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Buzz Aldrin, waar ben je gebleven?
Mattias is geboren in 1969, in de nacht van de eerste maanlanding. Om preciezer te zijn: op het moment dat Buzz Aldrin zijn voet in het maanstof zette. Buzz Aldrin is Mattias' grote idool. Een man die belangrijk werk deed, maar in de aangename schaduw van Neil Armstrong kan leven. Precies het onopvallende leven dat Mattias zelf voor ogen heeft. Als zijn relatie strandt, besluit hij op het aanbod van een vriend in te gaan en met diens band mee te varen naar de Faeröer. Naar het land waar geen boom groeit, het land dat op de maan lijkt. Maar eenmaal aan boord gaat het mis. Mattias stort in en wordt wakker op een verlaten weg, doorweekt, gewond en – om onverklaarbare redenen – met 15.000 Noorse kronen op zak.
478 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2005
243 people are currently reading
4630 people want to read
About the author
Johan Harstad
29 books693 followersJohan Harstad is a Norwegian author, graphic designer, playwright, drummer, and international sensation. He is the winner of the 2008 Brage Award (Brageprisen), previously won by Per Petterson, and his books have been published in over 11 countries. In 2009, he was named the first ever in-house playwright at the National Theatre in Oslo. His first novel Buzz Aldrin, What Happened To You In All The Confusion, originally published in Norway by Gyldendal in 2005, was made into a TV series in 2009 starring The Wire’s Chad Coleman. Harstad lives in Oslo.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 601 reviews
September 3, 2022
A yearning for invisibility
After reading many reviews raving about the Norwegian author Johan Harstad’s 1232 pages behemoth Max, Mischa & Tetoffensiven marking it as a masterpiece, I was slightly disappointed the book club put this novel on the list instead – a reasonable and far more realistic choice, given this novel is ‘only’ 479 pages. Despite its swathes of brilliant writing and meritorious touching on issues of mental health and the social maladjustment related to them making it difficult to fit in and function in society, let alone stay sane in the craziness of the rat race, still I struggled with its massive size and particularly with the sprawling, meandering and detailed narrative (possibly because of my shrunken attention span).
The microscopic cells that formed your face in the photograph your parents have hanging in their living room are gone, exchanged for others. You’re no longer who you were. But I am still here, the atoms may swap their places, but nobody can control the dance of the quarks. And the same applies to the people you love. With almost stationary velocity they crumble in your arms, and you wish you could cling onto something permanent in them, their skeleton, their teeth, brain cells, but you can’t, because almost everything is water, impossible to grasp. And gradually every trace they left is gone, the house they once lived in, the drawings they made for you, the words they wrote on scraps of paper that vanished.
Mattias, the narrator and protagonist, genuinely longs to function ‘normally’ - even that much that he wants to be ‘a smooth-running cog in the world’. He wants to be useful, but without having the need to be seen. Since his teenage years Mattias aspires a place in the world in the background. His desire is to be a ‘number two’ like Buzz Aldrin was, the second man to set foot on the moon, not catching the spotlights like Neil Armstrong. Born on the day of the moon landing, from childhood on he has grown a fascination for astronautics. Identifying strongly with an image of Buzz Aldrin he has created in his own mind, being ‘number two’ has become the guiding principle in his life, despite being able to play a role in the limelight: by chance he discovers having a fabulous singing voice. He lives a quiet life in his native Stavanger as a gardener, until the moment he loses his job, his girlfriend Helle leaves him and he joins friends from a rock band on a trip to the Faroe islands. Once arrived there he disintegrates and ends up in a sheltered community, which is managed in an unorthodox manner by the psychiatrist Havstein. Months are passing in which he stays with the small community in a situation of stasis reminiscent of Hans Castorp’s in The Magic Mountain – free to leave without being able to – forming an alternative family with the group.
In the light of our times validating self-display and attention seeking through Instagram and similar platforms, the modesty of Mattias’ aspirations is refreshing as well as uncommon. His wish to pass unnoticed is a good reminder one can have a good life in the shadow. Live hidden, as Epicurus already propagated. One could wonder however about Mattias’ motives. What is he hiding from? Why does he always run away as soon as others come too close? Is he suffering from social anxiety? Even in the remote environment of the Faroe Islands, far away from home, Mattias cannot escape himself and his troubles undeniably come to the fore, piecemeal revealed to the reader by flashbacks and interventions of his friends and relatives.
A large part of the novel unfolds on to the Faroe Islands (with Mattias the reader even attends a traditional (bloody) whale drive hunt (grindadráp)). As in my mental picture of these islands many happy sheep frolick around, I admit I was fairly disappointed that none of the plentiful landscape descriptions mention such woolly friends, only the wooden specimens the community manufactures to sell in tourist shops. Rather than the bright blue and green from the gorgeous colours of Mikines’ painting and the atmospheric pictures on the website of the tourist office, Harstad’s descriptions of the islands and its capital Torshavn struck me as quite grey and forlorn- which in a way reflects the sometimes low mood of the protagonist and the members of the community wrestling with quite a few mental health issues. Harstad doesn’t shy away to shed a light on the harshness of life on the islands, the difficulty to earn a living there and to raise children in isolated conditions.
In short, I had mixed feelings about the novel. On the plus side, I was pleasantly surprised the novel was only mildly space-nerdy and richer in themes than I had expected: grief, friendship, love, ambition, the struggle with identity issues, social expectations (which added to the young adult feel of the novel, in which pop music – especially The Cardigans - features prominently). On the other hand, nor Mattias nor the members of the community really came alive on the page to me; because many adventurous elements and subplots were crammed into it, the novel felt uneven and contrived (the Caribbean dream, the construction of the boat, the rescuing of Carl on sea and his backstory). The smoothness of the prose and nice turns of phrase kept me reading without being able to shake off the vexation of wasting precious reading time (Don Quixote is waiting…). Closing the book left me craving for something more substantial and put me into a fitful mood of over-saturation with fiction. Strange it might sound, sinking my teeth into Aftermath: Life in the Fallout of the Third Reich turned out the perfect relief.
(paintings by Sámal Joensen-Mikines (1906-1979)).
After reading many reviews raving about the Norwegian author Johan Harstad’s 1232 pages behemoth Max, Mischa & Tetoffensiven marking it as a masterpiece, I was slightly disappointed the book club put this novel on the list instead – a reasonable and far more realistic choice, given this novel is ‘only’ 479 pages. Despite its swathes of brilliant writing and meritorious touching on issues of mental health and the social maladjustment related to them making it difficult to fit in and function in society, let alone stay sane in the craziness of the rat race, still I struggled with its massive size and particularly with the sprawling, meandering and detailed narrative (possibly because of my shrunken attention span).
The microscopic cells that formed your face in the photograph your parents have hanging in their living room are gone, exchanged for others. You’re no longer who you were. But I am still here, the atoms may swap their places, but nobody can control the dance of the quarks. And the same applies to the people you love. With almost stationary velocity they crumble in your arms, and you wish you could cling onto something permanent in them, their skeleton, their teeth, brain cells, but you can’t, because almost everything is water, impossible to grasp. And gradually every trace they left is gone, the house they once lived in, the drawings they made for you, the words they wrote on scraps of paper that vanished.
Mattias, the narrator and protagonist, genuinely longs to function ‘normally’ - even that much that he wants to be ‘a smooth-running cog in the world’. He wants to be useful, but without having the need to be seen. Since his teenage years Mattias aspires a place in the world in the background. His desire is to be a ‘number two’ like Buzz Aldrin was, the second man to set foot on the moon, not catching the spotlights like Neil Armstrong. Born on the day of the moon landing, from childhood on he has grown a fascination for astronautics. Identifying strongly with an image of Buzz Aldrin he has created in his own mind, being ‘number two’ has become the guiding principle in his life, despite being able to play a role in the limelight: by chance he discovers having a fabulous singing voice. He lives a quiet life in his native Stavanger as a gardener, until the moment he loses his job, his girlfriend Helle leaves him and he joins friends from a rock band on a trip to the Faroe islands. Once arrived there he disintegrates and ends up in a sheltered community, which is managed in an unorthodox manner by the psychiatrist Havstein. Months are passing in which he stays with the small community in a situation of stasis reminiscent of Hans Castorp’s in The Magic Mountain – free to leave without being able to – forming an alternative family with the group.
In the light of our times validating self-display and attention seeking through Instagram and similar platforms, the modesty of Mattias’ aspirations is refreshing as well as uncommon. His wish to pass unnoticed is a good reminder one can have a good life in the shadow. Live hidden, as Epicurus already propagated. One could wonder however about Mattias’ motives. What is he hiding from? Why does he always run away as soon as others come too close? Is he suffering from social anxiety? Even in the remote environment of the Faroe Islands, far away from home, Mattias cannot escape himself and his troubles undeniably come to the fore, piecemeal revealed to the reader by flashbacks and interventions of his friends and relatives.
