***REGION 20: Europe II

If you have not read the information on the master thread regarding the intent of these regional threads, please do this first.

***20. Europe II: Iceland, Norway, Sweden, Finland, Denmark, the Faroe Islands, Svelbard & Jan Mayen Islands

Ashes to Dust by Yrsa Sigurdardóttir (T 2010, Icelandic)

I picked this mystery, third in a series, up in Iceland recently. While not as sophisticated as some of the procedurals I read, Sigurdardottir's books are very good mysteries which have each included some piece of Icelandic history in them.

Her protagonist, a lawyer, is in the Westmann Islands with her client, as they enter a house being excavated after being buried in lava and ash in the 1973 volcanic eruption. No longer the property of it's owners, it is being excavated as part of the "Pompeii of the North" project (this is a real project, btw) and her client, who was a teen at the time of the eruption, is being allowed to retrieve something from the basement ahead of the archaeologists. Turns out it's a box that a high school friend, a young woman he adored, had asked him to stow for her. He had never looked in the box because the eruption happened very soon there after, but he did so now and manages to drop the contents. The severed human head rolls across the basement floor and stops next to three bodies.

Thora, the lawyer, usually has to solve the mysteries by the means she has as she doesn't always have access to the same information as the police do. I'm always intrigued with how she does it, but more than the mystery itself, I enjoyed learning about the Westmann Islands in general, and the eruption and its aftermath in particular. This was the community who tried to keep the lava from blocking their only harbor by pumping seawater on it.

Sigurdardottir's mysteries make nice companions to Indridason's mysteries if Iceland interests you. Her protagonist has her domestic challenges as a working, single (divorced) mother of two, but is psychologically stable, reasonably social, and not is not entirely married to her job, which is departure from Indridason's Wallander-like, emotionally dry protagonist (don't get me wrong, I enjoy Erlandur despite his emotional handicaps) .

The Long Ships by Frans G. Bengtsson, 1945, translation?, Swedish

What a delightful and wonderful book! The Long Ships, a saga of Viking adventures that takes place in the years before and after 1000, is filled with exploration, plunder, treasure-seeking, fighting, drinking, eating, tale-telling, romance, manly exploits, strong women, determined foes -- and wonderful writing that seems to just roll off the pen of the author (and the admirable translator). Bengtsson takes a broad geographical, historical, and temporal perspective, and yet paints his characters and his depictions of place with fine detail. In fact, the characters jump off the page, both the good, the conflicted, and the bad. He also has a wicked sense of humor and skewers the pretensions and foibles of men (and women) with a few well-placed words.

One of the interesting aspects of the book is that it takes place at the time that Christianity is spreading to the northern regions of Europe (and one of the voyages takes the protagonist to Spain, then ruled by the Muslims, and also introduces him to a Jewish artisan and merchant). Thus, through the book, we see a time when the northern world is changing and we see how different people react to the newcomers, and how varied the priests and other Christian leaders are.

But don't get me wrong. This is first and foremost a rollicking good read!

The Royal Physician's Visit is by a Swedish author, Per Olov Enquist, but refers to an episode of Danish history in which the royal physician, Struensee, acted as effective regent of Denmark in 1771 and 1772, pushing through a vast swathe of Enlightenment-inspired reforms.

I knew nothing about this period of history before reading this. But even so I could tell that this was an inspired reimagining. Enqvist takes the dry historical record, and adds the passion back in - fear, betrayal, guilt. (The book is full of madness of different kinds, from broken-willed feeble-mindedness to a lust for power and control.) The narrative is laced with references to contemporary records which each give us glimpses of the extreme and chaotic events, but it's the passion and madness and theatre which start to make sense of them.

This might make the book sound like a historical romp, which it isn't. It's dense with images and metaphor, yet Enqvist maintains a dry and oracular tone throughout, as if he is trying to make rational sense of what happened - even though the book as a whole suggests that nothing in history makes sense if you ignore the human emotions involved.

Have finished 3 mysteries by Swedish author Håkan Nesser (Mind's Eye and The Return), and didn't bother with the fourth I had. They are less the kind of police procedural I enjoy and, in fact, the 3rd I read, Woman with Birthmark, is a psychological thriller a la Barbara Vine. These crime novels are spare with little in them about the unnamed Northern European city they are set in, and not enough about most of the characters for one to care much about them, except Inspector Van Veeteren perhaps, and I found him unintriguing and 'meh'.

An African in Greenland by Tété-Michel Kpomassie

This unique and highly entertaining travelogue begins in the west African country of Togo in the late 1950s, as the teenage author recuperates from a near fatal illness. Kpomassie, an avid reader, is enthralled by a book that he discovers at the town's evangelical bookshop, The Eskimos from Greenland to Alaska, with its descriptions of vast territory devoid of trees, eternal cold, hunters clothed in animal skins, and a society that valued the child above all else, which contrasted sharply with Togo's elder dominated society and its numerous tropical forests, blistering hot beaches, and dangerous snakes. He soon decides that his destiny is to travel to Greenland, instead of fulfilling his father's promise to entrust him to the healers that saved his life.

Kpomassie slowly makes his way to Greenland via the countries on the west African coast, France, Germany and Denmark, aided by relatives and benefactors who are impressed with and fond of the soft spoken but determined young man. He finally arrives in the southern Greenlandic town of Julianehåb, eight years after he left Togo, and is warmly welcomed by the town's Inuit and Danish inhabitants, who are entranced by the gentle black giant.

Kpomassie's descriptions of the different cultures in Greenland, the people he meets, and the unique if not exactly palatable cuisine are entertaining, often warm and humorous, and always evocative and pointedly descriptive. He becomes disenchanted with the culture of southern Greenland, and slowly travels to the even more isolated northern regions, in order to seek the true Inuit people that he read and dreamed about.

An African in Greenland is an improbable and unforgettable work of travel literature, which is easily my favorite in this genre. I suppose that my ultimate compliment is that it made me eager to accompany Kpomassie to Greenland, despite its brutal climate and horrid cuisine.

Two Viking Romances

Two delightfully ribald tales of Viking heroes and their various quests and captured maidens. Very enjoyable and something I would like to search out more of – especially if I could find a good volume with copious notes for some of the mythology.

DENMARK

Beowulf by Caitlin Kiernan

This book is a modern adaptation of the old heroic poem of Beowulf. Kiernan herself notes at the end that ‘if a teacher or professor has assigned you Beowulf, this novelization doesn’t count. Not even close.’ I cannot comment on how close this novel resembles the original tale, but I can say with certainty that it is a story of which the skalds of old would be proud.

As a reader, I am usually taken in by great characters and swept away by amazing plots. Beowulf has both, but it is the prose that was the highlight of this book for me. Normally, if the writing doesn’t annoy me for some reason, I rarely pay attention to it. So the fact that this book has me waxing lyrically about the prose is telling. The way Kiernan worded everything is superb. It breather the atmosphere of old and while reading it I could hear the tunes that would’ve accompanied the skald in his singing of this tale. But through this all, it stayed very down to earth and readable, making the story a true work of art.

All in all, I am in awe of this book. It might be based on the screenplay of the similarly named movie, but it’s from a quality I rarely see in books. I am totally in love with this tale and highly recommend it to everyone. Forget the original Beowulf, go read this!

DENMARK/NORWAY

To Siberia by Per Petterson

This spare novel begins in a small village in Denmark prior to World War II. The unnamed narrator is a young girl in a troubled and struggling family, whose parents are tolerant and benignly neglectful of her. Her older brother, Jesper, is her best friend, and she loves him unconditionally. The narrator is an excellent student, which earns her no praise at home, whereas Jesper is an indifferent student, but is passionate about the anti-fascist movement in Spain and becomes a committed and active socialist. Both siblings dream of leaving their stifling home and village; Jesper dreams about Morocco, and his sister wants to escape to the frigid solitude of Siberia.

The Germans invade Denmark, and most villagers accept their presence. Jesper and others become active in the resistance movement, which ultimately leads to his separation from his beloved "Sistermine".

After the war, the narrator moves, without a clear direction or sense of purpose, to various cities in northern Europe, in a search for something, or someone, that is not clear to her or to the reader, while longing for word from her brother. She has given up on her childhood dream of moving to Siberia, but she ultimately receives a letter from her brother, who has made it to Morocco, and plans to visit her soon.

