Srđan Srdić

Srđan Srdić

Srđan Srdić was born in Kikinda, Serbia, in 1977. He graduated from the Department of World Literature and Theory of Literature of the Faculty of Philology in Belgrade, where he is currently doing his PhD thesis on theories of truth as applied to Jonathan Swift's texts. Srdić was editor of the international short story festival Kikinda Short from 2008 to 2011. He is now a co-editor in the literary magazine Severni bunker and one of the editors for The European Short Story Network. He won a prize for the best prose work at the literary contest organized by the magazine Ulaznica in 2007 and the Laza Lazarevic Award for the best unpublished Serbian story in 2009. In 2010 Srdić won the only Serbian literary scholarship from the Borislav Pekic Foundation. His first novel The Dead Field was published in 2010 and it was shortlisted for the most relevant Serbian and regional prizes (NIN Prize, Vital Prize, Mesa Selimovic Prize, Bora Stankovic Prize). Srdić's second book, a short story collection called Espirando, was published in 2011 (for which he was awarded the Biljana Jovanovic Prize and the Edo Budisa Prize), and his third book, a novel called Satori, came out in March 2013. Combustions, Srdić's second short story collection, was published in May 2014, and his first essay collection, Notes from the Reading, three months later. Srdić's prose has been translated into English, Albanian, Slovenian, Polish, Romanian, Ukrainian and Hungarian.

Never done with language

Robin Lauzon interviews
Srđan Srdić


Our fiction co-editor, Robin Lauzon, recently spoke with Srđan Srdić, our Issue #10 featured fiction author. Here’s what he had to say about his approach to writing, his focus as a reader, and what he is working on now… Read more

"Dwellings" by Margie Kelk, Ceramic, Photo credit: Steven Crainford, Mud Season Review


The Tale of How I. I. Settled the Quarrel with I. N.

by Srđan Srdić

I wished to be left alone, I felt the need to add and subtract, to perform these operations. I felt I could no longer bear it, I packed and left, they didn’t make any trouble. They seemed not to care, one left, another came, as elsewhere….
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