A large part of the novel unfolds on to the Faroe Islands (with Mattias the reader even attends a traditional (bloody) whale drive hunt (grindadráp)). As in my mental picture of these islands many happy sheep frolick around, I admit I was fairly disappointed that none of the plentiful landscape descriptions mention such woolly friends, only the wooden specimens the community manufactures to sell in tourist shops. Rather than the bright blue and green from the gorgeous colours of Mikines’ painting and the atmospheric pictures on the website of the tourist office, Harstad’s descriptions of the islands and its capital Torshavn struck me as quite grey and forlorn- which in a way reflects the sometimes low mood of the protagonist and the members of the community wrestling with quite a few mental health issues. Harstad doesn’t shy away to shed a light on the harshness of life on the islands, the difficulty to earn a living there and to raise children in isolated conditions.
In short, I had mixed feelings about the novel. On the plus side, I was pleasantly surprised the novel was only mildly space-nerdy and richer in themes than I had expected: grief, friendship, love, ambition, the struggle with identity issues, social expectations (which added to the young adult feel of the novel, in which pop music – especially The Cardigans - features prominently). On the other hand, nor Mattias nor the members of the community really came alive on the page to me; because many adventurous elements and subplots were crammed into it, the novel felt uneven and contrived (the Caribbean dream, the construction of the boat, the rescuing of Carl on sea and his backstory). The smoothness of the prose and nice turns of phrase kept me reading without being able to shake off the vexation of wasting precious reading time (Don Quixote is waiting…). Closing the book left me craving for something more substantial and put me into a fitful mood of over-saturation with fiction. Strange it might sound, sinking my teeth into Aftermath: Life in the Fallout of the Third Reich turned out the perfect relief.
(paintings by Sámal Joensen-Mikines (1906-1979)).
January 6, 2019
Finisce sempre, dopo, che mi scordo il motivo vero per cui leggo.
Abituato ad apprezzare lo stile, godere le trame, empatizzare con i personaggi scordo sempre tutto. Fino a quando non vado a sbattere di nuovo in un libro che mi infila una mano dentro e mi strizza come un calzino bagnato, e mi obbliga a far finta di dover andare al bagno per leggere di nascosto un'altra pagina, mi fa arrivare tardi ad un appuntamento di lavoro perché non mi volevo staccare dal libro. Ma non perché voglio vedere come va a finire. Proprio no. Perché non posso fare a meno di leggere e pensare e sentirmi rivoltato ed ogni riga è una piccola morte, con tutta la vita che mi scorre davanti agli occhi e mi tornano in mente certi momenti giusti e certi momenti sbagliati, certe persone perse e altre trovate, fino a che finisco esausto, spossato, lucido e confuso assieme.
Sarà la sindrome del quarantenne, ma accidenti a te, Mattias, che fatica. Che se io sapessi cantare lo farei sempre e solo in pubblico e non sono mai stato nè in Norvegia, nè alle Faroer, e forse non ci andrò mai, anche se mi piacerebbe. Non sono come te Mattias, le mie palle di neve al momento giusto non sono mai arrivate sul tetto, la mia Helle dei 16 anni mi ha detto di no, io non ho mai avuto la vigliaccheria di tirarmi indietro del tutto. Però quanto mi assomigli Mattias, sono tutto per Buzz Aldrin anche io ed anche a me mi ha raccattato un Havstein una volta e so come ci si sente e la barca, be', l'avrei proposta anche io.
E sono nordico quanto te, conosco la pioggia sottile e gelata e continuo a chiedermi come sono finito qua. Spero che la barca arrivi ai Caraibi. Mandami una cartolina, se puoi, quando hai cinque minuti. Grazie.
Abituato ad apprezzare lo stile, godere le trame, empatizzare con i personaggi scordo sempre tutto. Fino a quando non vado a sbattere di nuovo in un libro che mi infila una mano dentro e mi strizza come un calzino bagnato, e mi obbliga a far finta di dover andare al bagno per leggere di nascosto un'altra pagina, mi fa arrivare tardi ad un appuntamento di lavoro perché non mi volevo staccare dal libro. Ma non perché voglio vedere come va a finire. Proprio no. Perché non posso fare a meno di leggere e pensare e sentirmi rivoltato ed ogni riga è una piccola morte, con tutta la vita che mi scorre davanti agli occhi e mi tornano in mente certi momenti giusti e certi momenti sbagliati, certe persone perse e altre trovate, fino a che finisco esausto, spossato, lucido e confuso assieme.
Sarà la sindrome del quarantenne, ma accidenti a te, Mattias, che fatica. Che se io sapessi cantare lo farei sempre e solo in pubblico e non sono mai stato nè in Norvegia, nè alle Faroer, e forse non ci andrò mai, anche se mi piacerebbe. Non sono come te Mattias, le mie palle di neve al momento giusto non sono mai arrivate sul tetto, la mia Helle dei 16 anni mi ha detto di no, io non ho mai avuto la vigliaccheria di tirarmi indietro del tutto. Però quanto mi assomigli Mattias, sono tutto per Buzz Aldrin anche io ed anche a me mi ha raccattato un Havstein una volta e so come ci si sente e la barca, be', l'avrei proposta anche io.
E sono nordico quanto te, conosco la pioggia sottile e gelata e continuo a chiedermi come sono finito qua. Spero che la barca arrivi ai Caraibi. Mandami una cartolina, se puoi, quando hai cinque minuti. Grazie.
November 4, 2019
“De persoon van wie je houdt bestaat voor 72,8 procent uit water en het heeft al weken niet geregend.” Soms weet je al na één zin dat het smullen wordt. Buzz Aldrin, waar ben je gebleven? heeft zo’n openingszin. En dan barst die regen op de volgende bladzijde los. Juichend! Hoera, dit is literatuur!
De eerste alinea van dit boek is het soort alinea dat je aan geliefden wil voorlezen. Onmiddellijk, hier en nu, stop de wereld. ’t Is maar om te zeggen: de verwachtingen lagen hoog. Kan Harstad het waarmaken?
Van dezelfde auteur draaide ik deze zomer de laatste bladzijden van Max, Misha & het Tet-offensief om op een Vietnamees dakterras tijdens een regendag. Soms heb je dat, maar alleen bij zeldzaam goede boeken, dat je je precies herinnert wààr je ze uitgelezen hebt. Paul Theroux op een overvolle stadstram, Antunes in een berghut, Being Dead op een rammelbus naar Can Tho…
Mijn eerste Harstad past in het rijtje, dus kon ook Buzz Aldrin (eigenlijk een eerder werk) niet ontbreken, temeer omdat een van mijn lezende vrienden een paar weken geleden beweerde dat Buzz Aldrin nog straffer is.
Harstad schrijft geen dunne boeken, maar daar hoor je mij niet over klagen. Buzz Aldrin leest supervlot, bijna lichtvoetig soms, maar het is toch verrassend origineel en gaat best wel diep, met beeldspraak die bijblijft, spannende plotwendingen en beklijvende beschrijvingen van de fascinerende Faeröer.
Centraal staat ene Mattias. Die wil vooral niet opvallen, is liever tweede dan eerste, verbaast zijn klasgenoten door niet te willen verder studeren (hij wil liever tuinman worden), zo’n jongen die bij je in de klas gezeten heeft maar waarvan je achteraf met de beste wil ter wereld niets, geen enkele anekdote voor de geest kan halen.
Maar Mattias is bijzonder. Om te beginnen beschikt hij over een fenomenaal zangtalent, de rest moet je zelf maar ontdekken.
Buzz Aldrin, waar ben je gebleven? staat voor urenlang boekgenot. Enkel de ontknoping laat me wat “puzzled” achter. Hoefde dat nu echt? Daar ben ik nog niet uit. En of dit boek echt beter is dan dat andere, bekendere boek van hem…dat weet ik eigenlijk ook nog niet. Nevermind, laat het leesplezier voldoende zijn.
De eerste alinea van dit boek is het soort alinea dat je aan geliefden wil voorlezen. Onmiddellijk, hier en nu, stop de wereld. ’t Is maar om te zeggen: de verwachtingen lagen hoog. Kan Harstad het waarmaken?
Van dezelfde auteur draaide ik deze zomer de laatste bladzijden van Max, Misha & het Tet-offensief om op een Vietnamees dakterras tijdens een regendag. Soms heb je dat, maar alleen bij zeldzaam goede boeken, dat je je precies herinnert wààr je ze uitgelezen hebt. Paul Theroux op een overvolle stadstram, Antunes in een berghut, Being Dead op een rammelbus naar Can Tho…
Mijn eerste Harstad past in het rijtje, dus kon ook Buzz Aldrin (eigenlijk een eerder werk) niet ontbreken, temeer omdat een van mijn lezende vrienden een paar weken geleden beweerde dat Buzz Aldrin nog straffer is.
Harstad schrijft geen dunne boeken, maar daar hoor je mij niet over klagen. Buzz Aldrin leest supervlot, bijna lichtvoetig soms, maar het is toch verrassend origineel en gaat best wel diep, met beeldspraak die bijblijft, spannende plotwendingen en beklijvende beschrijvingen van de fascinerende Faeröer.
Centraal staat ene Mattias. Die wil vooral niet opvallen, is liever tweede dan eerste, verbaast zijn klasgenoten door niet te willen verder studeren (hij wil liever tuinman worden), zo’n jongen die bij je in de klas gezeten heeft maar waarvan je achteraf met de beste wil ter wereld niets, geen enkele anekdote voor de geest kan halen.
