Beckett meets Knausgard, meets Master Eckhart As you can notice, this literally was a mixed bag for me. Disorientation is the first impression you get Beckett meets Knausgard, meets Master Eckhart As you can notice, this literally was a mixed bag for me. Disorientation is the first impression you get when you start this book, especially if you have not read any other work by the Norwegian writer Fosse before. The author offers an elongated stream of consciousness, with many repetitive elements and sentences without a period, 350 pages long. It is not clear who is speaking: the artist Asle or his friend/neighbor Asleik? Or are they one and the same person, or are there other characters with - coincidentally - the same name? I am by no means the first to suggest that Fosse seems very strongly inspired by Samuel Beckett, his influence is quite obvious.
What we can more or less distinguish is that the narrator drives a few times up and down between his house and the city, helps a friend with a serious alcohol problem (or maybe rather a depression?) and constantly muses about his last work of art, a painting with a horizontal and a vertical stripe, which he associates with intense religious experiences. The story is interrupted by long, banal conversations and trivial acts, and the description of a few touching scenes between a boy and girl, which may just be a flashback of the narrator to his first acquaintance with his recently deceased wife.
Fosse deliberately leaves a lot unclear, but the recurring musings of the main character about his paintings, stressing the light in dark scenes, to me seemed very reminiscent of Karl Ove Knausgard: they share the same obsession with the banal and the sublime in reality, with the light and dark in life. Perhaps this is something typical Scandinavian? ( in the meantime my Goodreads friend Katia kindly informed me Knausgard was - literally - a pupil of Fosse) ). At least with Fosse, there's also a very clear connection with religion: at times the musings of the protagonist in this novel had a clear aesthetic-mystical slant, hence my reference to Master Eckhart. This makes for an enticing read, and at times even resulting in great scenes, but on whole also rather opaque and thus frustrating.
I can understand that some people are absolutely crazy about this, but for me this was just a bit too cerebral, just a bit too much of a jumble of words leading nowhere, to really appeal. I'm not sure at this point whether I'll venture into the next installments of this trilogy. But I’m open to comments to make me change my mind!...more
Re-edit of my review of 5 years ago An introverted man who writes 3.600 pages about himself, what should we think about that kind of a contradiction? ARe-edit of my review of 5 years ago An introverted man who writes 3.600 pages about himself, what should we think about that kind of a contradiction? And Karl Ove Knausgard seems to me a hyper-introvert case, at least that is the image that we get presented in this 6-part cycle. He almost constantly points to his inferiority, not fitting in socially, always falling short as an adolescent, as a teacher, as a writer, as a husband and as a father. Time and again he illustrates that with concrete examples, 6 books long, in the meanwhile sketching his personal biography. As said, what is especially striking is that he does not spare himself: all his stupid actions and statements, his darkest thoughts and even his absolutely bad thoughts about other people..., he throws it all on the table. In interviews he claims that he has been absolutely honest, has not withheld anything, has not proposed anything other than how he thinks it really was (although from the last part we learn that there was quite some editing, to prevent juridical actions from people whose feelings risked to be hurt). As an historian, I obviously know that such honesty is relative: every review of one's own past is a construction, with at least unconscious distortions, and that can be no different for Knausgard; but I believe that he at least has attempted to be as honest as possible.
Then are we dealing with a masochistic personality here? Maybe, because it is not natural to put the vilest aspects of your own personality in the spot. But why did he do that anyway? Knausgard's own answer, - and again I believe him-, is that he wanted to show reality as it is, with its good sides (because there are quite some wonderful moments in the cycle) as well as its bad ones. A form of hyperrealism – post Flaubert - but from a very individual perspective.
This often results in page-long descriptions of banal and trivial situations: putting the children in bath, scruting the store shelves when shopping, the glances over and over again with other people, long car trips, ordinary conversations, and so on. Those very detailed passages can sometimes evoke annoying feelings, but for Knausgard they are clearly a statement: even in the 'small things' there is real life, not only in the grand or passionate deeds and situations. Occasionally these long, banal pieces are tedious, but I have to admit that after a few parts you become familiar with the process.
