Gjennom natten

by Stig Sæterbakken

Sorg kommer i så mange former. Den er som et lys som slås av og på. Den er der, og er uutholdelig, og så forsvinner den, fordi den er uutholdelig, fordi det ikke går an å ha den der hele tiden. Man fylles og tømmes. Tusen ganger om dagen glemte jeg at Ole-Jakob var død. Tusen ganger om dagen husket jeg det plutselig. Begge deler var uutholdelig. Å glemme ham var det verste jeg kunne gjøre. Å huske ham var det verste jeg kunne gjøre. En kulde kom og gikk. Men aldri varme. Det fantes bare kulde og fravær av kulde. Som å stå med ryggen mot havet. Iskalde ankler, hver gang en bølge slo inn. Så rant den vekk. Så kom den tilbake.Tannlege Karl Meyer opplever sitt livs verste redsel da sønnen, Ole-Jakob, tar sitt eget liv. Det tragiske dødsfallet danner utgangspunktet for en mangetydig og rikt forgrenet roman som stiller grunnleggende spørsmål ved erfaringen. Hva gjør sorg med et menneske? Hvordan leve videre med smerten fra et uoverkommelig tap? Hvor langt kan en mann drives i sin fortvilelse og savnet etter et mistet barn?Gjennom natten er en mørk fortelling om sorgens og kjærlighetens uransakelige veier, med trekk fra drømmen, eventyret og skrekkromanen.

Genres: Fiction, Scandinavian Literature, Novels, Literature, Contemporary, Thriller, Psychology

265 pages, Hardcover

First published September 1, 2011

About the author

Stig Sæterbakken was a Norwegian author. He published his first book at the age of 18, a collection of poems called Floating Umbrellas, while still attending Lillehammer Senior High School. In 1991, Sæterbakken released his first novel, Incubus, followed by The New Testament in 1993. Aestethic Bliss (1994) collected five years of work as an essayist.

Sæterbakken returned to prose in 1997 with the novel Siamese, which marks a significant departure in his style. The following year saw the release of Self-Control. And in 1999, he published Sauermugg. The three books, the S-trilogy—as they are often called—were published in a collected edition in 2000.

In February 2001, Sæterbakken's second collection of essays, The Evil Eye was released. As with Aestethic Bliss this book also represents a summing up and a closing of a new phase in the authorship. In many ways the essays throw light on Sæterbakken's own prose over the last years, the S-trilogy in particular.

Siamese was released in Sweden by Vertigo. Vertigo followed up with a translation of Sauermugg in April 2007. This edition, however, was different from the Norwegian original. It included some of the later published Sauermugg-monologues, together with left overs from the time the book was written, about 50 pages of new material all together. The expanded edition was entitled Sauermugg Redux. Siamese has since been translated into Danish, Czech and English.

Sæterbakken's last books were the novels The Visit, Invisible Hands, and Don't Leave Me. He was awarded the Osloprisen (Oslo Prize) in 2006 for The Visit. Invisible Hands was nominated for both the P2-listener's Novel prize and Youth's Critics' Prize in 2007. The same year he was awarded the Critics Prize and Bokklubbene's Translationprize for his translation of Nikanor Teratologen's Eldreomsorgen i Øvre Kågedalen.

Sæterbakken was artistic director of The Norwegian Festival of Literature from 2006 until October 2008, when he resigned owing to the controversy which arose when David Irving was invited to the festival in 2009.

Sæterbakken's books were released and translated in several countries, among them Russia and US. April 2009 Flamme Forlag released an essay by Sæterbakken, in their series of book-singles, called Yes. No. Yes.

Sæterbakken committed suicide on January 24, 2012, aged 46.

Reviews

[Guille · Rating 4 out of 5]

“El dolor es un regalo. Las personas que no son infelices, no tienen nada que decir”

Desgraciadamente para él, afortunadamente para nosotros, Stig Sæterbakken tenía mucho que decir en esta su última novela antes de suicidarse.

«A través de la noche» es uno de esos libros con los que uno se lo pasa bien pasándolo mal, en los que uno se siente incómodamente culpable por sentirse atraído por el dolor ajeno, fascinado por su exhibición y, al tiempo, con el embarazo propio de alguien que es sorprendido observando un momento íntimo en el que no le corresponde estar presente. De esta experiencia se sale queriendo pasar más tiempo con aquellos a quienes queremos, vivir ese tiempo de una forma más intensa, pero también, al hacernos patente todo eso que damos por hecho y establecido, despertará o agudizará nuestro miedo a perderlos. Es por eso que, aunque la novela tiene cierto tono juvenil, el fondo será más del gusto de lectores con algunas experiencias ya a sus espaldas.

