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Der Umweg
An klaren Tagen kann man in der Ferne das Meer sehen, und auf den verwunschenen Wegen rings um das alte walisische Farmhaus ist lange niemand mehr gewandert. Es ist ein schöner Flecken Erde, den Agnes sich als Versteck ausgesucht hat. Die Gedanken an das, was sie von Amsterdam vertrieben hat – ihr ahnungsloser Mann, der junge Student, vor allem aber die verstörende Angst vor dem Kommenden –, lassen sich so leichter im Zaum halten. Nur manchmal wird ihr alles zuviel: daß der Fuchs sich eine Gans nach der andern holt oder daß der grobe Nachbarsfarmer schon morgens um neun in Socken vor ihr sitzt.
Da nistet sich eines Tages der junge Bradwen bei ihr ein. Ähnlich wie Agnes gibt er kaum etwas über seine Vergangenheit preis. Und Agnes, die nicht mit dem Rauchen aufhört, weil sie sich dafür zu krank fühlt, stellt fest: Vorsicht und Zurückhaltung sind nur etwas für die Gesunden.
Da nistet sich eines Tages der junge Bradwen bei ihr ein. Ähnlich wie Agnes gibt er kaum etwas über seine Vergangenheit preis. Und Agnes, die nicht mit dem Rauchen aufhört, weil sie sich dafür zu krank fühlt, stellt fest: Vorsicht und Zurückhaltung sind nur etwas für die Gesunden.
228 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2010
39 people are currently reading
2096 people want to read
About the author
Gerbrand Bakker
36 books180 followersGerbrand Bakker werd geboren op 28 april 1962 in Wieringerwaard, als derde zoon in een boerengezin van zeven kinderen. Heeft van 1967 tot 1992 'op school' gezeten: kleuterschool; lagere school; havo; vwo; agogische akademie in Leeuwarden en Nederlandse taal- en letterkunde aan de universiteit van Amsterdam.
Van 1995 tot 2002 was hij ondertitelvertaler, waarbij hij een voorkeur ontwikkelde voor natuurfilms die vrijwel allemaal in scène gezet worden: na een flink aantal documentaires zag hij regelmatig dezelfde beelden terugkomen.
Aangezien die kwarteeuw school blijkbaar nog niet voldoende was, begon hij in september 2003 een avondopleiding tot hovenier aan de Groene Campus in Alkmaar. In juli 2006 sloot hij die opleiding succesvol af en vanaf dat moment is hij - als 'vakbekwaam hovenier' - in te huren voor tuinontwerp en -onderhoud.
Omdat hij tijdens zijn studie Nederlands nogal wat aan etymologie had gedaan, en eerste pogingen tot het schrijven van kinderboeken faliekant mislukten, besloot hij een etymologisch woordenboek voor kinderen te gaan schrijven.
Van 1995 tot 2002 was hij ondertitelvertaler, waarbij hij een voorkeur ontwikkelde voor natuurfilms die vrijwel allemaal in scène gezet worden: na een flink aantal documentaires zag hij regelmatig dezelfde beelden terugkomen.
Aangezien die kwarteeuw school blijkbaar nog niet voldoende was, begon hij in september 2003 een avondopleiding tot hovenier aan de Groene Campus in Alkmaar. In juli 2006 sloot hij die opleiding succesvol af en vanaf dat moment is hij - als 'vakbekwaam hovenier' - in te huren voor tuinontwerp en -onderhoud.
Omdat hij tijdens zijn studie Nederlands nogal wat aan etymologie had gedaan, en eerste pogingen tot het schrijven van kinderboeken faliekant mislukten, besloot hij een etymologisch woordenboek voor kinderen te gaan schrijven.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 347 reviews
May 10, 2020
Ten White Geese, shortlisted for the International Dublin Literary Award, is a beautifully written, quite and mysterious read.
A woman leaves her husband and Amsterdam behind without a word and rents an isolated farm house in rural Wales. She fills her days happily by working in the garden and overgrown paths surrounding the house. On the farm live ten white geese. One by one they start to disappear for no apparent reason. A young man shows up one day, stays the night, And decides he doesn’t want to leave.
With sparse prose, the novel is filled with the tranquility of nature, but also with a continuous underlying tension. Details about the woman calling herself Emilie start to emerge, but in a subdued manner. The plot twists in unexpected ways.
This short book which I read over a few days is enchanting, simple, but also haunting. You won’t forget Ten White Geese.
4 out of 5 stars
A thanks to Zoey for her review recommending this book.
A woman leaves her husband and Amsterdam behind without a word and rents an isolated farm house in rural Wales. She fills her days happily by working in the garden and overgrown paths surrounding the house. On the farm live ten white geese. One by one they start to disappear for no apparent reason. A young man shows up one day, stays the night, And decides he doesn’t want to leave.
With sparse prose, the novel is filled with the tranquility of nature, but also with a continuous underlying tension. Details about the woman calling herself Emilie start to emerge, but in a subdued manner. The plot twists in unexpected ways.
This short book which I read over a few days is enchanting, simple, but also haunting. You won’t forget Ten White Geese.
4 out of 5 stars
A thanks to Zoey for her review recommending this book.
July 5, 2018
A panoply of the senses. Pensive, reflective, and moving. Beautiful.
A woman rents a remote greystone farmhouse in Wales. She has left her husband, needing time to herself, limiting her world, making it small. Nature, the quiet, the colors, the sounds of water. A old woman scent hangs in the air, is it residual or current? A painfully shy badger, who shows itself only to her. A gaggle of white geese, softly clucking, disappearing one by one.
A woman rents a remote greystone farmhouse in Wales. She has left her husband, needing time to herself, limiting her world, making it small. Nature, the quiet, the colors, the sounds of water. A old woman scent hangs in the air, is it residual or current? A painfully shy badger, who shows itself only to her. A gaggle of white geese, softly clucking, disappearing one by one.
May 9, 2017
Easily the best novel I've read this year and also the hardest to review. Three days later, I've dropped trying to read anything else because it's still growing in my mind. I've been working on my garden instead. It seems the appropriate thing to do.
I hope to follow up with a more grounded review when my thoughts are more fully formed.
I hope to follow up with a more grounded review when my thoughts are more fully formed.
April 24, 2017
Written in spare beautiful language, "Ten White Geese" is a captivating book in a very quiet way. A woman leaves the Netherlands, and obtains a short-term lease on an isolated Welsh farm house with a view of Mount Snowdon. The home is surrounded by meadows, a lake, and overgrown walking paths. She has been fired from her job at the university for having an affair with a student. Her marriage is troubled. She seems unwell, and regularly uses painkillers. She's disappeared from her old life, and now calls herself Emilie since the subject of her PhD thesis had been Emily Dickinson.
Emilie finds some comfort in working in the gardens and clearing the walking paths. She rarely sees another person and her days are spent with nature, with the land. She's observing the badgers and the neighbor's grazing cows and sheep. And she watches the ten white geese which are disappearing one by one......maybe a fox is the nighttime predator. Emilie feels the presence of the ghost of Mrs Evans, the previous owner who recently died, and smells an "old lady smell" sometimes in the house. The spirit of Emily Dickinson is also present--the poet who stayed isolated in her later years.
