It’s Monday, what are you reading? #7

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reading-on-mondayI seem to be doing these every other week rather than every week, but I suppose that’s frequent enough.

Books I read in the last two weeks:

  • Hårfine floker! – Tania Kjeldset
  • The Reluctant Fundamentalist – Moshin Hamid
  • Ned til hundene – Helle Helle
  • Fru Björks öden och äventyr – Jonas Gardell
  • Comfort and Joy – India Knight

Books I reviewed in the last two weeks:

  • Hårfine floker! – Tania Kjeldset
  • The Reluctant Fundamentalist – Moshin Hamid
  • Ned til hundene – Helle Helle
  • Comfort and Joy – India Knight

Books I’m reading now:

  • A. A. Milne – Thomas Burnett Swann
  • Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen (Kindle on the HTC)
  • Minaret – Leila Aboulela

Books I’m planning on reading this week:

  • Aké – Wole Soyinka
  • Beneath the Lion’s Gaze – Maaza Mengiste
  • Fragile Things – Neil Gaiman

Snart jul

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Og på En bok om dagen arrengeres det julklappsbyte. Jeg har forsøkt å melde meg på, selv om jeg bor i Norge, jeg har nemlig en venninne i Sverige som jeg jevnlig bruker som postkasse når jeg har behov for en svensk adresse (takk, Linda). Det er nok den beste julebytteringen jeg har hørt om, så jeg håper jeg får være med!

Om du bor i Sverige bør du i alle fall melde deg på så fort du kan, det er kort frist!

Comfort and Joy – India Knight

Mirthful 7 Comments

knight_comfort
Amazon has sent me no less than three emails recently suggesting I might want to buy My Life on a Plate by India Knight, which is silly of them because I already have it – I even think I purchased it from them to start with, though I can’t guarantee that. At the same time they COMPLETELY failed to tell me that India Knight has a new novel out. Luckily I follow @indiaknight on twitter and she told me herself that it was now out in pocket. And people wonder why we need twitter. Sheeesh. Anyway, a few clicks later, a couple of days waiting and bam, there it was in my hands and I fell to it as soon as I finished Helle Helle.

Comfort and Joy lives up to its title, it is nothing less than a feelgood book, and I strongly suggest you treat yourself to it in the run-up to Christmas. It is absloutely the best book you could curl up with in the moments between shopping for last minute gifts, dressing a turkey or worrying about how to get the svor on the ribbe properly sprø (yes, you’d have to be Norwegian to understand that last bit, at least to understand the importance, suffice it to say it’s one of those things that is essential to making Christmas perfect for a lot of people). And if you are too busy with the cleaning, shopping cooking and worrying about sprø svor, then the book will also be a very, very good companion for those peaceful moments that usually happen somewhere between the 25th and the 30th of December*.

The action is set at Christmas in the household of Clara Dunphy – three consecutive Christmases (or Christmi** – oh, I love that word, I think I will adopt it), in fact. I called it a feelgood book, and it is, despite the fact that to a large extent it is about divorce, and how divorce affects both children and adults.

And may I say I adore Clara?

‘I observe that you are,’ he says. ‘You’re very good at holding it together. Always were.’

Wrong thing to say. Just because I’m not doing ugly crying with nose stuff doesn’t mean I have no feelings, the git. Second, it’s so easy to tell someone what they’re like – it exonerates you from having to do any thinking or empathizing: ‘Oh, Clara, she’s absolutely fine, because she’s really good at holding it together. Me, on the other hand… Me, I’m sensitive.’ I mean: fuck off.

(p. 105) Yes, I know that gut reaction. I’ve never had to handle divorce (not my own, nor my parents’), but I’m the sort of person who’s pretty good at holding it together – in public, anyway – and I HATE it when people suggest that that means I don’t really feel anything, or that they somehow deserve more sympathy because they break down and cry instead of holding it together. How about I get some credit for holding it together DESPITE having a shit time? (Which is not to say I have a shit time a lot, life is pretty good, but, you know?)

The following is a quote related to stepfathers and what happens if they break up with your mother. Quite often, of course, that’s basically the last you see of him if you’re the child, nevermind he functioned as you father in everything but genetic material for years and years. Even in so-called well-adjusted families where the adults make an effort, there is no denying that the child’s claims on a stepfather are far from the same as that same child’s claims on a biological parent, and also that if you’re really unlucky you may end up with a series of stepfathers, all suddenly disappearing from your life.