El punto de partida de la narración es demoledor, un profesional acomodado, casado con una mujer bella e inteligente y con dos hijos adolescentes, abandona todo por una amante para casi inmediatamente darse cuenta de su error y volver a casa.

“Todo deseo de libertad se basa en una equivocación.”

Al poco tiempo, su hijo se suicida estrellando su coche contra un camión.

En un instante, el protagonista experimenta brutalmente como su presente estalla en mil pedazos, como se desbarata cualquier posibilidad de futuro y como su pasado se va convirtiendo en un artefacto explosivo que amenaza con arrasarlo todo. Así se siente el protagonista de esta triste y dura historia, presa de un dolor insoportable acrecentado por un devastador sentimiento de culpa por lo hecho y no hecho, por lo dicho y no dicho, por no haber sabido a tiempo.

Sæterbakken, con un lenguaje directo, transparente y efectivo consigue transmitirnos toda la desesperación del personaje sin caer en ningún tipo de pornografía sentimental. El autor nos sumerge en este horror en el que pueden pasar semanas hasta que uno pueda llorar por la muerte de su hijo; en el que uno puede sorprenderse riéndose a carcajadas por un chiste sin gracia; en el que uno puede odiar a su yo futuro que ve la televisión sin tener en mente a su hijo muerto; en el que uno se niega la posibilidad de otra vida en otra parte, con otras gentes; en el que uno puede odiar las palabras que tantos han pronunciado antes en ocasiones parecidas y que ya nada expresan; en el que uno puede escandalizarse al observar a personas paseando a su alrededor ajenas por completo a su tragedia personal; en el que uno se odia por no haber sabido cumplir con su más alto deber en la vida, proteger a su hijo; en el que uno puede llegar a creerse lo más inverosímil, cualquier cosa que le ofrezca una pizca de horizonte o la posibilidad del castigo redentor; un mundo inverosímil en el que uno hace justo lo único que no debe hacer, lo único que le dijeron que no debía hacer, dormirse.

Así, uno lee las últimas páginas emocionado y absolutamente convencido de que el autor tiene más razón que un santo cuando dice aquello de…

“Solo conoce su destino el que lo desconoce.”

Y ahí es cuando recibes el empujón que te sumerge en un mar de desconcierto sin poder precisar en qué dirección está la superficie y sin acertar a decidir si esta última vuelta de tuerca favorece en algo a la novela.

[MJ Nicholls · Rating 5 out of 5]

This novel swayed to my recent existential rhythms: nooked up in my bed listening to the theatrical tumult of Swans’ White Light From the Mouth of Infinity, all dressed up in decorative gloom (or black PJs). This novel with its slow-burning terror, its epic heartbreak, its beyond-black humour, sways to that Swans sound. A first-person account of a collapsing marriage and the loss of a son does not sound like riveting material, but Stig (who died last year—extra gloom), makes it all seem fresh and opens new wounds to deliver a punishing account of catastrophic grief and a fly-on-the-wall account of an extramarital affair, lacking any false glamour, all wrenching sadness. Alongside, a strange House of Leaves-style storyline lifts the novel into peculiar heights of brilliance (no spoilers, except the final few chapters are lethal and should be prescribed on the NHS). A dazzling Swans-song from Stig.

[Justo Martiañez · Rating 3 out of 5]

3/5 Estrellas
La verdad es que pocas veces el título de un libro es tan acertado, ya que nuestro protagonista se va adentrando a medida que avanza el libro, en una noche cada vez más oscura, en una sueño onírico que desemboca en pesadilla.
A veces, una pequeña decisión, acudir a una fiesta por ejemplo, desencadena toda una serie de consecuencias, que pueden echar al traste toda una vida, una familia feliz. Estas consecuencias arrastran al protagonista a una espiral de culpa y autodestrucción, que acaba en el mayor de los horrores posibles.
No había leído al autor, pero su prosa es espectacular (la traducción acompaña, por supuesto), a veces un poco oscura, con tantos detalles y descripciones que acabas perdiéndote entre sus recovecos. Muchas veces no sabes qué está ocurriendo, hacia donde nos dirigimos, el autor y el lector están perdidos en el espacio y en el tiempo.....sin embargo el final, lo explica todo.
Cuando lees la biografía del autor y ves que se trata de su última novela y que se suicidó poco después, entiendes muchas cosas del tono y de muchos pasajes del libro.
No sé si se trata de una lectura recomendable, pero es un buen libro.

