The White Bear

by Henrik Pontoppidan, Paul Larkin (translator)

Love, faith, and the political mingle in these two short novels by a Nobel Prize-winning Danish author. One about a young couple making a new life in Rome, the other about a priest who goes to live among native peoples in Greenland, both books explore the reaches of the human heart through their complex and unforgettable characters.

Henrik Pontoppidan, the Danish Nobel laureate, is admired for the concentrated force of his novellas as much as for long, populous, world-encompassing novels like A Fortunate Man, and here are two of those novellas, newly and brilliantly translated by Paul Larkin.

The White Bear follows the fate of the odd, gangly, red-bearded Thorkild Müller. Born in rural Jutland and destined for the ministry, Thorkild proves to be a poor student and is assigned to a remote Inuit tribe in Greenland. There, with his mythic-looking staff and dogskin skullcap, he becomes known as the White Bear—a beloved legend among the locals and a freewheeling embarrassment to his fellow priests. Grown old, he returns to Denmark, where again his flock adores him while his fellow men of cloth try to tame the "whirling dervish in their midst." In the end Thorkild mysteriously disappears, presumably back to the snow wilderness of Greenland.

The Rearguard, on the other hand, is a marriage story. Newlyweds Jørgen Hallager and Ursula Branth are as different as night and day. The brash son of a poor village teacher, Jørgen is an avowed socialist whose revolutionary beliefs translate into his work as a painter of social realism; Ursula comes from a conservative, upper-middle-class family. At first, as they start their married life in Rome, they each try to change the other's worldview with arguments and threats, but as time wears on and they wear each other down, it becomes clear there can be no reconciliation. It is a tragic tale of art and idealism, individuality and love.

This translation was funded in part by a grant from the Danish Arts Foundation.

Genres: Fiction, Classics, Danish, Denmark, Literature, Literary Fiction, Short Stories

169 pages, Kindle Edition

Published June 10, 2025

About the author

Awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1917 "for his authentic descriptions of present-day life in Denmark." (Award shared with Karl Gjellerup.)

Reviews

[Paul Fulcher · Rating 3 out of 5]

Henrik Pontoppidan shared the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1917 with Karl Gjellerup - it was awared to Pontoppidan for "his authentic descriptions of present-day life in Denmark."

His most famous novel is Lykke-Per (translated as Lucky Per but also as A Fortunate Man).

This book includes two novellas, translated by Paul Larkin:
The White Bear, from Isbjørnen (1887); and
The Rearguard, from Nattevagt (originally 1894 but this is based on a 1905 edition)

It is the latest book from the Asymptote Book Club, "dedicated to world literature in translation that partners with top independent publishers on both sides of the Atlantic", and is published in The NYRB Classics series "dedicated to publishing an eclectic mix of fiction and nonfiction from different eras and times and of various sorts. Many of these titles are works in translation and almost all feature an introduction by an outstanding writer, scholar, or critic of our day."

The book club introduction to the book is here.

The White Bear opens:

IMAGINE, dear reader, a large flame-red face, from which hangs a thick and matted snow-white beard. A mass of beard, indeed, where old soup and bread remnants also often reside, not to mention more bits of brown tobacco plug and snuff than is ever appetizing. Add to this a shining and gnarled forehead, bordered to the sides and back by white neck hairs hanging in curls over a coat collar; a pair of small, dense, furry ears; thick slabs of cottonwool-like eyebrows; and a mighty nose that tends to a bluish luster between large, penetrating, oceanic eyes. Add further to this countenance an incessant, seemingly unconscious animation; a frequent smile while in thought; an impish narrowing of one eye, along with a sudden, involuntary raising and lowering of those same weighty eyebrows, accompanied by similar movements of arm or shoulder—imagine all these features, and you will be able to form a rough image of the source of Uggelejre county seat's greatest distress; the anguish of its priests; the indignation of its schoolteachers, and the utter despair of the bishop himself-yes, this is the parish priest for Soby and Sorvad: one Thorkild Asger Ejnar Frederik Müller by name.

