Da Johan Sletten blir alvorlig syk, inngår han en avtale med sin kone Mai. Den dagen livet oppleves som uverdig eller uutholdelig, den dagen han blir en byrde for henne og sine omgivelse skal hun bistå ham med en siste handling. Da øyeblikket nærmer seg, er han likevel usikker på om det er dette han vil. Uforvarende krysser ekteparet grensen til et landskap de ikke kjenner, der språket forvitrer og kjærligheten er utrygg.
Linn Ullmann is the daughter of actress, author and director Liv Ullmann and director and screenwriter Ingmar Bergman.
She is a graduate of New York University, where she studied English literature. She returned to Norway in 1990 to pursue a career in journalism. Her first novel Before You Sleep was published in 1998. Her second novel, Stella Descending (2001) received glowing reviews. Her third novel Grace was published in 2002 and won the prominent literary award “The reader’s prize” in Norway and was named one of the ten best novels of that year by the prestigious Danish newspaper Weekendavisen. In 2007, Grace was longlisted for the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize in the UK. That same year, Ullmann was awarded the prestigeous Norwegian Amalie Skram prize.
Her fourth novel, A Blessed Child, was published in the fall of 2005, and was shortlisted for the Brage Price, one of Norway's most prestigious literary awards. Currently she is working as a journalist and a regular columnist in Norway’s leading newspaper Aftenposten.
Although I didn't like Johan, the focus of Linn Ullmann's novella Grace, I found the writing and translation to be beautiful, graceful and sensitively done. Ullmann tells us about the life of Johan, a man who is ill and expected to die very soon. Ullmann tells in few words a well fleshed out life story of a misunderstood man who has messed up aplenty along the way. Ullmann writes beautifully about familial relationships and it shines through in this piece of writing.
Scrittura scarna, semplice, lineare, senza orpelli o particolari coloriture, ma forse proprio per questo assai efficace ed emozionante.
Johan è anziano, malato terminale, ama Mai, la moglie, molto più giovane di lui (è lei la sua grazia), e dopo vari tentativi la convince ad offrirgli l’estremo aiuto quando verrà il momento in cui la sofferenza e il degrado fisico non saranno più sopportabili, quando anche la dignità verrà meno.
Voleva decidere da sé quando era il momento di andarsene. Non intendeva essere un peso per nessuno, meno che mai per sua moglie; non più di quanto già lo fosse.
Una grande prova d’amore? O piuttosto un atto di pietà? Forza? Coraggio? Attaccamento alla vita, nonostante tutto? O il desiderio di provare finalmente sollievo?
Difficilissimo trovare lo spartiacque tra questi sentimenti, acutizzati allo stremo data la situazione.
Tema delicato, quello dell’eutanasia, trattato in questo breve romanzo con altrettanta delicatezza, sensibilità e rispetto, tenendo in considerazione la fragilità, ed insieme la forza, della natura umana e della sua tormentata psicologia.
Difficile, molto difficile, decidere da che parte stare.
3,5
📚 Biblioteca 🔠 RC 2019 - Alphabet Autori = U 🤔 RC 2019 - Esimio sconosciuto 🌍 Europa: Norvegia 🇳🇴
En veldig vakker bok, men jeg hater når hovedkarakterene skal være en sånn relaterende pyse som GJEMMER SEG og lar hunden sin bli slått. Så det at han gjemte seg bak den busken var et big no for me, selvom jeg vet at det var for å fremme at han var en pyse og veldig redd for å dø. Får plusspoeng pga jeg syntes at det var føny at hun er dattera til Ingemar Bergman siden jeg fant ut av det nå, syntes liksom at det var noen ugler i mosen når det plutslig dukket om referanser til jorbærstedet og det syvende innsegl.
Synes faktisk dette var en skikkelig bra bok! Litt dyster tematikk, men også veldig interessant. Fortellerstilen og tilbakeblikkene gjør boka spennende og ganske lettlest. Det gjør også at temaet «aktiv dødshjelp» fremstilles på en veldig nyansert måte som legger opp til en interessant diskusjon synes jeg🤌
Rigtig fin lille roman der omhandler døden og det at acceptere den… eller at lade vær? Jeg tror det var en sund læsning for mig, selvom det til tider var er valg, at skulle sætte sig med den, velvidne om den er lidt en moodkiller.
To my understanding, grace is something like the receiving of unmerited blessings. For his part, protagonist Johan Sletten does not seem like a worthy recipient of any grace that might attend him—and this, perhaps, is the point of the novel. Though the first chapter immediately begins with a heartbreaking diagnosis, what we learn about Johan in layers thereafter does not invite a sentimental Lifetime-movie response: he was as cruel and unforgiving to his first wife as she was to him, he treats his son (who possibly has cognitive or social disabilities) with contempt, and his childhood familial relationships don't paint a much brighter picture. He's not a monster, though. In many ways, Johan is classically Norwegian: he embodies the Scandinavian way of life represented by the Swedish word "lagom," meaning that something is not too much, not too little, but just right. Middling, perhaps. Sufficient. Unoffensive. Throughout his life, he tries to skirt fate by being well-behaved yet unremarkable. The result is a character who mismanages his career and his relationships and faces his terminal illness with little more than a wish to die with dignity.
The concept of dying with dignity becomes the central thrust of the novel. Euthanasia is still illegal in Norway. The novel does not seem to take a particular political stance on the issue per se, but it invites us to consider many shades of nuance when it comes to end-of-life care. Though the novel is short, it also touches on aging, familial relationships, disability, marriage, and memory. It's thoughtful, provocative, and the translation reads like a dream. Seriously: way to go, Barbara Haveland!