[Hulyacln · Rating 4 out of 5]

‘Dünya benim içimde. İçimde yaşayıp yok oluyor, diğerlerinin de içinde yaşayıp öldüğü gibi... İçimdekilerle, onların içindekiler arasında bir bağ kurmadan... Birbirimizden ayrı yaşıyoruz. Birisiyle hayatımızı paylaştığımıza kendimizi ikna ediyoruz ama bu doğru değil, yalnız yaşıyoruz biz, yalnız yaşayan başkalarıyla çevriliyiz sadece.’
.
Karl Meyer eşi ve iki çocuğuyla sakin bir yaşam sürüyor. Noeller coşkuyla kutlanıyor, kızı Stine ve oğlu Ole-Jakob yavaşça büyüyor. Eşi Eva görene huzur veren neşesini koruyor.
Sonra Mona çıkıveriyor. Karl Meyer hiç aklında yokken kendini başka bir kadının yanında , başka bir hayatın içinde buluyor.
Sonrası.. Sonrasını Meyer hatırlamak istemiyor.. Şunu söylemeli belki : kendini suçlu hissediyor.
Her şey için, gidişi için, kaçışı için.. Elinden geldiği kadar çabalıyor tabi, yetebildiği ve yetinebildiği kadar..
.
Norveçli yazar Stig Sæterbakken, bu kitabı yayımlandıktan sonra intihar ediyor. Bunu bilmek, onun vasiyetini okuyormuşçasına- onun kuytusuna girivermişçesine bir tedirginlik yarattı bende.
Kitabın sakin dilinin altında yatan varlık ve yaşam sorgusu ile birlikte..
Bir evladın yitirilmesi, aldatmak ve aldanmak, dalgasız denizde giden bir kayığın birden alabora olması gibi insanı sarsan konuların işlendiği Gece Boyunca beni oldukça etkiledi. İskandinav edebiyatında sıkça karşımıza çıkan baş karakterlerin kasveti, içe dönüklüğü bu kitapta da bizimle.. Ve kitap boyunca aklımda hem karakterler hem de yazarla ilgili pek çok soru vardı: Stig Sæterbakken, Ole-Jakob’u yazarken neler düşündü örneğin. Eva, eşi bir başkasına gittiğinde o evde iki çocuğu ile ne hissetti?
Bir de mekanlar var tabii.. Kitapta Meyer bulunduğu evin ruhunu yansıtıyordu.. Her evde ayrı bir ruh, ayrı içsel çekişmeler.. Ben de böyle miyim? Hiçbirimiz kabuğunu yüklenen salyangozlar gibi olamaz mıyız?

[Josh · Rating 5 out of 5]

Now that I have finished Saeterbakken's 'S Trilogy', spread over several years, I can take a breath and say that the finale, 'Through the Night' was the darkest of the three. After liking the realistic, yet weird co-dependency issues of marriage that he writes about in 'Siamese' and wanting to like the somewhat boring 'Self-Control' and ultimately rounding it up to a 3 due to the ending, 'Through the Night' succeeded my expectations. The emotional torment seeped crimson all over these pages; not only a father losing a child to suicide, but also an author screaming about his own issues (which shortly after release led to his own demise) is obvious. You could call this his swan song as it shows some of the most powerful prose of the three books.

The authors that write these types of books are often, if not always the troubled ones.

There are more Ole-Jakob's out there than many of us realize. You may even see him in yourself.

[Babywave · Rating 3 out of 5]

3,5 🌟
Ich bin gut in die Geschichte eingestiegen und kam beim Lesen gut voran….. bis sich der Protagonist in surrealen Sequenzen und Traumszenen vollends verliert….. und um Verlust geht es auch…. Der Verlust einer geliebten Person durch Suizid und den Zerfall/ den Verlust der kompletten Familie…. bis hin zur Selbstaufgabe. Die Geschichte ist tragisch. Jedoch erschien mir der Hauptprotagonist wie ein orientierungsloser, egoistischer Mensch. Er verliebt sich und verfällt der jeweiligen Angebeteten sehr schnell und entliebt sich auch wieder…. Er trennt sich von seiner Ehefrau und zieht mit einer 20 Jahre jüngeren Frau zusammen und verliert seine Kinder aus dem Fokus….. so sehr und so weit…. Bis sich sein Sohn das Leben nimmt…… Und dann existiert die Schuldfrage….. Ein aufwühlendes, dunkles, trauriges Buch. Mich hat jedoch primär der Egoismus und die instabile Persönlichkeit dieses beschriebenen, erwachsenen Mannes schockiert. Daher konnte mich der wirkliche Kern der Geschichte nicht all umfassend erreichen bzw. berühren…. Leider.
Eine traurige Geschichte, die für den Autor selbst zum Schicksal wurde. Denn er nahm sich 2012 das Leben…. Ich denke, dass es SEINE persönliche Nacht war….. Das hat mich tief berührt und wird mich noch etwas beschäftigen.

