Reviews

A bracing, clear-eyed novel that I've only just now learned I didn't get all of (the original English translation was apparently expurgated; I'll be hunting down a newer translation soon). But what I got was still excellent, and didn't leave much to the imagination: the unsentimental, non-moralizing way Undset tells her story of a woman betraying her principles (which only incidentally includes flouting conventional morality) would be hugely influential in the 1920s. The men in the novel are, to a one, revealed as laughable, self-absorbed sentimentalists: I found her portrait of the egotistic idealism of the older generation particularly cutting, after having learned a bit about the Scandinavian bohemian writers who broke taboos in the 1880s. But Jenny's own internal dilemmas struck me as consistent and true throughout: I even found echoes of despairing or self-critical thoughts I've had in her 1911-era dialogue.

The downer ending (following on the heels of Woolf's same) suggests that Undset might be at least in part criticizing a society which allows women to hope for more fulfillment than marriage and motherhood: so her later turn to Catholicism and historical fiction might be understood as a consistent rejection of modernity. But I'm too struck by the clarity of her insight, and the economical elegance of her prose, to consider her a distaff Norwegian Waugh.

livmari's review

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challenging dark tense slow-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? It's complicated
Loveable characters? It's complicated
Diverse cast of characters? No
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.25

millamajones's review

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challenging dark emotional hopeful sad medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? No
Diverse cast of characters? No
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.5

aasebrandbyge's review against another edition

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emotional reflective sad tense medium-paced

4.0

raluca_p's review

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5.0

«Tror du den kilden, du snakker om — tror du den nogengang blir ren og klar igjen for en som vet, hun selv har grumset den op? Tror du, jeg har lettere for at resignere nu? — Jeg længtes efter det, som alle piker længtes efter. — Og jeg længes nu — efter det samme. Bare at jeg vet, nu har jeg en fortid bak mig som gjør, at jeg kan ikke ta mot den eneste lykke, jeg bryr mig om — for den skulde være frisk og sund og ren — og det er jeg ikke noget av nu mere —. Jeg skal bli ved at slæpe paa længsler, som jeg vet er umulige — mit liv skal det altsaa bety — det som jeg har oplevet disse sidste aarene —.»
«Jenny,» Gunnar reiste sig ogsaa. «Jeg sier allikevel, det kommer an paa dig selv — for det maa være slik. Om du vil, at disse minderne skal ødelægge dig. Eller om du vil ta dem som en lærepenge — saa grusomt haardt det høres —. At det maal, du hadde før dengang, mener jeg, var det rigtige — for dig.»
«Kan du da ikke skjønne, det er umulig, gut. Det er sunket ned i mig som en syre — det æter op det som var mit væsen engang — jeg føler selv, at jeg smuldrer op indvendig. — Aa. — Og jeg vil ikke, jeg vil ikke —. Og jeg faar lyst til — jeg vet ikke —. Faa alle tankerne til at holde op. Dø —. Eller leve — noget vanvittig, avskylig, — gaa tilbunds i en elendighet, som er endda dypere end denne —. La mig traakke ned i sølen saa grundig, at jeg vet, efter dette er slutten —. Eller —» hun talte lavt og vildt, som i kvalte skrik — «hive mig under et jernbanetog — vite i de sidste sekunder, at nu — nu straks — er hele min krop, nerver og hjerte og hjerne — altsammen — maset til en eneste skjælvende, blodig klump —.»