To Siberia was an interesting story, but I found the narrator and its characters to be inscrutable and of minimal interest, which makes this a marginally recommended read.

DENMARK

The Boy in the Suitcase by by Lene Kaaberbol and Agnete Friis (Danish, 2008, T 2010, thriller)

I'm not going to post my review here, but if you are a thriller fan (which I'm not), the link is below. I was attracted to this book because it was set in Denmark and written by two Danish women, thus translated from the Danish. Most people, like myself, who have not been to Denmark, see a picture of a placid little mermaid looking out to sea when we think of the country or Copenhagen. But there is nothing placid about the Denmark presented in this thriller. I was a bit disappointed on a number of levels, but also in that I got no real sense of Denmark in the book, as one might have with a different type of crime novel (and as I have with crime novels set in Iceland, Sweden, Spain, China...etc). I think it's a very good thriller, but generally not my cup of tea.

http://www.librarything.com/work/11324995/reviews/74575448

SWEDEN

Penwoman by Elin Wagner (1910, T 2010)

I will link to my review of this when it is up, but this book—the book of the Suffrage movement in Sweden—was a runaway bestseller in Sweden in 1910. I was curious about it, thought it might be too "dated" but was pleasantly surprised to discover a captivating story about two women and their involvement in the Suffrage movement. One, a young, pretty 20-something, nicknamed Penwoman, is working as a journalist (one of the "new women"), the other, a teacher, comes to movement slowly. The dialog is excellent and often witty as Penwoman is witty and imprudent, and has some great comebacks to some of the things people say (particularly men, who are more worried about who will look after their socks). Of course, Penwoman falls in love and must navigate this relationship as a Suffragist (apparently in Sweden, not Suffragette). It provides a fascinating portrait of the attitudes towards gender equality a hundred years ago, and really places the reader there. I was also stunned to find some of the statements as relevant now as they were back in 1910.

NORWAY

Fear Not by Anne Holt (2009, T 2011)

I apologize for adding so many crime novels to this thread! It's what I read when I'm stressed and don't have the concentration for more difficult literature. Here's an excerpt of my latest:

"Fear Not is an intelligent, character-driven, complex and satisfying crime novel. Vik, Stubo, their family (particular their young daughters), the Oslo detective Silje Sorensen, and other characters are rendered credibly and we, as readers, feel we are not only involved in the work they do or the crimes they are involved in, but in other parts of their lives as well. To Holt's credit, this 'domesticity' does not overtake the hard work, both intellectual and otherwise, of crime-solving, and there is also much thoughtful information given, in this case, to hate groups and hate crimes, much of it from the US, though Vik's research."

DENMARK

We, the Drowned by Carsten Jensen (2006, English translation 2011)

Oh, how this book went on and on and on . . . a frustrating mixture of fascinating, exciting adventure and boring looks at small town life, interesting portrayals of the world and unrealistic, overly analyzed characters, insight into life as a sailor and unbelievably coincidental plot elements.

Part of the problem stems from Jensen's goal of telling the story of a town, Marstal, a small island that produced many of Denmark's sailors and ships, over the course of a century from the 1840s through the end of the second world war, through the stories of some its residents, while at the same time recreating the world of sail and its conversion to the world of steam. It is an ambitious idea, but it doesn't quite work. The most engaging moments are the tales of seafaring -- to Australia, Tasmania, Samoa on the one hand and to Newfoundland and Greenland on the other -- and the depiction of the work of sailors, life aboard ship, and the roles of the captain, first mate, and other ranks. These parts were compelling and un-put-downable.

These tales over the century are linked through a few characters, and by Jensen's use of the first person plural, "we," to create a kind of Greek chorus of the townspeople, observing and commenting on the characters and their lives in Marstal. This, and a lot of what happens in the town itself, is, for me, where the book breaks down. The beginning of the novel, which deals at length with a sadistic schoolteacher, seemed mostly pointless; the discovery of a human skull in the waters around the island seemed unnecessarily melodramatic (as does the role of a shrunken head earlier in the story); and the difficult-to-believe but endlessly explained psychology of one of the women in town and her actions a distraction. All of these (and more) detracted from the rest of the book for me, as did the author's attempts at character analysis in general, the feeling that he was trying to create a plot that could encompass all the interesting stories he found out about late 19th and early 20th century shipping and sailing, and his frequent and obvious foreshadowing. He can hit you over the head making his points.

I don't mean to completely knock this book, because I did read the whole thing and I found parts of it, especially the parts about the sea, truly compelling. I just wish the author had had a good tough editor.

Denmark: Veranderend licht (An Altered Light) by Jens Christian Grøndahl - 3 stars

First of all, let me say that I'm amazed by the fact that this very introspective book was written by a then 40-something male author. The story is about a 56-year old woman who, shortly after she's found out that her husband is leaving her for a younger woman, finds out that the man she believed to be her father was not her biological father. But more important than the facts are the feelings, the introspection. I hope I do not sound offensive (it is not meant to be) if I think this is a book that would do well in those female book-clubs where women like to discuss relationships, men, love, faithfulness, adultery, self-actualization. But there's a time when I draw the line for self-absorbed books like this one, however stylish the language and relevant (to some) the theme. So, probably good if you like the genre, but not my cup of tea.

Sweden:
Doctor Glas by Hjalmar Söderberg, 1905



Doctor Glas is a novel in the form of a diary by Tyko Gabriel Glas, a Stockholm physician. He lives a solitary and embittered life, and we soon learn that, though his is approaching middle age, the doctor is still a virgin. As a youth, Glas did break through his shyness long enough to form a passionate attachment to one young girl, only to have her die of accidental drowning days later. Since then he has only been able to find himself attracted to women who are in love with someone else.

The latest such woman is Helga Gregorious, the young and beautiful wife of an old and loathsome parson. It is not, of course, the detestable minister with whom Helga is in love, and, ironically, she comes to Doctor Glas for help. She admits to having a lover, and begs Glas to invent a medical impediment that will spare her the unwanted nightly attentions of her husband. Glas is desperate to help the woman he loves, even though it will only help her fly to the arms of another man. But is he desperate enough to consider murder?

The anguished internal debate of this dysfunctional personality make for a taut and suspenseful narrative. The sexual candor of this short novel are remarkable for something published in 1905, as are its observations on such topics as abortion and euthanasia.

ICELAND



Last Rituals by Yrsa Sigurdardottir

After the body of a young German student—with his eyes cut out and strange symbols carved into his chest—is discovered at a university in Reykjavík, the police waste no time in making an arrest. The victim's family isn't convinced they have the right man, however, so they ask Thóra Gudmundsdóttir, attorney and single mother of two, to investigate. It's not long before Thóra and Matthew Reich, her new associate, discover something unusual about the deceased student: He had been obsessed with the country's grisly history of torture, execution, and witch hunts. As Thóra and Matthew dig deeper, they make the connection between long-bygone customs and the student's murder. But the shadow of dark traditions conceals secrets in both the past and the present, and the investigators soon realize that nothing is as it seems . . . and that no one can be trusted.

This book was definitely a page-turner. With every bit of the puzzle revealed the mystery grew deeper, urging me to keep reading to figure out what really happened. The pace was fast – the entire investigation is done within about a week – but it never got too fast, nor did it ever become unbelievable, despite the sometimes bizarre subject matter. The good writing and the likeable Thóra as main character made me fall in love with this book. The setting of the story in Iceland was icing on the cake.

However, I have one quibble with this book that made me give it four and a half stars instead of the full five. The ending – the conclusion of the mystery – was in my opinion fairly sudden. I like the solution, the whodunit and the why – but the way mainly Thóra pieced everything together was too easy in the end, too much like a lucky coincidence. I thought that took away from an otherwise brilliant book with a very well thought out plot.

But all in all I highly enjoyed this book. I highly recommend it and I will definitely go in search of the next book in the series about Thóra!

NORWAY

The Shadow in the River by Frode Grytten

I have to say, The Shadow in the River is unlike any other Scandicrime novel I have ever read. No cold setting with ice and snow, but a heat wave instead. No beautiful, pristine landscape, but a polluted, declined ex-industrial town. It’s surprising, to say the least, but it’s also nice to see a different side of Scandinavia.