[Hux · Rating 3 out of 5]

Narrated by a man named Karl who informs us, bluntly, and immediately, of the death of his son, Ole-Jakob, dropping us into a sudden fever of excitement and horror at such a terrible occurrence. Then the next chapter jumps back in time to when they were all a family and everything was fine.

Once again, I am going to have to quote Rick and Morty. "We should start our stories where they begin, not start them where they get interesting."

What follows is an unbearably dull (and painfully middle-class) story of Karl, a dentist, and how he meets his equally banal middle-class wife, Eva, and the children they have, and the affair Karl has with a woman called Mona; and then there's a great deal of navel-gazing and hand-wringing, and middle-class hijinks. I was actually enjoying the writing but found the content to be so unutterably tedious and indulgent. It felt, to me, that Saeterbakken was doing an awful impression of Kundera and mimicking the mundane qualities of The Unbearable Lightness of Being. But the problem is, this book (and the protagonist, Karl) simply aren't interesting enough. Tomas lives in a Communist country and is, without apology, an unpleasant and selfish man. But Karl lives in a comfortable western country and is endlessly presented (mostly by himself) as a good egg who only has noble intentions at heart. None of it remotely convinces or results in a worthwhile story. The death of his son feels like a plot (or rather a character study) convenience with nothing but cynicism and cliche at its source. I really did find it dull and derivative. Only the appearance of his sister, who writes boring middle-class novels, provided a modicum of entertainment.

Then comes the final third. And suddenly the book transforms into something weird and fascinating, a mad dream of surreal panic and fear. It's utterly mesmerising and comes out of nowhere. Earlier in the book there is a throwaway comment (a story) about a house in Slovakia where people seeking answers go and are confronted by their darkest fears and their truest selves. The book ends with Karl actually going there and being tormented by the ongoing grief of his loss in a strange and unnerving manner. The book changes gear entirely, begins to swirl in waves of madness, and you're left isolated in a horror story of utter bleakness and despair. Where did this come from? Finally the book got good. But alas... far too late for me.

Before any of that, however, we have to endure the most banal middle-class nonsense imaginable. As a book exploring grief it was full of cliches and mediocrity. As a book exploring the ennui and emptiness of a man's western life, it was too slow and meandering. Only at the end, when it became a bizarre ghost story, an existential nightmare (mildly reminiscent of Hesse's Steppenwolf), did it get interesting. But I was already checked out by then.

Definitely worth a look though.

[Joshua Cross · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the most terrifying and perplexing novels I've read. Part domestic drama, part horror story, "Through the Night" is a meditation on grief that borrows heavily from the equally horrific worlds of fairy tale and nightmare. The ending left me with more questions than I began with, and haunted by images that will stick with me for years to come.

"Grief is a gift; people who aren't unhappy, they have no say."

"Everything is as it ought to be. Until it's no longer that way. The only person who knows their fate is the one who doesn't know it."

[Jonathan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Deserves to be read for the final third in particular, which had me more tense than any horror film...

[Larnacouer de SH · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ama yangını başlatan ben değildim.

//

İskandinav edebiyatın o keskin travmatik soğuk kalemini çok net hissediyorsunuz kitapta. Konu gereği hassas zaten. Üzüleceğinizi bile bile başlıyorsunuz okumaya ilk sayfadan sonu belli. Bir dahaki challenge’a lades maddesi koyacağım, dönüp bunu okursunuz.

[Mayk Can Şişman · Rating 5 out of 5]

Norveçli yazar Stig Sæterbakken’le tanışma kitabım oldu ‘Gece Boyunca’. Aile, intihar, pişmanlık gibi konulara değinen; okuyucuyu metine hapseden, iyi yazılmış, iyi çevrilmiş bir kitaptı. Çok akıcı ve vurucuydu, bayıldım tek kelimeyle kitaba. Yazarın intihar etmeden önce kaleme aldığı son eser olması ve hayranlık uyandıran soğukkanlılığı ile pişmanlığın zarif anlatımı beni çok etkiledi. Umarım yazarın daha çok kitabı Türkçeye çevrilir. ‘S-Üçlemesi’nin ilk kitabı ‘Siyam’ı okumak için sabırsızlanıyorum...

[Sophie · Rating 1 out of 5]

Abgebrochen auf S. 227.
Ich erwartete einen Roman voll tiefster Zerrissenheit, eine Familie, die völlig am Abgrund steht, weil der Sohn sich das Leben nahm. Stattdessen gibt es ausschweifende Kapitel über die Affäre des Vaters, der seine Familie gleich zweimal verlässt und dann zu irgendeiner Art "Horrorhaus" in der Slowakei aufbricht.
Irgendwann hatte es mich leider völlig verloren...