Moreover, that description of 'small' life also concurs with another statement of this series: real life is in the 'now', not in the past or the future, but in reality as it now presents itself to us and in the way we deal with it now. We regularly see Knausgard burst into tears for the miracle of that 'now', the miracle of life itself, which even in its smallness and its ugliness has a huge grandeur. That yields beautiful, poetic passages, even though that greatness sometimes also crushes the individual Knausgard. Because that too is a recurring theme: the inner struggle between the desire for boundlessness, for freedom and liberty, for adventure and great things (traveling, writing the best novel of all time, etc.) and then the sobering confrontation with the limits of reality: the pressure of social conventions, the deadlines for novels, the crushing aspects of relationships, the hectic of a family life with children, and so on.
Knausgard may well highlight the small (and the big) in life, he focuses mostly and with much stress on his own interior self: we constantly learn what all kinds of events, statements or things in his environment do to him, how he looks at things and reacts (or doesn't react at all). And that introspection is almost always the reason for longwinding musings about these feelings (usually those of inferiority) and philosophical considerations on life or analises about how some of those aspects are presented by other great writers (Homer, Shakespeare, Joyce, Proust ...). The voluminous essayist piece (400 pages!) in the last book is an extreme enlargement of this, so much so that it seems to collide with the autobiographical character of the rest of the series, but in an ingenious way it really fits in.
Then the question remains whether this cycle as a whole can actually be called a successful experiment. Is it great literature? If I have to be honest: yes and no. Yes, because Knausgard is talking about essential things, he has uniquely exposed himself completely and zoomed in on his 'I' and the 'now' as no one has ever done before, and in some passages he knows to make the miracle of the world and life almost tangible. But on the other hand also no: that focus on himself also has its weak moments, it takes a long time before you realize what it is about, the long passages about trivial things are sometimes outright tough to digest, and the nagging about all kinds of situations sometimes just gets boring. Personally, I think that with parts 1, 2 and the beginning of part 6 you certainly have the essence of this cycle.
Finally, I return to my initial question: what to think about a hyper-introvert man who writes 3.600 pages about himself? My answer: that he is Karl Ove Knausgard, and that he is a real person and a real writer. Nothing more, nothing less. My guess is that he would be very satisfied with that answer! (overall rating 3.5 stars)...more
Re-edit of my review of 5 years ago Again a very peculiar reading experience, this sixth and last installment of the “My Struggle”-series. In the firstRe-edit of my review of 5 years ago Again a very peculiar reading experience, this sixth and last installment of the “My Struggle”-series. In the first 400 pages of this book (a monster of 1081 pages), Knausgard really captivated me: only now did I see (or I think so) the meaning of his entire cycle. This part is about the period just before the publication of the first part of the series and the fear of the author for all kinds of juridical actions by the people that occur in the series (especially his uncle). That made me realise what Knausgard was aiming at all that time: to find and test what kind of a person he was, a result of that inner contradiction between an enormous inferiority complex and the ambition to become a great writer. The original thing is that Knausgard puts everything on the table, also the banal and trivial such as shopping or smoking a cigarette or playing with the children, in short, the "real" life. Unlike other great writers, with him that real life does not limit itself to profound introspections, musings or endless literary sophisticated descriptions: even the smallness of things had to be in it, and it is also there. In short: the 'whole man Karl Ove Knausgard' and his world.
