Death comes to me from such eyes

How the novel was published in Tirana. Issues of memory. A collaboration with Kadare.

Over time, no one is immune to forgetfulness, which causes memory loss. The spoken word is especially prone to loss. That is why it is often said that the spoken word flies, while the written word remains.

It is no coincidence that this topic crossed my mind. Perhaps everyone, in their own way, faces the secret and unstoppable decline of memory throughout their lives. Recently, I too was faced with a surprise that almost escaped my mind. Of course, stories of this nature do not constitute the History of Literature itself. But they testify to how history was lived, its stages and daily life, which is something the public is always interested in. Below I am recounting such an episode. It is a significant case with a widely known personality. But, first, here is how Rexhep Qosja himself remembers it. And he remembers it in writing, so it can be quoted verbatim:

"18.8.1987

The political-social and cultural newspaper of Tirana 'Drita', published a long review, on three of its pages, for my novel 'Death Comes to Me from Such Eyes', written by the undoubtedly very talented prose writer, Zija Çela. I do not know the author of this review, I have never met him even though I have been to Albania many times before 1981. The review is written with dedication, with love, with culture and with critical-literary talent. The review greatly stimulates the reader's curiosity to read the novel - only rare critics know how to write like that. Zija Çela raises my creativity and intellectual ethics. From the review it is clear that Zija Çela has also read 'Morphology of a Campaign'. I do not know when and how I can return this fraternal dedication to the talented prose writer Zija Çela. His insight proves that my critical, theoretical, historical-literary, journalistic and literary works are becoming nationwide and are becoming nationwide because they have begun to be read and, certainly, will be read more and more by readers in state Albania. I am not a complacent creator, no, not in any case; I am a creator aware of the shortcomings of my creativity, but, nevertheless, I can say that the entire value and importance of my work will be fully recognized and will be appreciated correctly, as much as they deserve, only after this Diary is also recognized, of course, if fate wills and it is preserved and one day reaches the hands of readers. But this will happen later, perhaps only after my death.”

Fate wanted the best, the diary “Witness in Historical Times” reached the hands of the author’s living reader. It was published in VIII volumes by “Toena”. While the above quote belongs to Diary VI, page 374. This episode revived my memory, giving me reason to tell how the novel “Death Comes to Me from Such Eyes” managed to be published in Tirana.

also Culture Supplement April 26, 2026 "A real discovery, this writer is great"

At that time I was working at the newspaper “Drita”. One day Ismail Kadare came to the editorial office, who had read Qosje’s novel, published in Prishtina by “Rilindja”, in 1974. He had come with the good wish that the book would also be published in Tirana. We are dividing the work, he told me intimately, I am writing a positive review for “Naim Frashëri”, then you ask to be the editor of the novel. As we said, so we did. 
It is believed that between Tirana and Pristina at that time there were striking differences in the field of publications, there all the Western authors were published that here were anathema as "decadents". Academician Rexhep Qosja, distinguished in the field of Letters, among other things, was very courageous in defending the interests of Kosovo and the national issue. The interviews he gave to the foreign press and that created international echoes, we published from time to time in "Drita". 

The author had described the literary genre of that book through a hypothetical proposal: "Thirteen stories that could make a novel". Without even getting into the content, here began the confrontation with our schematic literary criticism. But, too schematic and aggressive, ideologized to the point of oversaturation and stifling artistic freedom. (And how is it possible, where does Marxist-Leninist aesthetics and the method of socialist realism say that thirteen stories can make a novel?! One can make a splash!..) The novel of Qosje, giving the picture of that time in a conventional city, directed its entire blade at Danjolli of Sherka, the servant of the foreign invaders, whose eyes watched him to such an extent that Xhezair of Xhika (the protagonist) could die from them. I loved this work from the first reading and it was worth facing the official criticism. 

As an editor, I no longer remember the details, except for a few lines that I had to remove. A bullet penetrates the window of the protagonist's studio, hits the photo of Mao Zedong on the wall and knocks him to the ground. After removing these lines, I hoped that I had "saved" the entire work, which I submitted to "Naim Frashëri". So, probably, both of us initiators fell asleep.