Thorkild Müller, son of a Jutland teacher who died when the boy was young, leaving the family is relative poverty was nevertheless sent by his relatives to grammar school and university, on a path to the priesthood. But, a poor student, he was one of those assigned to a mission in Greenland, whereby an extra stipent was paid to those prepared to commit to a ministerial post in that remote land - the renunciation of sin, of the flesh, of the world, and the embrace of eternal ice.

Unlike many of his brethren however, the bear-like figure of Thorkild rather takes to life in Greenland, marrying one of the locals and becoming part of the community: rather than converting and edifying heathens, they had converted him. Was this some latent savagery in his own bloodline that had welled up again through an inherited failing in his own character?

The novel is set after his eventual return to Denmark, after the death of his wife and a desire to once more stand in the shade of the large verdant forests of his fatherland. But his no-nonsense, not entirely theologically sound approach to ministry, while favoured by some of his parishioners, causes horror in the religious establishment, and when it appears the bishop may strip him of his ministry he instead disappears, presumably back to the icy wastes where his children remain.

(More an expanded short story but oddly personally resonant as our CofE vicar in the rural Norfolk of my childhood had an interesting back story of having spent time in the arctic and had a stuffed polar bear in the vicarage.)

The Rearguard opens in Rome:

ONE BRIGHT and sunny morning in early December, a tall, powerfully built man was to be seen making his way up the Via del Tritone in Rome's Centro Storico. He wore a thick blue peacoat and his bulldog countenance glowered at anyone he met along his way. But for all that, and in the manner of a man who was bound for some great delight, he hummed cheerfully to himself as his long strides hastened his passage.

This was none other than the controversial, not to say infamous, Danish painter Jorgen Hallager. Or "Red Jørgen," as he was widely known, partly because of his fiery hair and beard. More formally, though, because he was considered the leader of a circle of young radical painters-the so-called Dregs group-which for a decade now had scandalized Danish art lovers and provoked a rising commotion with its revolutionary crusade in the name of social realist art.
…
Jørgen Hallager was still "strange" to Rome. He had only arrived there a few days before and the cause of his visit was his marriage to the beautiful Ursula Branth, only child of State Councilor Branth, the well-known connoisseur of the arts and one of the Conservative regime's most favored figures in Denmark. Indeed, the strong rumor was that Hr. Branth had the ready ear of the minister himself, where matters of theater, literature, and the fine arts were concerned.

"Scoundrel!" Hallager muttered as his mind strayed to his father-in-law; his grimace soon replaced, however, by a triumphant smile that spread across his broad lips.

The tension in the novel comes from the presumption of both the bourgeois Ursula and the revolutionary Jørgen that each will tame what they see as the excesses of the other, as Ursula expresses to the third main character, Thorkild Drehling, originally a protege of Jørgen's, increasingly dropping his anarchastic principles and social-realism in favour of the beauty of more fantastical art and acceptance into society:

“Yes, he is obstinate and perhaps arrogant due to the great gifts he possesses.. all true! But who else has had to fight his own way through so many obstacles like him? When I think of all the things he has had to endure, right from his earliest childhood—all kinds of humiliations, poverty, and want; yes, even hunger... then I well understand how he got that dark and bitter view of life, for which he is always criticized ... But as for the rest," she added after a pregnant pause in which she seemed to offer a prayer with a deep smile to Venus, the evening star, "that doesn't mean he will always be like that."

Thorkild raised his head with a start. His eyes wide in amazement.

While Jørgen is horrified by developments back in Denmark, where the left and right wing are increasingly converging on a compromise on constitiutional reform:

"Right... let's see what's new from our Lilliput land," he said.
Again as if nothing untoward had happened between himself and his wife. He spread out one of Copenhagen's main opposition newspapers in front of him. "And of course, yet another long spiel today by that hypocrite priest and his religious freethinking. A man who left his flock and ministry but still claims the cloth! Not worth reading.. Religious freethinkers! Nonsense! Hermaphrodites is what I call them. Neither one thing nor the other. You'll see, Ursula. It won't be long before we have capitalist socialists and left-wing conservatives. A whole circus."