This is the difficulty with stepfathers, I think to myself. They come with their own detonators built in, and as a child you have absolutely no idea if – or when – the detonator’s going to detonate. So you put all your eggs in that particular basket – well, your one egg. Your Egg of Self. One egg, one basket, like one man, one vote. You put your egg in the basket called ‘my new daddy’, and you think, ‘Well, there’s my Egg of Self, I don’t know why I made such a fuss about putting it there: it’s so happy in the basket. Everything’s fine. The egg, and the basket are a pretty good match.’ Sometimes this goes on for ever, in which case everybody is extremely fortunate. But sometimes something comes along and BOOM. Your egg is smashed, tipped out of its cosy basket through no fault of you own. ‘Where’s my new daddy now?’ you think, lying on the ground, which frankly isn’t a very nice thing for any child to think.

(p. 160) Clara and her family handle all the complications of splitting up better than most, I think, which is one of the reasons this book is so lovely: It presents a picture of how these things can actually be handled without big drama and children who are traumatised by parents demanding that they chose «whose side they’re on». I don’t know that I could be that sensible about it myself, but I would sure try if ever I have to – god forbid I ever have to, though.

And did I mention that I love Clara? This is one of the reasons why:

I am astonished by air travel. Astonished. I know it’s the twenty-first century and even babies are used to long-haul flights, but I genuinely marvel every time at the fact you were in place A not so long ago and now you’re in place B, in a whole other country – continent, in our case. It strikes me as one of those things that is actually a proper miracle – albeit one that can be explained

(p. 193) Isn’t it just? You know something else that is magical, though it can be explained? Mobile phones. This struck me a few years ago when I was standing in a supermarket and got a call from my dad. I asked «Where are you?» and he answered «Montreal.» And it did, literally, sound like he was standing next to me. And no cords or anything! Magic, I tell you. (As my father has travelled a lot I have been used to calls throughout my childhood with crackly lines and several seconds lag – and an echo, if you’re really in luck. A clear reception in itself is therefore still something of a novelty.)

This is hardly a coherent review, is it? My apologies. Suffice it to say I loved this book, I laughed and yes, I did cry (on the bus, just a little, towards the end, but nonetheless), and I think you ought to read it.

_____________________

* I should point out that it doesn’t HAVE to be Christmas time for the book to work, even if I just made it sound like that. It’s a bit like the film Love, Actually, which works any time of year but possibly especially well at Christmas, since that’s when it’s set.

** One of Clara’s little sisters used to believe it was spelt Christmus, in which case the plural, naturally, would be Christmi.

Smakebit på en søndag: Minaret

Mirthful 3 Comments

aboulela_minaret

Jeg er i gang med den første boka fra Jorda rundt-listen for november, og så langt er jeg svært interessert i Najwas historie. Hittil er det en blanding av det trivielle og det fundamentale som tiltaler meg, for ofte er det trivielle symptomer på det fundamentale.

‘Last year we were in London and we didn’t fast at all.’
‘Really?’ I couldn’t even imagine Ramadam in London, London in Ramadan.
‘How can anyone fast in London? It would spoil all the fun.’

Flere smakebiter finner du på Flukten fra virkeligheten.

Bokbloggsjerka: Favoritter

Mirthful 5 Comments

Denne ukens spørsmål i bokbloggsjerka må jeg nok endre litt på for at det skal gi særlig mening:

Vilken är din absoluta favoritbok av de som du har läst på ett annat språk än svenska?

Det er vel mer fornuftig å bytte ut svensk med norsk, og siden jeg strengt tatt leser mer engelsk enn noe annet tror jeg jeg tar meg den frihet å fortelle om en favoritt på et annet språk enn norsk eller engelsk… Vel, jeg kunne jo i alle fall forsøke å komme på noen. Det blir jo litt kjedelig å si Helle Helles Ned til hundene, eller? Den var nemlig veldig, veldig bra. Ellers er jo en av de aller beste bøkene jeg har lest faktisk på nynorsk: Maria Parrs Tonje Glimmerdal, og nynorsk er jo forsåvidt et annet språk enn bokmål.

Jeg har forresten også stavet meg gjennom Les Fleurs du Mal av Baudelaire, som var verdt strevet. Anbefales definitivt, særlig om du faktisk kan lese fransk…

The Reluctant Fundamentalist – Moshin Hamid

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The Reluctant Fundamentalist is book of the month at NRK Bok, and since it’s a short book and available for the Kindle I thought I might as well play along. And I’m glad I did.