Emilie avoids interactions with other people, but a few things are revealed about her previous life by what she says--or does not say. She's run away from her former life, but is making no attempt to start a new life. The psychological suspense builds from her unusual reactions to people.
Hints about Emilie and others are dropped as the story slowly unfolds, but many questions are left unanswered at the end. Gerbrand Bakker, who also works as a gardener, writes beautifully about the rhythm of the day and the lovely natural world. Although there is little dialogue and very little plot, this haunting story will keep the reader thinking long after they have turned the last page.
Emilie finds some comfort in working in the gardens and clearing the walking paths. She rarely sees another person and her days are spent with nature, with the land. She's observing the badgers and the neighbor's grazing cows and sheep. And she watches the ten white geese which are disappearing one by one......maybe a fox is the nighttime predator. Emilie feels the presence of the ghost of Mrs Evans, the previous owner who recently died, and smells an "old lady smell" sometimes in the house. The spirit of Emily Dickinson is also present--the poet who stayed isolated in her later years.
Emilie avoids interactions with other people, but a few things are revealed about her previous life by what she says--or does not say. She's run away from her former life, but is making no attempt to start a new life. The psychological suspense builds from her unusual reactions to people.
Hints about Emilie and others are dropped as the story slowly unfolds, but many questions are left unanswered at the end. Gerbrand Bakker, who also works as a gardener, writes beautifully about the rhythm of the day and the lovely natural world. Although there is little dialogue and very little plot, this haunting story will keep the reader thinking long after they have turned the last page.
March 25, 2013
It is no surprise that a book about a scholar deeply immersed in the work of Emily Dickinson is also about death. The titular ten geese, by the end of this book, number only four. But this book is about deception, too, and perception; love, and relationships; nature, and gardens. We pass two months in Wales but every season is accounted for. Gerbrand Bakker has created a knotty piece of fine art for us to contemplate.
We never learn how old she is, Agnes, or Emily as she liked to be called. We know she is probably at the end of child-bearing age, so desperately had she tried to conceive. She is an intellectual, writing a dissertation on the poems of Emily Dickinson, that poet she must have once admired but grew to resent. She is ill. We learn that early, along with her sense of being stuck, and unsure in which direction to go.
She arrives in Wales alone, escaping the failures of her past. She walks. One day a badger bites her foot as she lies sunbathing on a rock. Not long after, Bradwen, a boy, and Sam, his dog, stumble into her yard and stay. But statements about events are foreplay here, for there is undertone and atmosphere and references and indications which are more of the book than the story itself. Like poetry, perhaps?
After her encounter with the badger, Emily pulls out her copy of The Wind in the Willows, one of the main characters of which is a badger. The book is mentioned again when Bradwen takes it from the house on his departure. That The Wind in the Willows is mentioned more than once cannot be coincidence. But why that book?
Perhaps we are to draw light comparisons between Emily and Toad for she is at her happiest in the bath; makes a mash of her career; alienates and betrays those close to her; is “on the run.” Bradwen might be Rat, for he carried a backpack and simply takes what he needs for his journeys, offering friendship to Toad when he needs it most, and is locked up while Toad makes his escape.
Bradwen is a curious figure whom we can’t see as a reliable character. He lies by omission, as does “Emily.” He never tells Emily who his father is and how he came to stay in this place, but clearly he is at home in it. He is willing to make meals in exchange for a bed. He shares a comforting, unerotic coupling with Emily, filled more with silence than sound, and worries ever after that his generosity might add to her burdens.
Sam the dog might be Mole, who accompanies Rat and finds the badger. A badger is a solitary creature “who simply hates society”--perhaps the reclusive Ms. Dickinson herself?--clever, generous, and welcoming when another comes to visit, but must be sought out. Friendly but fearful and elusive, the badger and doesn’t ever seem to come when called. Dickinson was apparently better known as a gardener while she was living than for writing poetry. Does this draw a line from Bakker to Dickinson, and badgers?
Gerbrand Bakker writes with a clarity and a depth that borders on knowledge—about pain, confusion, hurt, alienation, even sickness unto death—and in the voice of a woman. “I’m a strange man, maybe, but I think there is no fundamental difference between men and women. A lot of people would say otherwise, perhaps.” (NPR interview, 2013) This point of view may come from his training as a gardener. Humans of either sex are the same species: one sex has basically the same wants, needs, desires as the other—our differences don’t define our essential character. That having been said, this was a woman apart and in exquisite pain. I recognize her, but I hope I never meet (am) her.
Ach. Gerbrand Bakker’s book refuses to leave me. In the same seven minute NPR interview mentioned above, Bakker says that the process of writing this novel precipitated in him a great depression. I am not surprised. But literature can make us think about what man is, and Bakker doesn't leave us bereft.
We never learn how old she is, Agnes, or Emily as she liked to be called. We know she is probably at the end of child-bearing age, so desperately had she tried to conceive. She is an intellectual, writing a dissertation on the poems of Emily Dickinson, that poet she must have once admired but grew to resent. She is ill. We learn that early, along with her sense of being stuck, and unsure in which direction to go.
She arrives in Wales alone, escaping the failures of her past. She walks. One day a badger bites her foot as she lies sunbathing on a rock. Not long after, Bradwen, a boy, and Sam, his dog, stumble into her yard and stay. But statements about events are foreplay here, for there is undertone and atmosphere and references and indications which are more of the book than the story itself. Like poetry, perhaps?
After her encounter with the badger, Emily pulls out her copy of The Wind in the Willows, one of the main characters of which is a badger. The book is mentioned again when Bradwen takes it from the house on his departure. That The Wind in the Willows is mentioned more than once cannot be coincidence. But why that book?
Perhaps we are to draw light comparisons between Emily and Toad for she is at her happiest in the bath; makes a mash of her career; alienates and betrays those close to her; is “on the run.” Bradwen might be Rat, for he carried a backpack and simply takes what he needs for his journeys, offering friendship to Toad when he needs it most, and is locked up while Toad makes his escape.
Bradwen is a curious figure whom we can’t see as a reliable character. He lies by omission, as does “Emily.” He never tells Emily who his father is and how he came to stay in this place, but clearly he is at home in it. He is willing to make meals in exchange for a bed. He shares a comforting, unerotic coupling with Emily, filled more with silence than sound, and worries ever after that his generosity might add to her burdens.
Sam the dog might be Mole, who accompanies Rat and finds the badger. A badger is a solitary creature “who simply hates society”--perhaps the reclusive Ms. Dickinson herself?--clever, generous, and welcoming when another comes to visit, but must be sought out. Friendly but fearful and elusive, the badger and doesn’t ever seem to come when called. Dickinson was apparently better known as a gardener while she was living than for writing poetry. Does this draw a line from Bakker to Dickinson, and badgers?
