The Bridge over the Drina – Ivo Andrić

The history of Višegrad, told through events on and around a bridge—from its construction in the 16th century to its destruction in the First World War.

A narrow connection and a fragile link

In 1961, Ivo Andrić was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, a crowning achievement for his entire body of work. But honestly, it’s difficult to imagine he would have received this honour had he not written The Bridge over the Drina (Na Drini ćuprija, 1945). It remains, at least in Western Europe, his most famous novel by far. To this day, many people consider the book to be a valuable resource for understanding something of Bosnia’s complex history, thanks to its exploration of themes such as religion, nationality, and identity. While a bridge may symbolise connection, it remains a narrow and fragile one.

Son of Catholic Croatian parents

Ivo Andrić was born on 9 October 1892 in the hamlet of Dolac, near Travnik. In the late 19th century, this region was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire; today, it is part of Bosnia and Herzegovina. Andrić’s parents were Catholic Croats. After his father died when he was just two years old, he moved to Višegrad, where he was raised by his uncle and aunt.

Writer, diplomat and comrade

Andrić began writing during the First World War. His best-known works, however, were written a world war later: Na Drini ćuprija (The Bridge over the Drina), Travnička hronika (Bosnian Chronicle), and Gospođica (The Woman from Sarajevo). All three novels were published in 1945. By then, Andrić had already had a career as a Yugoslav diplomat. In that role, he met figures such as Gavrilo Princip, Adolf Hitler, and Hermann Göring. After the Second World War, the Kingdom of Yugoslavia became the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, and Comrade Andrić wrote numerous hymns to the proletariat.

Construction, railway, Austrians and war

A defining feature of Andrić’s stories and novels is his ability to translate major historical, political, and social events into their impact on the local lives of his characters. The Bridge over the Drina is no exception. Four key historical events in the novel bring dramatic changes to the lives of Višegrad’s inhabitants: the construction of the bridge, the building of a railway, the arrival of the Austrians and the First World War.

In the name of Grand Vizier Mehmed Paša

Mehmed Paša Sokolović, the Ottoman Grand Vizier (a kind of prime minister), commissioned the bridge’s construction at the end of the 16th century. As a young boy, he had been taken from his village of Sokolovići (now about a 13-hour walk from Višegrad) to Istanbul, a journey in which crossing the Drina proved particularly painful and difficult. With the bridge, Mehmed Paša wanted to give his birthplace a better connection to the vast Ottoman Empire. The court architect Mimar Sinan Koca designed the bridge.

A project manager with a mission

In Andrić’s novel, the building of the bridge is anything but simple. On site, the chief official was Abidaga. He can certainly be described as a man with a mission, someone who did not shy away from violence and coercion to reach his goals. This often puts him in conflict with the local population, culminating in the brutal execution of Radisav. This rebellious peasant is impaled alive and dies a slow, agonising death high above the banks of the Drina. Within the novel, his death symbolises the harsh Ottoman oppression faced by the local population.

A central meeting place

Nevertheless, credit where it’s due: the monumental bridge was eventually completed, albeit later than planned. From the very beginning, the bridge and its surroundings functioned as a central meeting place where people gathered, traded, and exchanged stories. Despite frequent tensions and conflicts, the Muslims, Christians, and Jews of Višegrad managed to live and work together. The bridge and the Drina symbolised both the connection and the separation between these communities.

Choo, choo

The established order in Višegrad is deeply disrupted by the opening of a train station in 1886. It marks a break with the past and is a step toward modernisation. Suddenly, it becomes much easier to import goods from distant places and to export local products. This creates both threats and opportunities for local craftsmen and traders. Civil servants, engineers, and labourers involved in the construction and maintenance of the railway move to the town, introducing new ideas, customs, and lifestyles.

From practical to symbolic centre

The railway also affects the bridge itself, as it is no longer the central trading and meeting point of the town. That role shifts to the area around the station. However, the symbolic function of the bridge grows during this time. It remains the link between the different population groups on both banks and increasingly becomes a monument to the town’s Ottoman past. This is especially true after 1878, when the Congress of Berlin places Višegrad under Austro-Hungarian rule, and Ottoman influence in the region fades.

Resist or endure

The population watches as Turkish armies withdraw from Bosnia. Initially, Austrian influence in Višegrad is limited, creating a power vacuum and much uncertainty for the locals. Some Muslims want to resist the new Christian rulers, but most prefer to avoid trouble, lacking the means and manpower to make resistance viable. Osman Effendi Karamanli arrives in town to rally support for resistance, but his efforts fail, partly due to the spiritual leader Alihodja Mutevelić.