Maar Mattias is bijzonder. Om te beginnen beschikt hij over een fenomenaal zangtalent, de rest moet je zelf maar ontdekken.
Buzz Aldrin, waar ben je gebleven? staat voor urenlang boekgenot. Enkel de ontknoping laat me wat “puzzled” achter. Hoefde dat nu echt? Daar ben ik nog niet uit. En of dit boek echt beter is dan dat andere, bekendere boek van hem…dat weet ik eigenlijk ook nog niet. Nevermind, laat het leesplezier voldoende zijn.
March 2, 2025
Wauww!
May 31, 2022
Rating: 2.5* of five
The Publisher Says: A pop-saturated epic novel about the second man on the moon, and the quiet thirty-year-old gardener who idolizes him. A story of unconventional psychiatry, the Faroe Islands, amateur boat building, and the journey across the space that divides us from other people: a journey as remote and dangerous as the trip to the moon itself.
My Review: A stream-of-consciousness first novel recounting nineteen years in the life of Mattias, the kid who never wanted to be seen or heard. He got his wish all his life long, except that it cost him the love and affection of two women, the fame that could've changed his life had he pursued his talent for singing, and landed him in the tender clutches of a mental institution in the Faeroe Islands. There is a happy ending.
Without a doubt, the worst title in the history of English-language publishing. The. Worst.
I'm going to say three things about this book, and then move on. The first thing is, boring characters make for boring books, and boring books are bad for the publisher's image and profits. The second thing is, four hundred seventy-one pages of a boring character's boring thoughts and flat, affectless reports of tragedy and pain are approximately two times too many pages. The third thing is, THIRTY DOLLARS FOR THIS?!?
Moving on.
The Publisher Says: A pop-saturated epic novel about the second man on the moon, and the quiet thirty-year-old gardener who idolizes him. A story of unconventional psychiatry, the Faroe Islands, amateur boat building, and the journey across the space that divides us from other people: a journey as remote and dangerous as the trip to the moon itself.
My Review: A stream-of-consciousness first novel recounting nineteen years in the life of Mattias, the kid who never wanted to be seen or heard. He got his wish all his life long, except that it cost him the love and affection of two women, the fame that could've changed his life had he pursued his talent for singing, and landed him in the tender clutches of a mental institution in the Faeroe Islands. There is a happy ending.
Without a doubt, the worst title in the history of English-language publishing. The. Worst.
I'm going to say three things about this book, and then move on. The first thing is, boring characters make for boring books, and boring books are bad for the publisher's image and profits. The second thing is, four hundred seventy-one pages of a boring character's boring thoughts and flat, affectless reports of tragedy and pain are approximately two times too many pages. The third thing is, THIRTY DOLLARS FOR THIS?!?
Moving on.
May 16, 2020
Wat een zalig boek!
Ik heb de laatste weken vertoefd op de Faeröer eilanden en dat was heerlijk! Ik hou ontzettend van Harstads schrijfstijl: poëtisch, ritmisch, beeldend...
Ik had heel weinig tijd om te lezen maar 'Buzz Aldrin, waar ben je gebleven' hoef je ook helemaal niet snel snel uit te lezen. Ik heb enorm genoten van het gezelschap van Matthias, zijn kijk op de wereld, zijn worsteling met zichzelf.
Harstad slaagt erin de zwaarte van het leven aannemelijk te maken, hij schrijft ook steeds met zoveel liefde en biedt zijn personages een uitweg.
Harstad staat bovenaan mijn lijstje met favoriete auteurs!
Ik heb de laatste weken vertoefd op de Faeröer eilanden en dat was heerlijk! Ik hou ontzettend van Harstads schrijfstijl: poëtisch, ritmisch, beeldend...
Ik had heel weinig tijd om te lezen maar 'Buzz Aldrin, waar ben je gebleven' hoef je ook helemaal niet snel snel uit te lezen. Ik heb enorm genoten van het gezelschap van Matthias, zijn kijk op de wereld, zijn worsteling met zichzelf.
Harstad slaagt erin de zwaarte van het leven aannemelijk te maken, hij schrijft ook steeds met zoveel liefde en biedt zijn personages een uitweg.
Harstad staat bovenaan mijn lijstje met favoriete auteurs!
May 30, 2021
> dikke 4 sterren <
Genoten van het (aandoenlijke) verhaal van Mattias, die niet de behoefte voelt om nummer 1 te zijn, niet in het minst omdat ikzelf ook totaal niet de behoefte voel om ergens de eerste of de belangrijkste in te zijn. Het verhaal is geschreven met precies het juiste vleugje droge humor en dan schetst hij tussendoor ook nog mooi het tijdsbeeld (vanaf 1969).
'En in de lente van 1979 besloot ik in al die drukte in de wereld te verdwijnen, nummer twee te worden, iemand die nuttig wilde zijn in plaats van op te vallen, die deed wat hem gevraagd werd. Maar dat is uiteraard een gedachte achteraf, dat het toen begon, een poging het beginpunt van een leven vast te pinnen. Alleen in de fictie, in films en romans kun je het exacte tijdstip van een verandering vaststellen. In de werkelijkheid komt de keuze geleidelijk, de gedachte ontwikkelt zich stukje bij beetje en misschien was het pas ergens in de brugklas dat ik actief besloot om onzichtbaar te zijn.'
Genoten van het (aandoenlijke) verhaal van Mattias, die niet de behoefte voelt om nummer 1 te zijn, niet in het minst omdat ikzelf ook totaal niet de behoefte voel om ergens de eerste of de belangrijkste in te zijn. Het verhaal is geschreven met precies het juiste vleugje droge humor en dan schetst hij tussendoor ook nog mooi het tijdsbeeld (vanaf 1969).
January 28, 2019
Heel blij dat ik eerst Max, Mischa en het Tet-Offensief heb gelezen!
Het lijkt alsof je eerst het verbluffend epische Lord of the rings leest en erna pas het lieflijk brave De Hobbit.
Het lijkt alsof je eerst het verbluffend epische Lord of the rings leest en erna pas het lieflijk brave De Hobbit.
July 24, 2014
What I like and dislike at the same time in modern Norwegian literature is the straight and essential style used by young novelists such as Erlend Loe and Frode Grytten. It's a kind of writing that is a thousand miles away from most of the Italian literature I like.
Where Italian authors try to be impressive at any rate using a rich style and many cultural influences even in referring to extreme situations, Norwegian novelists don't seem to care. I mean, they simply put themselves in the shoes of a character without any need to investigate that much on everything else.
Short sentences. Self-humour. Undramatic introspection. Music and television as a source of inspiration for absurd reflections. And a kind of perpetual Peter Pan syndrome lived by the main characters. These are the ingredients of the "Modern Norwegian Literature Recipe".
Johan Harstad doesn't make any exception. Mattias, the protagonist and narrator of "Buzz Aldrin" could easily be the elder brother of Loe's "Naiv Super". The two characters share an enchanted and melancholic way of looking around, keep on reminiscing their childhood and live in their own world made of subtle reflections in unexpected moments and speechless situations. They are both romantic and anacronistic fellows.
Yet, whereas Loe insists too much in using a childish way of behaving for his Naiv Super guy, Harstad aims to give to his fragile Mattias a deeper personality. Besides, the young Stavanger-born author has the brilliant idea of setting his novel in an out-of-time place like the Faer Oer islands. An interesting choice, indeed that is particularly fascinating for a non Scandinavian audience who has a vague picture of this tiny archipelagus with no trees at all and punctuated by sheeps.
There Mattias loses his way and then tries to put himself together.
As for the modern Norwegian literature, what I miss more is a feminine point of view on the same topics of isolation and personal reconstruction. Harstad does something, but not enough on this side, writing on one of the characters of Buzz Aldrin. And yet, I am sure he will surprise me pretty soon with something better.
Where Italian authors try to be impressive at any rate using a rich style and many cultural influences even in referring to extreme situations, Norwegian novelists don't seem to care. I mean, they simply put themselves in the shoes of a character without any need to investigate that much on everything else.
Short sentences. Self-humour. Undramatic introspection. Music and television as a source of inspiration for absurd reflections. And a kind of perpetual Peter Pan syndrome lived by the main characters. These are the ingredients of the "Modern Norwegian Literature Recipe".
Johan Harstad doesn't make any exception. Mattias, the protagonist and narrator of "Buzz Aldrin" could easily be the elder brother of Loe's "Naiv Super". The two characters share an enchanted and melancholic way of looking around, keep on reminiscing their childhood and live in their own world made of subtle reflections in unexpected moments and speechless situations. They are both romantic and anacronistic fellows.
Yet, whereas Loe insists too much in using a childish way of behaving for his Naiv Super guy, Harstad aims to give to his fragile Mattias a deeper personality. Besides, the young Stavanger-born author has the brilliant idea of setting his novel in an out-of-time place like the Faer Oer islands. An interesting choice, indeed that is particularly fascinating for a non Scandinavian audience who has a vague picture of this tiny archipelagus with no trees at all and punctuated by sheeps.
There Mattias loses his way and then tries to put himself together.