Both novellas make for stimulating reads, if a little styilised. 3.5 stars.

[Josh · Rating 3 out of 5]

Made up of two novellas, "The White Bear" was my first exposure to Pontoppidan and depending on how I feel next year, I may read his other translated well-known piece "Lucky Per" (or also known as "A Fortunate Man"), but can't say that I'm rushing to buy it.

* The White Bear - 4 stars
* The Rearguard - 2 stars

I'm wondering if it was the translation that turned me off on 'The Rearguard' because it was more wordy and long-winded than 'The White Bear', but it was also not as engaging.

As I know I've been quite vague, I don't really feel like describing my feelings about these two other than the first was much better than the second. If you average it out, my enjoyment of the first makes up for my boredom of the majority of the second.

[Dhanaraj Rajan · Rating 4 out of 5]

There are two novellas in this collection.

First One is titled as THE WHITE BEAR.

This is a story about petty politics that is operative in a diocese.
Imagine a priest who is from a lowly background and who is a dimwit in his studies....Imagine him doing very well in the parish even though it is a far remote parish....imagine the popularity that he gains....
This is the situation. And what does the other priests from the neigbouring parishes do....they feel upset that a simple dull headed priest was doing far better than them...they feel threatened and jealous.....and what do they do.....they wait for an opportunity for a simple mistake from the part of the popular priest.....they set traps.....and when the popular priest is caught unawares, they gang up and throw him out of the parish with the help of the authority.....
The set up is Lutheran Protestantism. But I think this may apply to any other Church situation as well.
This is the crux of the story. And this is narrated in a beautiful language and in a humorous manner at times.
As I read I was reminded of J.F. Powers' superb short story collection in which al the stories were set in the backdrop of a Catholic Parish. It is titled Presence of Grace.

The Second Novella is titled REARGUARD.

This is a story of a doomed marriage - the marriage between a Staunch Socialist and a Full Blooded Bourgeois. The contrasting opinions emerge in chapter after chapter and they are captured in a beautiful prose.
The language looked archaic initially. But as I persisted on, it grew on me. In fact, I began to love it and I ended up loving it.
The Translator's note at the end helped further in understanding certain references found in this novella. And I am grateful.

It is worth a try.

[Emmeline · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book is two works, a longish short story and a novella, by the Nobel Prizewinning Danish author Henrik Pontoppidan. My favourite bookseller tried to get me to read his more famous work, A Fortunate Man, but it was 800 pages, so here we are.

I was finding these two stories a little underwhelming, but looking into them more, I see they are both from the late 19th century, which makes them seem a little more transgressive than I otherwise would find them.

In “The White Bear,” a mediocre seminary student is assigned to a remote posting… in Greenland. There he lives among the Inuit, and far from bringing them into the Christian fold, he discovers a more authentic side of himself. When he finally returns to Denmark, he is incapable of fitting into the staid and moralizing society he left behind.

In “The Rearguard,” a socialist painter marries a bourgeois Danish girl in Rome. Each feels they can change the other, neither can.

Both stories had interesting moments, but both felt unfinished. “The Rearguard” was in some way the more interesting, featuring debates about politics and art, but it also had quite a cop-out ending. “The White Bear” was less about the Inuit than I hoped (and much less about polar bears than I hoped, the title referring to the protagonist instead) but was certainly an unusual read for something published in 1887.

[Leah · Rating 5 out of 5]

This volume contains two stories from Nobel Prize-winning Danish novelist, Henrik Pontoppidan, in new translations by Paul Larkin. Annoyingly the book doesn’t say when the stories were first published, but Google tells me that The White Bear dates from 1887, and The Rearguard from 1894. The White Bear is a substantial short story, while The Rearguard is just about long enough to be considered a novella.

