A review by aga_acrobat
A House in Norway by Vigdis Hjorth

5.0

Now, who am I?

Am I Alma? A slightly neurotic artist, a weaver of tapestries and banners. A woman trying so hard to live as an independent artist in a world that has expectations, quite a lot of them?
Or maybe Alma the mother struggling to find a working relationship with her children somewhere between spoiling them rotten, defaulting to all their whims or something more adult maybe, but how?

Or maybe I am Sławomira? The polish immigrant trying to make a living in a foreign country like my mother did?

Or maybe I am the little girl? Growing up in a place where everthing is strange and fascinating - I am a kid after all. But also where my mother is maybe different and the strange woman also?

I don‘t know. But that is probably the reason the book still lingers with me.