Unfortunately this book was not nearly as good as the last Scandicrime novel I read (Last Rituals by Yrsa Sigurdardottir). I didn’t really like the main character, but the flow and pace of the story was good enough for me to keep reading. About halfway through the book several things happen at once that changes the situation in such a way that the main character becomes active instead of deliberately passive in the events – which definitely helped the book in my opinion. I never did like passive characters much.

In the end things are a little worse and nothing is really resolved. There isn’t even an inkling of a happy end. It fits the tone of the book, but it’s not exactly cheerful. I’m still not entirely sure what I should think of the ending – if I like it or not. Either way, it fits my feelings about the book. I kind of liked it and I kind of didn’t. It averages out to three stars. There were many things I liked about the book and a few big things I didn’t. But all in all it was a fairly good book.

The Lowenskold Ring by Selma Lagerlof (1923, Swedish, new ed)

This is a new edition of Linda Schenck's 1991 translation of Lagerlof's book (the first of a trilogy, her last work of prose fiction). I seldom say this, but I think I enjoyed the introduction, translator's afterword, and translator's addendum to the afterword, as much as I enjoyed the book. I usually read all introductions after I have read the book for I don't like to be told how I should enjoy a book and what I should take away from it before I experience it. This book was no different.

The Lowenskold Ring is a deceptively simple tale that attempts to put folk tale from oral tradition onto paper. It tells the tale of a ring, once given to General Lowenskold by the king, but stolen from the General's tomb, and follows it through a succession of owners who suffer terrible consequences for having it in their possession. It's a tale of murder and ghosts, not unlike The Turn of the Screw, as the translator, Linda Schenck, points out. It also can be read, Ms. Schenck mentions later in the afterword, as metafiction, for when the narrator inserts herself into the story, it's clear Lagerlof is commenting on more than just the tale, but also herself as a writer and her "variable status in the predominantly male literary establishment." This latter bit jives nicely with a well-done introduction, less for the book, than for its intriguing author.

Linda Schenck, also talks about translation itself, quoting others who feel that translation should not be definitive, but ephemeral and argue for frequent re-translation to update work for contemporary audiences. What I take away from this is that a translation carries with it the baggage of its current culture, so thus a 1928 English tradition may not now best serve this 1925 work.

Like I said, the additional material is an interesting as the short novel itself.

SWEDEN



Under the Snow by Kerstin Ekman

In a village nestling at the foot of a snowy mountain in Lapland, Constable Torsson receives a phone call from an outlying district. He skis off to investigate the death of a teacher following a drunken brawl. The dark deeds of winter finally come to light under the relentless summer sun.

How to review this book? It’s far removed from a traditional detective story. The clues are subtle, reminding me a bit of Poirot, with a big reveal at the end. The tension builds up until it reads as almost a thriller at the end. But while the investigation revolves around the death of one of the villagers, the book itself is a sketch of the village and life in an area where part of the year the sun doesn’t set and part of the year the sun doesn’t rise.

I had two minor quibbles with the book. The first one is the fact that apparently it’s set in the early 1960s – contemporary when it was published, now only noticable by one or two minor details. If you don't know this - I didn't until after reading the book - it can make for some strange moments while reading it. Another thing I didn’t like very much about the book was one of the main characters, David. He’s a friend of the dead teacher and a bit…odd. I got frequently annoyed by his behavior, although I did eventually get used to it.

But despite these things, Under the Snow was a good book. It grew on me, the further in I got the better it became. I’d recommend this book to anyone that likes a mystery, but also to anyone who likes more intimate sketches of life in a different place.

Faroe Islands

Far Afield by Susanna Kaysen (5 stars)



Jonathan Brand visits a group of Scandinavian islands in order to do his anthropology fieldwork, but in adjusting to the local culture, he finds himself caught up in the supposedly simple way of life.

What to say about Far Afield? It’s a book that sneaks up on you. The events in the book are normal – well, what counts as normal for the Faroe Islands anyway – and there’s no great mystery or drama. Jonathan goes through profound changes and the questions he asks himself make you think about your own life. The story pulls you in and refuses to let you go. Putting this book down was hard to do.

The writing itself is beautiful – stark and poetic at the same time, a perfect accompaniment to the story. She lived for a time on the Faroe Islands, which really shows in the book. The complexity of life that seems so simple on the surface has been captured to perfection by Susanna Kaysen. Highly, highly recommended.

Children in Reindeer Woods by Kristín Ómarsdóttir (T. 2012, Iceland)

Set in what seems to be the contemporary, Children in Reindeer Woods captures your attention from the very beginning. In an idyllic and isolated rural area of an unknown country, there is a small farm called Reindeer Woods that houses a few urban children during the summer. It is also in a war zone. In a few short riveting pages, several soldiers arrive and kill the residents, before one soldier shoots the others and buries all the bodies. Eleven-year-old Billie, hiding under the bushes, witnesses enough activity to know what is going on, and she become the lone survivor. It is the uncertainty of her fate, and the strange relationship between her and the solitary soldier (who has decided he would rather take up farming than soldiering) that propels the reader through this fascinating book. The narration provides a lot of the story from Billie's viewpoint, though it's not strictly told in her voice. While the soldier goes about 'settling in" to the farm, Billie is compelled to help. She is frightened, but strangely compliant and curious, sometimes even bold, as she adjusts to her new situation.

The book drifts into the surreal from time to time, but it's almost to be expected in the odd situation that Billie finds herself in. There's a puppet motif that runs through the book (which you can also see echoed in the book's cover art). We see this most obviously in Billie's insistence that her father is a puppet controlled by creatures from outer space (as best I can tell her father is a lawyer or possibly a politician), but also in her playing with her various Barbie dolls, and it doesn't seem a stretch to add 'soldiering' to the puppet list, for are not solders merely puppets in a war? The motif is presented in small ways also, in certain 'hanging' imagery: a paratrooper, a hung chicken, Billie getting hung up by her belt on the roof's edge when she tried to slide off the roof.

All which makes Children in Reindeer Woods a compelling, intriguing story of—as the book's description states—the "absurdies of war." The ending is somewhat open-ended, in what I often think is European fashion. It leaves one a little lost, without definitive conclusions, which, in this case, seems poignantly appropriate. An excellent book.

The beginning of Children in Reindeer Woods can be read in Issue 17 of Belletrista HERE

In the same issue is a wonderful review by labsf39 (much better than my early morning ramblings...though I rated the book more highly than she)

>20 Samantha_kathy: Is that one of Ekman's older titles?

Here is my review of Children in Reindeer Woods, cross posted from my Club Read and 75 Books threads.

I wanted to like this book better than I did, both because I was taken by the title and because two LTers (Lisa and Lois) wrote intriguing reviews of it. There were parts of it I really enjoyed, but I wasn't completely drawn into the story or its location, and the ending completely turned around what I was thinking about one aspect of the book and left me puzzled.

The novel tells the story of an 11-year-old girl, Billie, who is sent to what appears to be some sort of small summer camp in a remote, idyllic, and bucolic farming valley, which nevertheless is in a war zone. One day the war intrudes, and Billie is left alone in the farmhouse with a young soldier, Rafael, who no longer wants to be a soldier but who can't entirely give up his soldierly ways even though he has taken on the role of the farmer, and in some way the protector of Billie. On the surface, Billie seems largely unperturbed by this change, just as she hasn't seemed to miss her mother and father, although she thinks about them frequently. Her father is described as a puppet whose individually limbs are controlled by beings from another planet, and who is writing a book of laws of the earth/humans for those people on another planet, while her mother works as a doctor and organizes the household. Billie also thinks about a former ballet dancer, Marius, who used to work at the farm, and who had been in love with someone named Maria. As the novel progresses, various people drop by the remote farm, and the reader sees some evolution in Rafael's attitudes in how he deals with this intrusions. Billie, too, evolves a little as summer drifts into fall.

The best parts of this book for me were some of the details: Billie's play with her Barbie dolls reflects the violence of the world outside the farm, the chickens at the farm act like chickens and the cow acts like a cow, Billie reflects on the invisibility of children or on how her mother taught her to act with other people. But for me, the story and plot, such as it is, were confused by the remoteness of the farm (which still appears to be in a contemporary European country), by the characters of Billie and Rafael, neither of who feels completely "real" to me, and by the puppetry imagery which I took to be metaphoric and psychological, but which may not be.