As for the modern Norwegian literature, what I miss more is a feminine point of view on the same topics of isolation and personal reconstruction. Harstad does something, but not enough on this side, writing on one of the characters of Buzz Aldrin. And yet, I am sure he will surprise me pretty soon with something better.
December 22, 2019
Intriguing book. The writing style is very direct, quite minimalistic-descriptive and that is not my thing. The main character Mattias is equally colourless: he is deliberately very passive and wants to be invisible (his idol is the second man on the Moon, Buzz Aldrin), he let’s life slip past him, but nevertheless he hits a heavy identity crisis; if you ask me, that is a rather forced story. And finally there is the authentic, but terrible landscape of the Faroer Islands, where Mattias could find his rebirth with the help of a warm community of people; appealing but also a bit of a cliché .
No, this story not really captivated me and the writing style regularly bothered me. But I admit, this book continued to intrigue me. Involuntarily I was reminded of the character Frits van Egters from Gerard Reve's "The Nights", although that character had a slightly more cynical attitude. Also the rather bloodless adolescents in many of Murakami's novels got into my mind: they also let life slip past; and as with Murakami this story also is full of references to modern (pop) culture.
What appealed to me were the continuous links with Buzz Aldrin's space-adventure (with lots of quotes from the conversations between the astronauts and the control center in Houston), and the similarities (in the eyes of Mattias) between the lunar landscape and that of the Faroer Islands. All in all, a bit of a mixed bag, this book.
No, this story not really captivated me and the writing style regularly bothered me. But I admit, this book continued to intrigue me. Involuntarily I was reminded of the character Frits van Egters from Gerard Reve's "The Nights", although that character had a slightly more cynical attitude. Also the rather bloodless adolescents in many of Murakami's novels got into my mind: they also let life slip past; and as with Murakami this story also is full of references to modern (pop) culture.
What appealed to me were the continuous links with Buzz Aldrin's space-adventure (with lots of quotes from the conversations between the astronauts and the control center in Houston), and the similarities (in the eyes of Mattias) between the lunar landscape and that of the Faroer Islands. All in all, a bit of a mixed bag, this book.
April 18, 2018
Good morning, dear readers. Okay, I'm done. First off, I want stars or more tea or maybe someone to help me rake leaves as a prize for resisting the urge to look at this novel in more depth on Goodreads before I got to the last page. I did not look. I did not read any reviews. I did not search "Johan Harstad" to find out as much as I could about him. Next I want to shout out to Michelle, my friend and neighbour, who pointed me in the direction of this novel. The library didn't have it so I bought it. I don't buy many books. I use the library, oh, let's say 90% of the time. I used to buy books. All. The. Time. Then I used to loan books and as you know, sometimes books don't come home, so then my collection was kind of fractured. Then I did a major clean out (see "minimalism") and got rid of most of the books I owned. I took them to a really nice used book store and asked for cards instead of book credit. Cards. They had beautiful cards. I write a lot of letters and cards. I had signed first editions, I had some real gems in the many boxes, but it was okay. I felt okay going away with my hundred dollars worth of posh art cards and I wrote notes and letters on them and that was that.
When I was 12 years old, a hundred years ago, I used to say to my mother, "l'll never be allowed to go uptown by myself! Ever!" I said it in that exasperated way only a 12 year old can and back then kids were, generally speaking, more polite and less entitled so it probably didn't sound very forceful but all I wanted was to get on the bus and go uptown to the library. That's all I wanted. And my mother, one day, said, "Okay. You can go."
This brings me to one of my happiest memories, like it's in the top five. It was snowing. That's important. It was late November or early December, I know this because it got dark very early. I went to the library and I chose a huge pile of books, let's say nine. It may have been seven but it was a significant stack, it was not two or three. As long as I had books I was okay. I had an alternate universe. I could go into the books and the real world would fall away. Every part of it, people yelling, fear, sorrow, the things that were part of my 12 year old life. Once I had novels, I was home free. All I had to do was open the pages and whoosh, gone. So I clearly remember that night, I sat on the right hand side of the bus and because it was dark the lights were on inside the bus and it was dark grey outside and the snow was falling. I remember the cold of the bus seat and the pile of books behind me and looking out the window at the snow and the darkness and the bus was shaped like a loaf of bread, that's how buses were shaped back then, and I was all alone and completely happy and I thought, "Remember this moment, memorize this moment." And I did.
So you're now saying (or maybe a few of you are saying), "WHAT has this got to do with "Buzz Aldrin, What Happened to You In All The Confusion?" That's a good question. I'll take it. I'll answer that. Let us say that there are two types of books for me, when it comes to the ones I really love. The first category are fine, they work, I am happy to read them, I admire the writing. Yep, they're top shelf. Ah, but then, then what is the second category? Well, they're the magical ones. Some of you are reading this because of my review of "How To Stop Time" and yes, I understand that. This is a very different novel in many ways but, but, for me it works the same kind of magic. It's not just brilliant (and it is that), it's this feeling of enormous relief I get when I read the pages, the feeling of my shoulders going down and that there is goodness in the world and that someone, someone has been able to put into words so many of the things I think and feel. So maybe it's me and maybe it is matter of the right book at the right time but I do need to tell you more.
I was on page 73. There is a sentence that starts on page 72 and goes halfway down page 73. I was going to do a word count for you this morning but I lost count twice and gave up. Let's say it's a one page sentence. That's long, eh? Yeah, that's long. I read it and felt this kind of humming vibration in my mind, it's this feeling of extreme excitement because (for me) this Johan Harstad nailed it. He nailed it. I had to see if anyone else felt this way but was avoiding Goodreads reviews so I said to my adult son, "Sit. Read this. Read this one giant sentence and then tell me what you think." I paced around while he read. He said, "Jeez Mom, it's so depressing!" I said, "Depressing? Depressing?? It lifts me up, that whole thing he's going on about, that's what I think about and he was able to get it down on paper and it just makes me relax and feel better able to live in the world. Don't you think it's kind of brilliant?" He said, "Well, I see your point but I find it quite depressing." So, it's all eye of the beholder.
There are two reasons I think readers will struggle with this novel. It's a translation and the place names are difficult. What's the other reason? Hmmmm. I don't know how to put this. Let's say that it's a writer's book. Does that mean only writers will like it? No. Not exactly. I need more tea. Was there not an offer for more tea? Is someone not plugging in a kettle? I can't hear the kettle! I can't hear it. I think what I am trying to say is you've got to put some effort into reading this book. It's not short (471 pages) and it's not always easy, which is not to say it's hard. It's not a slog, not like walking in sodden bog and your boots keep getting stuck. However, it does take some effort. It's a novel that does require you to pay attention and go fully in and again, that's not for everyone and hey, it's not always for me but at this point in time, like now, it was just what I needed.
Let's talk about what I like. Let's be subtle about it. FIRST PERSON NARRATION! There. Nice and subtle. Give me a narrator to love. What makes me love them? I like me some angst. Yep. But not hopelessness. Basically I want a variation of that 12 year old kid on the bus who is thinking a lot and wondering about the world, their place in the world, why things happen, why things are the way they are. And I want a narrator who sees a lot and shows it to me. I don't want hammered with the beautiful details, I want them doled out like very small exquisite chocolates, preferably the kind with candied ginger in them and not cloyingly sweet. If you can do that, I'll climb to the rooftops and sing your praise.
It's raining here, very heavily. I am not going out so scrap the rooftop thing. I'll sing it from this chair in front of the computer. I had no hesitation to say "You all must read the Matt Haig novel." That was easy. I knew that most of you would be wildly excited. This is different. I think you need to think about it and consider what I've said and soon I'll go and see what other readers had to say about it here on Goodreads. After I get another tea, after.
I was nervous in the last fifty pages, he had a lot of work to do, this author, a lot of work. And I was thinking oh, don't fail me now, do not fail me now. Endings are critical for me. It was gentle and beautiful. I exhaled.
I'll miss Mattias, the narrator. I miss him now. I started missing him yesterday as soon as I closed the last page. That, in the final analysis, is the litmus test for me. I miss hearing his voice in my head. I miss hearing his thoughts. Above all that, I'm grateful he was with me for the week it took me to read this novel. Bone grateful.
And I think that's all I have to say. Well, it's never all I have to say but I'll stop here because it's quite clear to me that any tea to be had is going to be made by yours truly. I hope the pages you are turning in your life work their magic for you, winter bus magic.
Over and out,
Fishgirl
When I was 12 years old, a hundred years ago, I used to say to my mother, "l'll never be allowed to go uptown by myself! Ever!" I said it in that exasperated way only a 12 year old can and back then kids were, generally speaking, more polite and less entitled so it probably didn't sound very forceful but all I wanted was to get on the bus and go uptown to the library. That's all I wanted. And my mother, one day, said, "Okay. You can go."
This brings me to one of my happiest memories, like it's in the top five. It was snowing. That's important. It was late November or early December, I know this because it got dark very early. I went to the library and I chose a huge pile of books, let's say nine. It may have been seven but it was a significant stack, it was not two or three. As long as I had books I was okay. I had an alternate universe. I could go into the books and the real world would fall away. Every part of it, people yelling, fear, sorrow, the things that were part of my 12 year old life. Once I had novels, I was home free. All I had to do was open the pages and whoosh, gone. So I clearly remember that night, I sat on the right hand side of the bus and because it was dark the lights were on inside the bus and it was dark grey outside and the snow was falling. I remember the cold of the bus seat and the pile of books behind me and looking out the window at the snow and the darkness and the bus was shaped like a loaf of bread, that's how buses were shaped back then, and I was all alone and completely happy and I thought, "Remember this moment, memorize this moment." And I did.