[Gedankenlabor · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Durch die Nacht" von Stig Sæterbakken hat mich positiv überrascht, muss ich sagen. Ich war mir nicht ganz sicher, was hier auf mich zu kommen würde und empfand den Schreibstil gleich zu Beginn schon wirklich einnehmend. Karls Trauerbewältigung spitzt sich innerhalb der gesamten Familie zu und dies aus der Sicht eines Mannes näher gebracht zu bekommen fand ich mitunter sehr interessant!
Ein kleiner Minuspunkt war für mich hier lediglich, dass wir als Leser so wenig von Ole-Jakob erfahren...Mich hätte sein Hintergrund, der ihn zu diesem Suizid geführt hat sehr interessiert und wäre glaube ich ein Punkt gewesen, der das Buch noch ein bisschen tiefgreifender und intensiver insgesamt gemacht hätte.
Dennoch ein lesenswertes Buch, das wie ich finde wirklich mal auf ganz andere Weise an den Leser heran tritt.

[Tubi(Sera McFly) · Rating 4 out of 5]

Var oluş, ölüm, sevgi ve pişmanlıklar üzerine içe dönük bir anlatı. Beklemediğiniz anlarda can evinden vuran cümleleri var yazarın.

Kitabın ilk bölümünde Karl ve Eva'nın evliliğinin Karl'ın evlilik dışı ilişkisi nedeniyle çöküşüne, duygulara kapılmanın coşkusuna, ardından gelen yoğun tatminsizlik hislerinin tetiklediği var oluş sorgulamalarına ve ailenin yaşadığı trajediyle hikayenin yön değiştirmesine tanık oluyoruz. Kronolojik bir sırayla değil geriye dönüşlerle yazmış yazar tüm bunları.

Kitabın ikinci bölümündeyse Karl'ın çıktığı bir yolculukta geçmişiyle hesaplaşmasını, bu yolculukta karşısına çıkan insanlara karşı tavırlarını, kendini tekinsiz, gizemli ve umutsuz bir "son yolculuk" evi olduğu söylenen bir evde bulmasını okuyoruz. Evin atmosferi Yapraklar Evi'ni andıran ürkütücü bir hikayeye davetiye çıkaracak gibi olsa da, yazar asıl korkmamız gerekenin insan ruhu, kendi benliğimiz ve bilinçaltımız olduğunu vurgulayan bir yapıda sonlandırıyor hikayeyi. Gizemlerle dolu bir hikayedense Karl'ın kitabın final bölümünde yer alan Noel anılarında gördüğümüz gibi, kendi cehennemiyle ve cennetiyle yüzleşmesi söz konusu.

"İz bırakmadan kaybolmak değil, hiçbir iz taşımadan varmak."

Sıkça karşımıza çıkan orta yaşlı Avrupalı erkek bunalımı hikayelerinden fazlasını vererek pişmanlığa dair çarpıcı bir hikaye anlatıyor yazar. Romanın trajik anlarını boğucu bir okumaya yol açmadan kaleme almış. Depresif değil buruk hissettiriyor. Ayşe Erbulak'ın çevirisi de hem yoğun hem akıcı bir okuma vaat ediyor.

[Yvonne (go.for.a.walk.chuma) · Rating 3 out of 5]

Die schöne Sprache und das bewegende Thema reichten leider für mich nicht. Im letzten Drittel hat mich der Autor verloren. Schade.

[Antonomasia · Rating 4 out of 5]

A very curious mixture of mundane litfic (albeit well-expressed) and the dark and leftfield. Karl, a middle-aged Norwegian dentist, has an affair. A while later, his depressed teenage son dies in a car crash that may have been suicide.* Falling into his own spiral of despair, Karl ends up in Slovenia, at a house said to confront those who walk into it with their greatest fears.

Sæterbakken said that he didn't see himself as a Norwegian or Scandinavian writer - his influences were from elsewhere in Europe, or were American. I missed the sense of place, the peculiar details of another country and its culture - in this respect it was slightly blank, miscellaneously Western, and the use of American vocab in the translation added to the frustration. (Dalkey are not big enough to tweak translations for different markets.) I had wanted to read a translated novel, not an American one!

What was very special - I completely understand why so many people give this book 5 stars - was the intensity with which so many of Karl's thoughts are expressed. There were various metaphors which I've thought inwardly and never dared use aloud, and to see them articulated was cathartic. Sometimes I got the feeling that Sæterbakken was really writing about himself, rather than getting fully into character: there was such absorption in thought of the sort that only a quiet or creative life allows, and not quite enough about how Karl's inner experience meshed with professional and family life.