The White Bear

Tells the story of Thorkild Asger Ejnar Fredrik Müller, a parish priest who has lived his life among the Inuit of Greenland. A poor student who never studied, he was nevertheless considered eligible for a scheme of the Danish church to give financial support to indigent students in return for their service in this inhospitable country, tasked with spreading Christianity among the Inuit. But Thorkild, rather than converting the heathen, is converted by the Inuit to their way of life, though he still guides them towards God. He marries a girl of the people, Rebecca, known as Seqineq – the Sun, and they are happy and have many children. (Here the author talks about Seqineq as if she is a child, or childlike – clearly lesser than Thorkild and I feel because of her race rather than her gender. He means it sweetly, intending to show she’s a worthy wife because of her good nature, but it’s still a little uncomfortable.)

This is an excellent character study of Thorkild, a huge bear of a man, somewhat wild and uncouth, but good-hearted. Even more, though, it’s a wonderful depiction of Inuit life, ruled by the seasons of the sun – nomadic in summer and cave-dwelling in winter, and living in the same traditions as their ancestors through the ages.

Finally, the first slim and narrow but glowing sliver of sun peeked out over the blue-tinged mountains in the south. Big tears of joy ran down their hollowed cheeks. People shouted and clapped their hands. Jumped, as much as they could with their clumsy limbs, and fell on each other’s necks in pure emotion. Mothers held up their children and cried out in pure rapture and, in imitation, the older children stretched out their small undernourished hands towards this all-powerful source of heat and threw their own voices into the halleluiah cacophony:
“Seqineq! Seqineq! The Sun! The Sun!”

Thorkild grows old and begins to think longingly of Denmark. When Seqineq dies one winter, he seeks and gets authority to return home and is given a parish. At first his parishioners love him – he doesn’t preach at them and is always willing to lend a physical hand when needed. But his boisterous coarseness horrifies his fellow priests and the bishop. It becomes a battle between Thorkild and the church for control of the hearts and souls of the parishioners, and Thorkild’s deacon, Ruggaard, is tasked by the powers-that-be with undermining the priest’s popularity among the people…

A great little story, full of humour, which bashes the church and organised religion, but not faith itself. It’s the descriptions and the characters that work so well – the ambitious career-minded clergy, the sun-worshipping Inuit, sneaky Ruggaard, and simple but honest Thorkild, uncouth, yes, but a better man than all of them.

The Rearguard

Jørgen Hallager, leader of a Danish social-realist art movement, and fanatical about it, marries Ursula Branth, a conventional young woman who expects marriage and life in Rome to tame her wild husband. He, on the other hand, thinks marriage will encourage Ursula to throw off her shackles of conformity and join him in the struggle to bring about some rather unspecified revolution. Though Jørgen is another huge, loud, bear of a man and Ursula is a slender, delicate sprig of womanhood, it transpires that their wills are equally strong, and so the battle is set for some mutually assured destruction.

Just as well written as The White Bear, and very readable, I didn’t enjoy this one quite so much, mainly because I get rather tired of intellectuals pontificating about the plight of the working man while living in luxury. While I admired Thorkild despite his lack of couth, Jørgen, as chief pontificator in this one, irritated me despite his eloquence and obvious intelligence. Ursula’s belief that she could change him may have been naive, but his attempts to change her are bullying and hectoring, and I had an urgent desire to hit him over the head with something heavy – perhaps one of his own realist paintings of the downtrodden workers. No doubt that would have sent Ursula into another of her frequent hysterical sobbing fits, though, and I’d had more than enough of them by the end!

The background to the story is the revolutionary movement then growing across many parts of Europe, and specifically in Denmark. I don’t know anything about the politics of Denmark at that time, but it didn’t matter – it was all clear enough, and the specifics aren’t important in the story. Pontoppidan is focusing on the role artists play in political change – those who use art to encourage change and those who use it to uphold the established order. My sympathies (as a very mild lefty) should have been with Jørgen as he tried to raise the plight of the poor through his art. But I found him such an obnoxious character that I ended up on the side of his friend, another Thorkild, who sold out his social-realist principles for the sake of beauty and success. I’m not sure that’s the effect Pontoppidan was aiming for.

Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed both of these stories, especially The White Bear. Fortunately a few of his books are available in English translation, so Pontoppidan’s back catalogue might just be my next literary expedition.

NB This book was provided for review by the publisher, NYRB.