So you're now saying (or maybe a few of you are saying), "WHAT has this got to do with "Buzz Aldrin, What Happened to You In All The Confusion?" That's a good question. I'll take it. I'll answer that. Let us say that there are two types of books for me, when it comes to the ones I really love. The first category are fine, they work, I am happy to read them, I admire the writing. Yep, they're top shelf. Ah, but then, then what is the second category? Well, they're the magical ones. Some of you are reading this because of my review of "How To Stop Time" and yes, I understand that. This is a very different novel in many ways but, but, for me it works the same kind of magic. It's not just brilliant (and it is that), it's this feeling of enormous relief I get when I read the pages, the feeling of my shoulders going down and that there is goodness in the world and that someone, someone has been able to put into words so many of the things I think and feel. So maybe it's me and maybe it is matter of the right book at the right time but I do need to tell you more.
I was on page 73. There is a sentence that starts on page 72 and goes halfway down page 73. I was going to do a word count for you this morning but I lost count twice and gave up. Let's say it's a one page sentence. That's long, eh? Yeah, that's long. I read it and felt this kind of humming vibration in my mind, it's this feeling of extreme excitement because (for me) this Johan Harstad nailed it. He nailed it. I had to see if anyone else felt this way but was avoiding Goodreads reviews so I said to my adult son, "Sit. Read this. Read this one giant sentence and then tell me what you think." I paced around while he read. He said, "Jeez Mom, it's so depressing!" I said, "Depressing? Depressing?? It lifts me up, that whole thing he's going on about, that's what I think about and he was able to get it down on paper and it just makes me relax and feel better able to live in the world. Don't you think it's kind of brilliant?" He said, "Well, I see your point but I find it quite depressing." So, it's all eye of the beholder.
There are two reasons I think readers will struggle with this novel. It's a translation and the place names are difficult. What's the other reason? Hmmmm. I don't know how to put this. Let's say that it's a writer's book. Does that mean only writers will like it? No. Not exactly. I need more tea. Was there not an offer for more tea? Is someone not plugging in a kettle? I can't hear the kettle! I can't hear it. I think what I am trying to say is you've got to put some effort into reading this book. It's not short (471 pages) and it's not always easy, which is not to say it's hard. It's not a slog, not like walking in sodden bog and your boots keep getting stuck. However, it does take some effort. It's a novel that does require you to pay attention and go fully in and again, that's not for everyone and hey, it's not always for me but at this point in time, like now, it was just what I needed.
Let's talk about what I like. Let's be subtle about it. FIRST PERSON NARRATION! There. Nice and subtle. Give me a narrator to love. What makes me love them? I like me some angst. Yep. But not hopelessness. Basically I want a variation of that 12 year old kid on the bus who is thinking a lot and wondering about the world, their place in the world, why things happen, why things are the way they are. And I want a narrator who sees a lot and shows it to me. I don't want hammered with the beautiful details, I want them doled out like very small exquisite chocolates, preferably the kind with candied ginger in them and not cloyingly sweet. If you can do that, I'll climb to the rooftops and sing your praise.
It's raining here, very heavily. I am not going out so scrap the rooftop thing. I'll sing it from this chair in front of the computer. I had no hesitation to say "You all must read the Matt Haig novel." That was easy. I knew that most of you would be wildly excited. This is different. I think you need to think about it and consider what I've said and soon I'll go and see what other readers had to say about it here on Goodreads. After I get another tea, after.
I was nervous in the last fifty pages, he had a lot of work to do, this author, a lot of work. And I was thinking oh, don't fail me now, do not fail me now. Endings are critical for me. It was gentle and beautiful. I exhaled.
I'll miss Mattias, the narrator. I miss him now. I started missing him yesterday as soon as I closed the last page. That, in the final analysis, is the litmus test for me. I miss hearing his voice in my head. I miss hearing his thoughts. Above all that, I'm grateful he was with me for the week it took me to read this novel. Bone grateful.
And I think that's all I have to say. Well, it's never all I have to say but I'll stop here because it's quite clear to me that any tea to be had is going to be made by yours truly. I hope the pages you are turning in your life work their magic for you, winter bus magic.
Over and out,
Fishgirl
July 18, 2017
Ik had het gevoel dat Mattias in een lange monoloog tegen me aan zat te kletsen en geen zin had daar ooit mee op te houden. Het voelde alsof hij dat echt alleen maar tegen mij deed en dat was heel knap gedaan van Johan Harstad. Ik moet eerlijk bekennen dat het me allemaal ietsje teveel werd tegen het einde van het boek en dat ik mijn geduld begon te verliezen, maar het boek heeft zeker heel prachtige en ontroerende momenten.
August 4, 2020
Eerlijkheid duurt het langst: 'Max, Mischa & het Tet-offensief' was uitgeleend in de bibliotheek, maar Harstads eerdere roman 'Buzz Aldrin, waar ben je gebleven?' stond er wel, dus ik nam dan maar dat boek mee. Als een soort opstapje, zeg maar. Toen wist ik nog niet hoe mooi dat paste bij de thematiek van de roman: het boek dat ik als tweede keus meenam, bleek te gaan over een man die niets liever wou dan tweede keus zijn, net zoals z'n grote held Buzz Aldrin, de tweede man op de maan. Mattias droomt van een leven waarin hij niet opvalt, een leven zonder ambitie, waarin hij geen impact heeft op wat en wie er om hem heen is. Vergeefse moeite, zal hij op het einde van het boek pas beseffen, wanneer hij vaststelt dat ongeveer alles om hem heen door hem is beïnvloed.
'Buzz Aldrin, waar ben je gebleven?' is een flinke turf, maar je raast door de eerste paar honderd bladzijden heen. Laagje voor laagje leer je Mattias kennen, en intussen word je onvermijdelijk verliefd op de Faeröereilanden. Alleen voelt het op het einde alsof de tijd voor Harstad opeens op was: de boel wordt in de laatste 50-60 bladzijden plots nogal snel afgehaspeld, alsof er een dringende deadline moest worden gehaald. Niettegenstaande het fraaie einde van het boek, blijven er zo toch een paar pertinente vragen - die de schrijver nota bene zelf naar boven had gehaald - onbeantwoord. 4/5.
'Buzz Aldrin, waar ben je gebleven?' is een flinke turf, maar je raast door de eerste paar honderd bladzijden heen. Laagje voor laagje leer je Mattias kennen, en intussen word je onvermijdelijk verliefd op de Faeröereilanden. Alleen voelt het op het einde alsof de tijd voor Harstad opeens op was: de boel wordt in de laatste 50-60 bladzijden plots nogal snel afgehaspeld, alsof er een dringende deadline moest worden gehaald. Niettegenstaande het fraaie einde van het boek, blijven er zo toch een paar pertinente vragen - die de schrijver nota bene zelf naar boven had gehaald - onbeantwoord. 4/5.
August 10, 2023
Quote:
“Die avond had ik een functie. Ik vulde een vacuüm. Ik was groen. Een kleine groene vlek in het blauwe schilderij. Ik was het verlaten eiland dat maakt dat de oceaan er zo groot uit ziet.”
“Die avond had ik een functie. Ik vulde een vacuüm. Ik was groen. Een kleine groene vlek in het blauwe schilderij. Ik was het verlaten eiland dat maakt dat de oceaan er zo groot uit ziet.”
September 9, 2017
Prodotto giovanilistico glorificato da Iperborea
A me questo libro è sembrato un compito a casa, scritto diligentemente ma senza sapere bene dove andare a parare, cose che succedono quando si deve scrivere qualcosa ma non si hanno le idee chiare e certamente non il mestiere.
L’inizio è interessante, il protagonista un ragazzo che ha il coraggio di seguire i propri ritmi interiori senza sentirsi obbligato a fare come gli altri. Il suo idolo è Buzz Aldrin, l’astronauta che non fece il primo passo sul suolo lunare, perché gestiva la navicella spaziale. Poi parte lo psicodramma sul fatto che per sapere essere il secondo ci vuole un cuore grande così. Io direi che spesso essere il secondo è comodo, perché si prende una discreta fetta di onori senza farsi carico delle piene responsabilità (e delle risciacquate) che toccano a quello che cammina avanti. Comunque, è carino il racconto della festa nella quale il ragazzo si presenta con una perfetta tuta da astronauta. Dopo, parte lo psicodramma del lettore: circa 450 pagine che, nel migliore dei casi, possono essere lette come un comunicato dell’ente turismo delle Far Oer. Sono stata a guardare le foto su Internet e non c’è niente da dire, sono belle. Segue una trattazione sull’essere esauriti alle Far Oer, che, vi assicuro, è molto meglio che essere esauriti in Italia: i servizi sociali funzionano. Una caccia alle balene (animalisti chiudete gli occhi). La rievocazione della guerra in Yugoslavia degli anni ‘90, dal punto di vista delle fosse comuni. Questa parte ha il merito di riportare alla mente dei lettori, non le persone, quelle sono perdute per sempre; i luoghi dove si consumò la strage, mentre l’occidente si chiedeva cosa fare, i soldati dell’Onu in assenza di ordini non facevano niente e la gente moriva a migliaia (esecuzioni sommarie) e veniva più o meno sotterrata. Ho fatto un giro da quelle parti e non ho mai visto tanti cimiteri o un paese più spopolato.