The novel is a monologue by the young Pakistani Changez, told to an unnamed American visiting Lahore. Changez relates how he was educated at Princeton on a scholarship, was a star student and got a job with the prestigious firm Underwood Samson, who specialize in valueing businesses, and whose motto is «focus on fundamentals».

Focus on the fundamentals. This was Underwood Samson’s guiding principle, drilled into us since the first day at work. It mandated single-minded attention to financial detail, teasing out the true nature of those drivers that determine an asset’s value.

He starts his work with them shortly before 9/11, and the narrative relates how things changed with the terrorist attacks. So does his relationship with a girl named Erica, who has been mentally ill after losing her «soulmate», Chris, to cancer and who slowly slips back into illness after the attacks, retreating to an internal, nostalgic world.

The story is a powerful illustration of how the 9/11 attacks forced a lot of people to chose sides in an argument not of their making. The narrative structure is cleverly constructed, the silent American somehow plays an active part in the monologue, and it draws you in, making it a difficult book to put down. The ending is very open, which is undoubtedly one of the novel’s strengths.

Wasim Zahid suggests in the comments at Bokbloggen that «Erica» is a symbol of «AmErica». I hadn’t noticed the suggestive name, but I had already concluded the same thing. Changez falls in love with Erica in the same way he falls in love with the States, but just as his relationhip with the country deteriorates after 9/11, so does his relationship with Erica. It is hard to avoid the symbolism in that the only time Changez and Erica make love is when Changez asks her to pretend he is Chris, just as he is only accepted the American society when he pretends to be «like them» – after having been to Lahore for Christmas (ironically?) he lets his beard grow, which is commented upon by his peers (and superiors). His answer that a beard is quite common where he comes from does not improve the situation.

And just as Erica retreats into nostalgia, so does the United States:

it seemed to me that America, too, was increasingly giving itself over to a dangerous nostalgia at that time. There was something undeniably retro about the flags and uniforms, about generals addressing cameras in war rooms and newspaper headlines featuring such words as duty and honor. I had always thought of America as a nation that looked forward; for the first time I was struck by its determination to look back.

If Erica’s name is symbolic, surely Changez’ is no less so. Wikipedia tells me it is the Urdu version of «Genghis», which could probably be analyzed, but I cannot imagine that it’s similarity to the English word «Changes» is coincidental.

Relevant links (though in Norwegian): Interview with Wasim Zahid. NRK Bokbloggen on the novel – discussion in the comments.

Ned til hundene – Helle Helle

Mirthful 2 Comments

helle_hundeneNår jeg hadde lest ferdig boka i kveld lukket jeg den og sukket tungt. Mannen lurte på hva som var galt. «Boka er slutt,» sa jeg.

Jeg ble anbefalt denne boka av mjoff på Bokelskere.no (vel, rett skal være rett, Ingalill anbefalte også Helle Helle), og tenkte at den var jo verdt et forsøk siden jeg uansett måtte finne meg noen danske forfattere dersom jeg skulle komme meg gjennom den nordiske utfordringen. Likevel var jeg forberedt på å bli skuffet, mine erfaringer med norsk samtidslitteratur er nedslående, så hvorfor skulle danskene være noe bedre? Vel, ikke vet jeg med danskene, men Helle Helle? Hun er storveis. I alle fall å dømme ut fra Ned til hundene.

Sitatet fra tidligere er altså åpningslinjene i boka. Boka er fortalt i førsteperson, og jeg’et har altså nettopp steget av en buss et sted ved kysten på leting etter et sted å gråte – man må formode i Danmark, men det blir aldri nærmere bestemt. Stedet er nokså øde, og det går slett ikke buss særlig ofte, selv i normalt vær, og nå er det i ferd med å blåse opp til orkan. Jeg’et blir hentet inn av et par som bor i nærheten – Putte og John – og får sove på deres sofa. Og der blir hun, og blir viklet inn både i det dagligdagse og det mer katastrofale. Men det er først og fremst det dagligdagse som preger romanen. Her er kaffedrikking, fyring i vedovnen og lufting av hunder.

Stillferdig og likevel intens. Denne boka kommer til å sitte i en stund. Jeg skal nok lese mer Helle Helle.