The cover describes the book as "a lyrical and continually surprising take on the absurdity of war and the mysteries of childhood." Although some horrifying things occur in the book, the war in many ways feels far away (at least for someone who has read other books about war) and the farm life seems much more real, and the depiction of Billie's behavior seems remote as well. Just as the beings from another planet appear to control Billie's father, so the telling of this story seems distanced from the lives of Billie and Rafael and the chickens and the cow.

I have a question on what part of the map I can colour in for The Summer Book, by Tove Jansson. Apparently she's a Swedish speaking Finn. The book itself is set on an island in the Gulf of Finland, and was originally written in Swedish. Colour me confused.

>24 Nickelini:
Nickelini, I just noticed your question and see that you have not yet received an answer, but better late than never...

Swedish is one of the two official languages in Finland (the other one being Finnish) and, as you mentioned, Tove Jansson belonged to the minority in the country speaking Swedish natively, also known as Finland-Swedes. In The Summer Book she wrote about an island in her native country Finland in her native language Swedish, so the short answer to your question is that I find it totally clear that Finland is the country you should mark on your literature map.

Does that clear up your confusion?

Annix - thanks! You know, it did say that in the intro, but I just couldn't get my little mind around the fact that it's not as simple as Swedish=Sweden and Finnish=Finland. I love it when I learn something. Thanks!

This may be of interest - just broadcast on BBC R4 and will soon be available for at least 7 days

Norway's Soul: Re-evaluating Knut Hamsun
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b01rr7rh

The unlikely career and Startling fall from grace of a great writer.

The Norwegian author Knut Hamsun was a self taught farm boy who beat
James Joyce and Virginia Woolf to Modernism. With his groundbreaking
novel, Hunger, published in 1890, he revolutionized world literature.
By 1922, he was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature, and was one of
the most famous writers in the world, feted by everyone from Kafka to
Hemmingway. Yet he ended his life in poverty and disgrace after his
public admiration of the Nazis. He even sent Goebbels his Nobel Prize
medal. Today he is largely unknown outside of his native country. Per
Kristian Olsen considers the best of Hamsun's writing against the
worst of his political thoughts and deeds and asks whether it is
possible to separate life from art.

Presenter: Per Kristian Olsen
Producer: Jessica Treen.

NORWAY

Kristin Lavransdatter by Sigrid Unset
(includes The Wreath, The Wife, and The Cross)
Originally published 1920-1922; this translation 1997-2000)



I bought this book after reading Linda92007's wonderfully comprehensive and insightful review last year and saved it for a summer read when I would have more time to read the tome it is. There is little I can add to her review, so I'll just supply an overview and some of my reactions to the book.

Essentially, this is a trilogy that tells the story of Kristin and her world, 14th century Norway, from the time she is a young child on her father's successful farm to her marriage, in rebellion against her father's wishes, through her life as a wife and mother, and eventually to her turn to religion and death. Through this story, Undset paints a picture of medieval Norway: its natural beauty, its social and political relations, its deep emphasis on religion (with a smattering of the ancient pagan customs), and of course daily life in both the countryside and towns.

What I was most struck by, in addition to the beauty and harshness of the landscape and Undset's easy familiarity with the customs and materials of medieval life (her father was an archaeologist), was Undset's psychological insight. Through the behavior, and to a much lesser extent the thoughts, of her characters, especially but not only Kristin, the reader learns much about their strengths, their challenges, their reactions to the terrible difficulties and heartbreaks of life and death in the 14th century. Kristin herself is a fascinating character who is able to take the responsibilities life throws at her, but although her headstrong nature gets her what she wants initially, it is ultimately at terrible cost to herself and to the people around her. The secondary characters are drawn with just as much skill, although there are so many even more remote characters the book could have really benefited from a chart of families and relationships, especially when the political plotting took place. I could go on and on, but I would just be repeating a lot of what Linda already said.

If this trilogy has a flaw, it is that some of the plotting seems melodramatic, at least to this modern reader, and borderline soap-opera-ish. I mostly found this near the beginning, so perhaps I found myself drawn into the medieval world as the book progressed; certainly, I began to appreciate the overarching pull of religion, even as that seems irrelevant to much of life today. As I often find, people were not so different from us long ago and far away.

I would just add that I read the recent Tina Nunnally translation, which is the only complete English translation.

The Murder Of Halland by Pia Juul - Denmark

That woman's husband is dead. That woman's long-lost daughter has come back. Does it make any difference? Her face is empty, but mirrors always make people's faces look empty.

This is a short novella (180 pages) but I had to read it twice to figure it out. I'm still not sure I know what it all means, but I did appreciate it more the second time around.

At the start of the novella, our narrator Bess' long-term partner is shot in the town square. But although we follow the progress of the investigation (through her eyes), the book is much more about Bess herself and her reactions to the death. She behaves erratically, but on the second reading I realised how often she referred obliquely to her grief.

Although it was periodically baffling, I did enjoy reading this, partly because of Bess' idiosyncratic narration (at one point she comments, "Her look shifted to match the one people usually adopted when they took what I said literally") and partly because it felt like quite an honest portrayal of the way people behave when in a state of emotional upheaval.

SWEDEN
De vijfde winter van de magnetiseur (The Magnetist's Fifth Winter) by Per Olov Enquist (1964) - 4 stars


Is it wrong to deceive people if the intentions are good? And what if the intentions are not good, but the outcome is positive ? Is the imposter responsible if the victim wants to be deceived and is he indeed a victim then? And how about religion that, in a way, uses much of the same techniques? Don't we want or need to be deceived to become happy?

In this novel, the Swedish author Enquist explores the boundaries of evil and deceit.
He wraps it all up in a psychological novel, set in the late 18th century, in which the main character, Meisner uses animal magnetism, a technique that was invented by the German F. A. Mesmer (hence mesmerism). After having escaped from captivity, he settles into a little town where he presents himself as someone who can perform miracles but who is clearly a cheat. However, he sometimes does cure people, although it's unclear if the cured are imposters, are deluded or are cured by autosuggestion. At first, the people are reluctant but most of them quickly surrender to his tricks. The whole process is being watched by a doctor who is dealing with his own problems but plays his part in how people react to Meisner. The use of different points of view sheds a different light on events and makes the reader more aware of the fact that it's not so easy to define good or evil. This is not an easy read but it's a very rewarding, clever book which gives the reader plenty to think about. Highly recommended if you're into psychological literature.

SWEDEN

The Saga of Gösta Berling by Selma Lagerlöf
Originally published 1891; English translation 2009



This is a romantic novel in every sense of the word, and mythical too. Set along a lake in northern Sweden in the early part of the 19th century, it tells the tale of Gösta Berling interwoven with the stories of other residents of the area, along with a dash of the supernatural.

Who is Gösta Berling? In the prologue, the reader learns that he started out in life as a preacher but fell prey to drink, was defrocked and set out as a traveling beggar. But the majoress (wife of a major) of Ekeby, owner of seven mines and the most powerful and richest person (not just woman) around, takes him to her household as one of the twelve "cavaliers" who live there -- a group of men who have fallen on hard times and who live a life of entertainment that borders on dissolution, playing music, eating and drinking, wild parties, etc. Unlike many of the cavaliers, Gösta is young.

The novel takes place over the course of a year -- 12 months -- starting at a Christmas feast at which the cavaliers make a pact with the devil that gives them control of Ekeby for a year and sends the majoress out into the world to beg for her living. Gösta attracts women and vice versa. As the year progresses, several tragic romantic attachments occur, with flashbacks to others. At the same time, other events take place in the villages and farms surrounding the lake, and each of the cavaliers faces a challenge of some kind. The novel builds to its climax as the next Christmas rolls around and the pact with the devil expires.