Però questa digressione non ha nulla a che fare con l’argomento del libro.
Mi sono annoiata, mi è sembrato un collage pretestuoso, il tema di un ragazzo distratto.
A me questo libro è sembrato un compito a casa, scritto diligentemente ma senza sapere bene dove andare a parare, cose che succedono quando si deve scrivere qualcosa ma non si hanno le idee chiare e certamente non il mestiere.
L’inizio è interessante, il protagonista un ragazzo che ha il coraggio di seguire i propri ritmi interiori senza sentirsi obbligato a fare come gli altri. Il suo idolo è Buzz Aldrin, l’astronauta che non fece il primo passo sul suolo lunare, perché gestiva la navicella spaziale. Poi parte lo psicodramma sul fatto che per sapere essere il secondo ci vuole un cuore grande così. Io direi che spesso essere il secondo è comodo, perché si prende una discreta fetta di onori senza farsi carico delle piene responsabilità (e delle risciacquate) che toccano a quello che cammina avanti. Comunque, è carino il racconto della festa nella quale il ragazzo si presenta con una perfetta tuta da astronauta. Dopo, parte lo psicodramma del lettore: circa 450 pagine che, nel migliore dei casi, possono essere lette come un comunicato dell’ente turismo delle Far Oer. Sono stata a guardare le foto su Internet e non c’è niente da dire, sono belle. Segue una trattazione sull’essere esauriti alle Far Oer, che, vi assicuro, è molto meglio che essere esauriti in Italia: i servizi sociali funzionano. Una caccia alle balene (animalisti chiudete gli occhi). La rievocazione della guerra in Yugoslavia degli anni ‘90, dal punto di vista delle fosse comuni. Questa parte ha il merito di riportare alla mente dei lettori, non le persone, quelle sono perdute per sempre; i luoghi dove si consumò la strage, mentre l’occidente si chiedeva cosa fare, i soldati dell’Onu in assenza di ordini non facevano niente e la gente moriva a migliaia (esecuzioni sommarie) e veniva più o meno sotterrata. Ho fatto un giro da quelle parti e non ho mai visto tanti cimiteri o un paese più spopolato.
Però questa digressione non ha nulla a che fare con l’argomento del libro.
Mi sono annoiata, mi è sembrato un collage pretestuoso, il tema di un ragazzo distratto.
November 9, 2021
Afgezet tegen zijn lijvige meesterwerk (Max, Mischa & Tetoffensief, voor mij een 5-sterren boek) geef ik nu, met terugwerkende kracht, een ster minder aan dit prachtige boek.
Heb je nog niets van Harstad gelezen? Dit is een prima instapboek.
Goodreader Annelies van Oost dank voor je inzicht over het lezen van dit boek na het lezen van Max, Mischa & het Tetoffensief.
Heb je nog niets van Harstad gelezen? Dit is een prima instapboek.
Goodreader Annelies van Oost dank voor je inzicht over het lezen van dit boek na het lezen van Max, Mischa & het Tetoffensief.
December 26, 2023
Het perspectief van iemand die uit de maatschappij is weggeraakt kan niet zo bekoren. Levert me niet veel leesplezier op. Buitencategorie beschreven, daar niet van. De protagonist kijkt net even wat anders tegen de wereld aan. Echter, voor iemand die onzichtbaar wil zijn, is hij vrij aanwezig. En zoals hij zelf zegt wat snelheid te missen, zo langzaam vordert bij mij dit boek. Met een sporadische versnelling, bijvoorbeeld bij een overlijden, oh ironie. Wat probeert de schrijver duidelijk te maken? Het komt nooit meer goed. Drink met vrienden. Kies het ruime sop.
August 28, 2017
Videorecensione: https://youtu.be/ydvTlg7UYXU
January 22, 2025
Prachtig boek om het jaar mee te starten❤️
December 17, 2021
Eentje om te onthouden.
Wat een zinnen, dit boek mocht van mij blijven duren. Harstad, wat een ontdekking...
"Ik wacht. Ik sta te wachten. En dan zie ik hem, ergens daarboven, duizend, misschien wel drieduizend voet boven me, de eerste druppel die zich vormt, die loslaat en als een projectiel naar beneden schiet, naar mij, en ik blijf naar boven kijken, het gaat zo regenen, over een paar seconden komt het met bakken naar beneden, en houdt het niet meer op, zo lijkt het tenminste, alsof de ballon eindelijk geknapt is, ik kijk omhoog, één enkele druppel komt naar me toe, koerst recht op me af, de snelheid neemt toe en door de vaart wordt het water in een andere vorm gedwongen, de eerste druppel valt en ik blijf staan zoals ik stond, tot ik voel dat hij me midden op mijn voorhoofd raakt, hij explodeert en spat uiteen in deeltjes die op mijn jas landen, op de bloemen rond mijn voeten, op mijn schoenen, mijn tuinhandschoenen. Ik laat mijn hoofd zakken. En dan begint het te regenen."
"Ik ben de jongen met wie je op de kleuterschool zat, op de lagere school, de middelbare school, en van wie je je de naam niet kunt herinneren als je tien jaar later een klassenfoto opduikelt om je vriend of vriendin te laten zien hoe je er toen uitzag. Ik was de jongen die bijna midden in de klas zat, één bankje van de muur, de jongen die nooit zijn gymspullen vergat, die zich altijd op de proefwerken had voorbereid, de jongen die nooit herrie schopte in de les, maar die antwoord gaf als hem iets gevraagd werd, de jongen die nooit sketches wilde opvoeren op de laatste dag voor de vakantie, de jongen die zich nooit verkiesbaar stelde voor de leerlingenraad, als klassenoudste of als voorzitter van de eindexamenfeestcommissie. Ik was de jongen met wie je al bijna een halfjaar in de klas zat voordat je wist hoe ik heette."
Wat een zinnen, dit boek mocht van mij blijven duren. Harstad, wat een ontdekking...
"Ik wacht. Ik sta te wachten. En dan zie ik hem, ergens daarboven, duizend, misschien wel drieduizend voet boven me, de eerste druppel die zich vormt, die loslaat en als een projectiel naar beneden schiet, naar mij, en ik blijf naar boven kijken, het gaat zo regenen, over een paar seconden komt het met bakken naar beneden, en houdt het niet meer op, zo lijkt het tenminste, alsof de ballon eindelijk geknapt is, ik kijk omhoog, één enkele druppel komt naar me toe, koerst recht op me af, de snelheid neemt toe en door de vaart wordt het water in een andere vorm gedwongen, de eerste druppel valt en ik blijf staan zoals ik stond, tot ik voel dat hij me midden op mijn voorhoofd raakt, hij explodeert en spat uiteen in deeltjes die op mijn jas landen, op de bloemen rond mijn voeten, op mijn schoenen, mijn tuinhandschoenen. Ik laat mijn hoofd zakken. En dan begint het te regenen."
"Ik ben de jongen met wie je op de kleuterschool zat, op de lagere school, de middelbare school, en van wie je je de naam niet kunt herinneren als je tien jaar later een klassenfoto opduikelt om je vriend of vriendin te laten zien hoe je er toen uitzag. Ik was de jongen die bijna midden in de klas zat, één bankje van de muur, de jongen die nooit zijn gymspullen vergat, die zich altijd op de proefwerken had voorbereid, de jongen die nooit herrie schopte in de les, maar die antwoord gaf als hem iets gevraagd werd, de jongen die nooit sketches wilde opvoeren op de laatste dag voor de vakantie, de jongen die zich nooit verkiesbaar stelde voor de leerlingenraad, als klassenoudste of als voorzitter van de eindexamenfeestcommissie. Ik was de jongen met wie je al bijna een halfjaar in de klas zat voordat je wist hoe ik heette."
December 3, 2017
Er zijn veel klassementen in verband met de mooiste openingszinnen ooit...