During the earlier part of the book, dealing with the affair, I kept returning to the thought that this was a system problem, the convention that he had to be thrown out of the household for it in this violent schism, and that a slightly more relaxed attitude to long-term monogamy (whilst not having to sweep anyone's pain under the carpet) would have saved this family a world of trouble. This wasn't discussed in the book though, but a response to the extremity of pain everyone seemed to be in.

Something I've noticed a few times this year - and Through The Night was one of the first books like this - is that I'm not nearly as averse to horror in writing as I thought I was, with the proviso that human intention is what counts. I can tolerate much more when the cause is non-existent supernatural entities, or animals, but far less when the culprits are malevolent humans. (I am even haunted for days or weeks afterwards by some descriptions of meat.)

The house. There are a number of reviews saying how scary it was, yet aside from about one outright hallucinatory page, to me it simply felt like a brilliant evocation of viewing dank old probate-sale houses. Maybe I think more hauntologically than average (if so I didn't realise), seeing things vividly and imagining stuff in that sort of situation without finding it overwhelmingly bothersome. It was still a great piece of writing, just not exactly frightening.

If you start this and find it getting mundane (after a rollercoaster of a first chapter which goes from taking an axe to household appliances, to adorable original fairytales) it is certainly worth persevering with - it gets much better again later, and there is much better writing than you'll see in most recently-published novels.



* For some reason, many reviewers buy anguished Karl's interpretation that it definitely was suicide. (Influenced by the author's own, not long after this was published?) Reckless self-destructive behaviour, death by misadventure seems like an equally plausible interpretation of the facts.
Also, an unknowable mystery: how did Sæterbakken relate having written this book about grief to his own decision to kill himself? Perhaps in the end he was unable to focus in that way. Or had it been an attempt to talk himself out of it?

[Álvaro · Rating 3 out of 5]

Es un libro muy raro, muy personal, muy interior.
Un libro que va pasando de 4 estrellas a 2, luego a 3, a 4 otra vez, vuelve a 3....muy oscilante.
Para contar lo que pienso, necesito contar la estructura, no meto espoilers, pero algo cuento....

El libro empieza flojo, un monólogo interior en el que el protagonista nos relata su vida familiar, y, por ejemplo, dedica 10 páginas a describir con pelos y señales un cuento que cuenta a su hijo cada noche. A punto estuve de abandonar.

De repente, el libro despega, el protagonista empieza a cuestionar, y cuestionarse, todo aquello que le (nos) hace feliz, el amor a su mujer, la estabilidad, tiene una aventura, duda, afronta el suicidio de su hijo (no revelo nada, lo dice en la solapa), se pregunta y nos pregunta, nos hace pensar.
Aquí el libro alcanza una altura considerable.
Ya llevamos la mitad (exacta) de la novela, y la cosa, después de todo, promete....

Justo en ese momento la novela vuelva a cambiar, y se convierte en un relato alucinado y onírico de cómo el protagonista deambula por ciudades de Europa en busca de una "casa mágica", al más puro estilo lobo estepario, en la que encontrará la respuesta al dolor que siente por su hijo perdido.
Esta parte el libro vuelve a pegar un bajón, ya que se narran largos paseos, y conversaciones de bar con personajes bohemios, que, al menos para mí, no tienen mucho sentido, y no aportan ni a la trama, ni empujan a la reflexión.
Tres cuartas partes del libro, y dudas de hacia donde va, miro la portada para asegurarme de que estoy leyendo el mismo libro que hace 50 páginas...

Y entonces el protagonista encuentra la casa, y pasa a ser un libro casi de terror, con muy buena creación de atmósferas (me llega a recordar a "la casa de hojas"), y un final esperado/inesperado, bastante redondo.
Y Fin.

Como veis, no se que pensar del libro, las partes buenas son muy,muy buenas, pero las más flojas parecen copias de estilos ajenos, y derivaciones innecesarias.

¿Lo recomendaría? Hasta la mitad del libro, sin dudas.
En su totalidad, uhmmmm....¿cuánto tiempo tienes?