Such is a broad outline of the novel, but it hardly gives the flavor of Lagerlöf's writing or the broad scope of the book. Local history, geography, the beauty and the threat of nature, fairy tales, and a strong thread of self-effacing religion all play a role. Lagerlöf, as novelist, frequently addresses the reader, often characterizing the time she is writing about (less than 100 years earlier) as olden times, a time of legend. Her characters are often more symbolic than real, and their actions sometimes not entirely believable but this is not a book meant to be taken literally. Her writing can be dramatic, and this worked best for me lyrical (but often haunted) passages about nature. In fact nature, as it affects people, is a character too. Some examples of Lagerlöf's writing:

"He knew every tree the way you know your siblings and playmates." p. 240

"But we were thinking, we, in the peculiar spirit of self-observation, which had already made its way inside us. We were thinking about him with the eyes of ice and the long, crooked fingers, he who sits in the soul's darkest corner and tears apart our being, the way old women pick apart scraps of silk and wool." p. 112

"Oh month of May, that lovely time when the birches blend their light greenery into the dark of the spruce forests, and when the south wind comes again far from the south saturate by heat!

I must seem more ungrateful than others who have enjoyed your gifts, you beautiful month. Not a word have I used to show your beauty. . . .

May others listen to talk of flowers and sunshine, but for myself I choose dark nights, full of visions and adventures, for me the hard fates, for me the sorrow-filled passions of wild hearts." pp. 226-227

The grieving mouth is easily forced to smile, but someone who is happy cannot weep. The old ballads believe in tears and sighs, in sorrow alone and the signs of sorrow. Sorrow is real, is lasting, it is the firm bedrock under loose sand. In sorrow one can believe and in the signs of sorrow.

But happiness is only sorrow that is playacting. There is really nothing on the earth but sorrow." p. 296

Depressed yet? There is some fun in this book too!

At times, the thread of piety and the virtues of serving others without thought of person vanity got to me, but there was also plenty of adventure and romance. This book grew on me.

I'm participating this year in Goodreads World Literature group, which is studing Iceland. So far we've read the following:

Iceland's Bell byHalldor Laxness, beautifully written and a very interesting look at the 17th and 18th centuries of Iceland, but in places it was a slog.

Fish Can Sing also by Halldor Laxness, a re-read for me, a wonderful coming-of-age story of a young orphan adopted by a terribly poor couple. Much richer and more amazing on a second read.

Reply to a Letter From Helga by Bergsveinn Birgisson, an epistolary novel of one man's regrets in life. Wonderful writing, but the protagonist wasn't a particulary sympathetic character for me.

Children in Reindeer Woods by Kristin Omarsdottir, which is a somewhat surreal fable set in modern times. Reading it with a group is certainly helpful as this book is short, but very complex (see Avaland's review above).

Walking Into the Night by Olaf Olafsson, a beautifully written historical novel about the regrets of the Icelandic butler of William Randolph Hearst.

ICELAND

The Whispering Muse by Sjon
Translator: Victoria Cribb

I'm on the fence with this one. Quirky, humorous and satirical, it certainly had some of the magic I associate with Sjon's writing but sometimes it just didn't quite work for me. A comical buffoon of a protagonist (who published a journal on the consumption of fish and its link to Icelandic superiority) sets sail on a working boat for a cruise that he received as a gift and this is the backdrop for a dual-sided narrative: his experience of the cruise and the layered myths that the ships storyteller recounts each evening for the entertainment of the passengers and crew. An interesting perspective on the nature of narrative tradition and storytelling (but something I think was explored better by Philip Pullman in The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ) and while whimsical, lacking in the true magic I found in The Blue Fox, my first experience of Sjon.

Sweden

Astrid and Veronika, Linda Olsson, 2007

Comments: Veronika, a 30 year old woman, returns to Sweden after a tragedy in New Zealand. She plans to write her second book, and holes herself away in a cottage on the edge of a village. Next door lives Astrid, an elderly recluse. They slowly develop a friendship and tell each other all the horrible things that have happened in their lives.

Rating: I have no idea what I think of this book. When I read the glowing reviews here at LT, I can see what people loved about it, but I didn't love it. And when I see the poor reviews, I can agree with those too. I think part of my confusion is that I don't understand Astrid's actions in a particular situation, and if they are what I understand them to be, well, . . . how horrifying. She killed her much loved baby? Really? Why?But I think I missed something. I also had a problem with the over description of detail --it got tiresome. But on the other hand, there was some dreamy, evocative writing too.

Recommended for: Well, since I have no clue what I think of this book, I'm not really one to say, but if you like quiet books, you might like this one.

Denmark

We, the Drowned by Carsten Jensen

My take on this book is more or less the opposite of rebeccanyc's. (Post 13, above) C'est la vie, right? I found this long saga of three generations of a Danish seafaring town and the sailors who venture out onto the cruel and dangerous oceans to be compelling and extremely readable. My full review is on the book's workpage and on my 50-Book Challenge thread: http://www.librarything.com/topic/185977#5043388

Finland

Seven Brothers by Aleksis Kivi

First published in 1870, Seven Brothers is considered the first novel written in Finnish. Previously, Finnish novels had been written in Swedish, or even Latin. The seven boisterous, brawling Jukola brothers live in rural Finland. They are just entering adulthood when their mother dies, leaving them parentless. And while they bicker endlessly with each other, they remain fiercely loyal as well, presenting a united front to the outside world, which wants them to simmer down, to put it mildly. The adventures of these brothers as well as the evolution of their internal relations and their development into mature adults provide the novel's course. But the novel seems almost as much to be a parable about life in general and Finnish rural culture in particular, and the narrative is seeded frequently with entertaining and enlightening folk tales, as told by one of the brothers. While it took me a while to enter the flow of the narrative, in the end I enjoyed this book a lot.

Finland

Under the North Star by Väinö Linna

Under the North Star is the first book of a trilogy of the same name. Together, these three volumes are considered true classics of Finnish literature. The trilogy takes in Finnish history from the 1880s through the 1950s. This first book follows the fortunes of tenant farmer Jussi Koskela and, eventually, his son Akseli. Jussi values hard work above all else, but that work is not really his own, as his place on his own land is never secure, given that it is owned by someone else. Linna moves his lens in and out skillfully, sometimes focusing in on the Koskelas themselves, and sometime pulling back to show us the plights and struggles--and joys--of the tenant workers as a whole. Correspondingly we see Finland itself struggling under the whims of the Russian Czar, as Finland at that point was not independent, but a possession of Russia. As the years move along, Finland begins to assert its rights againt their Russian rulers, and the tenants begin to assert theirs against the landowners, with Socialism becoming an increasingly significant factor in the countryside. The narrative is presented always with a light touch and, at times, an affectionate wink.

My wife and I traveled to Finland several years ago. While there, we were assured that this trilogy really does present a good picture of the Finnish history and of the development of the Finnish national character. I will be returning to read the rest of the trilogy soon.

>35 rocketjk: We, the Drowned is one of my all time favourites. I'm always happy to find another admirer of it.

Also taking note of your two Finnish books. Since reading a biography of Tove Jansson last year (Tove Jansson: Work and Love) which brought out the history really well, I have been interested in reading more of it.

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>38 SassyLassy: I may look for that biography soon. My wife and I traveled to Finland a few year ago and very much enjoyed out time there. That visit sparked my interest (and my wife's, I should add) in Finnish history and literature.

Finland

The Uprising, the second book in Väinö Linna's "Under the North Star" trilogy, is even more gripping than the first in the series. This novel brings us through the lead up to the Finnish Civil War of 1918, and then through the war itself, as characters we've come to care about endure some truly horrifying events while fighting in that war and then trying to survive during the conflict's truly gruesome aftermath.

Finland

I recently finished Under the North Star 3: Reconciliation by Väinö Linna. This is the third and, obviously, final novel in Väinö Linna's "Under the North Star" trilogy a classic of Finnish literature. This concluding novel takes us through World War 2, and the bloody conflicts between Finland and Russia. This trilogy takes an investment of time, but I can honestly say this is one of the most moving and memorable works of fiction I've ever read.

