T
he little redhousewith thewhite
window framestandsamong the
silentpines, justas I’d imagined it.
Behind it, a fewstepsaway, a rocky
beachstretchesaway to theendof
the island.Thestillnessof thiswintermorning is
disturbedonlyby thedistant lapof thewaves.Even
in thebone-achingcoldof aJanuarymorning, it
seems tomeaplacewhosenaturalbeautywould
makea lasting impressiononagrowingchild.
Thatweareshapedby theplaceswegrowup
isa fact that rings true forall ofus, even for those
who try toescape it. It’salsooneof theconclusions
tobedrawn froma readingof
MinKamp
(
My
Struggle
), theseriesof sixautobiographicalnovelsby
NorwegianwriterKarlOveKnausgård.
Since thefirstof theserieswaspublished in2009,
thebookshavebeennotable for twomain reasons:
their level ofminute,not tosayobsessive,detail
about theauthor’searly life, and their runaway
popularity. Inhisnative land they’vesold600,000
copies, roughlyone foreverynineNorwegians.
They’vebeen translated into30-plus languages,
garneringglowing reviewsalong theway.His
meticulousmeditationsonmemoryandcharacter
haveevenwonhimcomparisonswithProust.
“The story of a boy becoming a
man in Norway in the 1970s has a
hypnotic effect on the reader”
All thisgoessomeway towardsexplaininghow I
endedupona lonelybeach insouthernNorwayon
asnowywintermorning.Although I came late to
MyStruggle
, Imadeup for lost timebydevouring,
overa fewmonths last summer, the fourvolumes
so far translated intoEnglish (thefifth,
SomeRain
MustFall,
finallycomesout thismonth).Gripped,
assomanyothershavebeen, from thefirstpage, I
marvelledat theway theapparentlyartlessstoryof a
boybecomingaman in theNorwayof the 1970sand
’80s,narratedovermore than3,600pages, exercises
analmosthypnoticeffecton the reader.
Althoughhewasborn inOslo,Knausgård’s
formativeyearswerespent inKristiansandand
on thenearby islandofTromøya,which– in the
absenceof amovieadaptation– iswhere fansmust
come topay their respects. Iwanted toseehow true
to lifehisdescriptionswere.And Iwascuriousabout
his relationship to theplaceswherehehad lived:
hadhiswritingshapedandchanged them, aswell as
theotherwayaround?
Kristiansandwas in thegripof acoldsnap,with
temperatureshovering, or rather shivering, around
the -15
o
Cmark. “Yesterday itwas -16
o
C,” locals told
mebrightly, as if thiswas tantamount toaheatwave.
But thesunshone fromacloudlesssky, giving the
snow-cladsceneasparkleof steelyblue.
»
This page, from top
⁄
KarlOveKnausgård’s
grandmother’shouse;view
fromOdderøya island;
KristiansandCrematorium,
sceneofhisfather’s funeral
Opposite & previous
⁄
The familyhomeonTromøya
andthebeachbehind
052\
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