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travisppe's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
There are long passages that I didn’t care for but overall an intriguing read. Knausgård’s style is fascinating even when the story is mundane, much like his autobiography.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Dementia, Drug use, Injury/Injury detail, Medical content, Suicide attempt, Addiction, Blood, Child death, Death, Suicide, Alcohol, Car accident, and Mental illness
encyclopedia's review against another edition
challenging
dark
mysterious
reflective
tense
medium-paced
4.5
"So it's a sign, is it?"
"Everything's a sign. That tree over there. The leaves. Signs, everything."
"Of what?"
"I don't know."
"All right, then. Signs from what? Who's contacting us?"
"The world is contacting us. The signs are from the world. From that which is."
I was convinced to read this book by Patricia Lockwood's delightfully unhinged review in the London Review of Books (here: https://www.lrb.co.uk/the-paper/v44/n01/patricia-lockwood/strap-on-an-ox-head). In it, Lockwood compares this book to "a hoarder's house, full of sliced ham, possible to become obsessed with." This alone sold me, and I am certainly obsessed with this book — even if, like Lockwood, I'm actually not sure if it's good or not.
I had never read Knausgaard before, but I understand his hyperfocus on minute, mundane details is a common theme in his work. Weirdly, I think this hyperfocus is actually what makes this book shine, or maybe burn. Without it, the pace would pick up, and the horror of the plot would sit closer to the surface. It would just be a thriller. But as it is, this book is mostly full of scenes where someone gets out the bread and cheese and tomato, and then slices the tomato, and makes some coffee, and gets a cup for the coffee, and then pours it, and then picks up the cup and the plate and puts them on the table. While there is, all told, perhaps a bit too much of this, it also serves to heighten the sense of dread.
When you are experiencing a medical emergency, you should go to the emergency room, or at least urgent care, but the reality is that there will (inshallah) be someone worse off than you who needs care more urgently; and either way, someone else will have gotten there first. So there you sit, technically having a medical emergency, nonetheless waiting for minutes or hours, perhaps watching The Price is Right or staring at a fly on the windowsill. That is what this book feels like. It is 666 pages of hang time, the moment of flight before impact.
For this reason, it's not exactly a thriller or a horror novel, although it is sometimes thrilling and/or horrifying. It's almost a philosophical novel, but in some ways it's too blunt for that. Fortunately or unfortunately, I am enamored with it, sliced ham and all.
I happened to read this immediately after Russell Hoban's "Riddley Walker," an unlikely but fabulous pairing with this book. I highly recommend you get into Riddley Walker if you liked this. It's much shorter and very, very different, but there are a shocking number of commonalities. Both are concerned with consciousness and perception in times of apocalypse, and they share a weirdly parallel conception of the soul that is not exactly Christian, despite the influence Christianity exerts on the worlds of both novels. There's even some extremely specific mythological ideas that are referenced in both.
"Everything's a sign. That tree over there. The leaves. Signs, everything."
"Of what?"
"I don't know."
"All right, then. Signs from what? Who's contacting us?"
"The world is contacting us. The signs are from the world. From that which is."
I was convinced to read this book by Patricia Lockwood's delightfully unhinged review in the London Review of Books (here: https://www.lrb.co.uk/the-paper/v44/n01/patricia-lockwood/strap-on-an-ox-head). In it, Lockwood compares this book to "a hoarder's house, full of sliced ham, possible to become obsessed with." This alone sold me, and I am certainly obsessed with this book — even if, like Lockwood, I'm actually not sure if it's good or not.
I had never read Knausgaard before, but I understand his hyperfocus on minute, mundane details is a common theme in his work. Weirdly, I think this hyperfocus is actually what makes this book shine, or maybe burn. Without it, the pace would pick up, and the horror of the plot would sit closer to the surface. It would just be a thriller. But as it is, this book is mostly full of scenes where someone gets out the bread and cheese and tomato, and then slices the tomato, and makes some coffee, and gets a cup for the coffee, and then pours it, and then picks up the cup and the plate and puts them on the table. While there is, all told, perhaps a bit too much of this, it also serves to heighten the sense of dread.
When you are experiencing a medical emergency, you should go to the emergency room, or at least urgent care, but the reality is that there will (inshallah) be someone worse off than you who needs care more urgently; and either way, someone else will have gotten there first. So there you sit, technically having a medical emergency, nonetheless waiting for minutes or hours, perhaps watching The Price is Right or staring at a fly on the windowsill. That is what this book feels like. It is 666 pages of hang time, the moment of flight before impact.
For this reason, it's not exactly a thriller or a horror novel, although it is sometimes thrilling and/or horrifying. It's almost a philosophical novel, but in some ways it's too blunt for that. Fortunately or unfortunately, I am enamored with it, sliced ham and all.
I happened to read this immediately after Russell Hoban's "Riddley Walker," an unlikely but fabulous pairing with this book. I highly recommend you get into Riddley Walker if you liked this. It's much shorter and very, very different, but there are a shocking number of commonalities. Both are concerned with consciousness and perception in times of apocalypse, and they share a weirdly parallel conception of the soul that is not exactly Christian, despite the influence Christianity exerts on the worlds of both novels. There's even some extremely specific mythological ideas that are referenced in both.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Murder, Animal death, Suicide, Addiction, Death, Alcoholism, Blood, and Gore
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