«Una novela tan bella como perturbadora. La prosa de Hanna Nordenhök combina con singular maestría la densidad de la poesía con la enfebrecida atmósfera de un cuento gótico», Fernanda Melchor
1860. Después de que la madre no lograra sobrevivir al parto, el doctor Eldh decide cuidar y esconder en su casa de campo a la bebé sobreviviente. Desde su nacimiento, la niña, bautizada como Cesárea, vive aislada en el bosque de Liltuna, donde se enfrenta a una serie de situaciones que moldean su percepción del mundo y la llevan a experimentar el amor, la curiosidad, el miedo y la soledad en un asfixiante espacio de reclusión. Mientras la niña es acosada por sueños perturbadores, también parece recordar una serie de instrucciones que podrían provenir de su difunta madre…
Tomando como punto de partida las primeras cesáreas realizadas en Suecia en el siglo xix, Cesárea da cuenta de la extraña relación entre un obstetra de renombre y una niña huérfana. Un coming-of-age narrado como cuento de hadas, la novela trata de la fascinación científica con la mente y el cuerpo femenino a través de los años, y la vulnerabilidad de la juventud que cae entre las manos de instituciones sin rostro.
Con un lenguaje exquisito y sensual impregnado de experiencias de la naturaleza nórdica, de la vida pastoral y de los cambios estacionales, «la prosa de Hanna Nordenhök combina con singular maestría la densidad de la poesía con la enfebrecida atmósfera de un cuento gótico» (Fernanda Melchor).
Men hallå Hanna Nordenhök, vad glad jag är att jag hittade ditt författarskap! En stilist av rang, mycket vackert språk.
Caesaria handlar om ett barns utsatthet. Barns otroliga förmåga att anpassa sig efter rådande miljö. Caesaria lever bland vuxna på en gård. Hon saknar föräldrar. Doktorn utgör navet i narrativet, men är en huvudperson som håller sig på avstånd. Honom ser vi genom barnets blick. Via hans texter som han dikterar till flickan får vi en förståelse för vad han håller på med. Han är gynekolog som experimenterar sig fram. Det är riktigt ruggigt.
Här har vi den klassiska beskrivningen av kvinnans kropp som skrämmande, onaturlig, sjuklig vilket mycket väl speglar synen som kunde höra till 1800-talet. Sexualiteten dold men ändå hela tiden närvarande.
Nu ska jag genast skriva upp Asparna på min att-läsa-lista.
Caesaria is a quietly haunting and somber story. It was written by Swedish author Hanna Nordenhok and translated to English by Saskia Vogel.
This novel details the atrocities man and medicine have historically wreaked upon women’s bodies. It also explores the complexities of chronic abuse and its Stockholm Syndrome-like effect. Those mind-numbing results are juxtaposed with the violence we humans commit against animal life. Who among us actually has autonomy?
This was absolutely beautifully written and quite terrifying when you get to the core of the book. The narrator is a girl called Caesaria who has been adopted by a doctor after he pulled her from her mother’s womb that he had been surgically operating on. Through the girls eyes we come to understand the deep misogyny and misunderstanding of women’s bodies and the female anatomy, and how this has a horrifying consequence for the girl whose agency diminishes every day.
The idea of the book is very creepy and horrifying but I would have liked to feel that horror and tension more through the plot and the writing. Though written brilliantly, it fell flat at times when I felt as though it could have been used to shock. Especially as the subject matter is so disturbing, I felt as though I wanted to feel more visceral horror through the novel. Despite this I did think it was a good book and would recommend if it sounds interesting to you.
A novel about the violence that the male (medical) gaze has performed and still performs on women's bodies. In terms of ideas (or literary devices, for that matter), the novel brings nothing new, but given the times we live in, perhaps the message is worth repeating... several times a day.
A very dream-like experience, throughout. Reading this book is basically like reading someone's chronologically disconnected childhood memories. There's some pretty detailed medical procedures (her name is Caesaria for a reason), there's lesbian sex (Caesaria, who's watching from the shadows, has no idea what's going on). Caesaria's childhood was very strange, her adoptive surgeon dad loved telling her about how her mom died after she was born. (The dad kept her mother's pelvis! And often showed it to her! What!) Anyway, despite being a somewhat disorienting read, it's a good book.
Iata prima carte foarte bagacioasa a lui 2025. :)) Nu ca nu au fost si altele, dar asta a fost vazuta pe contul @amuchneededbreak de pe Instagram, comandata pe loc si citita in urmatoarele saptamani. Au existat doar cateva cuvinte si au fost de ajuns sa fiu nesabuita:
“A doctor who performs the first c-section decides to keep the baby and raise her as his own, naming her Caesaria after his medical success.”