Det er noe med språket, med det dagligdagse som likevel sier så mye. Jeg-personen har, framkommer det etterhvert, forlatt samboeren sin i «parcelhuset», men før det har hun vært i en depresjon (eller noe slikt) en tid, og ikke gjort stort – knapt kommet seg opp om morgenen – og i alle fall ikke skrevet, som var det hun burde gjort siden hun er forfatter. Likevel tas det hjelpeløst hensyn:

Han var lige kommet hjem med en gave til mig, en uopsprættet digtsamling fra firserne, han sad ved sofabordet og sprættede den op, så jeg ikke skulle have dét at tænke på, jeg har jo så meget andet for tiden.

Jo. Jeg liker det.

Og slutten, slutten er altså bare så bra som den kan få blitt, egentlig, men du må lese boka selv for å få vite hva som er så bra med den (og om du ikke sukker når du lukker boka etter siste side, ja da vil jeg mene det er deg det er noe galt med).

Smakebit på en søndag: Ned til hundene

Mirthful 1 Comment

helle_hundeneSøndag var jeg på Bogforum – bokmesse i Forum i København. Helle Helle var der og snakket om sin siste bok, men akkurat det prioriterte jeg bort (det var så mye annet som foregikk, og vi skulle jo se på standene også). Det angrer jeg litt på nå som jeg har begynt å lese Ned til hundene, for jeg skule gjerne vist om hun snakker like gripende som hun skriver. Forhåpentligvis får jeg en ny sjanse til å høre henne snakke en annen gang.

Jeg hadde ikke engang lest en hel side i denne boken før jeg måtte grave etter blyant i sekken for å markere minneverdige setninger. Her kommer de første jeg markerte, som faktisk er åpningslinjene i boken:

Jeg leder efter et godt sted at græde. Det er slet ikke let at finde sådan et sted. Jeg har kørt rundt i bus i flere timer, nu sidder jeg på en vakkelvorn bænk helt ude ved kysten. Her er der ingen færger. Kun en pram, der fragter kreaturer frem og tilbage til en ubeboet ø.

Flere smakebiter finner du på Flukten fra virkeligheten.

<3 Libraries

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 libraries

From the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette on Facebook:

Editorial cartoon by Rob Rogers timed for today’s vote on library tax.

This is his editorial description: «All over the country public libraries are coming under siege. The funding is drying up and branches are closing. The lack of access to libraries will hurt the ones who need it most. The library is a great free source that can help even the playing field for those who can’t afford a computer or books or an expensive education. It would be a crime to see them disappear.»

Hårfine floker! – Tania Kjeldset

Mirthful 1 Comment

kjeldsetJeg leste altså Hårfine floker! av Tania Kjeldset i helgen. Det var forsåvidt et hyggelig bekjentskap. Fanny er en sympatisk niåring av typen jeg gjerne skulle vært venn med når jeg var i samme alder (eller nå, for den saks skyld). Boka starter med at alt går på tverke for Fanny, akkurat slik verden kan gå på tverke av og til, og hvor hver nye ting du gjør bare gjør situasjonen verre, samme hvor godt ment handlingen din var. Heldigvis er det alltid lov å si unnskyld.

Fanny har en venninne som heter Klara og er gammel. Det er ikke bare niåringer verden kan gå litt på tverke for, og når alt er som verst for Fanny viser det seg at Klara har minst like store problemer. Fanny bestemmer seg for å hjelpe Klara og når hun gjør det løser hun samtidig de fleste av sine egne floker.

Som sagt er Fanny selv sympatisk, ellers falt jeg vel mest for familien hennes, men ingen av personene i boka er spesiellt utdypende beskrevet. Skal jeg ha noe å innvende er det vel at dette virkelig føltes som en barnebok når jeg leste den – i motsetning til f.eks. Tonje Glimmerdal som føles som en bok, rett og slett. Men den står nå i hylla sammen med de andre «les selv»-barnebøkene i påvente av at ungen skal bli gammel nok til å gjøre nettopp det, og jeg likte den godt nok til å være litt skuffet over at det ikke later til å finnes flere bøker om Fanny. Tania Kjeldset har derimot skrevet en del andre bøker, så jeg kommer vel til å holde utkikk etter dem, tenker jeg, men i første omgang på loppemarked (der også min kopi av Hårfine floker! stammer fra).

Et slags PS: Hadde den utgaven jeg fant hatt det omslaget som den utgaven som nå er i salg har hadde jeg ikke kjøpt den, tror jeg. Og jeg som pleier å si at utseendet til boka ikke har noe å si. I dette tilfellet synes jeg det gir et HELT annet inntrykk av hva slags bok det er, jeg får nærmest et litt sånn «kioskroman for barn»-inntrykk av det nye designet. Men det er nå meg.