One of the main things that kept it from being a five-star novel for me is that it made a few bold narrative decisions without much payoff. The biggest example of this is Ullmann's choice in narrator: the story is told in third person with a knowledge and tone that largely suggests an omniscient narrator, but occasionally (especially near the beginning) that authoritative voice is undercut by the narrator reminding us that s/he is Johan's friend and inserting personal commentary, apologies for getting off-topic, etc. That could have turned out to be a really cool and interesting narrative choice but instead it kind of falls flat, as though by the end, Ullmann forgot that she situated the storyteller that way. There were also a few plot ambiguities that, with a little more fleshing out, could have probably strengthened the story and/or the structure. It is clear, however, that Ullmann took great care with other literary choices, such as the very successful juxtaposition of the two passages that describe the novel's ending.
Something I wish I had known while I was reading is that Linn Ullmann is the daughter of Liv Ullmann and Ingmar Bergman (!!!). Once I heard that, I felt like my locating various Bergman references throughout the text (the wild strawberries, the wager with Death à la Seventh Seal) was possibly justified. Though the novel is dealing with serious topics, however, it has much more levity than a Bergman film or probably even the average piece of Scandinavian lit. There is some humor and cleverness throughout; the tone never becomes melodramatic or takes itself too seriously, which is to Ullmann's credit.
Grace was well-received in Norway and elsewhere among readers and critics, and I think for good reason. I originally gave it four stars but scaled it back when I realized that was just one star away from the rating I awarded another Norwegian novel I've recently read, Per Petterson's Out Stealing Horses, which I think handles some of the same topics (aging, memory, trauma) with much more, shall we say, grace. Grace is short and rewarding, though, for anyone who is already accustomed to "depressing literature" (a phrase the undergrads in my classes use with reckless abandon) or who is interested in end-of-life care issues, which this novel engages compellingly. In the end, it offers a profound (/bleak?) vision of the inscrutability of even our closest relationships.
Read this book in two hours this morning. Though the subject matter seems a bit dark - Johan is coming to terms with dying, how he lived his life, and how he wants to die - the story is beautifully told and quite frank and honest. It reminded me of a sort of combo between Tinkers by Paul Harding and The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes.
Insåg att jag nog läst den här boken förut, men för längesen. Det enda jag kommer ihåg är grejen med Mais meningslösa lögner, den episoden i Göteborg har jag tänkt på då och då under åren. Meningen med att ljuga bara för att man kan, någon slags frihet? Allt annat var som att läsa en ny bok, tonen, det egentliga ämnet för boken, hans sjukdom. Tänker att det är för att JAG är en annan person nu, som läser. Med andra erfarenheter och minnen bakom mig. En enkel liten bok, som handlar om att dö, och om relationer. Kort, och kanske lite ofokuserad, ingen riktig skärpa i vad den vill säga. Hann inte riktigt lära känna Johan. Saknar att metaperspektivet inte heller fick något fäste, i första halvan av boken dyker berättarens jag upp på tvåtre ställen och skapade den lite distanserade, lite tragikomiska tonen. Men sen försvinner det helt, tas inte upp igen. Det hade nog kunnat knyta ihop boken mer, om det fullföljts.
Beautiful story about Johan Sletten, who's going to die and his wife Mai, who he wants to help her to die with dignity. But Johan Sletten's life hasn't been dignified altogether, which is uncovered in flashback to his work, marital, and family life. What is dignified after all? Johan Sletten is very focused on himself, and as the story proceeds I got increasingly annoyed by him, constantly reflecting on himself, instead of just being in life. However, Linn Ullmann is a master in describing him to the point where you feel you actually know him...and you feel sorry for both of his wives, both the dead one Alice (whom Johan almost killed himself one day) and the living one Mai, who fortunately seems very cabable of running her own life.
Extremely touching, and even wise. Though not fair to Ullmann, I couldn't help but think of an Ingmar Bergman film; it has that sort of raw, unadorned focus to its story. Though Johan is not particularly likeable, and Mai the enigmatic wife, there was something about the Schumann parallel towards the end that cemented this couple's beauty for me.
Hasta que amanezca es una novela sobria, tranquila y dura, muy dura. El tratamiento de la muerte desde la perspectiva del que se va es agrio, tremendamente realista. Me acerco a Linn Ullmann desde la figura de su padre, Ingmar Bergman, y la admiración por su madre, Liv Ullmann, y he encontrado una novelista interesante con una voz propia teñida de recuerdos de su propia historia. Una maravilla.
Sterk roman om ektepar som avtaler at den dagen mannen opplever livet som så uverdig eller uutholdelig, den dagen han blir en byrde for henne og sine omgivelser, skal hun hjelpe han med en siste handling. Svart humor, sannhet, løgn, utroskap og svik. Intens, besettende og vanskelig å legge fra seg boken.
Historien om Johan og hans vei gjennom livet og inn i døden. Hans frykt og all hans urasjonalitet i samtaler med hans kone, Mai, setter livet i perspektiv, ved at selv den som er sytti år gammel og snart skal dø mangler svarene på det aller meste.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Det er noe så trist å tenke seg at man, gammel og på sitt dødsleie, tenker på barndommen sin. Det er noe man skal bearbeide tidlig i livet, og så komme seg videre. Jeg vil ikke tenke på mamma når jeg er døende.
Ganske enkel, tung og lettlest bok. Skjønner ikke helt moralen på slutten. Generelt ganske «nøytral», føler det blir mer fokus på å få brukt mange virkemidler enn selve historien.
Nåde er en fantastisk lille perle af en bog om livet og døden og overgangen mellem de to. Smukt sprog! Min første bog af Linn Ullmann, men bestemt ikke den sidste.