NORWAY

The Marvelous Misadventures of Ingrid Winter by J.S. Drangshot I thought I would try something light, something amusing; this was not it. I found the plots to be mundane, everyday, and anything but amusing. There might have been a slightly amusing chapter when Ingrid was in St. Petersburg and high on cough syrup, but that was the extent. I'm not sure if something was lost in the translation.....287 pages 2 1/2 stars

Seeing Nickelini’s recent posts reminded me again that these threads exist… Here's a quick catch-up list of relevant books from 2018:

Q1 (see also my Club Read thread http://www.librarything.com/topic/278102):
The Emigrants (1949) by Vilhelm Moberg (Sweden, 1898-1973) - worthy but heavy going
The good hope (1965) by William Heinesen‬ (Faroes, 1900-1991) - gloriously baroque historical novel
The endless summer (2014) by Madame Nielsen (Denmark, 1963- ) - gender-bending in Jutland
Fair play (1989) by Tove Jansson (Finland, 1914-2001) - tranquil collaboration on an island

Q2 (see also my Club Read thread http://www.librarything.com/topic/289441 ):
The summer book (1972) by Tove Jansson (Finland, 1914-2001) - little girl and grandmother bond on an island

Q3 (see also my Club Read thread http://www.librarything.com/topic/293138):
Detective Inspector Huss (1998) by Helene Tursten (Sweden, 1954- ) - enjoyable police series in the tradition of Martin Beck
Night rounds (1999) by Helene Tursten (Sweden, 1954- )
The torso (2000) by Helene Tursten (Sweden, 1954- )
The glass devil (2002) by Helene Tursten (Sweden, 1954- )
The golden calf (2004) by Helene Tursten (Sweden, 1954- )
Protected by the shadows (2012) by Helene Tursten (Sweden, 1954- )
The beige man (2007) by Helene Tursten (Sweden, 1954- )
The fire dance (2005) by Helene Tursten (Sweden, 1954- )
The treacherous net (2008) by Helene Tursten (Sweden, 1954- )
Who watcheth (2010) by Helene Tursten (Sweden, 1954- )

Q4 (see also my Club Read thread http://www.librarything.com/topic/296979):
-

I recently finished Growth of the Soil by Knut Hamsun. This novel is a classic of Norwegian literature. First published in 1917, it won Hamsun a Nobel Prize in Literature in 1920. The book is Hamsun's ode to hardy settlers and farmers of Norway's rugged and remote areas. A long, hard day's work is a man's greatest accomplishment, and Isak, the strong, simple, unremittingly persevering farmer is Hamsun's hero. The storyline follows Isak's early days carving out a farm, his taking on of a helpmate, Inger, who becomes his wife, and the growth of their family. Along the way, there are problems aplenty, of course, some of their own making. Hamsun often uses a sort of stream of consciousness narrative to good effect to get inside of his characters' minds. Even when they are flawed and troubled, they are characters we are happy to follow along with through life. We get a close up, if certainly idealized, picture of the tough life of these country communities. But also, as the narrative progresses, we come to understand that Hamsun is placing these mostly admirable people before in contrast to his disdain for modernism, and especially for new more or less liberal ideas about human nature.

So it was enjoyable to read Growth of the Soil. And interesting to read this acclaimed example of the early 20th-century style, Norwegian New Realism. Hamsun's prose here is certainly engaging, as is his humor and eye for the foibles of human nature, and his extremely deft touch at describing the intense beauty of the Norwegian countryside. But it's also the case that Hamsun was a Nazi sympathizer, and I have to admit that knowing, as I read, that the author was at the very least an admirer of people who would have been very happy to murder my grandparents and my parents drained a bit of the enjoyment out of the experience for me.

Book note: I was reading from a beautiful first Modern Library edition which itself dates back to 1925. On blank very last page I found stamped in dark blue, "Retailed by Macy's".

I finished The Unknown Soldier by Väinö Linna. Considered a classic of Finnish literature, The Unknown Soldier tells the story of Finnish Soldiers fighting in the Continuation War (as it's known in Finland) between Finland and Russia from 1941 through 1944. The novel presents a gritty depiction of the experiences of soldiers of one Finnish company.

Linna creates a memorable group of soldiers and follows them from the initial invasion and success, to the stalemate that develops at the point of the invasion's furthest advance, and then through the interminable retreat. Death stalks the company throughout, of course. Men die throughout the narrative in ways foolish, cowardly and brave, in attempts to accomplish specific objectives or randomly. But also, these men are portrayed as individuals, with a wide spectrum of personalities, bravery or cowardice, with a wide range of ideas about the war and what they're doing there, and a very specific attitude about the advantages or (mostly) disadvantages of the officers above them, whose success as leaders is generally tied to their willingness to forego the trappings of their rank and insistence on military discipline.

The novel, published 10 years after the war's end, became an instant success in Finland and propelled Linna to literary hero status within the country. It was, according to what I've been able to read, the first novel in Finland that portrayed the war and its soldiers in anything close to realistic, rather than idealized, fashion, and veterans of the war were evidently vocal in their praise. The novel is harrowing, to be sure, full of bitterness and, especially at the end, despair, but also full of life and humor, frailty and honor. What are human beings willing to do, and how do we stand up, principles intact (or not) in the face of deprivation and almost certain death? Linna doesn't really ask these questions, but he does provide his own answer to them.

By the end, more than one of the characters is of course asking, as the reader will, "What was the point of all that horror?" Linna mostly leaves those questions to history, and to the reader the task of understanding the ultimately tragedy and futility of the endeavor.

Denmark

A Fairy Tale, Jonas T Bengtsson, 2011; translated from Danish by Charlotte Barslund, 2014

cover comments: what cover? Oh, Lt doesn't have it. I can tell you it's sort of a dusky blue . . .

Recommended For: I can confidently say that I think most of my LT friends would also like this novel. It's one of those books you read and think "why isn't everyone talking about this?" There are scads of 4 & 5 star reader reviews on GoodReads, and only a few little 2 & 3 star reads. I did find it dark, and there where times when I couldn't face it. . . but I think that's me; it was never the writing.

Comments: Wow. Where do I start with this?

I'd never heard of this novel when I found it while browsing at a book store in 2015 (remember doing that?), and the description on the back cover, and the title, and it being Danish, all intrigued me. I had no idea what to expect.

It opens in 1986, with the assassination of the Swedish Prime Minister Olof Palme (a shocking crime, unsolved to this day). A father tells his 6 year old son that it's time to go. The next half of the novel covers the next few years of the unnamed boy traveling through the fringes of Danish society with his father, moving from some seedy make-shift housing to the next, being home schooled, his dad picking up jobs, and his being exposed to things that children shouldn't have to see. I could swallow this because throughout the father was invested in taking care of his son. And they had a great bond and a deep love. But so many questions. What happened to the boy's mom? Was the father a criminal, running from the law? Or was he a hero, running from dark forces? This is definitely a realistic novel, but it has fairy tale metaphors.

Anyway, the tension builds as they move between different situations, and just when you think the dad might be settling down, a shocking event happens.

The second half of the book is roughly divided into the boy being a teenager, and living in a stable environment, but struggling, and he finds out more about his father. The final section is him as a young adult and his resolution. Heartbreaking.

I looked up A Fairy Tale on YouTube and found an English interview with the author who said that he ended this novel with the most hopeful note of anything he's written. I watched this before I finished the book, so when I read the end, I laughed out loud. Which was probably inappropriate.

Rating: 4.5 stars. I started reading this in January and I was really immersed in the dark, gritty story. But then my brother died, and A Fairy Tale was just too raw at that time. I've been picking it up now and again, and thinking it was amazing, but then needing to put it down. I can't remember when it's ever taken me so long to read such a good book. Especially since it was written in very short chapters, which I usually find quick to read.

Why I Read This Now: This has always been physically at the top of my TBR stack since I bought it

>6 kidzdoc: Just here to echo this recommendation for An African in Greenland by Tété-Michel Kpomassie. I read the 1983 English translation by James Kirkup. In addition to the charming autobiography and engaging travel writing, the author is also very good at scene-setting descriptions. 4*

This was a tough one to categorize. The author was born in Germany, moved to Sweden as a young adult, and spent the majority of her adult life in Israel. I chose to put this book under Sweden, since it was written in Swedish, but you may think differently.



Burned Child Seeks the Fire: A Memoir by Cordelia Edvardson, translated from the Swedish by Joel Agee
Published 1984, 106 p.