Cesaria nu e un copil furat, cum am interpretat eu din putinele cuvinte citite despre ea, ci un trofeu pe care doctorul Eldh il pastreaza dupa prima lui cezariana. Mama moare la nastere, iar el duce bebelusul intr-o casa cumparata special pentru ea, cu servitori, jucarii, haine si lucruri frumoase si vizite sporadice pe care i le face doctorul. Anii trec, copilul creste, aflam detalii. E invatata despre stiintele naturale, sa cante la pian, i se repeta la nesfarsit povestea nasterii ei cu lux de amanunte, dar aflam si ca e tinuta in lesa - la propriu, e incuiata in camera ei din cand in cand, nu are contact cu nimeni in afara de angajatii casei, deci creste intr-o singuratate care incepe sa ii dea cosmaruri.
Caesaria isi spune singura povestea, vedem totul prin ochii ei, insa ce ea nu intelege e usor de dedus din observatiile ei. Si sunt cateva momente acolo care iti intorc sufletul pe dos. Am incercat sa imi inchipui cum e sa te nasti si sa traiesti intr-o bula de irealitate cum a trait ea, sa nu cunosti deloc viata cu bucuriile si tristetiile ei, doar satisfacerea nevoilor vitale. Sa nu ai nici un scop, nici o dorinta de a depasi nimicnicia la care ai fost condamnat, sa nu stii cate alte lucruri sunt in lumea asta in afara de acel univers inchis.
O carte foarte buna pentru un club de carte pentru ca ridica multe intrebari si multe presupuneri. Nu spun mai multe pentru ca daca aveti curiozitatea sa o cititi sa nu va stric surpriza.
The alegoric language can be overwhelming in the beginning, but it’s a matter of getting used to, it should be seen as an integral part of the atmosphere, making it dreamlike, cinematic.
I got to this book completely by accident: I saw a story of a reading by the author and her translator taking place at Shakespeare and Sons in Berlin last December, so I went and it felt like there’s nowhere I would rather be. Hanna Nordenhök is a diaphanous presence. What a different way of getting to know an author - before having read anything they wrote! I read my signed copy edited by Heloise publishing house, the cover is amazing, I sadly couldn’t find it on Goodreads.
Named after the procedure that brought her into the world, Caesaria is born during an age where the practice of gynecology was more an experimentation at the hands of men equating a woman’s mental state with what was occurring in her uterus than it was a treatment based on any verifiable science. Whisked away and “saved” from a life of orphanhood in the city, the doctor who delivered her takes her home to his country estate, Lilltuna, and provides for her a “dollhouse existence”.
Caesaria roams the country estate for years, watched over by the maids and farm help and tied around the waist with a makeshift leash. She waits patiently for the doctor to make his visits from the city whereupon he gives her dictation lessons and brings toys and treats that brighten this life of solitude.
Caesaria’s first person narration flits about from year to year, season to season, from toddlerhood to puberty and back again, but the narrative always returns to a fateful winter when the first guest comes to stay at Lilltuna.
Almost completely devoid of dialogue, Nordenhök’s prose is lush and descriptive, so immersed does the reader become in this setting that the country estate of Lilltuna becomes almost a character unto itself. Caesaria, with nothing else to do, becomes a loyal observer of the natural world around her. Every event, every action is framed by the color of the sky, the filtering of light through the tree canopies, the movement and shape of the clouds as they merge into one.
Though the young girl was once the prized possession of the doctor, the fate of all dolls is the same. There comes a day when their shininess has rubbed off, their once stark white dresses have dirtied and torn, and we knowingly or unknowingly play with them for the last time. We relegate them to a life sentence in the dollhouse to gather dust and deteriorate. Caesaria is no exception.
A beautifully wrought story of the direct and indirect methods of male violence and their devastating consequences. Really liked this one, I recommend.
I love my monthly buddy reads with Kate and last month we read CAESARIA by Hanna Nordenhök translated from the Swedish by Saskia Vogel and it was quite an interesting read even though I did find it sad and depressing. This historical fiction follows a girl named Caesaria who was the first baby delivered by caesarean section and is kept living in isolation by the doctor who delivered her. This book deals with bodily horror and autonomy, loneliness, and class and gender divide. That unease Caesaria felt in her life was evident in the writing throughout this book.
Unfortunately, this read was not for me. Although I can acknowledge the language being beautiful, I admit I skim-read quite a bit of passages as many things felt repetitive. I get that was the point but it just didn't work for me. The themes touched in this book are important, but there plot (?) is really confusing. It starts to pick up more than halfway through (or so it seems) and then it ends up going virtually nowhere. There was a strong sense of detachment sprinkled throughout the whole book, and while that was very well portrayed, the hopelessness it made me feel kind of made me want to throw up. Overall I get the point, it just wasn't for me.