[Yuri Sharon · Rating 4 out of 5]

This volume contains two novellas – that of the title, and The Rearguard. Although quite different, they both warrant a rating somewhere around a four.

[MountainAshleah · Rating 5 out of 5]

Highly recommended. I'm a big fan of the NYRB publications as they compel me to break out of my love affair with 18th, 19th, and 20th-century canonical British, American, and Russian writers ("not that there's anything wrong with that!"). I'm relatively familiar with the work of both contemporary and earlier Scandinavian writers (Giants in the Earth is one of my favorites and I recently completed Kristin Lavransdatter). While I am certainly no scholar of this literature, I am an avid reader. And so I was really looking forward to this slender book of two novellas (The White Bear and The Rearguard), which I consumed in about two days, having to take frequent breaks to think about what I'd read as well as to look up some information to supplement my terribly inadequate knowledge of the era. This reading experience was as edifying and enjoyable as I'd hoped. My paperback that had arrived so fresh and pristine in the mail just a few days ago is in pretty bad shape now, the pages mangled and covered with scribbles and notes. For me, this was a thoroughly engaging and memorable reading experience (5 stars for that), which, of course, is why I subscribed to the NYRB monthly book club. I also believe this translation of The Rearguard marks its availability in English--and it's a fantastic read, with its political underpinnings, so much more than a "marriage story" as the blurb describes. And now that I have a taste of Pontoppidan's work, this only lures me into wanting to read Pontoppidan's masterwork (A Fortunate Man), coincidentally also published by NYRB, and at 880 or so pages, a far more expensive purchase. Funny how that works, right? For more information on The White Bear and The Rearguard: https://www.nyrb.com/products/the-rea...

[Andy Weston · Rating 4 out of 5]

There’s actually two novellas in this book, but it’s the title story that carries it.

A young Danish pastor, having been a hopeless theology student, is sent to a parish in the far north of Greenland. It is considered a lifelong exile for dullards. He is an unkempt, bearlike huge man who has suffered much abuse and bullying, but is not as slow-witted as he seems. He immerses himself in his new life, marries and has children, but some years later, after his wife dies, he asks to return to Denmark, but doesn’t reckon for the politics that goes with his new appointment. It’s a simple tale, but beautifully told. The plot chugs along, but it’s really the locations and the characters that demand the real attention.

The second story is about a newly married Danish artist in Rome. It’s okay, but doesn’t have anywhere near the impact that The White Bear does.

I read this while in the Faroe Islands, where to imagine the early days of missionaries sent to wild places is probably a bit easier. It calls to mind the film Godland also, in this case the intrepid pastor is sent to a remote part of Iceland.

[Dolf van der Haven · Rating 5 out of 5]

A new translation of a work by Pontoppidan is a thing to be celebrated, for this Nobel Prize winner has been severely neglected outside of his native Denmark.
This volume has two novellas, The White Bear (also known as The Polar Bear) and The Rearguard. Quite different stories, but undeniably Pontoppidan ones in their strong character depictions. The Rearguard even feels quite modern, even though it was written in 1890.
Hopefully more translations will follow after this one.

[ROLLAND Florence · Rating 5 out of 5]

Yes, I should have read Pontoppidan in the original version.
But I got super excited about a new English translation. Paul Larkin did an excellent job, making these short stories accessible to a wider audience.

Pontoppidan is brilliant at writing strong male characters who do not look like brutes.

The descriptions of Greenland are breathtaking, summoning the terrible beauty of the Arctic and the customs of the Greenlandic People, with respect (in a way that is very modern for a book written at the beginning of the XXth century). Readers not aware of the complex and difficult relationship that Denmark and Greenland had (and still have!) will miss out on the most groundbreaking elements of the first story. Thorkild Müller is a fascinating character because he embraces the difficulties of life. He finds happiness in a totally different place and culture (even language) from what he has known so far.

The descriptions of rural Denmark are also captivating. They render how hard life was in those times, but also how interconnected people were - with a network of complex relationships and the crushing weight of social expectations.

A must read, if you are into real-life Scandinavia - and not the fake "hygge, happiest countries in the world" trend that misrepresent the Nordics.

