reaching the point where it breaks her spirit. Diana and Bessian’s deteriorated marriage shows that even observers of violence are affected and changed by it—in this case, for the worse.
Mark Ukacierra provides the perspective of a devotee of normalized violence. As a steward of the blood, his job depends on the continuation of the blood feuds. His chapter comes in the middle of the story, adding another layer for the reader to consider. The blood feud gives Mark purpose. Another lifelong resident of the High Plateau, he wants nothing more than to prolong the traditions practiced by his people. Gjorg, Diana, and Bessian show the various ways the blood feuds can harm, but for Mark, the feud is the source of his strength. Mark’s perspective helps explain why someone, even if misguided, would want the blood feuds to continue.
However, Kadare makes sure to avoid aggrandizing the blood feuds in Mark’s chapter. Mark acknowledges that not all the Kanun makes sense to him. Additionally, Mark suffers from painful cramping in his stomach, a symptom of blood-sickness. He does not kill, but his trade brings him close enough to killing that his body has an adverse reaction. Mark’s perspective exemplifies how and why violence is normalized, and yet even devotees like Mark experience negative symptoms because of those traditions.
Women Face Hardships in Traditional and Modern Societies
Throughout Broken April, the women in the story face hardships and unfair treatment by the men. An early example comes in the form of the lore of the High Plateau. In Chapter 3, Diana and Bessian converse about the traditions practiced on the High Plateau, including the grizzly “blessed cartridge”: “that, in accordance with the Code, the bride’s family gave to the groom so that he could use it to shoot his wife if she proved unfaithful, even telling him, ‘May your hand be blessed’” (75). This alarming practice establishes the High Plateau as a hostile place for women.
As the story progresses, it provides more examples of the poor treatment of women. When Gjorg’s aunt pleads with the family to stop the blood feud with the Kryeqyqes, Gjorg’s uncle yells over her. The old man insists, “More blood must flow” (48). Gjorg’s aunt wanted a peaceful outcome and to save her family’s lineage, but her kindness is superseded by the opinions of men. Later in the novel, Diana and Bessian help an old woman stuck on the side of the road. She almost dies because of the perpetuated blood feuds that have destroyed her village. No men can help her because they choose to habituate violence instead. In the old woman’s story, the men’s selfishness destroys not just their own lives, but also the lives of their entire community. Broken April is littered with examples of how the men of the High Plateau poorly treat women. As a result, everyone suffers.
Diana’s perspective serves as a direct example of the difficulty women face. She is constantly ogled by strangers, objectified, and pedestalized. As she and Bessian travel side by side, they enter the same spaces but receive vastly different treatment. Bessian gets respect. Diana receives gazes. Her disrespectful treatment doesn’t stop with the old rural practices of the mountaineers, either. Her own husband, an intellectual of the city, talks over her and continuously tries to pressure her into physical intimacy. Repeatedly, Bessian attempts to decipher Diana’s inner thoughts, but he never can. His failure to understand and connect with her shows that, in the world of Broken April, a modern and cultured man is also a poor partner. All the female characters, supporting and main, demonstrate intelligence, empathy, and strength. The men, both rural and urban, disregard these women. Kadare doesn’t offer solutions but nevertheless brings awareness to the need for female empowerment.
Change Is Possible but Difficult
Broken April paints a dark and dramatic story, but Kadare does not delve into pure nihilism, offering respites of hope. As devout as Mark is in keeping the blood feuds alive, he knows other realities are possible and already exist. Even parts of the High Plateau abstain from blood feuds: “For Mark Ukacierra, all of the great plateau was divided into two parts—the part that engendered death, and the part that did not” (142). Mark senses this diluted version of the Kanun encroaching on his violent region. When Diana and Bessian visit Orosh, Diana enters a chamber intended only for men, and her presence in the chamber signals a changing tide on the High Plateau. Diana herself concludes the story in a dire state, but her time in the mountains hints that change is coming.
Mark later acknowledges the untapped agency of the mountaineers he oversees. Mulling over the long bloodied history of his homeland, he thinks “Successive generations had been accustomed to the feuds from their cradles, and so, not being able to conceive of life without them, it never entered their minds to try to free themselves from their destined end” (143). Families across the High Plateau continue the blood feud because they are conditioned to. Mark knows if the people wanted to, they could stop the cycle. The violence of the High Plateau doesn’t end at the story’s conclusion, but the cracks begin to show.
Gjorg’s sections suggest a slow but meaningful change for the violent cultural traditions in his mountain home. His chapters are filled with doubts and questions about his culture. In Chapter 5, he considers fleeing to be a woodcutter: “That was the customary trade for mountaineers who left the High Plateau” (158). Gjorg’s doubts show the fragility of the Kanun—its capable of being cast aside. Gjorg’s family, too, shows little passion for the blood feuds. When Gjorg returns from killing Zef, the conversation in the house is short and flat: “‘Well?’ someone asked from inside. He nodded. ‘When?’ ‘Just now’” (10-11). The lack of enthusiasm by the Berishas to engage in their blood feud hints at the eventual demise of the blood feud. Broken April is too dark and tragic to feature such a happy ending. Nevertheless, Kadare weaves hope into his prose to suggest a better future could be on the horizon.