" Alle gelukkige gezinnen lijken op elkaar, elk ongelukkig gezin is ongelukkig op zijn eigen wijze" Lev Tolstoj – Anna Karenina of
"‘Noem me Ishmael.’" Herman Melville – Moby-Dick of op één in Vlaanderen
"Vele jaren later, staande voor het vuurpeloton, moest kolonel Aureliano Buendía denken aan die lang vervlogen middag, toen zijn vader hem meenam om kennis te maken met het ijs." Gabriel Garcia Márquez- Honderd jaar eenzaamheid
Maar vanaf heden mag "De persoon van wie je houdt bestaat voor 72,8 procent uit water en het heeft al weken niet geregend" van dit boek absoluut in de top drie
" Alle gelukkige gezinnen lijken op elkaar, elk ongelukkig gezin is ongelukkig op zijn eigen wijze" Lev Tolstoj – Anna Karenina of
"‘Noem me Ishmael.’" Herman Melville – Moby-Dick of op één in Vlaanderen
"Vele jaren later, staande voor het vuurpeloton, moest kolonel Aureliano Buendía denken aan die lang vervlogen middag, toen zijn vader hem meenam om kennis te maken met het ijs." Gabriel Garcia Márquez- Honderd jaar eenzaamheid
Maar vanaf heden mag "De persoon van wie je houdt bestaat voor 72,8 procent uit water en het heeft al weken niet geregend" van dit boek absoluut in de top drie
June 23, 2025
kijk ik kan stom doen en hier geen 5 sterren aan geven want ja nee het is niet perfect, en ja nee dat einde is duizelingwekkend snel maar bovenal duizelingwekkend magisch en we hebben allemaal wat meer magie nodig in ons leven.
zo origineel, zo lief, zo rijk in taal, ook al las ik een vertaling
ik wil naar de faeröer!!!!
weencount: 4 (en ik huil niet snel) (maar geen zorgen het is geen bleitboek het is gewoon ZO mooi!!!)
zo origineel, zo lief, zo rijk in taal, ook al las ik een vertaling
ik wil naar de faeröer!!!!
weencount: 4 (en ik huil niet snel) (maar geen zorgen het is geen bleitboek het is gewoon ZO mooi!!!)
May 18, 2011
Mattias, the narrator and protagonist of this melancomic, bittersweet story, is a Norwegian on the cusp of thirty in 1999. He is a brokenhearted gardener and music lover whose prospects are looking dim. Mattias has always wanted to be as anonymous as possible for as long as possible. A cog in a wheel. His hero is Buzz Aldrin, the astronaut who was the more experienced pilot but whose fame paled in the shadow of Neil Armstrong. His backup hero is Steve Martin--especially the sad sack roles that Martin embraced so well back in the day.
Much of the story takes place on the Faroe Islands, which is a group of eighteen islands between the Norwegian Sea and the North Atlantic Ocean, a land of harsh winds and heavy rainfall. In fact, the winds are so strong, so prevalent, that nary a tree will survive there. It is rocky and volcanic looking, not exactly a prime piece of real estate for a guy whose first love is gardening. But this is where Mattias goes with his best friend Jorn, an up and coming rock musician who needs a sound man on this Faroe Island tour, and Mattias has agreed to help. The story, with its mysteries of music, psychology, art, and friendship, take place on this windswept, austere terrain. What starts out as a music tour morphs into quite another adventure.
What makes this novel stand out is Mattias's voice, unique and intimate, that is paired with naturalistic prose. If you have ever read The Solitude of Prime Numbers, this is a very similar voice-- in rhythm, intimacy and narrative temperament (not story). Mattias possesses a sweet-tempered cerebral, philosophical, emotionally direct voice that enamors the reader and keeps the pages turning, even when the pace or plotting threatens to come to a crushing lull. At approximately 550 pages, I wish it was pared down to tighten up the boggy places. However, Mattias's indolence makes that impossible.
The weight of Mattias's singular voice is significant, momentous to the story at hand, as Mattias is in virtually every scene, and as much of the action takes place in his head as it does on the Islands. There is also an ensemble cast of eccentric but beguiling characters, including a nonconformist, inscrutable psychiatrist, which keep the story in the realm of the enigmatic. Pop-permeated (with mostly American icons) and soulful, this is a coming-of-age of the late-bloomers and for those that believe that love hurts and heals, communes equal community, and rock and roll is not dead.
Kudos to Deborah Dawkin for her seamless translation into English.
Much of the story takes place on the Faroe Islands, which is a group of eighteen islands between the Norwegian Sea and the North Atlantic Ocean, a land of harsh winds and heavy rainfall. In fact, the winds are so strong, so prevalent, that nary a tree will survive there. It is rocky and volcanic looking, not exactly a prime piece of real estate for a guy whose first love is gardening. But this is where Mattias goes with his best friend Jorn, an up and coming rock musician who needs a sound man on this Faroe Island tour, and Mattias has agreed to help. The story, with its mysteries of music, psychology, art, and friendship, take place on this windswept, austere terrain. What starts out as a music tour morphs into quite another adventure.
What makes this novel stand out is Mattias's voice, unique and intimate, that is paired with naturalistic prose. If you have ever read The Solitude of Prime Numbers, this is a very similar voice-- in rhythm, intimacy and narrative temperament (not story). Mattias possesses a sweet-tempered cerebral, philosophical, emotionally direct voice that enamors the reader and keeps the pages turning, even when the pace or plotting threatens to come to a crushing lull. At approximately 550 pages, I wish it was pared down to tighten up the boggy places. However, Mattias's indolence makes that impossible.
The weight of Mattias's singular voice is significant, momentous to the story at hand, as Mattias is in virtually every scene, and as much of the action takes place in his head as it does on the Islands. There is also an ensemble cast of eccentric but beguiling characters, including a nonconformist, inscrutable psychiatrist, which keep the story in the realm of the enigmatic. Pop-permeated (with mostly American icons) and soulful, this is a coming-of-age of the late-bloomers and for those that believe that love hurts and heals, communes equal community, and rock and roll is not dead.
Kudos to Deborah Dawkin for her seamless translation into English.
April 8, 2018
Zo verdomde GOED.
July 10, 2024
Als je “Max, Mischa en het tetoffensief” hebt gelezen ging je er waarschijnlijk al van uit dat ook dit boek prachtig ging worden. Als je het voorgenoemde nog niet gelezen hebt, zegt de openingszin van “Buzz Aldrin, waar ben je gebleven?” wel genoeg: “De persoon van wie je houdt bestaat voor 72,8 procent uit water en het heeft al weken niet geregend.”
Die openingszin zet perfect de toon voor de volgende 579 pagina’s. Ik las het aanvankelijk op mijn e-reader, maar wou zoveel mooie zinnen aanduiden dat ik al na 20 pagina’s naar het Paard van Troje fietste om de papieren versie te kopen. Daar heb ik nog geen seconde spijt van gehad :) Hij bezit een literair talent dat ik jammergenoeg zelf niet heb, maar waar ik misschien juist daarom zo ongelofelijk hard van geniet. De enige reden dat ik 4 sterren geef is omdat ik Max, Mischa nóg beter vond - maar dat is misschien oneerlijk.
Die openingszin zet perfect de toon voor de volgende 579 pagina’s. Ik las het aanvankelijk op mijn e-reader, maar wou zoveel mooie zinnen aanduiden dat ik al na 20 pagina’s naar het Paard van Troje fietste om de papieren versie te kopen. Daar heb ik nog geen seconde spijt van gehad :) Hij bezit een literair talent dat ik jammergenoeg zelf niet heb, maar waar ik misschien juist daarom zo ongelofelijk hard van geniet. De enige reden dat ik 4 sterren geef is omdat ik Max, Mischa nóg beter vond - maar dat is misschien oneerlijk.
February 12, 2025
Recensione apparsa su Leggere Distopico per la rubrica "DIETRO L'ANGOLO".
Quasi non ci speravo più, questo 2020 a livello di letture si è mantenuto “nel mezzo” … Solo pochissimi titoli sono riusciti a restarmi davvero impressi e questo è uno di quelli che porterò nel cuore.
In Che ne è stato di te, Buzz Aldrin?, edito Iperborea, seguiamo il viaggio di Mattias, dalla Norvegia alla natura incontaminata delle isole Fær Øer, un’ambientazione per certi versi inconsueta, ma che si presta bene a far da sfondo al percorso di crescita del nostro improbabile protagonista. Questo giovane uomo sente di voler fare qualcosa per il mondo, ma senza clamore e decide di prendere a modello Edwin Buzz Aldrin, il secondo uomo a sbarcare sulla luna di cui si ricordano in pochi dato che Neil Armstrong gli ha “rubato” la scena. Un romanzo di formazione che parte in sordina e affronta un tema che non ricordo di aver mai trovato altrove: essere uno dei tanti ingranaggi del mondo e non il suo cuore pulsante.
Certe persone non vogliono il mondo intero, anche se potrebbero averlo. Certe persone non vogliono un paese tutto per loro. […] Certi vogliono solo essere una parte del tutto. Utile, anche se modesta. Non tutti hanno bisogno del mondo intero.
Io volevo solo stare in pace.
Con questo romanzo l’autore vuol evidenziare il concetto del “non fare rumore”, del ritagliarsi i propri spazi, donandoci così una nuova chiave di lettura sul senso dell’identità. Potremmo definirlo l’antitesi del noto aforisma “[…] ti insegnano a non splendere. E tu splendi, invece.” poiché in una società come la nostra, dove si cerca di abbagliare il prossimo e di emergere ad ogni costo, dovremmo comprendere, invece, che il bene autentico è quello disinteressato mentre il talento migliore – quando non è innato – è frutto di sacrifici e traversie.