But then suddenly, after 400 pages, the book turns into a series of essays: a particularly thorough analysis of a very hermetic poem by Paul Celan about the Holocaust, a personal assessment of how shocking that Holocaust was, a very long analysis of "Mein Kampf" by Adolf Hitler and an analysis of the evil in the person of Anders Breivik, the extreme right-wing young man who in 2011 killed 77 people in Norway. As you read this, you are constantly wondering what these essays are doing in the otherwise very personal account of the almost banal life of an upcoming Norwegian writer. Automatically you start making connections (the authoritarian father of Hitler and of Knausgard for example), etc. Repeatedly, Knausgard himself gives the message that you should not confuse the young Hitler, no matter how eccentric, with the later Hitler, and that evil isn’t necessary there from a young age, not in Hitler, not in Breivik, and thus, and there we are – also not in the young Knausgard, an issue that has been discussed several times during the course of the cycle. Is that the key to read the whole work? Possibly.
Yet a warning: this essay part may formally stand like a pincer on a pig in this cycle, it really forms a coherent whole. Meandering from one angle to another it is clearly a reflection on two specific issues: first, about what the “I”, the “you”, the “we” and the "them” is, in particular in the ideology (Nazism) that has gone the furthest in the demarcation of those concepts, both in language and in practice; and secondly about the separate reality that it is the “now”, as the only real life. And thus Knausgard makes connections with his own writing project: that attempt to gauge what his own self is, whether there is real evil in him, how small or big, good or bad he really is. So in that sense there is absolutely a link with the rest of his cycle. And besides: these essays are not superficial musings, but profound philosophical, psychological, literary and historical reflections that are absolutely in-depth; they testify of an enormous erudition and a power to think things through into their concreteness, their authenticity, their uniqueness (just to follow Knausgards own jargon). Definitely a great, albeit sometimes very difficult read, though I suspect that Knausgard also included this essayistic part to show that he is not just the writer of the banal and the trivial, which he is sometimes is regarded as.
And then there is the last, relatively short part (250 pages) that initially returns to the banality of daily life, but in which ultimately the struggle of Knausgard's wife with her manic depression is discussed. The latter is quite hard and shows once again how difficult it is for someone with a very strongly developed inner self to confront the reality of the “now”. In Knausgard's terms it is the eternal struggle of the individual between the boundless and the bounded. I will come back to this in my global review of the My Struggle cycle (see https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...). Rating for this part: 3.5 stars...more
Reading this series still remains quite a struggle (pun intended), this very detailed autobiographical portrait Re-editing of my review of 5 years ago
Reading this series still remains quite a struggle (pun intended), this very detailed autobiographical portrait that the Norwegian writer Knausgard presents of himself. In this fifth part he focuses on his long stay in the Norwegian city of Bergen, between his 19th and 27th birthday. Once again, he presents a succession of ordinary daily actions, worries about his image with other people, dark introspections, night-long drunken scenes, pitiful gagging with women, and constantly interrupted attempts to break through as a writer. The latter is the most interesting, because it sometimes yields very interesting reflections on world literature, and even some of his short stories are included that already indicate where Knausgard's strength lies: translating real life, the external ànd the internal, in words. That makes this fifth part really "a portrait of the artist as a young man" (referring to Joyce, of course). Once again the young Knausgard turns out to be a really very sentimental young man, who can be euphorically about the little beauties of life, but at the same time struggles intensely with a very negative self-image. Up to the last tome, another 1060 pages!
(In the meanwhile I read the whole series, and eventually it became clear what a formidable self-reflexive exploit this whole cycle is. Not every part is toplevel, but Knausgards excruciating way of looking at reality - especially his own behavior - truly is mesmerizing. See my other reviews, or my global review: My Struggle I-VI)...more
Re-editing of my review of 5 years ago) I wrestled through the first three parts of the ‘My Struggle’ series by Knausgard with a lot of difficulty, askRe-editing of my review of 5 years ago) I wrestled through the first three parts of the ‘My Struggle’ series by Knausgard with a lot of difficulty, asking myself every time where he was heading for. Especially the first and the second installment were such a mixture of introspection and description, constantly jumping through time and space, and associating trivial scenes with almost brilliant reflections, that I did not know what to think of this writer. The third part was a chronologically told story from his childhood to his teenage years. The common theme obviously is the autobiographical focus: it seemed as if the mature Knausgard through his writing was searching for his soul and, in particular, analyzing how that soul had become what it is today.