Nailed down

As Austrian soldiers approach Višegrad, Effendi Karamanli flees but not before ordering a local blacksmith to nail Alihodja’s ear to the bridge. What follows is a rather comical passage in which, at first, no one takes the order seriously—not even Alihodja. But as the command spreads through the town and the blacksmith doesn’t know what else to do, he carries it out. The advancing Austrian soldiers find Alihodja in this bizarre predicament, nailed to the otherwise empty bridge.

Measuring and registration

On the spot where Alihodja has been nailed, the Austrians post a communiqué declaring themselves friends, intent on ending Bosnia ans Herzegovina’s chaos and violence They urge the inhabitants to welcome the soldiers as friends and return to their daily work. From then on, Austrian laws and regulations apply in Višegrad, and many new residents—bureaucrats focused on measurement and registration—arrive in the town. They too bring new architectural styles, clothing, food, and customs.

Lotte

One woman who thrives under the new Austrian regime is Lotte. She runs the Hotel zur Brücke for her brother-in-law Zahler so effectively that the inn soon becomes simply known as Lotte’s Hotel. Guests of every kind gather there to eat, drink, play cards, and talk—common folk in one room, “distinguished gentlemen” in another. Where once the bridge had been the town’s main meeting point, that role is now shifted to taverns and hotels. Still, the youth continue to gather on the bridge for love and to share their youthful, rebellious chatter.

Boom, boom

All the liveliness on and around the bridge comes to an end with the outbreak of the First World War. The bridge becomes a prime target for bombs from both the Austrians and the Serbs. The population flees to safer places. Guests no longer come to Hotel zur Brücke, leading to financial problems for Lotte. She herself must abandon the hotel due to the bombardments. In safety, she suffers from a devastating nervous breakdown from which she never recovers. The bridge survives all the bombings, but as the Serbian troops draw near, the Austrians blow up a large part of it. Alihodja is struck by flying debris. The novel closes with his dying breath.

Life after the war

Fortunately, beyond the world of the novel, the bridge survives. After the First World War, it is repaired, and to this day, it remains a central part of Višegrad. Nowadays, it is also a tourist attraction, since it was added to the UNESCO World Heritage List. However, life on and around the bridge has been shaken many more times—during the Second World War, for example, and during the 1990s conflicts that followed Yugoslavia’s collapse.

Can these peoples coexist?

The often violent disruptions to the peaceful coexistence of different faiths and ethnicities in the Balkans make The Bridge over the Drina a novel that remains relevant today. Does the novel not show that this peaceful coexistence is never sustainable? That Bosnia is a land of insurmountable ethnic hatred? This was indeed the interpretation embraced by nationalist agitators and war criminals in the 1990s. Many Western analyses also draw on this reading to explain the region’s complexities—reinforced by the stereotype that Balkan peoples are emotional, ill-suited to rational action.

A quiet, pleasant life

It is highly doubtful whether Andrić would recognise himself in this view of the Balkans. An even more important question for this discussion is whether this is a correct reading of the novel. I don’t think so. While The Bridge over the Drina certainly pays a lot of attention to the different backgrounds of the characters and the tensions that arise from them, we primarily see how the inhabitants strive to live together despite all their different views, beliefs, and customs. A quiet, pleasant life is what most of the characters aspire to.

Until the outside world interferes

It is external factors that repeatedly disrupt the balance in the town. After all, it was not the inhabitants of Višegrad who decided to build a bridge or a railway. They did not invite the Austrians, nor did they start the First World War. While the student youth on the bridge proclaim many nationalist and revolutionary ideas, they mostly learned these at universities far away.

A humanist

After the breakup of Yugoslavia, Croats, Serbs, and Bosnians all claimed Ivo Andrić as their writer. But if one insists on finding a message in The Bridge over the Drina, it is more humanist than nationalist. The bridge may be the novel’s material and symbolic centre, but it is the many characters that ultimately tell the story. I’ve already mentioned a few here, but there are many more. For example, the beautiful Fata, who is forced into marriage by her father. She leaps from the bridge in her wedding dress just before the ceremony. Or Milan, a gambling addict who returns after each binge with his pockets either bulging with money or completely empty, having lost his watch and jewellery. In both cases his face is as pale as that of a sick man..

‘Was kümmert uns Wischegrad?’

To be fair, it is precisely all these many characters, each with their family backgrounds extensively described, that sometimes make the second part of The Bridge over the Drina a rather long-winded affair. Marcel Reich-Ranicki reportedly called the novel “tough and slow” in 1960. So I find myself in good company in saying so. Indeed, there are days I don’t think about that city at all. Quite a few, actually. But that goes for most places in the world. Not every novel can be set in Nijmegen. And yes, we, too, have a fine bridge—but its cultural-historical weight is a little less than that of the one in Višegrad. And this is partly due to Andrić’s novel.

Pascal Klaassen
(translation from Dutch: august 2025)

My version of The Bridge over the Drina:

Ivo Andrić, The Bridge over the Drina, The Harvill Press, London, 1995