Gerbrand Bakker writes with a clarity and a depth that borders on knowledge—about pain, confusion, hurt, alienation, even sickness unto death—and in the voice of a woman. “I’m a strange man, maybe, but I think there is no fundamental difference between men and women. A lot of people would say otherwise, perhaps.” (NPR interview, 2013) This point of view may come from his training as a gardener. Humans of either sex are the same species: one sex has basically the same wants, needs, desires as the other—our differences don’t define our essential character. That having been said, this was a woman apart and in exquisite pain. I recognize her, but I hope I never meet (am) her.
Ach. Gerbrand Bakker’s book refuses to leave me. In the same seven minute NPR interview mentioned above, Bakker says that the process of writing this novel precipitated in him a great depression. I am not surprised. But literature can make us think about what man is, and Bakker doesn't leave us bereft.
April 5, 2013
Short, sparse and strange, Gerbrand Bakker's The Detour is the enigmatic tale of a Dutch woman, Emilie, who runs away from her husband and takes up residence in an isolated cottage in the Welsh countryside. For some time she lives a solitary existence there, as the reasons for her decision are slowly made clear to the reader. Her only companions are ten geese - and even they are disappearing, being picked off by a predator one by one. Then her privacy is disturbed: by the necessity of a visit to the local doctor's, by a farmer who makes unwanted advances towards her, by a boy who takes a detour across her land with his dog. It is the last encounter that proves the most significant, as Emilie develops a tentative and unsettling relationship with Bradwen (who is almost always referred to simply as 'the boy').
This is the type of book in which everything is loaded with symbolism and meaning. There is little action, the language is stripped down and the behaviour of the characters is often surreal - what to make of the chain-smoking doctor and his gossiping in the hair salon, or the peculiar semi-sexual tension between Emilie's husband and the policeman? Then there's the fact that Bradwen slots so easily into Emilie's life and household, and that both of them accept this unusual arrangement. Although the book has some traces of that occasional awkwardness which seems to be a hallmark of translation, the simple, elegant prose is a perfect fit for a character like Emilie. Despite the fact that she is the main focus of the story, she remains a mystery to the reader right to the end, and her final actions come as something of a shock.
The Detour is cold, stark and arguably uneventful, but for me, those were the things that made it memorable. There's a strong sense of unease running through the story, and I thought the surprise of the ending was wonderfully done. (I was also weirdly glad that .) This won't be for everyone - it could easily be perceived as depressing and dull - but after a slow start, it made a real impression on me.
This is the type of book in which everything is loaded with symbolism and meaning. There is little action, the language is stripped down and the behaviour of the characters is often surreal - what to make of the chain-smoking doctor and his gossiping in the hair salon, or the peculiar semi-sexual tension between Emilie's husband and the policeman? Then there's the fact that Bradwen slots so easily into Emilie's life and household, and that both of them accept this unusual arrangement. Although the book has some traces of that occasional awkwardness which seems to be a hallmark of translation, the simple, elegant prose is a perfect fit for a character like Emilie. Despite the fact that she is the main focus of the story, she remains a mystery to the reader right to the end, and her final actions come as something of a shock.
The Detour is cold, stark and arguably uneventful, but for me, those were the things that made it memorable. There's a strong sense of unease running through the story, and I thought the surprise of the ending was wonderfully done. (I was also weirdly glad that .) This won't be for everyone - it could easily be perceived as depressing and dull - but after a slow start, it made a real impression on me.
March 30, 2014
Every avid reader can attest to this phenomenon: sometimes, when we go through our most challenging times, we serendipitously connect with a book that speaks to us both deeply and profoundly.
So it was with Ten White Geese, a book with an immense contemplative power that brought me to tears without quite knowing why.
Gerbrand Bakker crafts a deceptively simple story: an Emily Dickinson scholar who calls herself Emilie flees her marriage and her life in Amsterdam to rent a farmhouse in the small Welsh village of Caernarfon. The house is rather isolated, except for a seemingly predatory shepherd who tends to his flock, a not-so-friendly badger, and ten white geese who refuse to be corralled to safety even as they slowly disappear. And into this world, a visiting stranger – a young man – shows up.
Gradually, the book reveals its secrets: who is Emilie and what is she fleeing? Why are the geese vanishing? How does the young man fall into the picture? To even hint at the answers would create spoilers.
So I am left with saying this: the themes of the book, the wavering line between isolation and intimacy, the coming to terms with mortality, the connection between nature and humankind, the complexity that is present even in simplicity, are all delivered with a tranquility that belies the dramatic tension.
There is often sheer poetry in the prose, understated revelations, sidelong glimpses into lives that prefer to remain enigmatic. Ten White Geese touched me deeply and has haunted me ever since I reached the end. It’s tender, surprisingly sensuous, and compelling al at once. Kudos to a flawless translation by David Colmer, who translated it from the Dutch.
So it was with Ten White Geese, a book with an immense contemplative power that brought me to tears without quite knowing why.
Gerbrand Bakker crafts a deceptively simple story: an Emily Dickinson scholar who calls herself Emilie flees her marriage and her life in Amsterdam to rent a farmhouse in the small Welsh village of Caernarfon. The house is rather isolated, except for a seemingly predatory shepherd who tends to his flock, a not-so-friendly badger, and ten white geese who refuse to be corralled to safety even as they slowly disappear. And into this world, a visiting stranger – a young man – shows up.
Gradually, the book reveals its secrets: who is Emilie and what is she fleeing? Why are the geese vanishing? How does the young man fall into the picture? To even hint at the answers would create spoilers.
So I am left with saying this: the themes of the book, the wavering line between isolation and intimacy, the coming to terms with mortality, the connection between nature and humankind, the complexity that is present even in simplicity, are all delivered with a tranquility that belies the dramatic tension.
There is often sheer poetry in the prose, understated revelations, sidelong glimpses into lives that prefer to remain enigmatic. Ten White Geese touched me deeply and has haunted me ever since I reached the end. It’s tender, surprisingly sensuous, and compelling al at once. Kudos to a flawless translation by David Colmer, who translated it from the Dutch.
August 14, 2013
He lifts each item from the old refridgerator. Turning them in his hand he examines them. Some he considers worn, used and re-cooked, bland with age. Over a sideboard he slices and grates, pares. Then, he places the unlovely shavings into the heating tomato sauce. From a secreted drawer he raises the wooden ladle. Its scars from use run dark, in grooves, as bars for unwritten notes of music. Dressed in a suit and tie Bakker slides the ladle into the brew and stirs with one hand. There is a method concerning timing, the tilt of angle, shifts of key and blend in versions of andante, adagio. Over the two hours fragrant steam lifts off the surface of the sauce. Turning off the gas stove, careful using both hands he pours the blended sauce into an ornate bowl. A long handled wooden spoon is provided to each of us. Famished, we dip in, in turn, and taste. He stands over us watching the minute reactions of each, recording the repetition of the word, splendid, passed around the table. I await my turn. It needs more seasoning, spice, frail but all right. It will do. My turn is next. I prepare my smile and readiness to say splendid.