[Buchdoktor · Rating 4 out of 5]

Seit Ole-Jakob sich das Leben genommen hat, ist um Karl Meyer und seine Familie ständig Nacht. Auch Ole-Jakobs Zimmer spricht mit schwarzer Schrift an der Decke und einer defekten Spielkonsole eine düstere Sprache. Dass andere Menschen einfach weiterleben können wie bisher, wirkt auf Karl wie Hohn. Seine Frau Eva hat nur noch Kraft für ihren Beruf, nicht mehr für ihre Angehörigen; die Tochter Stine verstummt. Mittels akribisch genauer Beobachtungen verarbeitet der verwaiste Vater seine alles verschlingende Trauer. Karls Gedanken kreisen darum, ob seine Affäre mit Mona den Tod seines Sohnes verschuldet haben könnte. Linderung verspricht ihm der Ex-Mann seiner Schwester, ein Autor aus der Slowakei. Er kann ein Haus tief im Landesinnern vermitteln, das angeblich extremste Ängste und Gefühle heilen soll. Jeder würde dort „das bekommen, was er nicht haben will“.

In Rückblenden erinnert Karl sich an die Anfangszeit seiner Beziehung zu Eva und an seine Gefühle als junger Vater. Mit Eva heiratete er damals eine ernsthafte, reife Person, die bereits ein Bild ihres zukünftigen Zuhauses im Kopf trug - der komplette Gegensatz zu Karls jugendlichem Chaotentum. Karl analysiert die Entwicklung seiner Beziehung zu Frauen sehr sachlich. Als Leser könnte man sich fragen, warum ein klar strukturiert denkender Mann wie er es mit seiner Familie so weit kommen lassen konnte. Mit einer beinahe toxischen Kommunikation scheint das Paar seine Krise erst herbeigeredet zu haben. Ein Blick auf Ole-Jakob, der allein in seinem Zimmer Tabletop-Figuren setzt, hätte die Beteiligten längst aufrütteln müssen. Doch Evas Sorgen um Ole-Jakob hatte Karl abgewimmelt, obwohl auch er sich um seinen Sohn sorgte. Ein Aussprechen des Problems wäre für Karl vermutlich zugleich ein Eingeständnis seiner Schuld gewesen. Grübelnd, ob in Ole-Jakobs Leben ein Bruch zu bemerken gewesen ist und ob dessen Probleme über durchschnittliche Pubertätskonflikte hinausgingen, zweifelt Karl zunehmend an seiner Erinnerung und weckt beim Leser Befremden über seine Ichbezogenheit. Die Antwort, warum die Verantwortung für seinen Sohn hinter einer Affäre zurückstehen musste, bleibt Karl m. A. nach schuldig.

Stig Sæterbakken nahm sich mit 46 Jahren das Leben. In „Durch die Nacht“ beobachtet er höchst sensibel den Trauerprozess eines Mannes, der schon lange über seine Ehe, seine Affären und seine heranwachsenden Kinder hätte nachdenken müssen. Dabei erkundet der Autor jede Verästelung der Gefühle seines schwierigen Protagonisten. Sæterbakkens Icherzähler durchlebt nach meinem Empfinden im Begreifen dieses Selbstmords und seines Versagens als Vater nur eine geringfügige Entwicklung und wirkt genau darin absolut glaubwürdig. Als Chronik eines Trauerprozesses aus Sicht eines Mannes ist „Durch die Nacht“ sicher ein bemerkenswertes Buch. Weil Ole-Jakobs Probleme eine so geringe Rolle spielen, konnte es mich jedoch nicht völlig überzeugen.

[Bruno · Rating 5 out of 5]

Maledetti norvegesi, vi amo.

Il lento disfacimento di un matrimonio, la morte di un figlio, i rimorsi, i rimpianti, un dolore tirranico e schiacciante. Una misteriosa casa in Slovacchia dove le più segrete paure sembrano prendere vita. Un romanzo dalla scrittura penetrante denso di quesiti esistenziali.
L'ultima parte mi ha davvero scosso profondamente.

Mi sono innamorato di Sæterbakken dopo aver letto questo suo meraviglioso saggio sulla concezione della vita e dell'arte e ho ritrovato in Through the Night tutto quello che mi aveva affascinato. Uno scrittore che aveva tanto da dire ma che purtroppo si è tolto la vita proprio qualche anno fa. Assolutamente da approfondire.

I stared out the window. There wasn't anything to see out there, it seemed as though someone had snuck in and stolen the landscape. Then I noticed a streak of dirt on the glass and I remembered something my mother used to say: "The windows of a house are the calling cards of the people who live inside." Reflected in the glass was Eva, a beautiful image of Eva, sitting on the sofa, with her hands in her lap, looking like something Edvard Munch could have painted.