And that is what also stands out in this fourth part. Knausgard focuses on the one year when he was 18 years old (1987-1988), working as a teacher in a small secondary school in northern Norway (apparently, due to the shortage of teachers that is possible at this early age). In the Dutch edition that I read, this part was given the title 'Night', and that certainly refers to the fact that almost all year round that northern region is shrouded in darkness. But the metaphor of course also refers to the young man who is searching his way in the dark forest of life: groping, falling and standing up again. In this book 'Night' sometimes is to be taken literally: Knausgard regularly has blackouts as a result of excessive drinking (a legacy from his father); but it also refers to his dealings with other people, and especially with women or let's say girls (because in the small village and in the school almost all women are younger than him). Knausgard describes painstakingly his obsession with losing his virginity and how difficult that is.
Again very trivial, banal scenes alternate with sometimes beautiful observations of the environment, and continuous introspection and self-reflection. But somehow digesting this was less of a struggle: this book was remarkably easy to read (there’s only one longer passage from an earlier time period) and the ingredients even begin to become familiar. In between, we also get a look at Knausgard's first writing attempts and his relative success with it. That does not mean that this now is a top book, but it remains intriguing and certainly invites you to take on the next part, with – in Dutch – the promising title ‘Writer’. (rating 2.5 stars)
(In the meanwhile I read the whole series, and eventually it became clear what a formidable self-reflexive exploit this whole cycle is. Not every part is toplevel, but Knausgards excruciating way of looking at reality - especially his own behavior - truly is mesmerizing. See my other reviews, or my global review: My Struggle I-VI)...more
(Re-editing of my review of 5 years ago) Rating 2.5 stars. In contrast with the first and the second installment, in this third part Knausgard simply p(Re-editing of my review of 5 years ago) Rating 2.5 stars. In contrast with the first and the second installment, in this third part Knausgard simply presents a straight chronological story. It covers his youth, from birth to the pre-pubertal phase. With lots of details, of course, as we are used to with him. And regularly he also repeats what he already wrote in part 1. The story is interesting as a time document and as a coming-of-age testimony, in which we see how the young Karl Ove struggles with the world around him and builds his own identity in interaction with others: his peers (the neighbourhood boys), the wonderful but mysterious world of the girls, but especially his father, who alternates between periods of empathic living together and unpredictable terror (again we do not know what caused this).
We perceive the young Knausgard as a hypersensitive boy, who is constantly plagued by fear, cries a lot, and is hardly able to keep himself standing up. This is all interesting to follow, indeed, but sometimes really too detailed. Is this purely therapeutic writing by Knausgard? A personal reconstruction of the past from the perspective of the middle-aged man, with all the unreliability attached to it? Or does he want to show us something more? Even after reading this third installment, I still don’t know. I guess I have to persevere.
(... And I did. In the meanwhile I read the whole series, and eventually it became clear what a formidable self-reflexive exploit this whole cycle is. Not every part is toplevel, but Knausgards excruciating way of looking at reality - especially his own behavior - truly is mesmerizing. See my other reviews, or my global review: My Struggle I-VI)...more
Re-editing of my review of 5 years ago) What’s the matter with Knausgard? What game is he playing with us? Part 1 of his series bears the title "FatherRe-editing of my review of 5 years ago) What’s the matter with Knausgard? What game is he playing with us? Part 1 of his series bears the title "Father", and that father certainly is present, but rather as a threatening shadow than as an acting person, and in this Part 2 the title is "A Man in Love", but almost constantly it is about divorces between people and quarrels between Karl Ove and his wife Linda.