Cordelia Edvardson was born in 1929 and raised in Berlin by her mother and grandmother. It was not an easy or happy childhood. Her relationship with her mother was difficult and from the age of twelve she did not live at home. Partially this was to protect her step-siblings from the perceived taint of her half-Jewish parentage. Although she was raised Catholic and her mother tried everything to keep her Jewish identity hidden (even having her be adopted by a Spanish couple so that Cordelia could have a Spanish passport), the Gestapo caught her. Cordelia was forced to either sign a paper saying she was Jewish and thus subject to the Nuremburg Laws or her mother would be prosecuted for hiding a Jew, which was treason.

In 1943 Cordelia was taken in a roundup and sent to Theresienstadt. She was fourteen-years-old. When she arrived, she was sent straight to prison for unknowingly having contraband and later released to the general camp. Less than a year later she was deported to Auschwitz where she was forced to labor in various factories. After liberation, she ended up in Sweden, where she became a citizen. Later she spent many years in Jerusalem as a Middle East correspondent for a Swedish newspaper.

Although quite short, this Holocaust memoir covers some themes and events that struck me as not typical. First, although Cordelia is young when most of the memoir takes place, this is not a coming of age story. It′s an adult′s clear-eyed perspective written in the concise language of a journalist. Second, there is no celebration of life after the war ends.

To put it behind her, to forget, to be healthy—the girl felt despair, rage, and hatred turning into a burning ball of fire in her throat. She still lacked words, but if she had had them, she would have screamed: ″But I don′t want it behind me, I don′t want to get healthy, I don′t want to forget! All you ever want to do is ′wipe the slate clean,′ as you all so complacently put it. You want to take my anguish from me, deny it and wipe it away and protect yourselves against my rage, but then you are wiping me our as well, ′eradicating′ me, as the Germans put it, then you deny me too, because I am all that...″

Cordelia struggles in her relationships and as a mother. Even Sweden galls her,

She, who still had a burnt smell in her hair and in her clothes, began to turn every stone and rummage through every heap of refuse, but all she found were some wood lice or the bones of birds. No skeletons marked by torture, no skulls showing evidence of gold teeth having been broken out of the jaw bones, no emaciated corpses of children.

In the midst of so much innocence she found it hard to breathe, and she realized she had to move on.

Cordelia ends up in Israel and, while reporting on the Yom Kippur War, finds acceptance and an odd sense of peace.

The threat of destruction and the people of the land looked each other in the eye with the familiarity of recognition. The survivors returned to the only form of life, the only task and challenge they had learned to master—the struggle for survival. But she felt, here human beings and the forces of destruction were meeting as combatants, the outcome was not predetermined, not this time. This was fair play.

I liked the tone of the memoir. Nothing is wrapped up with a pretty bow, the world is not let off the hook.

Her anger did not permit her to accept the pity and solicitude of others. They would have to try harder than that! She would not allow them to cry over her the way they had sobbed over Anne Frank′s diary…

With the touching letters to ″Kitty″ the world had received its catharsis at much too cheap a price—and pretty young actresses were being given a rewarding part to play on the stage and in the movies. The thought filled her with feelings of hatred.

Yet, Cordelia does find a place and a position that affords her self-respect and self-determination. She marries, has children. The memoir ends with a resounding, ″I am!″

>48 labfs39: This was a tough one to categorize. The author was born in Germany, moved to Sweden as a young adult, and spent the majority of her adult life in Israel. I chose to put this book under Sweden, since it was written in Swedish, but you may think differently.


I feel your pain. I've thrown in the towel with this and invented a category for myself called "It's Complicated." In my reading journal, I use a little flag of the country as an indicator, so for this I use the United Nations flag. Not a great solution, but it's one I can live with until I come up with something better.

I like the United Nations flag idea! I read on someone's thread once that they use the 2 out of 3 rule: where the author was born/current nationality/setting of book. So an author who was born in Lithuania, now has Canadian citizenship, and sets her books in Lithuania, they would put the book under Lithuania. But if the book was set in Canada, then it would be Canadian.

>50 labfs39: That's a good rule and I probably have used something like that in the past, but it was Jumpa Lahiri that broke me . . . born in the UK to Indian parents, US citizen, wrote a book in Italian about Italian. Indian, US, Brit, Italian - all seemed equally wrong

>50 labfs39: In your example, if the author was 1) born in Canada and 2) still lived there and 3) wrote a book set in Lithuania, would you put that book under Canada?

It’s all a question of personal preference, of course. Everyone should do whatever they find to be the most fun, sez I. I count my books where they take place, because I’m recording my reading trips to different locales, regardless of whose eyes I’m seeing the place through. So if I’m seeing Iraq through the eyes of a Latvian, I’m still seeing Iraq. I do give myself some wriggle room, though. If a book were written by an American, say, and was about three American characters hanging out in a hotel in Rome and spending the bulk of their time talking about their American problems, or their family history, or their love lives, but with very little sense of place, Rome-wise, I might not list that book under Italy.

Again, the whole point is to add enjoyment to our reading experiences. So, to each his/her own!

Read on! :)

>51 Nickelini: LOL. I've had a couple of authors lately that challenged me, but Lahiri sounds particularly difficult.

What do you do with authors that were born in, say South Korea, but came to the US as teens or adults and write in English?

>52 rocketjk: Interesting, Jerry. Your way is simple and makes sense, especially if your goal is to get a sense of place. Travelogues, etc. by non-natives fit nicely.

One of the reasons I am focusing on authors' nationality is to support authors from those countries and small publishers. Even though the English translation of the work may be an American publisher, it's usually a smaller press like Archipelago, Europa, Dalkey Archives, etc.

There are so many way to slice this pie, aren't there?

>50 labfs39: That sounds like me! I call it the Ishiguro rule. Born in Japan, he became a British citizen at 4. His The Remains of the Day seems very British (to me) and yet his Artist of the Floating World is about a particular time/place in Japan. So for the purpose of a geographic reading challenge, the former would qualify for England and the latter for Japan. This makes sense to me, because for fiction I want an "insider's view."

I also believe that not every book is going to qualify as "belonging" to a country, as in the examples of Jumpa Lahiri (and Isabelle Allende).

>52 rocketjk: If it was fiction, neither country (since you're reading a Canadian's perspective of the country, not a Lithuanian's perspective). If it was nonfiction and subject matter was Lithuania, then probably Lithuania. If, in your example, the book was instead set in space or a future utopia/dystopia, I would consider it a Canadian book.

>53 labfs39: Interesting...I don't usually take the language in which a book was written into consideration. But, for me, I'd think about how much time the author had spent in Korea versus the US to decide if I thought it counts as an insider's view of Korea.

Henrik Pontoppidan, Lucky Per, translated by Naomi Lebowitz
Earlier this year, I was very surprised that Lion Feuchtwanger and Jew Suss are as little-known as they are. Now, it’s my turn to be shocked that Henrik Pontoppidan and Lucky Per are so little recognized. Feuchtwanger didn’t win a Nobel Prize but Pontoppidan did. Posterity can be cruel. When I read Johannes Jensen’s Fall of the King last year (another work I gave five stars), I noted that “in 1999, two leading Danish newspapers, independently of each other, both named this the best Danish book of the 20th century! Now, having read it, I am completely baffled: why on earth isn’t Jensen better known?” Lucky Per came in number two in those ratings. My reaction is the same.
My thoughts? Read this book. The story is the religious awakening, though not entirely written in those terms, of a young Danish man in the last quarter of the 19th century. Don’t let that put you off. Pontoppidan routinely refers to religion but cleverly underplays it, rarely emphasizing the subject (although it appears often enough) until the end when he does so in a tour de force that I found terribly impressive. It is noteworthy that his depiction of Jews is extraordinarily well-done; that’s particularly important because one of the most important characters in the book is Jewish. His ability to create memorable human characters is admirable: there are few minor characters in the book who are not indelible. I read the Everyman’s Library translation by Naomi Lebowitz (there is another recent one in English as well, surprisingly enough); it seemed excellent to me. Both the introduction (by Danish author Garth Hallberg) and the afterword by the translator are helpful in situating the work in the author’s and the literary times. Indeed, Lebowitz makes an essential observation: Lucky Per owes a great debt to the Grimms’ tale, Hans im Gluck (“Hans in Luck”) the story of a young man who is paid his wages in gold and trades down—first for a horse, then a cow, and so on—until he is left with nothing. But the moral of the tale is that only now is Hans truly happy. After some 550 pages, I was impressed but somehow not quite convinced. Then I read the last chapter. Pontoppidan brings everything together brilliantly. I simply had to sit still in awe and digest how he had done it.

