Sanibel
Akram Aylisli’s Stone Dreams is a controversial novella that delves into the complexities of memory, identity, and ethnic conflict in Azerbaijan. Originally published in Russian in 2012, the book sparked intense backlash in Azerbaijan, leading to Aylisli being stripped of his titles and even having his books publicly burned. It’s a bold, painful story that confronts past violence—particularly the anti-Armenian pogroms of the late 20th century—but also raises questions about how history is remembered (or erased).
The story follows Sadykh Sadykhly, an aging Azerbaijani actor, who is found unconscious and beaten on a street in Baku. As he drifts in and out of consciousness in a hospital bed, his mind takes him through his past—his childhood in the village of Aylis, his career, and, most importantly, his personal reckoning with the ethnic violence that has plagued Azerbaijan. Through Sadykh’s recollections, Aylisli confronts the anti-Armenian pogroms of Baku and Sumgait, depicting the brutality inflicted upon Armenian communities and the erasure of their history from the region, both physically and in collective memory.
Stone Dreams made me want to understand what came before and seek out more information about the region’s history. I had always been aware of the recent conflicts in the region, but they existed in the background for me—I never looked into the details. More than that, I wasn’t very familiar with the region’s history before the 20th century. After some research, I found myself frustrated by the book's one-sidedness. Aylisli paints a vivid picture of the horrors committed against the Armenian population but does not explore the violence experienced by Azerbaijanis with the same depth. Given that cycles of violence rarely exist in isolation, this omission felt like a lost opportunity for a fuller, more complex narrative.
Stone Dreams reminded me of Some Desperate Glory by Emily Tesh, which I read recently. While vastly different in setting and genre, both books touch on the inescapable cycles of violence, the moral weight of history, and the difficulty of true reconciliation. The tragedy of Stone Dreams isn’t just in its portrayal of past horrors but in how familiar they feel—how history repeats itself, how neighbors turn against neighbors, and how pain, when left unexamined, begets more pain.
Aylisli’s prose is evocative and introspective, blending realism with a dreamlike sense of memories steeped in regret and reflection. His depiction of violence is neither gratuitous nor sensationalized; rather, it is a lament for what has been lost—not just lives, but a shared history, erased by nationalism and war. Despite its flaws, Stone Dreams remains a powerful book, forcing its readers to confront uncomfortable truths. It is a story of guilt, silence, and, perhaps most tragically, the impossibility of true reconciliation in a world where wounds remain unhealed.
Akram Aylisli’s Stone Dreams is a controversial novella that delves into the complexities of memory, identity, and ethnic conflict in Azerbaijan. Originally published in Russian in 2012, the book sparked intense backlash in Azerbaijan, leading to Aylisli being stripped of his titles and even having his books publicly burned. It’s a bold, painful story that confronts past violence—particularly the anti-Armenian pogroms of the late 20th century—but also raises questions about how history is remembered (or erased).
The story follows Sadykh Sadykhly, an aging Azerbaijani actor, who is found unconscious and beaten on a street in Baku. As he drifts in and out of consciousness in a hospital bed, his mind takes him through his past—his childhood in the village of Aylis, his career, and, most importantly, his personal reckoning with the ethnic violence that has plagued Azerbaijan. Through Sadykh’s recollections, Aylisli confronts the anti-Armenian pogroms of Baku and Sumgait, depicting the brutality inflicted upon Armenian communities and the erasure of their history from the region, both physically and in collective memory.
Stone Dreams made me want to understand what came before and seek out more information about the region’s history. I had always been aware of the recent conflicts in the region, but they existed in the background for me—I never looked into the details. More than that, I wasn’t very familiar with the region’s history before the 20th century. After some research, I found myself frustrated by the book's one-sidedness. Aylisli paints a vivid picture of the horrors committed against the Armenian population but does not explore the violence experienced by Azerbaijanis with the same depth. Given that cycles of violence rarely exist in isolation, this omission felt like a lost opportunity for a fuller, more complex narrative.
Stone Dreams reminded me of Some Desperate Glory by Emily Tesh, which I read recently. While vastly different in setting and genre, both books touch on the inescapable cycles of violence, the moral weight of history, and the difficulty of true reconciliation. The tragedy of Stone Dreams isn’t just in its portrayal of past horrors but in how familiar they feel—how history repeats itself, how neighbors turn against neighbors, and how pain, when left unexamined, begets more pain.
Aylisli’s prose is evocative and introspective, blending realism with a dreamlike sense of memories steeped in regret and reflection. His depiction of violence is neither gratuitous nor sensationalized; rather, it is a lament for what has been lost—not just lives, but a shared history, erased by nationalism and war. Despite its flaws, Stone Dreams remains a powerful book, forcing its readers to confront uncomfortable truths. It is a story of guilt, silence, and, perhaps most tragically, the impossibility of true reconciliation in a world where wounds remain unhealed.