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A review by sloatsj
Out Stealing Horses by Per Petterson
3.0
This is a strong narrative and as smoothly written as a rolling, snowy landscape. The protaganist, Trond, moves to a cabin in the woods to be alone and reflect on his life after retiring and losing his wife and sister.
The action and ruminations of the book center on a summer Trond spent with his father, a summer that brought them close together, but that ended with his father abandoning him. This rejection has left a lifelong scar on Trond. The more I think about it, the more unforgivable I find it, in fact, and my sympathy for Trond increases. There is nothing insurmountable that prevented the father from having a relationship with his son (as far as I can see), still the father just “opts out.” Trond’s late-life move out to the woods seems a subconscious attempt to repeat his father’s behavior.
I found the narrative voice interesting. It worked well for the most part. There is a lot of Trond explaining what he’s doing, or his dog, or where objects lie, or if the sun is up or down. In a way this helps to make the narrative feel natural; on the other hand, I found it sometimes monotonous:
“I open my eyes. My head feels heavy on the pillow. I have been asleep. I raise my hand and look and my watch. Only half an hour, but it is unusual. After all, I had only just got up, and late too. Was I so worn out? It’s broad daylight outside. I sit up with a jerk as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed….” Etc.
Because his father’s abandonment involved a woman, Trond also carries some baggage in the female department, and he is inclined to resent women. He looks down on his mother (who, in the end, is also the abandoned one), and doesn’t tell his daughters where he’s moved, saying in fact that he hadn’t given them much thought. This exchange near the end of the book pretty much sums it up:
“Are you cold?” my mother said. “There’s a scarf in the bag you can have. It’s not a lady’s scarf or anything, so you needn’t be ashamed.”
“No, I’m not cold,” I said, and heard an impatient and irritated edge in my voice. I have been criticised for that later in life, by women especially, and that is because it is women I have used it against. I admit it.”
This was a really good, even tender, read if sometimes slow-moving. The landscape is alive and breathing, the plot is interesting, and the voice is convincing.
The action and ruminations of the book center on a summer Trond spent with his father, a summer that brought them close together, but that ended with his father abandoning him. This rejection has left a lifelong scar on Trond. The more I think about it, the more unforgivable I find it, in fact, and my sympathy for Trond increases. There is nothing insurmountable that prevented the father from having a relationship with his son (as far as I can see), still the father just “opts out.” Trond’s late-life move out to the woods seems a subconscious attempt to repeat his father’s behavior.
I found the narrative voice interesting. It worked well for the most part. There is a lot of Trond explaining what he’s doing, or his dog, or where objects lie, or if the sun is up or down. In a way this helps to make the narrative feel natural; on the other hand, I found it sometimes monotonous:
“I open my eyes. My head feels heavy on the pillow. I have been asleep. I raise my hand and look and my watch. Only half an hour, but it is unusual. After all, I had only just got up, and late too. Was I so worn out? It’s broad daylight outside. I sit up with a jerk as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed….” Etc.
Because his father’s abandonment involved a woman, Trond also carries some baggage in the female department, and he is inclined to resent women. He looks down on his mother (who, in the end, is also the abandoned one), and doesn’t tell his daughters where he’s moved, saying in fact that he hadn’t given them much thought. This exchange near the end of the book pretty much sums it up:
“Are you cold?” my mother said. “There’s a scarf in the bag you can have. It’s not a lady’s scarf or anything, so you needn’t be ashamed.”
“No, I’m not cold,” I said, and heard an impatient and irritated edge in my voice. I have been criticised for that later in life, by women especially, and that is because it is women I have used it against. I admit it.”
This was a really good, even tender, read if sometimes slow-moving. The landscape is alive and breathing, the plot is interesting, and the voice is convincing.