Jag tyckte om boken och lockas av premissen, men upplever att mycket inte fullföljs och jag inte riktigt får grepp, dessutom tror jag inte på storyn, dvs bokens universa blir inte sant för mig. Små saker som skevar i texten. Ibland en poetisk grammatik som inte känns motiverad. I övrigt, som sagt gillar jag den.
Det var en bok! Kan störa mig på språk där man staplar saker på varandra à la ”Augustihimlar. Knottsvärmar” och liknande (annat exempel: Strega) men i övrigt fin & bra
A painfully sad story made all the more poignant knowing it is based, albeit loosely, on a true story. It left me heartbroken and also furious at the wrongs men have always done, and continue to do, to women and their bodies, often in the name of science; mainly because they can. This story is beautifully written and translated into a bizarre and beguiling, strange and surreal, and fully absorbing novel that is dark, disturbing and multilayered. It will stay with me for a long time.
La lectura fue un poco pesada, pese a lo escueta de la novela, por la tendencia de la autora por sobrecargar el texto a falta de acontecimientos. Lo que pasa hacia el final del libro lo libera de esa pesadez: Cesárea se vuelve feral y hay imágenes grandiosas sobre ese proceso.
Creo que lamentablemente olvidaré rápidamente este libro.
Unik historia om en kvinnoläkare på 1860-talet som efter en födsel med kejsarsnitt där modern dör tar hand om/isolerar en flicka. Vackert språk. Hyperpretentiös. Extremt okroppslig fast det handlar om kroppen? Faller lite platt för mig. Förstår syftet men det blir tråkigt! Ändå är jag svag för författare som skriver så genomtänkt och använder en berättarteknik som ger en specifik effekt på berättelsen. Läste den i tvång så kanske färgar min uppfattning? Läsvärd ändå.
In a gothic tale set in the early days of modern gynecology, a young girl named Caesaria is kept as a trophy by a renowned obstetrician on a remote estate in nineteenth-century Sweden. Living a restricted and fearful life in the doctor's mansion, Caesaria narrates her experiences with its mysterious inhabitants and visitors. The story explores themes of gender warfare and class oppression, as Caesaria reflects on her confinement and lack of connection to the outside world. Through lush and dreamlike prose, author Hanna Nordenhök presents a haunting and mythological tale of one girl's struggle for freedom and understanding.
This was a dark yet incredibly intriguing read. I have always considered myself fortunate to live in this era, where we have access to electricity, running water, food, and established laws.
In the past, they lacked even basic medical knowledge or penicillin. It was truly eye-opening to see how slowly progress occurred over time, with some things remaining unchanged due to seclusion from society.
The main character was depicted as sweet, kind, curious, and obedient. The caretaker attempted to provide a better life for this girl, prompting readers to consider what they would do in her situation.
If you appreciate thought-provoking, dark historical literature, this book is must-read. It will undoubtedly make you grateful for the modern conveniences we often take for granted.
Thank you, Book*hug Press for digital ARC copy. I am leaving this review voluntarily.
En speciell historia skrivet på ett poetiskt sätt vilket gav mig en air av dröm.
Caesaria föds på 1800-talet av en kvinna som inte klarar förlossningen. Kvinnoläkaren som var den som skar fram Caesaria till livet håller henne sedan gömd vid hans sommarhus. Där framskrider hennes dagar tillsammans med hushållerskan och gårdskarlen. Olika pigor kommer och går. Men Caesaria har ett snöre runt midjan och får inte lämna gården.
Till en början tyckte jag att språket var knöligt och omständigt och jag tänkte ”ska det här vara nåt att ha?” Men sen kom jag in i det och trots att det inte finns en enda dialog (vilket jag kan tycka gör en roman mastig och svårgenomtränglig) så var nog det till den här berättelsens fördel, det bidrog till den drömska auran som jag längsmed läsningen kom att tycka om.
Den här boken har potential att bli en av de där böckerna som jag precis vid och efter läsning nästan avfärdar med ett ”mjaa, en helt okej historia”, men där känslan och upplevelsen av den kommer växa med tiden och sitta kvar länge. En annorlunda berättelse.
Aaaaaj mitt hjärta vad ont den här gjorde. Tog ett tag för mig att komma in i berättelsen för var så upptagen med att beundra det helt sjukt fina språket, för mig blev det alltså lite på bekostnad av berättelsen. MEN.
