America, in the wake of September 11, 2001. A man, Karl Rosman - a reference to the main character in Franz Kafka's America - is losing his job. His best friend, Daniel, is forever cheating on his wife, Mafi, the woman Karl has always loved in silence. Daniel dies of an overdose in Karl's apartment, in an upmarket district of New York, in the company of his mistress. Mafi takes some comfort in his death, as she stayed with him only to be closer to Karl, whom she loves with all her heart.
A happy end is in sight, but it comes too late. Mafi has decided to move and start a 'new life' in Florida. Submerged in debts and without the means to make ends meet, Karl has no one to turn to. He knows that without money he will be no more than a tramp in Mafi's eyes. However, even high on drugs, the tramp he meets in a metro station has more business acumen than appearances may suggest. To win the pity of passers-by and earn a little money, he passes himself off as a Gulf war veteran, forever mutilated and traumatised. In this era of Prozac and oblivion, with the scars of Vietnam still unhealed, people are keen to keep a clean conscience. In a land of loneliness, the voice of an old woman rings a hollow knell. With the stubbornness of a mother, she leaves endless messages on Karl's answering machine, hoping to speak to the son she knows lived in this apartment but who has disappeared without trace.

Biljana Srbljanovic masterfully unveils the deep solitude and disarray of man in a society ruled by media and marketing and an industry of entertainment and appearances. Set against this throwaway society, the author has produced one of her greatest works: a play that leaves a bitter taste in the mouth and fosters fear for our own evolution and future.
The author is keen to explore the limits of such a society through her characters. What happens to the 'individualist' who is stripped of everything and forced to rely on the help of others? What are we without the little artifices we employ to shield us against ourselves and others? Biljana's answer, and the only one possible, is enough to make the blood run cold. As we have seen from her earlier works, she has an unnerving knack for lucidity and the nerve to speak openly. Amérika, suite strips us of the ability to say, 'I didn't know'. This is a work to be taken seriously.