Of course, this second part also contains very endearing passages: about falling in love, about the caring relationship between Karl Ove and his children. But the focus is on the inability that the author acknowledges in himself to really love and give priority to the people he actually loves. Once again, Karl Ove is portrayed as a rather unsympathetic person, who drinks lavishly, does not stick to what he agreed to, and is engrossed by nostalgia and restlessness. There is only one passion that always returns and he stays true to: writing. But even in that one passion there’s continual doubt about whether it is really good what he puts on paper, and he constantly compares himself (to his disadvantage) to other, greater Scandinavian writers.
As in the first part, long drawn-out descriptions of trivial activities (shopping, taking care of the children, walking the streets, table conversations) alternate with sometimes pertinent considerations about parenting, intense poignant scenes (the whole description of the birth of his first child, for instance), in-depth character analyses of friends and family members and atmospheric place descriptions. And then there are the striking incongruences: contradictions between scenes in the first part and those in this part; does Knausgard consciously wants us to believe he is an unreliable narrator? Also some difference in the quality of the writing is very noticeable: some passages are clearly written sloppily, without obvious meaning, while others are real stylistic gems. Knausgard continues to intrigue, I keep on wondering where all this is heading to, so he surely got under my skin.
(In the meanwhile I read the whole series, and eventually it became clear what a formidable self-reflexive exploit this whole cycle is. Not every part is toplevel, but Knausgards excruciating way of looking at reality - especially his own behavior - truly is mesmerizing. See my other reviews, or my global review: My Struggle I-VI)...more
Initially, these look like diary notes, with a very poetic impact, and they seem to reflect some dramatic events in the author's life. They both deal Initially, these look like diary notes, with a very poetic impact, and they seem to reflect some dramatic events in the author's life. They both deal with the death of his ex-wife and of his mother. Gradually the notes become prose text, but then still very hesitantly, rather confused, searching. It is clear that the author is looking for a way out of some trauma. And in doing so, he jumps back to the lives of his parents and grandparents, problematic lives with the recurring theme of the void of existing. With these shifts (sometimes literal shifts between characters, sometimes magical-realistic elements and a constant jumping between present and past), Espedal demands a lot from the reader.
In many ways I had to think of Knausgard and his "My Struggle" doing something similar, but spread over many more pages: a man who tries to come to terms with himself. I must honestly admit that I do not know what to think of this book. The poetic passages are beautiful, poignant, expressive, but the prose sections constantly evoke riddles and resonate much less. This book seems to focus around language, and how we try to get a grip on unruly reality by using language, writing, describing. From a literary point of view this is captivating, of course, but because Espedal barely addresses real feelings and emotions, this booklet ultimately gives a very clinical-cold feeling. For some reason it evokes the image of a weathered stone. Maybe to reread again....more
It's been years that I've read a detective story. But with an upcoming journey to Norway, a friend gave me this book. It was a nice acquaintance with It's been years that I've read a detective story. But with an upcoming journey to Norway, a friend gave me this book. It was a nice acquaintance with Norway's most favorite detective-storywriter. The book contains all the cliché-ingredients of the genre: a anti-hero (alcoholic), lots of wrong tracks, big suspense and an inconceivable finale. But it surprised me by some brilliantly written parts and the very philosophical framework. In short, it wasn't bad, but detectives are not going to become my favorite kind of literature....more
I read the Dutch edition. Short introduction into Norway and especially the characteristics of the Norwegians. Lots of information on how to deal withI read the Dutch edition. Short introduction into Norway and especially the characteristics of the Norwegians. Lots of information on how to deal with certain situations. And a separate chapter for business people. ...more
Rather chaotic organized story of the young Peer Gynt who gets into trouble by his arrogance, his wandering around. But through all kinds of adventureRather chaotic organized story of the young Peer Gynt who gets into trouble by his arrogance, his wandering around. But through all kinds of adventures he finally regains his destination, namely himself. Mix of picaresque novel, elements from Voltaire's stories and the Faust by Goethe. Not quite successful, and anyway for the theatre no longer feasible....more
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