Hörrni. Hallå. Läs den här. MÅNGBOTTNAd som in i bängen. Utspelar sig på 1800-talet och handlar i grunden om en galen doktorjävel med hybris som har börjat ”forska” kring kejsarsnitt, SNOR en liten bebis från sin mamma som dog under hans första operation och låser i princip in henne på en gård i resten av hennes liv????? Många gånger var det fysiskt och psykiskt smärtsamt att läsa den här i egenskap av kvinna. I slutet grät jag:( efter en skildring av en våldtäkt som verkligen gick rakt in i själen på mig. Fyfan.
Mycket stark läsupplevelse men som får ett litet minus pga det fina språket (? lyssna inte på mig).
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Ultimately I was not the target audience for this book and was read as a book club read. I found this very disorientating and unsettling, however can appreciate the writing style and messages. Would recommend to people who enjoy historical literature, and those who like to study and ponder what they read deeply. Upon finishing the book, I have been left frustrated, likely lending to how the sequence of events in the plot jumped around and was not made clear on the first read (though can be inferred once studied). Can see how this will generate thoughtful discussion.
This book is centred around Caesaria, who is brought up as the 'pearl' of a doctor, who was the medic who performed a section on her dying mother. As the narrative progresses, it is clear that the doctor sees her more as a tribute to his skills and as a medical curiosity than as a functional human entitled to her own agency, and as the book progresses, it becomes evident that as he tires of her, his withdrawal from her leads to a corresponding retreat into solitude and isolation.
The book is, for the most part, extremely well written, although some of that must stand as a testament to the skill of the translator, who gives the English reader some beautifully rendered passages to read, while the themes of female agency, the exploitation of women's bodies, and the control exerted by male medical professionals over the birthing process are all explored with a delicate subtlety.
There is a lot of sadness within the narrative, and the pervading absence in Caesaria's life - that of her mother - is manifested through her neglect and loneliness. It was a rather strange and ethereal book, leaving the reader straddling the realms between wonder and uneasiness.
Caesaria is a lush and claustrophobic dreamscape of a novel, where dread swells beneath the beauty, and shadows loom over the simplistic nature of life and death, and all that lies in between. This book touched my soul and scared my brain and left me feeling hollow. It reminded me of how strange it feels to be surrounded by beauty when also suffering through grief, and how we cling to our everyday tasks to lessen the sadness.
A short yet impactful tale, Caesaria is a quiet gothic written by poet, Hanna Nordenhök. The story follows a girl named Caesaria, named by the doctor who plucks her from her mother, keeps her as his prized c-section experiment, and tucks the deceased mother's malformed pelvic bone in a drawer, referring to it often. Caesaria is confined and raised in a remote country abode where she is treated like a doll and kept tied to a rope. The doctor comes and goes, always bringing gifts and dresses, patting her head upon arrival, and offering education. She plays songs on the piano for him and writes his notes, dictated from his scholarly mouth. And while the doctor is away, tied up like a puppet, she learns the healing sway of nature, the colors and smells of the seasons, the mannerisms of the servants, and the dreadful acts of a certain visitor. As time passes, the doctor, who has a family of his own in the city, grows tired of his experiment, and his prized success fades from his existence. And with this, her clothes fray, her dollhouse crumbles, and Caesaria clings to the rubble.
Set in the period of gynecological discoveries, Caesaria highlights the cruelties imposed on women as they are treated as specimens and not humans, in a misogynistic medical environment. I loved it and have to note the incredible translation by Saskia Vogel. TW: SA
The book’s cold tone and unnecessarily fragmented narrative were its undoing. I can’t help but feel that a more straightforward, linear storytelling, without the forced attempt at mystery, would have made for a far stronger and more compelling history. The fleeting references to Beda, Valdemar, and That Winter hinted at secrets to be uncovered, but the eventual truth, while tragic and horrific, doesn’t justify the buildup or the flat events that follow.
We’re left with unanswered questions: Why was Caesaria hidden from the world? Why was the doctor so captivated by Master Valdemar, and so suddenly uninterested in the girl? Was the final, brutal assault meant to be a turning point, or would the story have ended the same way regardless? Some ambiguity is fine, but here far too much is left unsaid.
What frustrates me most is that the real horror - the historical reality faced by women at the time - deserved to be the focus. Instead, the novel offers a hollow attempt at a gothic mystery that glosses over truth with invented shadows.
I know that most people would like to give Hanna Nordenhök a better review but I can only give her a three star review because until she only let us see what Caesaria saw as a 5 to 7 year old. Through most stories you see what happens throughout the characters life. We only see a brief period during when she was young. She only gives us a brief story that make sense when she gets older.