And the old thought came to mind, the old dream, the impossibile dream: drop everything, go away, become someone else, start afresh, put it all behind you, start over again, without encumbrance, without one single connection to what once was. Not disappear without a trace, but arrive without a trace. The thought was frightening, yes, but also, and more often, a kind of consolation: I had a vivid picture of how free and carefree my life in my new city would be, how assured and eloquent I would sound when expressing myself in my new language, how creative and innovative I'd be in my new occupation, how at ease I'd be when socializing with my new colleagues, how sensual my life with my new woman would be, how considerate we'd be to one another, how I'd strike just the right balance in being strict yet fair with my new children - encouraging, inspirational, yet commanding respect.


I know. Sooner or later. But for the time being I'm here, with everything that's mine, that's ours. Why should it end? There's so much still to come.

[Franco Santos · Rating 4 out of 5]

Un libro sobre el solipsismo más que de otra cosa. Muy bueno aunque hace agua en la parte media. El final es inquietante.

[natura · Rating 4 out of 5]

Una lectura desgarradora, ya que la experiencia vital de la que parte lo es. Y todo el recorrido del protagonista no es si no un ahondar en esa sensación de pérdida y dolor insoportables e insuperables, haciendo preguntas y cuestionando temas que te remueven por dentro.
Dura pero necesaria, te saca de tu "zona de confort" para que te des cuenta de que no lo tienes todo hecho ni predeterminado, que hay muchas cosas que replantearse, y que hay que hacerlo, por muy incómodo que resulte.

[Bárbara · Rating 4 out of 5]

3,8.

[Michael Bohli · Rating 5 out of 5]

Die Bewältigung von Trauer, der Kampf mit der Liebe, das Zerfallen von Familien - die Themen, welche von Stig Sæterbakken in seinem Roman "Durch die Nacht" behandelt werden, gehören zu den schwierigsten in der Literatur. Wie beschreibt man Szenarien, die man als Mensch selber fast nicht zu bewältigen weiss, an denen so mancher zerbrochen ist? Mit einer dichten Schreibweise, die Gedanken und Figuren sofort lebendig erscheinen lassen.

In drei Teilen aufgebaut, tauchen wir in "Durch die Nacht" in das zerrüttete Familienleben ein, müssen uns moralischen Fragen stellen und erleben tieftraurige Schicksalsschläge. Poetisch und mit genügend Raum zu atmen, werden Gegenwart und Vergangenheit erkundet, Fragen gestellt und die Seele zum zerreissen gespannt. Bis das Buch gegen Ende in eine ungeahnte Art von Horror abdriftet, den Lebenssinn und die Form einer einzelnen Person zu Staub zerfallen lässt. Sæterbakken ist mit diesem Roman ein dunkles und treffendes Meisterwerk gelungen - schwer und tiefblau.

[Tonymess · Rating 4 out of 5]

Stig Saeterbakken took his own life in 2012 and this novel deals with suicide, through the eyes of Karl Meyer, a dentist, who is struggling to come to terms with his teenage son’s suicide. The book opens with a powerful set of vignettes, with Karl attempting to deal with his grief, make sense of his wife’s grief (who has just put an axe through the television) and wondering how he can reconnect with his daughter.

Our novel then tracks back, through a long series of short memories, recalling the events that Karl shared with his son Ole-Jacob, and all the actions that may have led to this tragic suicide.

For my full review go to http://messybooker.blogspot.com.au/

[ATWA · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5
I am sad and traumatized.

[Oscar · Rating 5 out of 5]

Esta ha sido mi mejor del año... Y probablemente de mi vida.

Sin palabras.
Aunque tampoco lo recomiendo.

"Todo aquello en lo que he creído y en lo que he participado, no han sido más que mis propias ilusiones, creadas para cubrir el vacío con el que he vivido, un vacío en el que no había nada, en el que nunca hubo nada más que lo que no me quedó más remedio que imaginarme para soportarlo"

[Helene Arnesen · Rating 5 out of 5]

Denne likte jeg utrolig godt!
Takk for tips og lånet, Thomas❤️

[Repix Pix · Rating 3 out of 5]

Muy desigual y raro. Momentos brillantes y poéticos y otros lentos y aburridos.
No sé.

[Booklunatic · Rating 3 out of 5]

Phew... erstmal sacken lassen.

[Tuck · Rating 5 out of 5]

stig saeterbakker is the master of looking at the death, destruction, hopelessness, absurdity of being a human and making it funny, enthralling, and true. this is the 2nd book of his i've read, his Siamese puts us in the apartment of a dying and decaying old married couple whose only reason for living even one moment longer is to goad one another in sadistic and mean-spirited glee, that and they love each other, and now this one in the head of a father whose child committed harikari, whose wife loathes him for his philandering, he loathes himself for his wretchedness, and we love reading about it because saeterbakken is such a great writer.
saeterbakken is dead now. fucking figures. 5 black stars for the new year.