[Barry · Rating 3 out of 5]

This story, published by the Danish Nobel Prize winner in 1887, is not about a polar bear, but rather a giant bear of a man. He is kindhearted but uncouth and seems quite unsuited for the life of a priest, but is nevertheless funneled into the priesthood and then shipped off to Greenland where he lives among the Inuit.

I would not regard this a diatribe against faith in general nor Christianity in particular, but it is certainly a stinging rebuke to the sterile and corrupt state church.

[Matthew Calvert · Rating 5 out of 5]

The titular story was pretty solid, but the real gem in this book was the second story, 'The Rearguard'. Great high drama between the most pretentious, uncompromising socialist ever invented and his wife, a bourgeois woman who just wants to enjoy her life. I ate it up.

[Jared Oliver · Rating 3 out of 5]

Finished this btw. A long time ago lowk just forgot lol. I liked the first novella better than the second but overall it was pretty cool

[Emily · Rating 4 out of 5]

Rather a grim worldview, but well worth reading. Both stories involve abnormally large men like something from mythology, complete w huge beards. Neither seem to make good ends

[Carrie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Heavy stuff, heavy characters. As usual, it is hard to review works in translation with no knowledge of the cultural framework at work. Still enjoyable, and both stories in this volume were atmospheric and gripping.

[Mimi Pockross · Rating 5 out of 5]

From the New York Review of Books, here is their summary of two short stories written by the Danish Nobel Prize winner Henrik Pontoppidan in 1917.

Henrik Pontoppidan, the Danish Nobel laureate, is admired for the concentrated force of his novellas as much as for long, populous, world-encompassing novels like A Fortunate Man, and here are two of those novellas, newly and brilliantly translated by Paul Larkin.

The White Bear follows the fate of the odd, gangly, red-bearded Thorkild Müller. Born in rural Jutland and destined for the ministry, Thorkild proves to be a poor student and is assigned to a remote Inuit tribe in Greenland. There, with his mythic-looking staff and dogskin skullcap, he becomes known as the White Bear—a beloved legend among the locals and a freewheeling embarrassment to his fellow priests. Grown old, he returns to Denmark, where again his flock adores him while his fellow men of cloth try to tame the "whirling dervish in their midst." In the end Thorkild mysteriously disappears, presumably back to the snow wilderness of Greenland.

The Rearguard, on the other hand, is a marriage story. Newlyweds Jørgen Hallager and Ursula Branth are as different as night and day. The brash son of a poor village teacher, Jørgen is an avowed socialist whose revolutionary beliefs translate into his work as a painter of social realism; Ursula comes from a conservative, upper-middle-class family. At first, as they start their married life in Rome, they each try to change the other's worldview with arguments and threats, but as time wears on and they wear each other down, it becomes clear there can be no reconciliation. It is a tragic tale of art and idealism, individuality and love.

Love, faith, and the political mingle in these two short novels by a Nobel Prize-winning Danish author. This one is about a priest who goes to live among native peoples in Greenland. This along with the other short story by him that is included explores the reaches of the human heart. I so enjoyed reading both short stories while preparing for my trip to Scandinavia.

[Rohan · Rating 3 out of 5]

This short book is a compilation of two works: The White Bear and The Rearguard.

The White Bear is an exploration of the relationship between freedom, civilization, and nature. Beautifully translated, it ends as quickly as it begins; I found myself yearning for more of the character, more of the plot, but the conclusion failed to land and the text as a whole was not thematically strong. 2.5/5

The Rearguard is a warning against ideological monomania, and conveys its messages effectively through the three archetypal characters. Once I finished The Rearguard, I had nothing but contempt for Hallager, and maybe that’s a sign of a truly well-written character, or maybe that’s a sign of my own ideological commitments and how much they differ. Again, beautifully translated, with an albeit much better ending than that of The White Bear. 4/5

I guess that would make the average rating a 3.25/5. Fortunately, The Rearguard was the bulk of the book, so I’m feeling an overall score of 3.5/5.