But wait and wait, the publication is nowhere to be found! We meet again. Ismail had learned (he was not spared from the “whistleblowers” ​​of the capital) that, after reading it, the deputy director of the publishing house had put the manuscript in a drawer, being against it. All I had to do was knock on his door immediately as the editor of the book. What a bad reading he had done! The massacre began from beginning to end. (For example, “The Fatness”, the chapter story with which the book began, had to be completely removed.) But the main objection gripped the entire work. According to the deputy director, the novel could not be published because it was against (!) the Kosovar intelligentsia. 

I saw that arguments were futile and, as Ismail and I discussed, we had to try some intervention from above. But who should we turn to?

I made this intervention to Mehmet Karakushi, who covered culture in the Central Committee. Karakushi was from a village somewhere near Qafë e Prushit, on the border with Kosovo. We had heard each other during the years that I had worked as a teacher in Has, and I had even known his wife's people (Pogaj) closely in Krumë. And this humane man, regardless of the party position and the political line he defended, in kindness and good faith opened the way for publication with a phone call. But how, how would the book be published, violated and distorted? No, on the contrary, without touching the full version that I had submitted to the editorial office.
Then we took things to the end. I wrote the article in “Drita”. And in my files I found it these days (2018). It is titled “In the name of love for man, for his homeland and for beauty”. It was published on July 26, 1987, on pages 6, 7 and 10 of the newspaper. To be honest, at that time I had not read “Morphology of a Campaign”. Then and now, I like the debate of ideas between colleagues, but within the limits that exclude grudges, angry states and insults towards each other. However, to defend the publication of the novel in Tirana, among other things, I came out against those criticisms that the official of the publishing house had “deposited” and that could find the support of the militants of the pen.
However, the “happy ending” does not end there. Ismaili carried forward the “strategic goal”, the human one as a colleague for a colleague, but especially the patriotic goal. He recommended it in France and the novel was published there. French criticism welcomed it and there were many articles. It is understandable, when talking about the author from Pristina, Kosovo was necessarily mentioned. At that time, Prof. Remzi Pernaska made a summary from the French press, bringing the quotes of the evaluations together with the names that had signed. We immediately gave it space in the newspaper. I remember that the professor, for some reason, had also included an evaluation from my writing on that all-French page.

After the two thousandth, I paid a visit to Rexhep Qosje's house. Over coffee, we exchanged thoughts, agreed, and, on certain issues, had opposing opinions. But I remember that the owner of the house gave me books, then accompanied me to the courtyard door, where we parted amicably. 

I am not sure how many years passed when we “met” again at the book fair in Skopje. Our publisher, Mrs. Irena Toçi, had put up our two posters at the “Toena” stand. As if the names weren’t enough, she had also made sure that “Honor of the Nation” was written on each one. We had each followed our own path and, finally, here was a point where the paths joined. We were face to face, in such a way that we could see each other’s eyes and it seemed to me as if we were talking to each other. I didn’t know it then, but now I am allowed to imagine Rexhep Qosja muttering something to me about his old pledge: “I don’t know, Zija Çela, when and how I can return that brotherly devotion of yours.” While I, to calm him down, also whispered: "Thank you for your gratitude, dear Rexhep, just don't worry. I had to express myself with a meal, and even repeat it from time to time: When I have the opportunity to do something good, I don't do it with the hope that it will be returned to me, but with the conviction that I will become better myself."   

also Culture Supplement April 26, 2026 "This book fell from the sky like a meteorite"

So, over time, memory suffers loss, and even risks slowly disintegrating. Diaries and memoirs in general record it. We who lived through part of the history of literature, it is worth testifying in writing. What is written remains. And it remains especially when objectivity is not shaken by each other's eyes.

This article was first published on Koha.net in April 2018. It is published in honor of academic Rexhep Qosje.