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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.
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.