>55 Gypsy_Boy: I was just reading about Lucky Per this past weekend while doing research for the Baltic Sea reading globally theme read starting in January. I was planning to read Niels Lyhne for my Danish selection, but your review is tempting me to change my plans.

>55 Gypsy_Boy: The German title of this is actually Hans im Glück. Thanks for putting this on my radar.

Norway: The Unseen by Roy Jacobsen - 4 stars


A wonderful novel about the early years of Ingrid Barroy who grows up in a small family, living on a remote island off the coast of Norway in the 1920s.

I loved the way the author depicts the beautiful but harsh setting, the challenges the family faces and the subtle way in which a lot is said without actually writing it out. It's the first book in a series and I'm lookng forward to reading the next one, although not too soon because it's a series to be savoured in small doses.

Norway: De eenzaamheid in het leven van Lydia Erneman by Rune Christiansen - 3,5 stars

"The Loneliness in the Life of Lydia Erneman" won the Norwegian Brage Prize in 2014, which according to Wikipedia is a Norwegian literature prize that is awarded annually by the Norwegian Book Prize foundation. The prize recognizes recently published Norwegian literature.
In the reviews I read, this book was mentioned as a book about a woman who loves solitude. In the end the story turned out slightly differently than I had expected, but I enjoyed the special atmosphere that the book radiated, a certain calm and melancholy, little action. However the plotline, if you can call it that, was a bit too flat for me to give this a higher rating. All in all I enjoyed this quiet, little book but did not love it.
I'd recommend it to those who enjoy atmospheric literature, as I do, every so often.

Norway: The Ice Palace by Tarjei Vesaas - 3 stars


Beautifully written story, set in a breath-taking Norwegian landscape, about the budding friendship between two girls that ends abruptly and traumatically. Although the setting is magnificent and the language and the style are beautiful, I thought the story and the characters were too flimsy in itself to leave a lasting impression on me.

SWEDEN



The Wonderful Adventures of Nils by Selma Lagerlöf, translated from the Swedish by Velma Swanston Howard
Original publication 1906 and 1907 (two parts), later combined. English translation 1907, Project Gutenberg 2004, 4*

In 1902 the National Teachers Association of Sweden commissioned Selma Lagerlöf to write a geography book for students. She spent several years studying bird and animal life before writing her internationally famous book about the boy who travels across Sweden with a flock of wild geese.

Nils is a naughty child, and his parents despair over his cruelty, caprice, and laziness. One day, when his parents are at church, Nils captures a tomten (an elf-like creature that looks after the welfare of the farm) and threatens it. As punishment, the tomten turns Nils into one as well. Nils runs outside and discovers he can understand the speech of the birds and animals. When a flock of wild geese fly overhead, a tame gander flies after them, carrying Nils with him.

Thus begins the adventures of Nils as he flies north to Lappland with the geese on their summer migration. His adventures are accompanied by descriptions of the Swedish countryside, often interlaced with legend and tales that make it easy, even for a non-Swede such as myself, to remember. In addition to the topography, Lagerlöf includes information about the habits of animals, the types of plants that grow in each habitat, and information about the types of industry common to each area. The result is a wonderful mix of fact and fiction that reads like adventure but imparts a tremendous amount of information. And Nils returns home a wiser and much nicer little boy.

Originally published as two books, I read them back to back, as the English translation was published as one volume.

ICELAND

I read the German version of this novel, Dunkel by Ragnar Jónasson. It was published as The Darkness in English, the original, Icelandic title is Dimma. The German version was translated from the English text, not the original one.
A Nordic Noir from Iceland - it has a lot of description of the Icelandic mountains and lava landscapes, as well as the weather and the changing of the seasons.



"Dunkel" by Ragnar Jónasson
Series: Hulda / Hidden Iceland
Original Title: Dimma
First published in 2015
Rating: 3 stars - ***

I am only lukewarm about this novel and will not continue with this series. There were some aspects that I enjoyed, most of all the wonderful descriptions of the landscapes of Iceland, which made we want to jump on a plane and travel there instantly. The main character, Hulda, a police officer who is just about to retire and is offered to look into one last cold case, is unusual and interesting. She chooses the death of a young asylum seeker which was quickly written off as a suicide. The book is a page turner. I read it very fast because I wanted to know what happened. The case itself was not the most gripping, but not boring either.
However, there were also a few aspects that were off-putting to me. Hulda is a difficult character and it was often hard to sympathize with her and to understand her actions. I also think that her character was not round and there are some contradictions which made the novel less credible. The most off-potting point, though, was the ending. Apparently Hulda dies in the end, the investigation comes to nothing, her body is not found. It is so frustrating! I do not think that I will read more of this series, if anything by this author, although I have heard that the "Dark Iceland" series is supposed to be better.
I see that many readers love this book, but because of what I mentioned above, it is just not my cup of tea.

Denmark

We spent a long weekend in Denmark over the Whitsunday weekend and there I managed to read Krokodilwächter by Katrine Engberg (Danish original: Krokodillevogteren, English edition: The Tenant). There was a lot of publicity for it when it was first published in Germany, and I rather tend to first avoid hyped up books, but I am happy that I finally got to it because I liked it very much.



"Krokodilwächter" by Katrine Engberg
Series: Kørner & Werner (1)
Original Title: Krokodillevogteren
First published in 2019
Rating: 4 1/2 stars - ****°

This novel is set in Copenhagen and starts with a brutal murder: A young student is killed in the flat she shared with another girl. The murder seems to be connected to the elderly woman who owns the house and lives upstairs, or rather to something she wrote. Jeppe Kørner and Anette Werner, two very different characters, are assigned to the case, but there is no trace of the killer and they are at a loss.
Although the murder is a bit too brutal for my reading tastes, I loved everything else about this novel: The characters, the style, the composition. I could not stop reading and it simply never got boring, but not in a cheap, page-turner type of excitement. I really cared about the story. The only thing I criticize is that in the end, things became a bit too far-fetched in my opinion, and I would have wished for a simpler solution.
The Copenhagen setting is well done, too, I loved the descriptions of the city and the mentioning of streets and places, but it did not overshadow the plot or feel artificial.
I highly recommend this novel and will definitely continue with this series.

>63 MissBrangwen: oh I own that and keep meaning to get to it. Glad to hear it’s good. So many books ….

I’d just love to visit Denmark. Even though I’m lucky enough to get to Europe quite often, we never get anywhere near there because our trips are always planned around family. One day!

I've just finished The Mountains Wait, a memoir by Theodor Broch. Broch was the mayor of the far northern Norwegian town of Narvik when the Nazis invaded in 1940. The book begins with Broch getting away over the mountains into neutral Sweden, having escaped arrest for his resistance activities several months after the Nazi's arrival. But then, quickly, we go 10 years back in time to Broch's arrival in the town with his wife. He is a young lawyer intent on starting a practice away from the bustle (and competition) of Oslo. Pretty soon, Broch finds himself on the city council, and then the town's mayor. In the meantime, war clouds are gathering over Europe, though the folks of this sleepy town somehow assume they'll be spared.

But, of course, they aren't. In April 1940, German destroyers show up in the fjord. The Norwegian Navy ships on hand refuse to surrender, but are almost immediately sunk. Broch describes the Nazi's arrival and occupation of the town, their temporary departure when the English attack, and then their return. He describes well the town's day-to-day life during this time, as well as the dangers and tragedies of the various bombings and naval bombardments that take place.

But, finally, Broch's activities in getting information out to the British and other minor acts of resistance are discovered, and he has to flee. Broch eventually made his way to the U.S., where he became active in trying to raise money for the training and supplying of the Norwegian military and government in exile. He travels the country, especially the midwest, where Norwegian immigrants have been settling for decades. when Broch talks to American college students, he is frequently asked how Norway could have let itself be caught by surprise. That's until the Pearl Harbor attack, when those questions naturally cease. Finally we visit an airfield in Canada where Norwegian airmen are being trained. The Mountains Wait was published in 1943, while the war, obviously, was still ongoing. Broch couldn't know that Norway would still be in German hands when the Nazis surrendered to the Allies.