I met Amara in Niš. We were both participants in the Sićevačka Literary Colony. Before we met, he was already a good acquaintance of mine in a double sense. At first, he was just a name under a few poems that I came across on various literary platforms on the Internet. And then he entered my living room when I turned on the TV a year ago to watch Utisak nedelje. The handsome guy from Novi Pazar was one of the representatives of the rebellious students – a new social force in Serbia that to this day seeks justice and legality. I don’t know if they see it that way, but I have called them from the very beginning – Ustavobranitelji.
Earlier, when I met the poet Nadija Rebronja at a literary event, I heard his name in conversation – Nadija, of course, recommended the young literary star from Novi Pazar as an already established young poet. The top writers Enes Halilović and Zvonko Karanović worked on polishing that precious stone, each in their own way, in their poetry workshops.
In Niš, we had rooms in a hotel-type dormitory. The organizer changed the original plan – we were supposed to spend the night in Sićevo, but the water ran out there. I was sorry about that, because I stayed very briefly in the village that had enchanted even Nadežda Petrović. However, I managed to capture a few magical moments in a place that knows how to take your breath away with its beauty.
Down in Niš, as Amar was collecting his key at the reception, I saw the power of television. The doorman and the janitor recognized him. And it was important for them to say so. And to praise Amar and his friends. What I recognized in the eyes of those people, as they spoke honestly with Amar, cannot be produced by any ideology or propaganda. I saw hope.
After the literary performance at the Niš Cultural Center, we hung out just long enough to exchange books – a ritual that is nurtured across generations in the literary community of one language.
There was time to ask him if he knew my good friend, Refik Ličina, one of the best poets and writers from his region who lives in Sweden. And, of course, the inevitable question – where are the Ličines from? "Of course! Refik was born in Radmanci, where my father and the elders say that all the Ličines from that place are related to each other. In addition, Refik is also related to me in this, literary line, what he wrote has thrilled me many times. I read him even before I started writing and publishing, even before I met him. I also consider him a friend."
I had never been to that place, so I was happy to hear the explanation: "That place, Radmanci, it's near Petnjica, Bihor. That Bihor, Sijarić's, Rebron's, Refik's, mine, it's a place of constant miracles. Even in Novi Pazar, I have a lot of contact with people originally from Bihor. Ličine is important to me, exceptionally so, some of them are in one of my poems."
Of course, I could add numerous names to that list, but I will stick to what I have read and appreciate – Faiz Softić and Safet Sijarić. It occurs to me that my father’s ancestors are from a geographically close region on Lim, and that there are places where writers such as Zogović, Lalić or Bulatović were born. This intensifies the mystery of this part of the world that produces an above-average number of gifted people.
I took a selfie with Amaro as a keepsake and promised him I would get back to him.
I wanted to talk a little longer in Niš, I had questions, but literary events are not places where such conversations take place – time passes quickly between the stage and the café. I read the book later, on my travels, poem by poem. An above-average number of good and several anthological poems. Thus, for me, as a very young man, Amar entered the map of mature poets of my language.
I had intended to contact him much earlier – in early November. But then came the anniversary of the canopy collapse in Novi Sad. I wanted the conversation to focus primarily on his literary work and his experience of the world, so I postponed my intention to ask him what I was interested in.
Surveying the homeland
The book "Reliable Measurement" could be called Amar Ličina's second debut. Before it, the book "Measure of Things" was published in 2022, which won the "Matićev šal" award and in some way foreshadowed this second one. Several poems from the first book were transferred to it. The second book is actually a consequence of the award at the 56th Youth Festival in Vrbas the year before last.
There are a few poems I wish I had written myself. One of them is "Preparations for Dawn." Another is "Homeland." The poem "People" reminded me of the best pages written by Sinan Gudžević.
How does Amar perceive the awards? Pragmatically: "If the awarded book has one more reader because of the award, then it makes sense."
Pero Zubac correctly observed for "Reliable Measurement": "So, this book is a cleverly tailored project for a different book of poems. Not like any book you've read before. The magic lies in its uniqueness. And that must be achieved."
Here we come to the basic foundation of Amar's verses – regardless of whether they flirt with Japanese lapidary or dare to reach for the poem, these writings are based on a distinct artistic intelligence. It is skillfully hidden behind humor, unusual images, absurd twists. But it is always there and holds Amar's poetic world together.
Amar Ličina is a child of this millennium. He called it his homeland. He does not carry the heavy baggage of the nineties like us older people, the digital era is his natural environment. "My homeland is a young place, all those who have moved to it for the twentieth century have moved there, that does not give them the right to preach, but they certainly do it, and they also miss their homeland, at least the central part of it," wrote the poet born in 2001.