[Mark · Rating 4 out of 5]

Two novellas or one short story and one novella or simply two works of fiction from a Nobel Laureate from 100 years ago, with whom I was previously unfamiliar. That’s not saying much; I don’t read much fiction. This monthly NYRB Classics subscription has introduced me to several authors.

Pontoppidan, at least as translated by Paul Larkin, provides us with two stories, each about passionately angry, fiercely independent, self-righteous men. Both develop followers, in The White Bear, twice. Both men fall, after tirades against their chosen enemies: the state church in White Bear and the political/cultural/economic elites in the Rearguard.

It’s interesting to me, now that I notice it, that the first story is named after the lead character, Thorkild Muller, while the English title given to the longer second story in the NYRB edition refers to the group of impotent anarchists, not their seeming leader, Jorgen Hallager.

The slender volume that filled time on a plane trip with works of fiction I wouldn’t have read otherwise—and don’t feel worse off for now having done so.

[Lila · Rating 4 out of 5]

Consists of two novellas: "The White Bear" (1887, also translated as The Polar Bear) and "The Rearguard" (1894, also translated as Night Watch).

"The White Bear is about a Lutheran minister sent to a remote village in Greenland where he fits in with the hunting society and marries. He, however, returns to Denmark in old age and causes havoc, returning eventually to Greenland.

"The Rearguard" is about rival artists and the harm imposed on one wife who, thinking she can change her stubborn artist/husband, becomes overwhelmed. The character of Thorkild Drehling is based on the Danish painter L. A. Ring (1854-1933).

This is the NYRB choice for June 2025.

[Mike · Rating 2 out of 5]

Two very average novellas on well-worn topics: the first is the story of the rustic religious man who prefers the wilds of the natural world to the ordered authority and ritual of church doctrine, and the second is the marriage between the blowhard political radical agitator and the young woman who wants to “fix him.” Both are blind in their own way: the wife naive enough to think she can make it work, the husband unable to see how his politics are alienating him from everyone—including the very people he claims to herald.

I hope Lucky Per has more to offer than these pedestrian snooze-fests.

[Marg · Rating 5 out of 5]

Written in the era of the Aesthetic Movement in the late 19th century, the second of these fictional works, The Rearguard, reveals the friction between that Movement and the Social Realists. The latter believed the arts play a role in educating us. I don’t think the more superficial Aesthetic Movement lasted very long.

The White Bear is a very different story - an outcast who finds his way home in a very different place. And then …. Loved it.

[SweetCorn03 · Rating 3 out of 5]

june 2025 nyrb book club

i liked the first novella more. it was more concise and straightforward—more of a short story than a novella. the second one was a good concept; however, i found that it got pretty lost in the sauce and could have been more dialed in. the story could have been more impactful without the delicately constructed sauce which was used to curate a vibe. the vibe was entirely apparent without the added sludge sauce.

[Bob Finch · Rating 5 out of 5]

I enjoyed this book’s eponymous short story well enough. The writing (English translation from the Danish) and depth of character development kept me interested. However, I found the accompanying novella, “The Rearguard,” quite compelling, with social and personal tensions artfully intermingled, and a main character of profound moral complexity.

[Stephanie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Torn between 3 and 4 star rating, but settling on 4. I enjoyed the detailed descriptions of Greenland landscapes and the lifestyle of the small community, and I felt the connection and also the ache Pontoppidan conveys to the reader. Despite having a different worldview than Pontoppidan, I enjoyed intellectually wrestling with his through this novella.

[Samuel Oh · Rating 4 out of 5]

Second story was more interesting, although it took a bit to get going. Interesting dialogue on the effects/inspirations of romanticism vs realism in the arts. Can even draw political parallels, but that’s more iffy.

[Mimi · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.7

[Colin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Read both novellas in a sitting, as one perhaps should, and enjoyed both. I’m interested to see what Pontoppidan does with the novel form.

[Maclean · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brilliant, charming Danish Novel Prize winner. These were two of his novellas; later I hope to return to him for a more lengthy novel.

[Arista · Rating 4 out of 5]

Denmark. Author recommended during a trip I took this year and it was a solid pick.

[Christian · Rating 5 out of 5]

June selection