I can't. I won't. Insomnia's lengthening twine can be an expression of conscience. This sauce, this book, has used novelistic techniques with a great deal of skill. It made for an enjoyable read. The kind of rewarding experience to be savored between reading two large and difficult novels. In this fashion it is recommended.
However, Mr. Bakker includes in this thin book death, loss, loss that wants to be loss but is not, mortality, isolation, wanting to be alone yet also fearing it. Stepping up to huge issues, confronting them eye-to-eye, switchblades flicked open, is the writer's and reader's job in the literary world of dark alleyways; the poignant drama, nail biting loss of assumptions, the loss of balance in a world which requires at least its mime. Mr. Bakker eases our ride by backing away. He places so many important issues on the table that he never renders any to the extent needed. Craftily, he changes point-of-view where all becomes diffuse, as calming as sipping a cup of hot tea while watching a storm recede into the distance.
This is a book I well recommend for just such a moment. Further, it may whet the appetite to now follow the storm, even chase after it.
April 3, 2019
Graag gelezen, Gerbrand Bakker heeft zo'n prettige, rustige manier van schrijven. Wat ingetogen en dan soms ineens die droge humor van hem ertussen door.
Extra leuk was de locatie van het boek, Wales, en dan ook nog vlakbij waar we nu zitten. Na Cynan Jones boek The Dig, dat zich ook afspeelt in Wales en door een Welshman geschreven is, is het net alsof je het boek van een Nederlandse buurman die verderop woont leest.
Extra leuk was de locatie van het boek, Wales, en dan ook nog vlakbij waar we nu zitten. Na Cynan Jones boek The Dig, dat zich ook afspeelt in Wales en door een Welshman geschreven is, is het net alsof je het boek van een Nederlandse buurman die verderop woont leest.
June 8, 2024
Bakker sade üslubuyla incelikli, derinlikli romanlar yazıyor. Kısa cümlelerle, herşeyi söylemeden, söyletmeden sıkı atmosfer yaratıyor. Kırsal kesim, çiftlik havasını vermede de usta, bu açıdan neredeyse özendirici bir etkisi var. Taşranın boğucu olabilen havasını da es geçmiyor. Roman ilginç yan karakterlere, kuru bir mizaha da sahip. Özetle Dolambaç, merak uyandıran konusu, dozunda gerilimi ve erotizmi, yavaş yavaş açılan sırlarıyla okuyucuyu içine çeken ve sürükleyen iyi bir roman. Tek eleştirim sonuna dair, belki daha farklı olabilirdi. Türkay Yalnız da Bakker çevirileriyle yazarın hakkını veriyor. Özellikle bu romanda kullandığı pek duymadığımız kelimeler, terimler okuma zevkine katkı sağlıyor.
March 4, 2013
This is a quiet book, set in Wales, with evocative and beautiful prose, a book in which I had no clue what I was reading or where it was going. Yet the prose kept me reading, a few things fell in place, the descriptions of the garden, the farm, and the place she was living was stellar. A few things began to fall in place and the reader learns what brought her here and why. There are no gasping denouements, no active action scenes or bloody body parts, just s story about a woman, running away from the world in which she was an Emily Dickens Scholar and a married woman. Intriguing.
September 14, 2022
Başladığı yere tekrar tekrar dönmenin bir anlamı olmalı, bir porsuğun gün ortası onu ısırmasının, kazların giderek azalmasının ve Emily Dickinson şiirlerinin bir anlamı olmalı.
Şimdi evden gidecek, kocasını arkasında bırakacak, bir çiftliğe yerleşip kendine Emilie demelerini isteyecek. Ve evet, bunların da bir anlamını bulacak.
.
‘Yukarıda Ses Yok’ ile tanıştığım Gerbrand Bakker kalemine ara vermeden devam etmek istedim, sessizliğinde, az sayıdaki cümlelerinde birçok duyguyu anlattığını düşündüğümden. Dolambaç, karakteri çözümlemesi zor olan kitaplardan. Çünkü geçmişi ve bugünü hatta birazdan yapacakları da iç içe geçmiş durumda. Ama bu zorlukta da güzellik var!
.
İyi ki yolum Bakker ile kesişmiş..
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Kapak tasarımı Antonio Lopez Garcia’nın deseni üzerine bir kolaj çalışmasıyken; çeviride Türkay Yalnız yer alıyor ~
Şimdi evden gidecek, kocasını arkasında bırakacak, bir çiftliğe yerleşip kendine Emilie demelerini isteyecek. Ve evet, bunların da bir anlamını bulacak.
.
‘Yukarıda Ses Yok’ ile tanıştığım Gerbrand Bakker kalemine ara vermeden devam etmek istedim, sessizliğinde, az sayıdaki cümlelerinde birçok duyguyu anlattığını düşündüğümden. Dolambaç, karakteri çözümlemesi zor olan kitaplardan. Çünkü geçmişi ve bugünü hatta birazdan yapacakları da iç içe geçmiş durumda. Ama bu zorlukta da güzellik var!
.
İyi ki yolum Bakker ile kesişmiş..
.
Kapak tasarımı Antonio Lopez Garcia’nın deseni üzerine bir kolaj çalışmasıyken; çeviride Türkay Yalnız yer alıyor ~
January 27, 2016
I was finally able to finish ths novel during a long flight, but it's the furthest thing from an "airplane read" I could imagine. A woman, unnamed for a good portion of the novel, leaves her home in Holland and rents a farmhouse in rural Wales, ostensibly to finish writing her dissertation on Emily Dickinson. Very little writing ever occurs, and one soon realizes she's not there to write but to escape. Her past is revealed in broad strokes, yet with enough detail to know that she's escaping from her own emotional landscape. Her marriage to a man, also unnamed, is colorless; her relationship with her parents is impersonal. She's had an affair with a student, and that scandal has cost her her job. Even her memories of that affair are void of affection or connection. While she's in Wales, she refuses to think of what any of that means, but she does become more and more connected to protecting the geese on the farm and on the physical work of reclaming an overgrown plot into a garden.
There's much in the novel about solitude, identity, self-knowledge and wholeness. It's a somber novel with some weak glimmers of hope, and it's one I'll have to and will think much more about.
There's much in the novel about solitude, identity, self-knowledge and wholeness. It's a somber novel with some weak glimmers of hope, and it's one I'll have to and will think much more about.
August 24, 2016
Ample make this bed
If this sounds too airy-fairy, turn to the facts. The setting is NW Wales, a little south of Caernarfon, nestling by the western slope of Snowdon, Wales's highest mountain. The young Dutch scholar has rented an isolated farmhouse at the far end of a mile-long lane. In one of her fields are ten white geese that slowly begin disappearing, prey perhaps to foxes. Flocks of sheep or herds of cows appear in other fields from time to time, though she knows nothing about that. The location and countryside is so precisely described that you can easily locate the area on a map, walk where she walks, and see what she sees, including the shy badgers that for some reason appear to her but are seldom seen by others. The recurrent landscape and animal references are clearly intentional; there is something instinctual in Emilie's escape here also, like an animal going to ground.
I must be cautious in describing the human parts of the story, because Bakker is masterly in how he parcels out information. We soon learn that Emilie has come to Wales at short notice from Holland, leaving both her husband and her former job at a university. Her need for solitude in Wales is matched by the combined curiosity and suspicion in the few locals that she meets. Only two people visit her house: one a local sheep farmer whom she immediately sees as an enemy, the other a young man of around twenty called Bradwen. He is as sensitive and caring as the older man is surly, and the blossoming of their relationship (though seldom in obvious ways) is largely responsible for the beauty that suffuses the latter half of the book.
In thinking about how to avoid spoilers, I have come to realize one of the most extraordinary aspects of Bakker's novel. It is full of secrets and minor revelations, and yet at the same time it also seems preordained, a natural process that you just wait to be played out. I don't think I have ever before experienced the curious combination of emotions I felt as various forces all come together towards a climax in the last fifty pages of the book: perched on the edge of my chair to learn what would happen next, yet all the time feeling this was right, right, right.
Absolutely one of my top books of the year so far. The only thing that might have made it even more enjoyable would have been to read it in the British edition. The book and the excellent translation by David Colmer are the same; the title, The Detour, is less evocative, though closer to the Dutch—but there is that magnificent cover which is even truer to Bakker's spare elegance.
Ample make this bed.This beautiful, beautiful book, a novel with the intimate feel of a novella, opens with a two-stanza poem by Emily Dickinson, "Ample make this bed." It closes with a translation of the same poem into Dutch. By the time we reach the end, we have taken possession of the epigraph, fully understanding its relevance to the whole—and why the protagonist, a youngish Dutch Dickinson scholar named Emilie, needed to translate it into her own language, to take that possession, to make it personal to her. Dickinson's poetic style, deceptively simple diction hiding profound thoughts, is also true of Bakker, whose short chapters and clean declarative sentences pack an insidious emotional heft.
Make this bed with awe;
In it wait till judgment break
Excellent and fair.
Be its mattress straight,
Be its pillow round;
Let no sunrise' yellow noise
Interrupt this ground.
If this sounds too airy-fairy, turn to the facts. The setting is NW Wales, a little south of Caernarfon, nestling by the western slope of Snowdon, Wales's highest mountain. The young Dutch scholar has rented an isolated farmhouse at the far end of a mile-long lane. In one of her fields are ten white geese that slowly begin disappearing, prey perhaps to foxes. Flocks of sheep or herds of cows appear in other fields from time to time, though she knows nothing about that. The location and countryside is so precisely described that you can easily locate the area on a map, walk where she walks, and see what she sees, including the shy badgers that for some reason appear to her but are seldom seen by others. The recurrent landscape and animal references are clearly intentional; there is something instinctual in Emilie's escape here also, like an animal going to ground.
I must be cautious in describing the human parts of the story, because Bakker is masterly in how he parcels out information. We soon learn that Emilie has come to Wales at short notice from Holland, leaving both her husband and her former job at a university. Her need for solitude in Wales is matched by the combined curiosity and suspicion in the few locals that she meets. Only two people visit her house: one a local sheep farmer whom she immediately sees as an enemy, the other a young man of around twenty called Bradwen. He is as sensitive and caring as the older man is surly, and the blossoming of their relationship (though seldom in obvious ways) is largely responsible for the beauty that suffuses the latter half of the book.
In thinking about how to avoid spoilers, I have come to realize one of the most extraordinary aspects of Bakker's novel. It is full of secrets and minor revelations, and yet at the same time it also seems preordained, a natural process that you just wait to be played out. I don't think I have ever before experienced the curious combination of emotions I felt as various forces all come together towards a climax in the last fifty pages of the book: perched on the edge of my chair to learn what would happen next, yet all the time feeling this was right, right, right.
Absolutely one of my top books of the year so far. The only thing that might have made it even more enjoyable would have been to read it in the British edition. The book and the excellent translation by David Colmer are the same; the title, The Detour, is less evocative, though closer to the Dutch—but there is that magnificent cover which is even truer to Bakker's spare elegance.
January 1, 2015
Five stars. That was easy.
A Dutch woman flees her life, escaping to Wales and bringing only Emily Dickinson and the reader. The deceptively simple narrative pulls you along firmly. Emilie strips herself of the world; the quietude is seductive as she retreats into her self and immediate environment.
Emilie, on first moving into the old farmhouse, attempts some rudimentary gardening, which seems to be more a therapeutic maneuver than anything else. (When Bakker, who also works as a gardener, won the Independent Foreign Fiction prize for this book, he said that "The prize is good because it means sales, and sales mean money for plants for my garden.”) The spare writing reflects the author’s experience as a subtitler for Dutch TV — he had to learn that less is more. The pacing is steady and inexorable. There is a gradual progression of the character through her “process”. Slowly it dawns upon the reader the significance of phrases and passages earlier in the book, and by the interwoven Dickinson poetry, such as: “Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn, / Indicative that suns go down; / The notice to the startled grass / That darkness is about to pass”
Yet the story is not bleak, or depressing. There are frequent unexpected drily comedic moments, especially in the interactions with some of the local villagers, but also when listening to the character’s inner voice. There are more stories waiting to be told about some of those characters.
I liked this even better than The Twin.
Interesting interviews with the author are here and here.
A Dutch woman flees her life, escaping to Wales and bringing only Emily Dickinson and the reader. The deceptively simple narrative pulls you along firmly. Emilie strips herself of the world; the quietude is seductive as she retreats into her self and immediate environment.
Emilie, on first moving into the old farmhouse, attempts some rudimentary gardening, which seems to be more a therapeutic maneuver than anything else. (When Bakker, who also works as a gardener, won the Independent Foreign Fiction prize for this book, he said that "The prize is good because it means sales, and sales mean money for plants for my garden.”) The spare writing reflects the author’s experience as a subtitler for Dutch TV — he had to learn that less is more. The pacing is steady and inexorable. There is a gradual progression of the character through her “process”. Slowly it dawns upon the reader the significance of phrases and passages earlier in the book, and by the interwoven Dickinson poetry, such as: “Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn, / Indicative that suns go down; / The notice to the startled grass / That darkness is about to pass”
Yet the story is not bleak, or depressing. There are frequent unexpected drily comedic moments, especially in the interactions with some of the local villagers, but also when listening to the character’s inner voice. There are more stories waiting to be told about some of those characters.
I liked this even better than The Twin.
Interesting interviews with the author are here and here.
November 5, 2012
Ach. Another fine novel from the author of The Twin, another exploration of how it happens that a person resigns oneself to her (or his) own company, cuts ties with the surrounding community, develops small strategies of distraction and repose. As you might guess, this is not a cheerful read but Bakker's prose crackles with a definite dry sense of humor that I don't find in similar novels by (for example) by Dag Solstad or Per Petterson.
It would be a mistake to say too much about the plot of The Detour, which begins with a Dutch woman escaping her past and seeking refuge in a small cottage in Wales. She calls herself Emily after the poet, whom as desultory scholar she both treasures and resents. (There's minor comedy in the way she tears apart Dickinson's poetry and a particularly hefty biography.) I have, I think, the same collection of Poems. This one is from the section "Time and Eternity" (p. 185).
Ample make this bed.
Make this bed with awe;
In it wait till judgment break
Excellent and fair.
Be its mattress straight,
Be its pillow round;
Let no sunrise' yellow noise
Interrupt this ground.
The Detour kept me company through a couple of very sad days – and that's saying a lot. Bakker's prose is emotionally exact and radiates filaments of hope and humor even in its darkest passages.
It would be a mistake to say too much about the plot of The Detour, which begins with a Dutch woman escaping her past and seeking refuge in a small cottage in Wales. She calls herself Emily after the poet, whom as desultory scholar she both treasures and resents. (There's minor comedy in the way she tears apart Dickinson's poetry and a particularly hefty biography.) I have, I think, the same collection of Poems. This one is from the section "Time and Eternity" (p. 185).
Ample make this bed.
Make this bed with awe;
In it wait till judgment break
Excellent and fair.
Be its mattress straight,
Be its pillow round;
Let no sunrise' yellow noise
Interrupt this ground.
The Detour kept me company through a couple of very sad days – and that's saying a lot. Bakker's prose is emotionally exact and radiates filaments of hope and humor even in its darkest passages.
November 29, 2025
Hat mich ganz entfernt an Benjamin Myers OFFENE SEE erinnert. Aber diesmal in ganz gut.
April 27, 2019
The version I read (kindly sent to me by my Goodreads pal Sue) was published under a different title - 'The Detour' which doesn't actually match the story so I'm not surprised it was changed.
It has a slow burner of a plot which takes quite a while to get going, but once engaged with the mysterious main character, her story surreptitiously starts to haunt the imagination.
It has a slow burner of a plot which takes quite a while to get going, but once engaged with the mysterious main character, her story surreptitiously starts to haunt the imagination.
October 12, 2016
Iskreno i ne znam što bi rekla o ovom romanu. Očekivala sam više. S jedne strane jako lijep i poetičan roman, a s druge strane nedorečen. Pa onda ispadne tako. Nekako, nikako.
Lako i brzo se čita, ali ne vjerujem da ću ga dugo pamtiti.
Lako i brzo se čita, ali ne vjerujem da ću ga dugo pamtiti.
March 31, 2024
The Detour [2010/12] – ★★★★
This is a book by a Dutch writer Gerbrand Bakker, whose previous book The Twin [2006] won the International Dublin Literary Award. The Detour (also known as Ten White Geese), translated from the Dutch by David Colmer, is about a Dutch woman who moves from her country and starts to live alone on a farm in rural Wales. Some of her nearby neighbours are badgers, cows and ten white geese whose number declines rapidly and mysteriously the longer she lives on her rented farm. Equipped with a poetry book by Emily Dickinson, the woman seems to be on the run from her past, trying to either delay or solve her immediate problems by seeking refuge in an unknown and isolated location. Her peace is soon disturbed by those with curiosity and inquisitiveness. With elegance and delicacy, Bakker draws on the nature in his book to shed light on the mystery that is this woman and her past, with his book becoming a quiet and poignant exploration of loneliness, pain and human connection.
Bakker admitted that he writers “instinctively” and that is definitely felt in his novels – they do have this feeling of coming straight from the heart. Bakker explores personal past, grief and attempts to connect to others through his vivid descriptions of nature and animals. Situating a character within the nature domain provides a special emotional resonance and perspective. There is a strange and quiet immediacy to the author’s writing and, as we read The Detour, we soon begin to care for this woman who calls herself Emilie – what could have brought her to this secluded place in a foreign-to-her country where she does not know anyone?
The farm and the house where Emilie starts to live are special places which emphasise the meaninglessness of time. Emilie’s rented farm is located near some ancient stone circle, a “timeless” place where people went to reconnect with their ancestors and forget their everyday concerns. The secluded farm is exactly the place where one can draw strength from the soil, seek solace in nature, and become attuned to it and its sounds. While on the farm, Emilie forgets the passage of time and becomes directionless. She does not have any clock in her house and, soon, senses the uncertainty of everyday existence: “she senses how vulnerable people are when they have no idea what to do next, how to move forward or back” [Bakker/Colmer, 2010/2012: 7]. Sleep becomes another refuge for Emilie: “how pleasant that was, sleep. How separate from everything else. How free from the things that worry people when they’re not sleeping, the things that scare them, the things that loom before them like a mountain” [Bakker/Colmer, 2010/2012: 158]. Wine and nostalgia for the past are her other medications: “There was a sweet and spicy quality to the smell of the burning wood that made her think of the home-made borstplaat and speculaas her grandmother used to make and bring to their flat in the Rustenburgerstraat” [Bakker/Colmer, 2010/2012: 71]. Only the disappearing geese near her farm signal the passage of time and substitute a ticking clock, but their disappearing number also signals the irreversible loss, the loss that Emilie is unable to prevent.
In the story, Emilie soon has human company – but will they provide the needed relief for her?, and what about her husband who soon hires a private investigator to track his wife down? Apart from Emilie and hew new neighbours, her past seems to be devoid of identity and we hear of “the husband” or his “parents-in-law”, but never of their names as though their identities are meaningless and do not matter. What really matters in this book is Emilie’s “present now”, this hour, this minute and this second of her life.
Bakker is his best when his book flows with the quiet descriptions of nature, and his dramatisations and dialogues have the touch of artificiality in them. Although too slow, the book is never tedious as the author strikes a delicate balance between concealing and revealing, and there is a feeling that we are slowly heading to an unpredictable climax in The Detour. We do get to know more about Emilie, and her past and present situations through the conversations that her husband has with his parents-in-law in Holland and through Emilie’s own images of the past resurfacing.
🐔 The Detour wields a strange power – barely perceivable, but heart-felt. The book has a special poignancy to it, slowly becoming the work of quiet beauty and conviction.
This is a book by a Dutch writer Gerbrand Bakker, whose previous book The Twin [2006] won the International Dublin Literary Award. The Detour (also known as Ten White Geese), translated from the Dutch by David Colmer, is about a Dutch woman who moves from her country and starts to live alone on a farm in rural Wales. Some of her nearby neighbours are badgers, cows and ten white geese whose number declines rapidly and mysteriously the longer she lives on her rented farm. Equipped with a poetry book by Emily Dickinson, the woman seems to be on the run from her past, trying to either delay or solve her immediate problems by seeking refuge in an unknown and isolated location. Her peace is soon disturbed by those with curiosity and inquisitiveness. With elegance and delicacy, Bakker draws on the nature in his book to shed light on the mystery that is this woman and her past, with his book becoming a quiet and poignant exploration of loneliness, pain and human connection.
Bakker admitted that he writers “instinctively” and that is definitely felt in his novels – they do have this feeling of coming straight from the heart. Bakker explores personal past, grief and attempts to connect to others through his vivid descriptions of nature and animals. Situating a character within the nature domain provides a special emotional resonance and perspective. There is a strange and quiet immediacy to the author’s writing and, as we read The Detour, we soon begin to care for this woman who calls herself Emilie – what could have brought her to this secluded place in a foreign-to-her country where she does not know anyone?
The farm and the house where Emilie starts to live are special places which emphasise the meaninglessness of time. Emilie’s rented farm is located near some ancient stone circle, a “timeless” place where people went to reconnect with their ancestors and forget their everyday concerns. The secluded farm is exactly the place where one can draw strength from the soil, seek solace in nature, and become attuned to it and its sounds. While on the farm, Emilie forgets the passage of time and becomes directionless. She does not have any clock in her house and, soon, senses the uncertainty of everyday existence: “she senses how vulnerable people are when they have no idea what to do next, how to move forward or back” [Bakker/Colmer, 2010/2012: 7]. Sleep becomes another refuge for Emilie: “how pleasant that was, sleep. How separate from everything else. How free from the things that worry people when they’re not sleeping, the things that scare them, the things that loom before them like a mountain” [Bakker/Colmer, 2010/2012: 158]. Wine and nostalgia for the past are her other medications: “There was a sweet and spicy quality to the smell of the burning wood that made her think of the home-made borstplaat and speculaas her grandmother used to make and bring to their flat in the Rustenburgerstraat” [Bakker/Colmer, 2010/2012: 71]. Only the disappearing geese near her farm signal the passage of time and substitute a ticking clock, but their disappearing number also signals the irreversible loss, the loss that Emilie is unable to prevent.
In the story, Emilie soon has human company – but will they provide the needed relief for her?, and what about her husband who soon hires a private investigator to track his wife down? Apart from Emilie and hew new neighbours, her past seems to be devoid of identity and we hear of “the husband” or his “parents-in-law”, but never of their names as though their identities are meaningless and do not matter. What really matters in this book is Emilie’s “present now”, this hour, this minute and this second of her life.
Bakker is his best when his book flows with the quiet descriptions of nature, and his dramatisations and dialogues have the touch of artificiality in them. Although too slow, the book is never tedious as the author strikes a delicate balance between concealing and revealing, and there is a feeling that we are slowly heading to an unpredictable climax in The Detour. We do get to know more about Emilie, and her past and present situations through the conversations that her husband has with his parents-in-law in Holland and through Emilie’s own images of the past resurfacing.
🐔 The Detour wields a strange power – barely perceivable, but heart-felt. The book has a special poignancy to it, slowly becoming the work of quiet beauty and conviction.
November 28, 2014
One of the things I love about Goodreads is the community here. One big book club. And a huge thanks to one of my book club members, qtasha, for recommending Bakker to me. A jewel of an author I never heard of before.
I understand from the reviews that he may have more popular books than this one, but I loved this book. 4.5 stars. It's a literary novel with a dash of suspense and mystery. Full of unreliable narrators (three in total), some of the best dialog I have ever read, a bleak setting worthy of Wales, full of the natural world. It starts slowly with almost no interactions between the main narrator (Agnes) and any other characters, but stick with it. It slowly builds, like an intricate 3D puzzle. I don't want to spoil the plot, but it's hard to surprise me, and I was not expecting the conclusion.
It's a tragic tale, full of pathos and the almost impossible task of human connection. In the best passage of the book, Agnes, AKA Emily Dickinson, thinks about her adored uncle: "she sensed how vulnerable people are when they have no idea what to do next, how to move forward or back. That a shallow hotel pond can feel like a standstill, like marking time with the bank--no start or end, a circle--as the past, present and unlimited future."
It is one of those books you have to reread portions of again when done. Bakker lays out sparse clues to the mystery that surrounds the happenings throughout, but they are so deft you don't realize they are clues till the end. Some clues are still really hard to grasp, and I wonder if the translation has something to do with that, but I still highly recommend this book and this writer.
I understand from the reviews that he may have more popular books than this one, but I loved this book. 4.5 stars. It's a literary novel with a dash of suspense and mystery. Full of unreliable narrators (three in total), some of the best dialog I have ever read, a bleak setting worthy of Wales, full of the natural world. It starts slowly with almost no interactions between the main narrator (Agnes) and any other characters, but stick with it. It slowly builds, like an intricate 3D puzzle. I don't want to spoil the plot, but it's hard to surprise me, and I was not expecting the conclusion.
It's a tragic tale, full of pathos and the almost impossible task of human connection. In the best passage of the book, Agnes, AKA Emily Dickinson, thinks about her adored uncle: "she sensed how vulnerable people are when they have no idea what to do next, how to move forward or back. That a shallow hotel pond can feel like a standstill, like marking time with the bank--no start or end, a circle--as the past, present and unlimited future."
It is one of those books you have to reread portions of again when done. Bakker lays out sparse clues to the mystery that surrounds the happenings throughout, but they are so deft you don't realize they are clues till the end. Some clues are still really hard to grasp, and I wonder if the translation has something to do with that, but I still highly recommend this book and this writer.
March 31, 2022
Hollanda’lı yazar Gerbrand Bakker’den okuduğum ikinci roman. İlki “Yukarıda Ses Yok” adlı romanıydı, geçmişe takılıp kalmış hayat yorgunu bir adamın iç dünyası üzerinden varoluşu sorgulayan etkileyici bir romandı. Bu romanı da oldukça etkileyici, adı gibi “dolambaç”lı bir öykü ile, bu kez hayat yorgunu bir kadını ele almış. Onun ruh dünyasında yaptığı arkeolojik kazılarla, okuyucuyu sıkmayan kısa cümlelerle, karışık, belli belirsiz patikalarda yürüyerek bir varoluş sorgulaması yaptığı bir anlatım. Hollanda’lı bir okutman, kaçıp sığındığı Galler’deki bir genç adam ve geride bıraktığı eş, anne ve baba.
Kitabın İngilizce basımındaki adı “Beyaz Kazlar”, keşke o isimle yayınlansaydı, daha yakışırdı. Sorgulatan ve düşündüren, hüzünlendiren bir roman. Öneririm.
Kitabın İngilizce basımındaki adı “Beyaz Kazlar”, keşke o isimle yayınlansaydı, daha yakışırdı. Sorgulatan ve düşündüren, hüzünlendiren bir roman. Öneririm.
August 7, 2016
TEN WHITE GEESE (or THE DETOUR in its UK translation of 2012) by Dutch author Gerbrand Bakker is a book that surprised me. Reading the first pages I wasn't sure this story would be one to capture and take hold of my imagination. How wrong I was! Picking it up again and allowing the writing to unfold slowly, I became more and more drawn to the central character, Emily, and the rural North Wales landscape she has retreated to. I soon realized that Bakker's novel is not primarily about plot and what happens and why; it is first of all a sensitively developed portrait of a woman living through a critical moment in her life. It is extraordinary how the author conveys with such subtle balance the interplay between his heroine's inner frame of mind and the outer, natural environment. Through his descriptions we can easily sense any change in atmosphere and mood and follow Emily's exploration of a world that is new to her.
At the surface the story is simple enough: a mid-career Dutch woman, teaching and writing her thesis on Emily Dickinson, drops out of study, work, and marriage without anybody knowing why or where she is. The novel opens with her walking in the Welsh countryside near the farmhouse she has rented. We follow as she explores her surroundings, discovers interesting stone circles, has an encounter with badgers, and skinny-dips into a pond despite it being November. She also feels responsibility for the farmhouse garden with ten geese, but wonders about her role, if any, in taking care of the cows and the sheep in the fields that clearly belong to the farm. She is determined to be self-reliant and rebuffs any attempt by the local farmer (who owns those animals in the fields) or the villagers to get to know her... The exception is a young man who appears one day and in his quietly confident way, gains her trust and more.
As readers we very slowly learn to piece together some of the reasons why she is there, why she lives "in the moment", why she feels, somehow, emotionally connected to Emily Dickinson. There are other "ghosts" that occupy her mind: the presence of the previous owner of the house, her much loved uncle... Is this an expression of loneliness? of homesickness? Maybe. It is admirable and very convincing how Bakker has been feeling himself into the female mind and spirit. His writing is deceptively simple, yet, he creates a natural environment that is alive and visceral and of which Emily becomes an integral part. And, last but not least, while the story flows gently, the author nonetheless builds in a kind of dramatic tension that captures the reader. We feel compelled to continue reading to find out what is underlying Emilie's behaviour and situation.
At the surface the story is simple enough: a mid-career Dutch woman, teaching and writing her thesis on Emily Dickinson, drops out of study, work, and marriage without anybody knowing why or where she is. The novel opens with her walking in the Welsh countryside near the farmhouse she has rented. We follow as she explores her surroundings, discovers interesting stone circles, has an encounter with badgers, and skinny-dips into a pond despite it being November. She also feels responsibility for the farmhouse garden with ten geese, but wonders about her role, if any, in taking care of the cows and the sheep in the fields that clearly belong to the farm. She is determined to be self-reliant and rebuffs any attempt by the local farmer (who owns those animals in the fields) or the villagers to get to know her... The exception is a young man who appears one day and in his quietly confident way, gains her trust and more.
As readers we very slowly learn to piece together some of the reasons why she is there, why she lives "in the moment", why she feels, somehow, emotionally connected to Emily Dickinson. There are other "ghosts" that occupy her mind: the presence of the previous owner of the house, her much loved uncle... Is this an expression of loneliness? of homesickness? Maybe. It is admirable and very convincing how Bakker has been feeling himself into the female mind and spirit. His writing is deceptively simple, yet, he creates a natural environment that is alive and visceral and of which Emily becomes an integral part. And, last but not least, while the story flows gently, the author nonetheless builds in a kind of dramatic tension that captures the reader. We feel compelled to continue reading to find out what is underlying Emilie's behaviour and situation.
September 21, 2017
A Dutch translator and Emily Dickinson scholar has fled a mistake in her personal life and settled in rural Wales at the foot of Snowdon. “She had left everything behind, everything except the poems. They would have to see her through. She forgot to eat.” On her farmstead is a dwindling flock of geese and, later on, a young man surveying for a new footpath. Amidst her quiet, secret-filled days we also learn of her husband’s attempts to find her back in Amsterdam. Bakker’s writing is subtle and lovely, yet the story never quite took off for me.
January 5, 2020
Wanneer is een boek een echt goed boek? Na lezing gaf ik dit boek 3 sterren. Ik hou van barokke, bloemrijke taal en dit vond ik eerder sober proza. Maar nu 2 maanden later blijft het nog nazinderen en grijp ik zelfs naar een tweede boek van deze auteur. Opwaardering dringt zich dus op en een verdere verkenning van zijn boeken.
January 7, 2020
Prachtig. Sobere schrijfstijl. Echt Gerbrand Bakker, een van mijn favoriete schrijvers. Afstandelijk en onpersoonlijk waardoor de eenzaamheid en machteloosheid van de hoofdpersoon aan alle kanten van de bladzijden spat. Voor mij blijft Boven is het stil absoluut zijn beste boek, maar dit is ook een aanrader.
June 17, 2013
This is an odd book, in that I found it a compelling read and yet at the same time I was not particularly interested in the end in what the outcome was, only that I should reach that outcome. It is often difficult to judge the writing of an author who has been translated. Is it the author or translator being judged? Bakker writes in a flat way. He captures an air of mystery and sometimes menace, of loneliness and despair. Yet he failed, for me anyway, to develop any real interest in the characters or their predicament. I also at times found his sentences a little jarring and choice of paragraphs odd - but this settled down after a while.
I suspect this is one of those books that some people will love, but it did not work for me. If this is what Bakker's writing is like, I will not read another. On the other hand, it has something as I read it in two sittings so he pulled me in, even if I did not enjoy the process of being pulled in.
I suspect this is one of those books that some people will love, but it did not work for me. If this is what Bakker's writing is like, I will not read another. On the other hand, it has something as I read it in two sittings so he pulled me in, even if I did not enjoy the process of being pulled in.
June 10, 2017
The Detour starts off pretty low key and, well, stays that way till the last two (to me, unsatisfying) chapters. I was expecting some sort of slow, quiet revelation of character, but Bakker’s characters were so determined to avoid any sort of self-examination, let alone honesty towards one another, that there weren’t any revelations.
The humour was just depressing — people repeatedly refusing to understand one another — and some of the details were quite unbelievable (a GP who smokes in his consulting room, a hairdresser who smokes in her place of work, the fact the main character can rent a sizeable property in obvious need of upkeep without being asked to provide a guarantor, remarkably placid geese…) — the fact that I kept a mental list of these things perhaps shows how much I fell out of sympathy with the whole thing by the end… Ach! and double Ach!
The humour was just depressing — people repeatedly refusing to understand one another — and some of the details were quite unbelievable (a GP who smokes in his consulting room, a hairdresser who smokes in her place of work, the fact the main character can rent a sizeable property in obvious need of upkeep without being asked to provide a guarantor, remarkably placid geese…) — the fact that I kept a mental list of these things perhaps shows how much I fell out of sympathy with the whole thing by the end… Ach! and double Ach!
July 23, 2013
What exactly was the point? If I were to write something like this novel, I doubt it would be published. I'm puzzled as to why people are waxing poetic about it.
July 31, 2023
Schitterend boek. Ik moest op een of andere manier de hele tijd aan 'De waarnemer' van Kayzer denken. Bakker schreef een schaars boek. Hoewel ik dit boek in een ruk uitlas, twee dagen, heb ik het gevoel dat het een boek is waarin er meticuleus is omgesprongen met elke kleine aanwijzing in het verhaal. Er wordt niets met de paplepel erin gegoten. Ik hou ervan als de auteur de lezer intelligent genoeg acht zelf de puzzelstukjes bijeen te rapen en betekenis te geven aan kleine gebeurtenissen. Adembenemend stil werd het hier in mijn hoofd en hart na het lezen van dit boek. Zoveel schaarste en stilte. En dat allemaal met woorden op een blad papier. Meesterlijk.
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