Old Soviet car in Tbilisi's historical center. Photo by Filip Noubel, used with permission.

After the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991, Georgia regained an independence it had briefly enjoyed from 1918 to 1921, but also experienced civil and ethnic wars that, with support from Moscow, led to two of its territories, Abkhazia and South Ossetia, to declare secession, under Russia's protection. Today the country remains a fragile society deeply divided with those who want closer ties to Europe and a more liberal country, and certain political and business elites aligned with conservative views and Russia.

For more, read: In Georgia, a series of legal amendments are putting the country's EU aspirations on hold

Photo by Kiera Fyles, Palmer Photography, used with permission

Global Voices interviewed Leo Vardiashvili, a Georgian-British author who left his native Georgia when he was thirteen, studied English Literature and works in the financial sector. Vardiashvili just released his first English-language novel, “Hard by a Great Forest.” In the book, he explores the many scars of his first home through the tragic and adventurous life of Saba, who also left Georgia with his brother and father as a child, leaving his mother behind, and then returns from the UK years later to Tbilisi, to find his missing father and brother, who had each returned to Georgia and gone missing. The book celebrates Georgia's culture, nature, and generosity but also acknowledges its cruelty. It is a moving mediation on exile and family trauma.

Vardiashvili just opened the 9th Tbilisi International Festival of Literature and his novel brings a new voice from Georgia for anglophone readers. His book has been shortlisted for the 2024 Wilbur Smith Adventure Writing Prize. This interview was edited for brevity and style.

Filip Noubel (FN): Tbilisi is one of the main characters in your novel. Today, the city is a mix of crumbling old houses, repaired buildings catering to tourists and exiles from Iran or Russia, and ultra-modern towers. What is Tbilisi to you? 

Leo Vardiashvili (LV): Historically, Tbilisi has always been a cultural melting pot. This is a fact which is literally visible in the architecture of Tbilisi, audible in the various languages used around the city, and can be sampled within Georgian cuisine. To this day we’re proud to receive tourists and exiles alike and welcome them as one of our own kin. After all, as the Georgian saying goes — a guest is a gift from God.

Mother of Georgia Statue. From Wikipedia Creative Commons CC0

The Mother of Georgia statue is a physical embodiment of this. She stands on a hilltop overlooking Tbilisi. She is both our protector and our welcoming party. She holds a cup of wine to welcome those who come in peace. In her other hand she holds a sword — for those who mean us harm. This is another aspect of Tbilisi — its troubled history. It is a city that has been invaded and occupied close to 30 times over the centuries. Tbilisi bears these scars proudly and incorporates them into its charm.

Having said that, given that I have a form of a platform to reach more people than I can in person, I would like to voice a concern. Yes, the crumbling streets and buildings in some districts are very romantic, however there is a limit to how long they will remain standing. It hurts me to see my district of Sololaki (for example) in such a state — I wish more was done to care for Tbilisi. I do see very welcome signs of such care in places, and yet in other places I see a flagrant bulldozing of Georgian culture and countryside in the name of profit. To finally answer the question — Tbilisi is my home. It is as simple as that and I hope with all my heart that it will remain the beautiful city that it is.

The Sololaki neighborhood in Old Tbilisi. Image from Wikipedia Commons, license CC BY 2.0

FN: Exile is your personal story, the story of the main character of your novel, and of many Georgians, for both political and economic reasons since the 1990s. How can fiction tell the story of exile better than any non-fictional writing? 

LV: Non-fiction can provide facts, figures, politics and the events underpinning wars and conflicts. It is absolutely essential for us as humans, however non-fiction is often limited by its rightful adherence to fact. But facts can be cold. For example, casualty numbers reaching into thousands, already begin to lose the tangible, human meaning behind each of those deaths and what they mean on a personal, family level. Each death, or ‘casualty,’ has a knock-on effect on a chain of people, and the trauma is often carried from generation to generation.

Vardiashvili's debut book “Hard by a Great Forest.” Image via YouTube.

Fiction, by its nature, is not restricted by fact. This allows it the freedom to explore issues at whatever depth the author chooses. This freedom gives fiction the ability to delve into the human, emotional impact of events. When it comes to war, it can give voice to the personal and family-level impact of war and displacement which is often lost in non-fiction and news reports. This is why I chose to explore Georgia and its troubled past and present through fiction. It allowed me to shed some light on the Georgian character and its stubborn defiance in the face of all hardship. More importantly, it allowed me to focus on what war and exile can do to a single family. With the hope that people might take this understanding, and keep it mind when they hear and see news reports coldly providing them with headline news of territories changing hands and casualty numbers.

FN: We see the emergence of diasporic Georgian literature written in English or German (Nino Haratischwili). Are there major differences between Georgian literature written in Georgian and in Georgia?

LV: A large proportion of the Georgian population lives outside of Georgia, as first- or second-generation immigrants. However, I think there is a natural longing that all immigrants experience for their homeland. There is also a feeling of enthusiasm in wanting to introduce people to the wonderful country of Georgia and its people.

I believe this is the seed for the diasporic Georgian literature which is slowly emerging. From my own personal experience, such literature is welcomed with typical Georgian, big-hearted, open-minded enthusiasm by Georgians in Georgia as well as by the many Georgian immigrants. I hope to achieve what Nino Haratischwili has achieved in her career, with her award-winning writing. I also hope to one day meet her and ask her the question I am currently answering. Georgia has a long-standing relationship and culture of great literary heft, but Georgian writers are currently facing unrest and strife within their own country. I hope they overcome this with the help of organisations such as the Tbilisi International Festival of Literature, and PEN Georgia.

FN:  Since Georgia was invited as the guest country at the 2018 Frankfurt Book Fair, Georgian literature has been made more visible in Europe and North America. What is your assessment today? What authors do you recommend to read in English translations? 

LV: I’m happy to see Georgia mentioned more often in Europe and North America. We are not an anonymous, grey country to be overlooked on the map. We are not insular, we are talented, and want to be known for the right reasons. Therefore I am grateful for the efforts of the Frankfurt Book Fair and welcome more organisations to include Georgia — they won’t be disappointed.

My debut novel has allowed me access to the literary world where I was pleasantly surprised to see more and more people championing Georgian culture. Maya Jaggi is a perfect example of this: She is a British writer, literary critic, editor and cultural journalist, and I thank her for her efforts to bring the spotlight to this corner of the globe. There are not many translations of contemporary Georgian literature, but I would recommend the works of Dumbadze, Morchiladze, Orbeliani and Javakhishvili. My favourite amongst those not translated yet is Temur Babluani.