L’autore è stato ingegnoso nell’introdurre, in maniera lieve, senza troppi stravolgimenti, un altro tema davvero complesso quello che abbraccia la sfera delle patologie mentali, dei burn-out, della depressione. Malattie che coinvolgono in prima persona non solo il protagonista, ma anche il corollario delle sue amicizie, è tangibile l’inadeguatezza dei genitori di fronte a un “nemico” più grande di loro. Il narrare di questi drammi esistenziali, delle fragilità che ognuno fronteggia come meglio può, la molteplice natura dei rapporti sociali e delle relazioni interpersonali conferiscono alla vicenda un carattere decisamente introspettivo.
Una storia sul presente che rimette in discussione quel filo sottilissimo tra il voler fortemente essere amati e, allo stesso tempo, nascondersi agli occhi della gente e non dover per forza “stare in prima linea”.
Un libro tragico, onesto, indimenticabile che, nella sua apparente semplicità, dà vita a una profonda riflessione.
February 7, 2017
Dit is een schitterende roman over een jonge man die zo graag tweede wil zijn, in de schaduw van anderen wil leven en geen sporen wil nalaten, uit zelfbescherming en eigenbelang, en die je doet nadenken over het leven.
Mattias is geboren op het moment dat Neil Armstrong en vooral ook Buzz Aldrin de eerste en de tweede man op de maan waren. Buzz is zijn grote held, en hij leest alles over de maanlanding en de ruimte wat er te vinden is. Hij leest ook heel veel over andere mensen die op andere vlakken steeds 'tweede' waren. Mattias werkt als assistent in een bloemenbedrijf waar hij de bestellingen verzorgt en komt 's avonds thuis bij zijn eerste en enige liefde, die hij tegen kwam toen hij zich in zijn jeugd één keer heeft laten gaan op een feestje. Hoewel hij een goede zanger is, en een aantal vrienden hem als voorzanger van hun groep willen, weigert hij dit.
Maar dan verliest hij zijn job en zijn liefde, en weet niet meer wat gedaan. Hij volgt zijn vriend die met een rockband voor een festival naar de Faeröer-eilanden gaat maar op de boot loopt het al mis omdat hij te veel drinkt en er iets met hem gebeurd is. De volgende dag wordt hij namelijk wakker op een plek die hij niet herkent, hij bloedt maar heeft wel 15.000 Noorse kronen op zak. Het toeval brengt hem naar een opvanghuis dat wordt gerund door een ex-psychiater en dat enkele mensen samen brengt die net zoals Matthias verloren zijn in het leven. Zo leert hij de vrouw NN kennen die hem mateloos aantrekt, maar die ook heel wat tegenslag heeft gekend. Er volgen een aantal dramatische gebeurtenissen die hem zullen tekenen en vooral hem tot beslissingen drijven die hij maar moeilijk kan nemen.
Het boek is verteld in een prachtige taal en met heel wat prachtige zinnen erin. Het verhaal ontroerde me zeer en tijdens het lezen had ik regelmatig een brok in de keel. De zinnen stromen/meanderen doorheen het boek en geven het er een mooi ritme aan. Het is kortom een onvergetelijk boek dat me uitzonderlijk geraakt heeft.
Er is trouwens ook een Vlaamse schrijver die mijn gevoel over deze roman heel goed in woorden kan vatten en dat is Bart Moeyaert: http://www.radio2.be/audio/herbeluist... .
Mattias is geboren op het moment dat Neil Armstrong en vooral ook Buzz Aldrin de eerste en de tweede man op de maan waren. Buzz is zijn grote held, en hij leest alles over de maanlanding en de ruimte wat er te vinden is. Hij leest ook heel veel over andere mensen die op andere vlakken steeds 'tweede' waren. Mattias werkt als assistent in een bloemenbedrijf waar hij de bestellingen verzorgt en komt 's avonds thuis bij zijn eerste en enige liefde, die hij tegen kwam toen hij zich in zijn jeugd één keer heeft laten gaan op een feestje. Hoewel hij een goede zanger is, en een aantal vrienden hem als voorzanger van hun groep willen, weigert hij dit.
Maar dan verliest hij zijn job en zijn liefde, en weet niet meer wat gedaan. Hij volgt zijn vriend die met een rockband voor een festival naar de Faeröer-eilanden gaat maar op de boot loopt het al mis omdat hij te veel drinkt en er iets met hem gebeurd is. De volgende dag wordt hij namelijk wakker op een plek die hij niet herkent, hij bloedt maar heeft wel 15.000 Noorse kronen op zak. Het toeval brengt hem naar een opvanghuis dat wordt gerund door een ex-psychiater en dat enkele mensen samen brengt die net zoals Matthias verloren zijn in het leven. Zo leert hij de vrouw NN kennen die hem mateloos aantrekt, maar die ook heel wat tegenslag heeft gekend. Er volgen een aantal dramatische gebeurtenissen die hem zullen tekenen en vooral hem tot beslissingen drijven die hij maar moeilijk kan nemen.
Het boek is verteld in een prachtige taal en met heel wat prachtige zinnen erin. Het verhaal ontroerde me zeer en tijdens het lezen had ik regelmatig een brok in de keel. De zinnen stromen/meanderen doorheen het boek en geven het er een mooi ritme aan. Het is kortom een onvergetelijk boek dat me uitzonderlijk geraakt heeft.
Er is trouwens ook een Vlaamse schrijver die mijn gevoel over deze roman heel goed in woorden kan vatten en dat is Bart Moeyaert: http://www.radio2.be/audio/herbeluist... .
December 20, 2021
Lief boek!
Over je plek in de maatschappij zoeken, over het ontdekken van jezelf en waar je blij van wordt, over het maken van fouten in je leven, over vriendschap, over onzichtbaarheid, over kapot gaan en weer beter worden, over verstoppen, over nummer twee zijn en over The Cardigans!
Zelf vond ik het echt heerlijk om een boek te lezen waarin je niet altijd de beste in iets hoeft te zijn, maar waarin een stapje terug nemen in het leven ook goed voor je kan zijn. In een maatschappij waarin we allemaal winnaars moeten zijn vind ik dit echt een heerlijk geluid wat van mij vaker gehoord mag worden.
“‘En Armstrong is de man die iedereen zich herinnert, toch? Een kleine stap en zo’
‘Maar Aldrin was in alle opzichten een meer ervaren piloot’
‘Nou en? Hij was niet de eerste. Armstrong was de man die Columbus werd.’”
Over je plek in de maatschappij zoeken, over het ontdekken van jezelf en waar je blij van wordt, over het maken van fouten in je leven, over vriendschap, over onzichtbaarheid, over kapot gaan en weer beter worden, over verstoppen, over nummer twee zijn en over The Cardigans!
Zelf vond ik het echt heerlijk om een boek te lezen waarin je niet altijd de beste in iets hoeft te zijn, maar waarin een stapje terug nemen in het leven ook goed voor je kan zijn. In een maatschappij waarin we allemaal winnaars moeten zijn vind ik dit echt een heerlijk geluid wat van mij vaker gehoord mag worden.
“‘En Armstrong is de man die iedereen zich herinnert, toch? Een kleine stap en zo’
‘Maar Aldrin was in alle opzichten een meer ervaren piloot’
‘Nou en? Hij was niet de eerste. Armstrong was de man die Columbus werd.’”
January 27, 2019
I liked this book, but not as much as Harstad's 'Max ...' and 'Hässelby'. As in his other books, this seems to a story about how human fates mesh with the spirit of a very distinctive place; in this case, an out-of-the-way cluster of islands in the Northern Atlantic, and, as an intuited rather than heard counterpoint, a mirroring archipelago in the Caribbean. The protagonist is another 'man without qualities' who desperately wants to blend in. Third motto theme that seems to resonate through Harstad's work: the fear of destructive climate change. Also: pop culture as a pinch of salt on the otherwise entirely bland stew of Scandinavian suburbia and middle-class boredom.
November 26, 2022
Misschien wel het beste boek van 2022. Zo verdomd GOED.
Overweldigend. Verdrietig. Maar vooral hoopvol en warm.
"En ik hoopte dat Mats een goed mens was, dat hij niet wist dat de zee elk jaar één centimeter stijgt, dat de polen voortdurend smelten. Dat de aarde elk moment vernietigd kan worden, door één enkele meteoor, als die in onze baan zou komen. Als die maar groot genoeg was. Als er niemand was die op ons paste."
"Het was kerstmis en ik las over nog meer mensen die niet meer naar buiten durfden te gaan om andere mensen e ontmoeten, die 's nachts niet konden slapen, die geen zin hadden om op te staan die onherkenbaar waren veranderd en die te lange wandelingen maakten en 's avonds moesten worden opgehaald."
Overweldigend. Verdrietig. Maar vooral hoopvol en warm.
"En ik hoopte dat Mats een goed mens was, dat hij niet wist dat de zee elk jaar één centimeter stijgt, dat de polen voortdurend smelten. Dat de aarde elk moment vernietigd kan worden, door één enkele meteoor, als die in onze baan zou komen. Als die maar groot genoeg was. Als er niemand was die op ons paste."
"Het was kerstmis en ik las over nog meer mensen die niet meer naar buiten durfden te gaan om andere mensen e ontmoeten, die 's nachts niet konden slapen, die geen zin hadden om op te staan die onherkenbaar waren veranderd en die te lange wandelingen maakten en 's avonds moesten worden opgehaald."
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