It seems that Amar Ličina is calling us, the children of the last century, out of spite, probably rightly. Intruders in this century (which is his home), we have brought the poisonous narratives of the nineties into it generation by generation. Or, in the despair of a minority, we have fought them in vain. Now Amar's generation must reset the country.
Poetry is something very old, and for many, old-fashioned. I ask Amar where his love for that swarthy lady comes from. And the poet quotes Bora Stanković without thinking: "Give me something old!" He says that he is a child of his time, but that between a screen and a book - he would always choose a book. In the short biography on the cover of the book, Amar, in addition to poetic references, humorously includes a sports one: "He exclusively supports FK Novi Pazar". He explains the similarity between reading and cheering: "I don't understand how people, especially in smaller towns, sometimes prefer to watch a broadcast of a match being played in their town, and even if it's extremely cold or hot, that's the charm". For the young poet of this millennium, both football and books are better in person than those on the screen. Homeland, regardless of how we understand it in Amar's key, as this century or specifically as Novi Pazar, as a language, is an unchanging framework, it is an equation that must be committed to: "Whatever I think about it, I must love it because I will most likely not leave my homeland alive." This is the point of the song "Homeland".
The face of poetry, the face of rebellion
And social engagement? Thanks to his television appearances, Amar Ličina has become one of the recognizable faces of the student rebellion. Is that nice? "It's nice to see the positive results of the struggle, no matter how small. A pat on the back can sometimes be annoying, but sometimes it's welcome and gives you energy back." Amar says that this kind of recognition, of course, has its downside: "When I present my books, I want literature to be in focus and for other things to be put aside for a while."
And the siren call of politics? Can Amar see himself in the parliamentary bench? "I will never engage in practical, party politics, at least if I remain this smart. However, I will definitely be involved in the community and point out the importance of the university in that same community, that is above politics, that is a question of our way of life." This stance is entirely in line with his poem "Borders" in which the Byzantine emperor Vespasian says on his deathbed: "I think I am becoming a god!" And the poet writes: "The denial has arrived quickly. Leave us, God, far from the throne!"
The throne as a symbol of absolute power is a kind of civilizational toxic spot, a place to be avoided, because it turns even strong characters into megalomaniacs, and makes the weak unnecessarily cruel. From this Amar astutely concludes, both in life and in poetry, that proximity to power is fatal.
One language
This poet has confidence in the word, he is devoid of the suspicion that poets of the last century learned through experience: "Currently, everything is present in poetry and poetry definitely shows that it is the most vital part of our culture."
Amar writes in the Ekavian variant. But in the poem "Slovo o belini" (A Letter about Whiteness), the mother's "milk" emerges. It is as if the poet is sovereignly playing with small differences, bringing them into a fruitful relationship. "There is something here that is a characteristic of the speech of my birthplace, and that is the even use of Ekavian and Ijekavian, Cyrillic and Latin. It comes naturally to me, while in writing I use Ekavian more," says Amar. I suspect that for him the concept of "our culture" is far broader than a mere ethno-confessional framework, although it also includes it. That is why I am posing a question that would not actually make sense if the dominant cultural trends in the areas of the common language were still not working on the essentialization of small differences. Does he classify it as Bosniak or Serbian poetry? And how does he see it? The answer is wise. First of all, he says that this very question is often an ideal terrain for those who are not really interested in it to approach literature. But instead of the usual "either-or" Amar indicates a possible "ii": "If, on some fine occasion, the question arises as to who I belong to, I think the adequate answer would be - to those who read me. Poetry has been published so far in generational and other choices with both signs. I study Serbian literature, and my writers are Goran Petrović and Dževad Karahasan. That's one thing for me."
Amar looks at the bigger picture, the turmoil in Serbia and the seemingly uncertain future, with cautious optimism: "I would like the collective hopelessness and madness that is sweeping almost the entire world to spare Serbia at least a little. I hope that in twenty or thirty years our pupils, students and, of course, our children will not have to fight for a reset."
Amar Ličina is currently working on a book of prose poetry and a short prose manuscript. He continues his studies. Although he knows very well that literature, for those who write, is often an uncertain thing, his plans are tied exclusively to it, and he will deal with it both academically and practically: "The main plan is to live for literature and a little bit from it!"
I think that this young man has incorporated into both the titles of his books – "The Measure of Things" and "A Reliable Measurement" – something that is so rarely present in our culture of excess – measure. And that this measure, combined with aesthetic intelligence, natural clarity and education, is actually the formula that we need more than he does. Because he certainly has it.
Bonus video:
