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L'Embellie
Son mari l’a quittée avec le matelas et le sommier. Pour ne rien arranger, sa meilleure amie, enceinte, lui confie son fils de quatre ans, étrange petit bonhomme presque sourd. Cette semaine-là, cette femme libre gagne également deux fois à la loterie ! Une seule solution : partir. Prendre des vacances d’été en hiver avec le petit Tumi, à la découverte des landes sauvages de l’Islande.
408 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 2004
210 people are currently reading
4509 people want to read
About the author
Auður Ava Ólafsdóttir
15 books1,066 followersAuður Ava Ólafsdóttir was born in Iceland in 1958, studied art history in Paris and has lectured in History of Art at the University of Iceland. Her earlier novel, The Greenhouse (2007), won the DV Culture Award for literature and was nominated for the Nordic Council Literature Award. She currently lives and works in Reykjavik.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 710 reviews
September 20, 2018
this book is like being forced to watch amelie on a loop while bjork makes you snort pixie stix.
individually, all those things are great, but there's a point where it just becomes too much - a quirky overload; a birthday party where manic children hopped up on frosting throw whimsy at the wall to see what'll stick.
it's not entirely twee - it definitely has its dark moments (animals will die) but it was just so… much. it was too willfully eccentric for me: an emotionally detached and unnamed woman who makes her living as a translator, fluent in upwards of ten languages but also somewhere on the spectrum is dumped by her lover and her husband on the same day, visits a fortune teller, is responsible for the death of a goose, wins two different lotteries and, despite not liking children at all, embarks on an icelandic road trip with tumi; the son of a friend who is
a deaf four-year-old clairvoyant boy with poor eyesight and one leg three centimetres shorter than the other, which makes him limp when he is only wearing his socks
where she engages in casual sex (not with tumi, obviously), oddly misogynist observations, her brand of nostalgia, an estonian choir, butterflies-as-metaphor, and it ends with more than forty recipes and some knitting tips.
it's just too much
this reads like a fairy tale in its reliance on coincidence, convenient narrative turns, and groupings of threes: It's all threes here,' she says, 'three men in your life over a distance of 300 kilometres, three dead animals, three minor accidents or mishaps…
it was surreal in a way that felt uncontrolled; sloppy and off-kilter, and its supposed charm never reached me through its aimless and circular meandering.
i have been assured that the translation is not the best, so that might have something to do with it, on top of my unfamiliarity with icelandic literature and my allergy to the picaresque.
not for karen. maybe for you.
come to my blog!
individually, all those things are great, but there's a point where it just becomes too much - a quirky overload; a birthday party where manic children hopped up on frosting throw whimsy at the wall to see what'll stick.
it's not entirely twee - it definitely has its dark moments (animals will die) but it was just so… much. it was too willfully eccentric for me: an emotionally detached and unnamed woman who makes her living as a translator, fluent in upwards of ten languages but also somewhere on the spectrum is dumped by her lover and her husband on the same day, visits a fortune teller, is responsible for the death of a goose, wins two different lotteries and, despite not liking children at all, embarks on an icelandic road trip with tumi; the son of a friend who is
a deaf four-year-old clairvoyant boy with poor eyesight and one leg three centimetres shorter than the other, which makes him limp when he is only wearing his socks
where she engages in casual sex (not with tumi, obviously), oddly misogynist observations, her brand of nostalgia, an estonian choir, butterflies-as-metaphor, and it ends with more than forty recipes and some knitting tips.
it's just too much
this reads like a fairy tale in its reliance on coincidence, convenient narrative turns, and groupings of threes: It's all threes here,' she says, 'three men in your life over a distance of 300 kilometres, three dead animals, three minor accidents or mishaps…
it was surreal in a way that felt uncontrolled; sloppy and off-kilter, and its supposed charm never reached me through its aimless and circular meandering.
i have been assured that the translation is not the best, so that might have something to do with it, on top of my unfamiliarity with icelandic literature and my allergy to the picaresque.
not for karen. maybe for you.
come to my blog!
December 5, 2014
4.5 I adore many things about this book! Its clever -unique -offbeat and quirky. At the same time there are powerful, (and funny), conversations around marriage, divorce, adultery, work values, and the responsibility of taking care of a child. (with special needs)
I'm not sure why the narrator has no name, but I enjoyed her character. We know many things about the narrator. She provides proof-reading services and revise BA theses and articles for specialized magazines and publications on any subject. She revises electoral speeches and she can translate from eleven languages both into and out of Icelandic, including Russian, Polish, and Hungarian.
On the same day her lover wants to end their affair --her husband wants a divorce. This woman handles being dumped twice in one day like a 'champ'!
Her husband begins to tell her the many reasons why she is not a good wife, and why he must leave her after their almost 5 years of marriage.
He says to her, "You have a pretty weird idea of marriage, to say the least, you go out jogging in the middle of the night, dinner is never at the same time. Who else--apart from Sicilians --do you think would eat Wiener Schnitzel at eleven? Then when I get home on Tuesday you've cooked a four-course meal on a total whim, a Christmas dinner in October."
He says, "I mean you speak eleven languages that you practically learnt in your sleep, if your mother is to be believed, and what do you do with your talents?"
She says, "Use them in my work".
He says, "Having a child might have changed you, smoothed your edges a bit. But still, what kind of mother would behave the way you do?"
This conversation goes on. The narrator does not get defensive as her husband continues to say some silly things. She is clear about herself. She has a way of 'waiting' and 'listening' and 'not reacting' that works in her favor. People can take a lesson from this woman.
She's thinking: "It isn't motherly warmth that men come looking for in me and they're not particularly drawn to my breasts either". She keeps many thoughts to herself. She thinks before she speaks.
Her husband speaks without thinking. He does not appreciate her being bright and chirpy in the morning-and tells her so. He does not appreciate the nuances of linguistics over their morning porridge, and tells her so. He rather talk about more cozy things such as washing powder.
So, Our narrator gets dumped! She doesn't seem to mind to much.
The story begins.
The journey begins.
A new bonding-relationship develops with our narrator and Tumi (a little 4 year old deaf mute child). Of course they win -not one -but **TWO** lottery tickets. Money is of no concern to travel around Iceland. Many more adventures ahead for the readers pleasure!
At the end of the book is a list of recipes. I'm not usually a fan of novels that interweave recipes within the story --but because these recipes were all at the end of the book --I not only didn't mind, -I found them fun-enduring. I was left laughing.
"Icelandic wild goose with apples and prunes"? Or, "Whale Blubber", anyone?
A delicious novel!
I'm not sure why the narrator has no name, but I enjoyed her character. We know many things about the narrator. She provides proof-reading services and revise BA theses and articles for specialized magazines and publications on any subject. She revises electoral speeches and she can translate from eleven languages both into and out of Icelandic, including Russian, Polish, and Hungarian.
On the same day her lover wants to end their affair --her husband wants a divorce. This woman handles being dumped twice in one day like a 'champ'!
Her husband begins to tell her the many reasons why she is not a good wife, and why he must leave her after their almost 5 years of marriage.
He says to her, "You have a pretty weird idea of marriage, to say the least, you go out jogging in the middle of the night, dinner is never at the same time. Who else--apart from Sicilians --do you think would eat Wiener Schnitzel at eleven? Then when I get home on Tuesday you've cooked a four-course meal on a total whim, a Christmas dinner in October."
He says, "I mean you speak eleven languages that you practically learnt in your sleep, if your mother is to be believed, and what do you do with your talents?"
She says, "Use them in my work".
He says, "Having a child might have changed you, smoothed your edges a bit. But still, what kind of mother would behave the way you do?"
This conversation goes on. The narrator does not get defensive as her husband continues to say some silly things. She is clear about herself. She has a way of 'waiting' and 'listening' and 'not reacting' that works in her favor. People can take a lesson from this woman.
She's thinking: "It isn't motherly warmth that men come looking for in me and they're not particularly drawn to my breasts either". She keeps many thoughts to herself. She thinks before she speaks.
Her husband speaks without thinking. He does not appreciate her being bright and chirpy in the morning-and tells her so. He does not appreciate the nuances of linguistics over their morning porridge, and tells her so. He rather talk about more cozy things such as washing powder.
So, Our narrator gets dumped! She doesn't seem to mind to much.
The story begins.
The journey begins.
A new bonding-relationship develops with our narrator and Tumi (a little 4 year old deaf mute child). Of course they win -not one -but **TWO** lottery tickets. Money is of no concern to travel around Iceland. Many more adventures ahead for the readers pleasure!
At the end of the book is a list of recipes. I'm not usually a fan of novels that interweave recipes within the story --but because these recipes were all at the end of the book --I not only didn't mind, -I found them fun-enduring. I was left laughing.
"Icelandic wild goose with apples and prunes"? Or, "Whale Blubber", anyone?
A delicious novel!
February 24, 2016
This book is a translation from the original Icelandic and I am hoping that the translator just did a really bad job... because I couldn't grasp anything about this book at all. I kept thinking I was on track and then nope... completely up in outer-space again!
I 100% expected to find out, at the end of the book, that the entire thing was a dream sequence. (Especially after the part with the doctor and the horse-meat sausages. That was like a something straight out of Twin Peaks.) It was just too strange and other-worldly to be passed off as something actually happening on planet earth.
The jumps between moments in the book were so dream like; first an agonizingly slow moment, (not a direct quote, but it could be) "I realized it was lunch time. He must be thirsty. I dug in my purse, I found a chocolate milk, I took the plastic off of the straw, without turning around in my seat, I reached back and handed it to him. He extended his hand. He took it. He put the straw to his mouth. He took a drink. I looked at him in the rearview mirror and smiled (.....) We pulled into a gas station for dinner. I looked at my watch. 10:00pm. So much darkness."
And I am thinking, "Where did those six house go between lunch time and the gas station?"
The entire book made time feel irrelevant or strangely off sync... which felt sloppy to me, rather than artsy.
Another reviewer said that the main character, has strangely mysoginistic thoughts... I would agree with that! I don't see how this could be deemed a "feminist" novel. It is about a completely unrealistic woman, unnamed, who is for some reason randomly sought out by every man she encounters, married or not, for casual sex. (I think that the author is writing about the woman she wishes she could be.) She (the main character) is not intelligent enough to use protection with these random men; she might or might not be pregnant. She is not secure enough to live for even a few weeks without a man. Her entire goal, every time she is out of her car, is to find a man for a casual sexual encounter. When she is in her own thoughts, what is she thinking about, you guessed it: MEN! (Or motherhood.)
She is the opposite of empowered.
Someone called this book, "willfully whimsical".
I would agree with that... Like those people who aren't weird but they are TRYING so hard to be weird, that it just feels attention seeking? There is too much trying in this book. It feels unauthentic.
I understand that the Ring-Road around Iceland is a metaphor for this lady's life... Nevertheless, I don't need it pointed out to me, more than 3x that the ring road is round, that you can drive aROUND the island, that you end up where you started if you keep going aROUND and oh by the way... ha ha ha ha... this road is ROUND! Amazing!
There are other bad moments of just plain bad writing (or translating)... One example, in one of her strange casual sexual encounters the main character leaves her car with a man she just picked up on the side of the road, to follow him into a desert of lava rocks but she says, "without however, ever took my eyes off of the car on the side of the road." (In which she left a sleeping 4 yr old... great...) (pg. 182)
I tried to imagine this 1,000 different ways and I cannot find any scenario in which you an walk AWAY from a car and not take your eyes off of it.
Or, when she hits the sheep. "The boy", as he is constantly referred to, is in the back seat but somehow manages to vomit all over the dashboard. That is some serious projectial vomit....
The supposed 4 yr old is so ridiculously above his years, at moments, that I couldn't even begin to fathom him. He wasn't just a precarious 4 yr old. He was a ridiculous character.
Now, onto the fortune tellers prediction at the beginning of the book... I was unsure why that was even in the book? I was unsure if her predictions came true or not. The ambiguity of it all made me furious. I felt like the author teased me with expectation that then turned out to be completely pointless.
The flashbacks to the main charachters childhood were interesting and perhaps the most drawing thing about the book... but much like the fortune teller at the end of the book, where was no closure, no real link between them, I was left wondering, "what was the point?" and again feeling teased and unsatisfied! Ugh!
When I had finished the novel I went back and re-read the italicized opening hoping to find some kind of symetry. I didn't find anything. And that is the biggest disappointment of all. There was NOTHING of substance in this book.
I think this part of the book can sum up the whole book, the main character is thinking to herself, "Mistakes are rarely the outcome of a logical sequence of decisions."
(Like I said, the opposite of empowered.... Things just happen to this woman, she is THAT weak and that unwilling to account for her mistakes.) I so completely disagree with that sentence that I don't even know where to begin.
The one thing in this book that was seriously interesting was a peek into Icelandic culture. The book itself was so bazaar, that I am left wondering how realistic that peek is? Can I take from this book a general impression of Iceland or would I be sadly misguided in doing so? I wish that there was more substance to the book so that I could clearly think, "Wow, that was a nice mini-eduaction into Iceland. What an interesting place." Sadly the author has robbed me of that certainly... Perhaps that was her intention, Keep Iceland Mysterious.
I 100% expected to find out, at the end of the book, that the entire thing was a dream sequence. (Especially after the part with the doctor and the horse-meat sausages. That was like a something straight out of Twin Peaks.) It was just too strange and other-worldly to be passed off as something actually happening on planet earth.
The jumps between moments in the book were so dream like; first an agonizingly slow moment, (not a direct quote, but it could be) "I realized it was lunch time. He must be thirsty. I dug in my purse, I found a chocolate milk, I took the plastic off of the straw, without turning around in my seat, I reached back and handed it to him. He extended his hand. He took it. He put the straw to his mouth. He took a drink. I looked at him in the rearview mirror and smiled (.....) We pulled into a gas station for dinner. I looked at my watch. 10:00pm. So much darkness."
And I am thinking, "Where did those six house go between lunch time and the gas station?"
The entire book made time feel irrelevant or strangely off sync... which felt sloppy to me, rather than artsy.
Another reviewer said that the main character, has strangely mysoginistic thoughts... I would agree with that! I don't see how this could be deemed a "feminist" novel. It is about a completely unrealistic woman, unnamed, who is for some reason randomly sought out by every man she encounters, married or not, for casual sex. (I think that the author is writing about the woman she wishes she could be.) She (the main character) is not intelligent enough to use protection with these random men; she might or might not be pregnant. She is not secure enough to live for even a few weeks without a man. Her entire goal, every time she is out of her car, is to find a man for a casual sexual encounter. When she is in her own thoughts, what is she thinking about, you guessed it: MEN! (Or motherhood.)
She is the opposite of empowered.
Someone called this book, "willfully whimsical".
I would agree with that... Like those people who aren't weird but they are TRYING so hard to be weird, that it just feels attention seeking? There is too much trying in this book. It feels unauthentic.
I understand that the Ring-Road around Iceland is a metaphor for this lady's life... Nevertheless, I don't need it pointed out to me, more than 3x that the ring road is round, that you can drive aROUND the island, that you end up where you started if you keep going aROUND and oh by the way... ha ha ha ha... this road is ROUND! Amazing!
There are other bad moments of just plain bad writing (or translating)... One example, in one of her strange casual sexual encounters the main character leaves her car with a man she just picked up on the side of the road, to follow him into a desert of lava rocks but she says, "without however, ever took my eyes off of the car on the side of the road." (In which she left a sleeping 4 yr old... great...) (pg. 182)
I tried to imagine this 1,000 different ways and I cannot find any scenario in which you an walk AWAY from a car and not take your eyes off of it.
Or, when she hits the sheep. "The boy", as he is constantly referred to, is in the back seat but somehow manages to vomit all over the dashboard. That is some serious projectial vomit....
The supposed 4 yr old is so ridiculously above his years, at moments, that I couldn't even begin to fathom him. He wasn't just a precarious 4 yr old. He was a ridiculous character.
Now, onto the fortune tellers prediction at the beginning of the book... I was unsure why that was even in the book? I was unsure if her predictions came true or not. The ambiguity of it all made me furious. I felt like the author teased me with expectation that then turned out to be completely pointless.
The flashbacks to the main charachters childhood were interesting and perhaps the most drawing thing about the book... but much like the fortune teller at the end of the book, where was no closure, no real link between them, I was left wondering, "what was the point?" and again feeling teased and unsatisfied! Ugh!
When I had finished the novel I went back and re-read the italicized opening hoping to find some kind of symetry. I didn't find anything. And that is the biggest disappointment of all. There was NOTHING of substance in this book.
I think this part of the book can sum up the whole book, the main character is thinking to herself, "Mistakes are rarely the outcome of a logical sequence of decisions."
(Like I said, the opposite of empowered.... Things just happen to this woman, she is THAT weak and that unwilling to account for her mistakes.) I so completely disagree with that sentence that I don't even know where to begin.
The one thing in this book that was seriously interesting was a peek into Icelandic culture. The book itself was so bazaar, that I am left wondering how realistic that peek is? Can I take from this book a general impression of Iceland or would I be sadly misguided in doing so? I wish that there was more substance to the book so that I could clearly think, "Wow, that was a nice mini-eduaction into Iceland. What an interesting place." Sadly the author has robbed me of that certainly... Perhaps that was her intention, Keep Iceland Mysterious.
March 28, 2021
Trajediye bağlanmadan akıp giden bu yol hikayesini sevdim ben zira bir kadın ve engelli bir çocuk, trajediye çok yatkın. Türkiye’de olsa zaten Gölcük sınırını geçemezlerdi ya , hadi neyse. Baş karekterin 11-12 dil bilemesine rağmen çocukla ortak hiç bir dilde anlaşamaması ve yeni bir yol bulma zorunluluğu ironisini çok beğendim, neticede sen ne kadar konuşursan konuş, karşı taraf ne anlarsa odur dediğin. Dili akıcı, çok sıkmadı beni. İzlanda’ya tatil broşürü gibi, canım çekti o çemberi yapmayı. Çocuk ve kadının buluşma noktası tuhaflıkları bence. Ana karekterin adını da hiç öğrememiz ilginç, anam kadınının adı yok işte 🥺
November 14, 2013
The narrator of this quirky and unique nove is a thirty three year old woman with a gift for languages, who works as a translator and proof reader. When we meet her she has been both dumped by her lover and told by her husband that he is leaving her for another woman, who is soon to have his child. Her friend, Audor, (my apologies for not being to type Icelandic names with the appropriate letters/typeface) is, like her, something of an outsider. She already has a young son, Tumi, who is hearing and vision impaired, and is pregnant again, but not married. When she comes to visit to console her friend on the end of her marriage, she slips and hurts herself - while she is taken to hospital, she asks her friend to collect Tumi from kindergarten. To add to the recent upheaval, after being told that she should buy lottery tickets, our narrator soon finds that she has won twice - firstly the prize of a prefabricated cottage, which she asks to be placed in the location where her grandmother once lived, and secondly for the astounding amount of forty million kroner. She had already decided to take a trip, but now she must do so with a four year old boy in tow, when she has no experience of children.
Everything I have described so far is also mentioned (pretty much) in the blurb and happens in the first couple of chapters. The novel is concerned with the trip itself - a bizarre road trip through a frozen landscape. On this journey some animals will die, many ex lovers will appear unexpectedly, and our narrator must come to terms with something which happened to her as a young girl, as well as discover what motherhood really means. Unprepared for what lies ahead, her dashboard stuffed with cash, she finds herself responsible for another person - a vulnerable and intelligent child - for the first time in her life. This trip will change her profoundly and alter the course of her life forever.
This is a difficult novel to describe. It is quirky, often funny, sometimes a little shocking and profoundly moving. I have not read anything by this author before, but I am sure that this just made it into my list of favourite books. Set in an amost alien landcape, it is completely different in attitude and approach, and will challenge the way you think. I am extremely glad that I read it and Pushkin Press are becoming, more and more, a publisher that I trust for quality and original books.
Everything I have described so far is also mentioned (pretty much) in the blurb and happens in the first couple of chapters. The novel is concerned with the trip itself - a bizarre road trip through a frozen landscape. On this journey some animals will die, many ex lovers will appear unexpectedly, and our narrator must come to terms with something which happened to her as a young girl, as well as discover what motherhood really means. Unprepared for what lies ahead, her dashboard stuffed with cash, she finds herself responsible for another person - a vulnerable and intelligent child - for the first time in her life. This trip will change her profoundly and alter the course of her life forever.
This is a difficult novel to describe. It is quirky, often funny, sometimes a little shocking and profoundly moving. I have not read anything by this author before, but I am sure that this just made it into my list of favourite books. Set in an amost alien landcape, it is completely different in attitude and approach, and will challenge the way you think. I am extremely glad that I read it and Pushkin Press are becoming, more and more, a publisher that I trust for quality and original books.
May 27, 2020
A good read! The pace is gentle, the writing is full of good tuneful prose with unusual (quirky) delights. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed if you choose this book for your next read. I enjoyed the book so much I've written a blog about it at Artuccino
January 21, 2015
First published in her native Iceland in 2004 but not available in English translation until last year, Auður Ava Ólafsdóttir’s Butterflies in November is a whimsical, feminist road trip novel.
The unnamed narrator is a translator based in Reykjavík. When her best friend slips on an icy sidewalk and breaks her arm, it falls to the narrator to care for the friend’s deaf-mute four-year-old son, Tumi. Leaving behind romantic troubles and boosted by not one but two lottery wins, she and the boy set off on a snowy voyage around Iceland’s Ring Road, with plenty of madcap adventures ahead.
The subtle joke behind the novel’s format, of course, is that Iceland is a small country and this is a circular road – a metaphorical road to nowhere. The plot is rather scattered and uneven, with uproarious mishaps followed by tedious passages. A strangely irrelevant (and indulgent) 35-page appendix of recipes may also put some readers off.
However, in this kooky fictional world where “nothing is as it should be any more,” where butterflies are still flying in November, the narrator’s tragicomic travels should still strike a chord.
Recommended for fans of zany Scandinavian fiction (such as The Hundred-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out of the Window and Disappeared by Jonas Jonasson, or Doppler by Erlend Loe).
(See my full review at For Books' Sake.)
The unnamed narrator is a translator based in Reykjavík. When her best friend slips on an icy sidewalk and breaks her arm, it falls to the narrator to care for the friend’s deaf-mute four-year-old son, Tumi. Leaving behind romantic troubles and boosted by not one but two lottery wins, she and the boy set off on a snowy voyage around Iceland’s Ring Road, with plenty of madcap adventures ahead.
The subtle joke behind the novel’s format, of course, is that Iceland is a small country and this is a circular road – a metaphorical road to nowhere. The plot is rather scattered and uneven, with uproarious mishaps followed by tedious passages. A strangely irrelevant (and indulgent) 35-page appendix of recipes may also put some readers off.
However, in this kooky fictional world where “nothing is as it should be any more,” where butterflies are still flying in November, the narrator’s tragicomic travels should still strike a chord.
Recommended for fans of zany Scandinavian fiction (such as The Hundred-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out of the Window and Disappeared by Jonas Jonasson, or Doppler by Erlend Loe).
(See my full review at For Books' Sake.)
September 21, 2017
sıcacık bir izlanda romanı. kocasının terk ettiği bir kadın yanında arkadaşının işitme engelli küçük oğluyla kilometrelerce bir yolculuğa çıkar.
işte bu yolculuk kızkardeşlik, annelik, erkekler, kocalar, yollar, zamanında terk edilenler, çocukluk ve anılar üzerine kocaaa bir roman oluyor.
iskandinav edebiyatının o garip duygusallığı ve mizahı yine bir arada. çok seviyorum <3
romanın sonundaki yemek tarifleri de apayrı bir yaratıcılık örneği :)
sonlara doğru çeviride ve düzeltide sorunlar olsa da göze batmıyor.
pinhan yayıncılık umarım bu edebiyat dizisine devam eder, seçilen kitaplar çok güzel çünkü.
işte bu yolculuk kızkardeşlik, annelik, erkekler, kocalar, yollar, zamanında terk edilenler, çocukluk ve anılar üzerine kocaaa bir roman oluyor.
iskandinav edebiyatının o garip duygusallığı ve mizahı yine bir arada. çok seviyorum <3
romanın sonundaki yemek tarifleri de apayrı bir yaratıcılık örneği :)
sonlara doğru çeviride ve düzeltide sorunlar olsa da göze batmıyor.
pinhan yayıncılık umarım bu edebiyat dizisine devam eder, seçilen kitaplar çok güzel çünkü.
November 20, 2019
Capita spesso di incontrare romanzi che parlano di uomini che nella mezza età restano soli: un fenomeno tutto sommato recente ( il disfacimento della istituzione familiare è cosa degli ultimi decenni), che la letteratura sta affrontando da relativamente poco tempo e che quindi lo fa con particolare interesse. Se il lettore per caso è anche appassionato di Murakami lo spesso diventa spessissimo, come "Uomini senza donne" o il grande "incolore Tazaki Tsukuru" stanno a dimostrare.
Quello che capita meno spesso ma non sono sicuro se sia dovuto alle mie scelte o se la cosa sia generale, è leggere di una donna nella medesima situazione.
Questo "la donna è un' isola" si incentra su questo punto. La separazione consensuale (consensuale quanto il reciproco tradimento) è occasione per la protagonista che narra in prima persona di rifare il punto zero della propria vita sentimentalmente problematica ma culturalmente all'avanguardia. Poliglotta, traduttrice ed editor di romanzi e discorsi, la sua mente è tanto aperta e desiderosa di conoscere quanto chiusa e tetragona a qualsiasi tipo di vita sociale: ma complici un incredibile colpo di fortuna che risolverà ogni problema economico ed un'amica (che secondo me non a caso porta il nome dell'autrice) ancor più stramba di lei alle prese con una duplice gravidanza ed un terzo figlio sordomuto, in età prescolare e forse autistico, cambieranno radicalmente le cose.
Con troppi soldi, troppo tempo libero ed un bambino da accudire bisognoso di tutto (lei che madre non è mai stata nè mai ha voluto essere) partirà per un viaggio alla scoperta dell' Islanda selvaggia ma anche alla scoperta di un nuovo tipo di libertà: quello di voler bene a chi ha bisogno di noi.
Un romanzo che è quindi la storia di una graduale maturazione sentimentale e di una nuova presa di coscienza di sè. Avrebbe potuto essere una palla, ed invece la storia è piacevolissima. Perchè c'è poco flusso di pensieri: è una evoluzione psicologica tutta fatta di cose, di paesaggi completamente nuovi per un lettore mediterraneo, di incontri con personaggi uno più strambo e caratteristico dell'altro e comunque molto ben delineati, il tutto con una scrittura piacevole, espressiva e per nulla pesante. Il racconto della disabilità manifesta una sensibilità ed una consapevolezza tali da farmi pensare che Olafsdottir sia entrata in contatto con questo mondo anche nella sua vita, ed il piccolo Turi entra di diritto nella classifica dei migliori personaggi che abbia incontrato nelle letture di quest' anno.
L'Islanda. Paese del quale non sapevo assolutamente nulla, e che non avevo in programma di conoscere. Che immagine ne restituisce, questo libro? Come lecito pensare di un'isola vulcanica a latitudini proibitive e lontanissima da tutto, l' Islanda è ancora molto della terra e poco degli uomini (vsti i tempi per fortuna, forse). Distese nere di sabbia vulcanica totalmente incolte, villaggi rari e sparuti di case in legno alla mercè di venti fortissimi e mareggiate di un oceano nero, freddo e inospitale; atraversati da strade ad una sola corsia spesso interrotte da frane, smottamenti, eruzioni e fenomeni di una natura forte più che mai quanto palesemente ostile. veramente un altro pianeta, specchio e forse causa del carattere cortese ma solitario e quasi solipsisitico dei suoi abitanti.
La cucina. Nel modo di essere di una nazione (non di uno stato: di una nazione) il modo di mangiare ha grande importanza ed un libro che si chiude con decine di ricette romanzate una più strampalata e divertente dell'altra dimostra di saperlo. Quello islandese è un cibo povero, fatta di pesce, poche stentate verdure e carne di allevamento. Povero ma anche sano e poco sofisticato, che ancora una volta ci parla di gente semplice, silenziosa e con pochi fronzoli.
L'Islanda come tutti sanno è un paese protestante, e leggendo questo libro si capisce come questa parola vada ben oltre il significato religioso (peraltro, nell' Islanda di Olafssdottir la religione trova ben poco posto). Un paese dove quasi non esistono famiglie, dove i legami sentimentali si creano e si dissolvono con estrema facilità, senza particolari patemi d'animo e senza il peso di vincoli morali oppressivi, ma anche con conseguenze estremamente difficili per i bambini che spesso non hanno una solida struttura affettiva cui appoggiarsi. Il caso del piccolo Turi è emblematico, e forse gettare uno sguardo su questa caratteristica tutta nordica dello stare insieme, nel bene e nel male, è il significato di tutto il libro.
L' Islanda guarda all' Italia. In un romanzo che guarda al di dentro (peraltro lo dice il titolo stesso "la donna è un'isola") , siamo l'unico paese straniero che viene citato non di sfuggita ma diverse volte. Visto l'interesse per il cibo di un libro che chiude con un ricettario, pare ovvio che i nordici guardano a come mangiamo (ma non solo: non mancano citazioni letterarie di autori italiani), e lo guardano con l'acquolina. Compare la ricetta per cucinare le lasagne, o la carbonara (poveri loro se le preparano così), ma anche sullo sfondo resta la curiosità e l'interesse per un popolo visto come caldo e luminoso quanto il suo clima e la sua cucina. Forse e purtroppo Audur Olafssdottir non conosce bene il nostro paese e non è al corrente di derive xenofobe ed oscurantiste che stanno snaturando il nostro modo di essere, per il quale siamo conosciuti ed amati.
Pensavo peggio, molto peggio. Invece dalla bancarella dei poveri libri usati ed abbandonati trovo un bel romanzo di maturazione sentimentale di fronte alla disabilità, ed una interessante finestra su un paese che davvero non conoscevo: il tutto scritto molto bene e con consapevolezza della scrittura. Resta un paese che davvero non mi attrae (buio, freddo e pesce mattina e sera - non roba per me), però emergo arricchito da questo libro.
Quello che capita meno spesso ma non sono sicuro se sia dovuto alle mie scelte o se la cosa sia generale, è leggere di una donna nella medesima situazione.
Questo "la donna è un' isola" si incentra su questo punto. La separazione consensuale (consensuale quanto il reciproco tradimento) è occasione per la protagonista che narra in prima persona di rifare il punto zero della propria vita sentimentalmente problematica ma culturalmente all'avanguardia. Poliglotta, traduttrice ed editor di romanzi e discorsi, la sua mente è tanto aperta e desiderosa di conoscere quanto chiusa e tetragona a qualsiasi tipo di vita sociale: ma complici un incredibile colpo di fortuna che risolverà ogni problema economico ed un'amica (che secondo me non a caso porta il nome dell'autrice) ancor più stramba di lei alle prese con una duplice gravidanza ed un terzo figlio sordomuto, in età prescolare e forse autistico, cambieranno radicalmente le cose.
Con troppi soldi, troppo tempo libero ed un bambino da accudire bisognoso di tutto (lei che madre non è mai stata nè mai ha voluto essere) partirà per un viaggio alla scoperta dell' Islanda selvaggia ma anche alla scoperta di un nuovo tipo di libertà: quello di voler bene a chi ha bisogno di noi.
Un romanzo che è quindi la storia di una graduale maturazione sentimentale e di una nuova presa di coscienza di sè. Avrebbe potuto essere una palla, ed invece la storia è piacevolissima. Perchè c'è poco flusso di pensieri: è una evoluzione psicologica tutta fatta di cose, di paesaggi completamente nuovi per un lettore mediterraneo, di incontri con personaggi uno più strambo e caratteristico dell'altro e comunque molto ben delineati, il tutto con una scrittura piacevole, espressiva e per nulla pesante. Il racconto della disabilità manifesta una sensibilità ed una consapevolezza tali da farmi pensare che Olafsdottir sia entrata in contatto con questo mondo anche nella sua vita, ed il piccolo Turi entra di diritto nella classifica dei migliori personaggi che abbia incontrato nelle letture di quest' anno.
L'Islanda. Paese del quale non sapevo assolutamente nulla, e che non avevo in programma di conoscere. Che immagine ne restituisce, questo libro? Come lecito pensare di un'isola vulcanica a latitudini proibitive e lontanissima da tutto, l' Islanda è ancora molto della terra e poco degli uomini (vsti i tempi per fortuna, forse). Distese nere di sabbia vulcanica totalmente incolte, villaggi rari e sparuti di case in legno alla mercè di venti fortissimi e mareggiate di un oceano nero, freddo e inospitale; atraversati da strade ad una sola corsia spesso interrotte da frane, smottamenti, eruzioni e fenomeni di una natura forte più che mai quanto palesemente ostile. veramente un altro pianeta, specchio e forse causa del carattere cortese ma solitario e quasi solipsisitico dei suoi abitanti.
La cucina. Nel modo di essere di una nazione (non di uno stato: di una nazione) il modo di mangiare ha grande importanza ed un libro che si chiude con decine di ricette romanzate una più strampalata e divertente dell'altra dimostra di saperlo. Quello islandese è un cibo povero, fatta di pesce, poche stentate verdure e carne di allevamento. Povero ma anche sano e poco sofisticato, che ancora una volta ci parla di gente semplice, silenziosa e con pochi fronzoli.
L'Islanda come tutti sanno è un paese protestante, e leggendo questo libro si capisce come questa parola vada ben oltre il significato religioso (peraltro, nell' Islanda di Olafssdottir la religione trova ben poco posto). Un paese dove quasi non esistono famiglie, dove i legami sentimentali si creano e si dissolvono con estrema facilità, senza particolari patemi d'animo e senza il peso di vincoli morali oppressivi, ma anche con conseguenze estremamente difficili per i bambini che spesso non hanno una solida struttura affettiva cui appoggiarsi. Il caso del piccolo Turi è emblematico, e forse gettare uno sguardo su questa caratteristica tutta nordica dello stare insieme, nel bene e nel male, è il significato di tutto il libro.
L' Islanda guarda all' Italia. In un romanzo che guarda al di dentro (peraltro lo dice il titolo stesso "la donna è un'isola") , siamo l'unico paese straniero che viene citato non di sfuggita ma diverse volte. Visto l'interesse per il cibo di un libro che chiude con un ricettario, pare ovvio che i nordici guardano a come mangiamo (ma non solo: non mancano citazioni letterarie di autori italiani), e lo guardano con l'acquolina. Compare la ricetta per cucinare le lasagne, o la carbonara (poveri loro se le preparano così), ma anche sullo sfondo resta la curiosità e l'interesse per un popolo visto come caldo e luminoso quanto il suo clima e la sua cucina. Forse e purtroppo Audur Olafssdottir non conosce bene il nostro paese e non è al corrente di derive xenofobe ed oscurantiste che stanno snaturando il nostro modo di essere, per il quale siamo conosciuti ed amati.
Pensavo peggio, molto peggio. Invece dalla bancarella dei poveri libri usati ed abbandonati trovo un bel romanzo di maturazione sentimentale di fronte alla disabilità, ed una interessante finestra su un paese che davvero non conoscevo: il tutto scritto molto bene e con consapevolezza della scrittura. Resta un paese che davvero non mi attrae (buio, freddo e pesce mattina e sera - non roba per me), però emergo arricchito da questo libro.
January 1, 2024
Sessizlik Oteli kitabını okuyup çok sevdiğim İzlandalı yazar Auður Ava Ólafsdóttir'in Kasım Yağmuru kitabı ile 2023'ü kapattım. Sessizlik Oteli'ndeki gibi her şeyi ardında bırakıp yola çıkan birinin öyküsünü anlatıyor yazar yine, ama o kitabın gücünü burada bulamadım. Bu defa yola çıkan kahramanımız yeni boşanmış bir kadın, yanına da bir arkadaşının işitme engelli küçük oğlunu almak zorunda kalıyor, arabaya atlıyor ve İzlanda'yı bir uçtan bir uca katetmeye başlıyor.
Kahramanımız kadın 12 dil biliyor olmasına rağmen işitme engelli çocukla iletişim kurmakta güçlük çekiyor. Javier Marias beynime soktuğundan beri daha da ilgimi çeken "dil" meselesine dair ilginç şeyler söylüyor aslında roman bu anlamda. Bir anlaşma ve anlaşamama aracı olarak dilin kudreti ve yetersizliğine dair...
Metin akıp gidiyor, oldukça sürükleyici de ancak neden bilmem, yazar bir noktada karakterlerini derinleştirmemeyi bilinçli olarak seçiyor gibi. Yol boyunca olan biten olayları okuyup duruyoruz ve fakat hiçbir şey olmuyor finalde. Hiçbir şey olmazken karakterlere dair bazı derinlikli iç görüler ediniyor olsak ona da eyvallah ama o da yok maalesef. Örneğin kadın karakter neden bu kadar dil biliyor, annesi niye ona geçmişini kurcalamamasını söylüyor, ara ara çocukluğuna dair hatırladığı şeylerin metne ne tür bir katkısı var, ne olmuş, o hatıraları tam nasıl anlamlandırmalıyız, buralar meçhul. Yazarın bazı şeyleri örtülü bırakmasına razıyımdır ben ama burada biraz fazlaca örtülü her şey. Sonuçta insan kitabı bitirince bir "ee?" sorusuyla kalakalıyor.
İskandinav edebiyatının sevdiğimiz kısa, kesik cümleleri ve yalın, iddiasız üslubu yine sahnede, ben bu tarzı çok sevdiğim için keyifle okudum ama bu kitaptan bana çok bir iz kalır mı, bilmem. Arka kapakta "arkadaşlar, aşk, annelik ve kendini keşfetmekle ilgili büyüleyici bir kara mizah örneği" diyor - açıkçası kitap başta biraz kara mizaha yakınsar gibi dursa da sonradan bu tarafını yitiriyor. Sadece anneliğe, bir çocukla ilişki kurmaya dair kısımları ilginç ve kafa açıcıydı, onun dışında biraz yavan bulduğumu söylemem lazım.
Sessizlik Oteli'ni sevdiyseniz buna da bakabilirsiniz ama çok şart değil sanki bence.
Kahramanımız kadın 12 dil biliyor olmasına rağmen işitme engelli çocukla iletişim kurmakta güçlük çekiyor. Javier Marias beynime soktuğundan beri daha da ilgimi çeken "dil" meselesine dair ilginç şeyler söylüyor aslında roman bu anlamda. Bir anlaşma ve anlaşamama aracı olarak dilin kudreti ve yetersizliğine dair...
Metin akıp gidiyor, oldukça sürükleyici de ancak neden bilmem, yazar bir noktada karakterlerini derinleştirmemeyi bilinçli olarak seçiyor gibi. Yol boyunca olan biten olayları okuyup duruyoruz ve fakat hiçbir şey olmuyor finalde. Hiçbir şey olmazken karakterlere dair bazı derinlikli iç görüler ediniyor olsak ona da eyvallah ama o da yok maalesef. Örneğin kadın karakter neden bu kadar dil biliyor, annesi niye ona geçmişini kurcalamamasını söylüyor, ara ara çocukluğuna dair hatırladığı şeylerin metne ne tür bir katkısı var, ne olmuş, o hatıraları tam nasıl anlamlandırmalıyız, buralar meçhul. Yazarın bazı şeyleri örtülü bırakmasına razıyımdır ben ama burada biraz fazlaca örtülü her şey. Sonuçta insan kitabı bitirince bir "ee?" sorusuyla kalakalıyor.
İskandinav edebiyatının sevdiğimiz kısa, kesik cümleleri ve yalın, iddiasız üslubu yine sahnede, ben bu tarzı çok sevdiğim için keyifle okudum ama bu kitaptan bana çok bir iz kalır mı, bilmem. Arka kapakta "arkadaşlar, aşk, annelik ve kendini keşfetmekle ilgili büyüleyici bir kara mizah örneği" diyor - açıkçası kitap başta biraz kara mizaha yakınsar gibi dursa da sonradan bu tarafını yitiriyor. Sadece anneliğe, bir çocukla ilişki kurmaya dair kısımları ilginç ve kafa açıcıydı, onun dışında biraz yavan bulduğumu söylemem lazım.
Sessizlik Oteli'ni sevdiyseniz buna da bakabilirsiniz ama çok şart değil sanki bence.
February 6, 2017
Baştaki eğlenceli dilin kitabın geri kalanında da devam etmesini isterdim. Yol hikayesine dönüşmesinden itibaren tek şenlikli yanı İzlanda havası solutmasıydı. Anneliğe uzak olduğunu söyleyen bir kadının arkadaşının çocuğu sayesinde farklı bir yöne adım atmasına dair anlar hiç değilse Hollywood ya da oryantalizm klişeliğinde değildi ama psikolojik derinliği azdı. İzlanda yemekleri, yollardaki İzlandalılar, birlikte olduğu erkekler, yükseklik korkusuna rağmen niyeyse pat diye bungee jumping yapması derken elimize pek de bir şey geçtiği söylenemez. Feminist bir yol hikayesi havası var ama bu vaadini pek fazla yerine getirmiyor.
December 18, 2020
J’avais beaucoup entendu parler de cette autrice islandaise et L’Embellie est le premier
de ses romans que je parcours. Ma lecture maintenant terminée, je dois dire que mon ressenti
sur le livre est assez particulier, car le fait est que je n’ai pas tout suivi. Les grandes lignes du
roman, soit cet incroyable voyage réalisé par un duo des plus improbables et les raisons qui
l’ont motivé, sont limpides. Par contre, l’identité du personnage principal, dont je ne connais
toujours pas le prénom, et tous les détails annexes, restent extrêmement flous. Pourtant, j’ai
passé un excellent moment avec ce livre. Ne pas comprendre la raison d’être des flashbacks
qui émaillent le livre, ne pas comprendre en quoi consiste le traumatisme latent qui semble
façonner le fonctionnement du personnage principal et ne pas suivre l’intrigue dans ses
moindres détails n’a pas altéré le moins du monde mon expérience de lecture. Cette dernière a
été déroutante, mais pour le coup, ça m’a fait du bien de me perdre et de me laisser porter par
une intrigue dont je ne comprenais pas tous les tenants et les aboutissants. Et à force de se
laisser porter, on finit par être transporté.
Ce qui m’a transporté, ce n’était pas le voyage en lui-même, mais la relation qui se
crée entre les deux personnages principaux : d’un côté, une traductrice au nom inconnue que
son mari vient de quitter parce qu’elle ne veut pas d’enfant et qui décide d’entreprendre un
voyage solitaire autour de son île et dont on se sent à la fois très proche car tous ses ressentis
et ses pensées nous sont offerts et très loin puisqu’elle semble indifférente à tout, indifférente
de tous ; de l’autre Tumi, un tout petit garçon sourd et à moitié aveugle. Fils d’Audur, la
meilleure amie de notre traductrice solitaire, Tumi lui est confié le temps de l’hospitalisation
de sa maman. La traductrice décide de l’emmener dans son épopée solitaire qui devient
finalement le voyage d’une rencontre. Au fil des pages, le lien se tisse et celle qui ne voulait
pas d’enfant est transformée au contact de Tumi, de sa douceur peureuse, de sa complexité, de
sa sagesse enfantine vieille comme le monde. Cette relation naissante, loin d’une relation
mère-fils, est pure, fragile mais puissante et tout le reste du roman s’efface derrière elle (ce
qui explique sans doute mes impressions de flous !)
En somme, L’Embellie est un roman différent, un roman de la lenteur, des petits détails
du quotidien, du flou. Cette différence plaît ou ne plaît pas, moi elle m’a convaincue. Et m’a
donné envie d’encore un peu suivre cette voyageuse improbable et son minuscule passager.
Avis proposé par Mélody.
de ses romans que je parcours. Ma lecture maintenant terminée, je dois dire que mon ressenti
sur le livre est assez particulier, car le fait est que je n’ai pas tout suivi. Les grandes lignes du
roman, soit cet incroyable voyage réalisé par un duo des plus improbables et les raisons qui
l’ont motivé, sont limpides. Par contre, l’identité du personnage principal, dont je ne connais
toujours pas le prénom, et tous les détails annexes, restent extrêmement flous. Pourtant, j’ai
passé un excellent moment avec ce livre. Ne pas comprendre la raison d’être des flashbacks
qui émaillent le livre, ne pas comprendre en quoi consiste le traumatisme latent qui semble
façonner le fonctionnement du personnage principal et ne pas suivre l’intrigue dans ses
moindres détails n’a pas altéré le moins du monde mon expérience de lecture. Cette dernière a
été déroutante, mais pour le coup, ça m’a fait du bien de me perdre et de me laisser porter par
une intrigue dont je ne comprenais pas tous les tenants et les aboutissants. Et à force de se
laisser porter, on finit par être transporté.
Ce qui m’a transporté, ce n’était pas le voyage en lui-même, mais la relation qui se
crée entre les deux personnages principaux : d’un côté, une traductrice au nom inconnue que
son mari vient de quitter parce qu’elle ne veut pas d’enfant et qui décide d’entreprendre un
voyage solitaire autour de son île et dont on se sent à la fois très proche car tous ses ressentis
et ses pensées nous sont offerts et très loin puisqu’elle semble indifférente à tout, indifférente
de tous ; de l’autre Tumi, un tout petit garçon sourd et à moitié aveugle. Fils d’Audur, la
meilleure amie de notre traductrice solitaire, Tumi lui est confié le temps de l’hospitalisation
de sa maman. La traductrice décide de l’emmener dans son épopée solitaire qui devient
finalement le voyage d’une rencontre. Au fil des pages, le lien se tisse et celle qui ne voulait
pas d’enfant est transformée au contact de Tumi, de sa douceur peureuse, de sa complexité, de
sa sagesse enfantine vieille comme le monde. Cette relation naissante, loin d’une relation
mère-fils, est pure, fragile mais puissante et tout le reste du roman s’efface derrière elle (ce
qui explique sans doute mes impressions de flous !)
En somme, L’Embellie est un roman différent, un roman de la lenteur, des petits détails
du quotidien, du flou. Cette différence plaît ou ne plaît pas, moi elle m’a convaincue. Et m’a
donné envie d’encore un peu suivre cette voyageuse improbable et son minuscule passager.
Avis proposé par Mélody.
June 11, 2022
"L'Embellie" d Auður Ólafsdóttir ressemble beaucoup au "Lièvre de Vatanen" Arto Paasilinna. Les deux se lisent comme des scénarios de film de route (par exemple "Fraises sauvages" d'Ingmar Bergman ou "Easy Rider" de Dennis Hopper) où deux protagonistes font une périple à travers un pays à la fin duquel ils se connaissent mieux. Il faut dire que j'aime très peu la recette. À mon avis on fait du tourisme quand on voyage et on apprend rarement des choses sur soi-même.
Néanmoins, "L'Embellie" commence bien. L'héroïne qui est une femme très contemporaine perd dans la seule journée son mari et son amant. Les deux homme lui sont indifférents est elle n'est pas assez hypocrite de prétendre le contraire. Malheureusement , le voyage qui suit est raté. Le compagnon de route de la protagoniste est un enfant de quatre ans qui est sourd et aussi muet que le lièvre de Vatanen.
Il y a des bons moments dans le roman mais les passages ennuyants sont beaucoup plus nombreux. Le dénouement est absolument chiant.
Néanmoins, "L'Embellie" commence bien. L'héroïne qui est une femme très contemporaine perd dans la seule journée son mari et son amant. Les deux homme lui sont indifférents est elle n'est pas assez hypocrite de prétendre le contraire. Malheureusement , le voyage qui suit est raté. Le compagnon de route de la protagoniste est un enfant de quatre ans qui est sourd et aussi muet que le lièvre de Vatanen.
Il y a des bons moments dans le roman mais les passages ennuyants sont beaucoup plus nombreux. Le dénouement est absolument chiant.
May 10, 2015
This was a whackoo book. It;s interesting in the least. A woman gets a divorce from there husband who has a child with another woman. Has many encounters with men then takes on a 4 year old boy and wins the lottery and a summer home, travels half way around Iceland and learns a lesson from the boy. Interesting.
February 1, 2018
Skvělé bizarní hlavní postavy a prostor krásného Islandu. Tohle mě moc bavilo!
Read
January 24, 2019Everything that is not for me is included in this book. Everything. I lasted to page 50.
December 29, 2025
The novel is told in the present tense by an unnamed female narrator. In fact, most of the characters are unnamed, though there are some exceptions. Most notable of these are the narrator's best friend, Auður, and Auður's 4-year old son, Tumi. Auður, a single parent, is found to be pregnant with twins and is confined to bed in the hospital. She asks that our unnamed narrator care for Tumi in the interim, which is done. Tumi was born with a severe hearing impairment and wears a noticeable aid. He also wears glassess. Our unnamed narrator, aged 33, has declined having children and is afraid of parenting. If one thinks about it, this should set up several humorous scenes.
I might also say I may have easily missed some of the humor because I often do miss written humor. I did laugh out loud more than once, though now that I've finished, I'll just say I didn't find enough places to laugh.
I think the novel would have been better presented in third person and definitely not in the present tense. Further, not enough happened - or too much happened - in the short timespan of the context of the novel. When I finished, I wondered if it could have been shortened by half, but I admit that probably wouldn't have been good either. By the end, I was just ready to get to the last page. For that, this is just 3-stars, and not a very robust 3-stars either.
I might also say I may have easily missed some of the humor because I often do miss written humor. I did laugh out loud more than once, though now that I've finished, I'll just say I didn't find enough places to laugh.
I think the novel would have been better presented in third person and definitely not in the present tense. Further, not enough happened - or too much happened - in the short timespan of the context of the novel. When I finished, I wondered if it could have been shortened by half, but I admit that probably wouldn't have been good either. By the end, I was just ready to get to the last page. For that, this is just 3-stars, and not a very robust 3-stars either.
March 28, 2016
It was wonderfully odd, and the narrator was interesting but very detached from everyone else in the novel, which I was never sure whether it was to do with the translation or something intended by the author. For a novel so aware of itself and invested in the power of words and nuances in languages (the narrator translates from and into eleven languages and subtleties in language are often referred to throughout), the translation itself felt rather messy and not indicative of any of the qualities really explored within the narration. Similarly, the narrator didn't feel as clever as everyone else seemed to say.
Only the narrator and the friend's son Tumi felt explored in any depth though, and even then not as much as I'd have liked. Their relationship was sweet but somehow unchallenging to a woman who self-declared herself to have no maternal instincts. Ardur and the narrator's mother were at least recognisable when they weren't named, but I had a hard time telling any of the men in the novel, named or not, from one another (which may be intentional) but also everyone else they met also sounded the same, too. Even down to tone, word choice, odd summarising of some event, sentence structure. At some points, I wasn't sure of these other people she met were real, as they certainly didn't stand out in any way or feel less than props.
The novel has plenty of quirks and ideas that got me thinking. I wasn't fully sure how to respond to the frequent generalisations about things (examples being disabled children and women), especially coming from a female narrator and author; they didn't offend in the way they would have from an American or British author, but somehow gave insight into Icelandic culture and how it too is trapped in these old ways of thinking about people, wih less influences to affect change on them. I did find the narrator's conflicts between her passive need for a man, the idea of fate, and her own discovery that she enjoyed independence and could change her 'fate' to be with a man though her will do do other things, to be interesting and somehow arresting though. I myself often feel rather old fashioned for enjoying the image that I might have a man and family and that cliched unit one day, while also enjoying independence, so the attitude of the narrator despite her other huge generalisations, felt close to myself in this at least. A strange but realistic depiction of an everyday woman, maybe? We might all know feminism to be a good and powerful thing and some of us act accordingly, but if you're raised in cultures with little regard for it and are tied up in the random everyday stuff and people, do you really live what you certainly know or believe, in your everyday life?
As much as I loved the totally random (and at the same time realistic sort of random) events and actions and thoughts throughout this story, and the insight into a culture and a maybe on-the-fence-controversial viewpoint I've never read about before, I think I was expecting much more of this novel from reading the first quarter than what actually transpired in the story. The ending didn't feel like an ending, but another pause between chapters. The snippets of backstory italicised throughout never really came together or anything either, leaving a smoggy mystery over the point of them and whether I might have missed something. The hints aren't strong enough to say for certain, and if this story lacked anything, it was perhaps some grounding in a point or direction tying things together. Too much was only 'hinted' at and never explored. But perhaps this was intended, as real life and our recollections and reflections while on such journeys also surely lack those things? I do wish I could read Icelandic however, and read this novel as the author wrote it. Despite my criticisms here, the novel was easy to read and enjoyable, even if just for it's sheer and often entertaining randomness and how it gave me plenty to think about.
Only the narrator and the friend's son Tumi felt explored in any depth though, and even then not as much as I'd have liked. Their relationship was sweet but somehow unchallenging to a woman who self-declared herself to have no maternal instincts. Ardur and the narrator's mother were at least recognisable when they weren't named, but I had a hard time telling any of the men in the novel, named or not, from one another (which may be intentional) but also everyone else they met also sounded the same, too. Even down to tone, word choice, odd summarising of some event, sentence structure. At some points, I wasn't sure of these other people she met were real, as they certainly didn't stand out in any way or feel less than props.
The novel has plenty of quirks and ideas that got me thinking. I wasn't fully sure how to respond to the frequent generalisations about things (examples being disabled children and women), especially coming from a female narrator and author; they didn't offend in the way they would have from an American or British author, but somehow gave insight into Icelandic culture and how it too is trapped in these old ways of thinking about people, wih less influences to affect change on them. I did find the narrator's conflicts between her passive need for a man, the idea of fate, and her own discovery that she enjoyed independence and could change her 'fate' to be with a man though her will do do other things, to be interesting and somehow arresting though. I myself often feel rather old fashioned for enjoying the image that I might have a man and family and that cliched unit one day, while also enjoying independence, so the attitude of the narrator despite her other huge generalisations, felt close to myself in this at least. A strange but realistic depiction of an everyday woman, maybe? We might all know feminism to be a good and powerful thing and some of us act accordingly, but if you're raised in cultures with little regard for it and are tied up in the random everyday stuff and people, do you really live what you certainly know or believe, in your everyday life?
As much as I loved the totally random (and at the same time realistic sort of random) events and actions and thoughts throughout this story, and the insight into a culture and a maybe on-the-fence-controversial viewpoint I've never read about before, I think I was expecting much more of this novel from reading the first quarter than what actually transpired in the story. The ending didn't feel like an ending, but another pause between chapters. The snippets of backstory italicised throughout never really came together or anything either, leaving a smoggy mystery over the point of them and whether I might have missed something. The hints aren't strong enough to say for certain, and if this story lacked anything, it was perhaps some grounding in a point or direction tying things together. Too much was only 'hinted' at and never explored. But perhaps this was intended, as real life and our recollections and reflections while on such journeys also surely lack those things? I do wish I could read Icelandic however, and read this novel as the author wrote it. Despite my criticisms here, the novel was easy to read and enjoyable, even if just for it's sheer and often entertaining randomness and how it gave me plenty to think about.
March 9, 2020
Butterflies in Novemberby Auður Ava Ólafsdóttir, translated by Brian FitzGibbon, is a quirky novel unfolding in the first-person narrative of a quirky, thirty-something, unnamed female narrator. She is a whiz at learning languages but seems a bit of a scatterbrain about life. The novel opens with her lover dumping her and her husband announcing his plans to divorce her as his affair with a co-worker has led to a pregnancy. Our narrator seems totally unfazed by the news, taking it all in stride like an observer on the sidelines. Her demeanor suggests she is afloat, untethered to any person or thing in life.
When her best friend is hospitalized and has no one to take care of her four-year old son, the narrator reluctantly agrees to assume the role of caretaker. The child, Tumi, suffers from hearing loss. With their enormous winnings from a shared lottery ticket, the two of them embark on a road trip circling Iceland’s outer road. They stay in farming hotels, survive a car accident, endure horrendous weather, and are blocked by mudslides. The narrator suffers from a broken wrist and wards off her exes desperately trying to reconcile.
The road trip across Iceland takes on an almost surreal quality. They plow through deserted roads, heavy rain, mudslides, fog, and a sheep that didn’t get off the road in time. Men materialize out of nowhere to help her change a flat tire. A man looms out of the darkness to ask her for a ride. Her ex-boyfriend and then ex-husband show up wanting to take her back. She encounters people who are somewhat strange and with whom she has awkward conversations.
For the first time in her life, the narrator is obliged to take care of an individual who is totally dependent on her for survival. She experiences a profound transformation. She learns responsibility and accountability. She studies sign language to better communicate with him, and looks to him for guidance on food choices and activities. Although she knows nothing about parenting, she gradually learns to perform the role well by becoming sensitive to the child’s needs. Fortunately, Tumi is not a demanding child, so it doesn’t take them long to adapt to each other and form a strong bond.
The novel is engaging on a number of levels but primarily due to the narrator’s voice. She is funny, quirky, forgetful, and doesn’t take herself too seriously. Her attitude about marriage, relationships, sexual encounters, divorce, adultery, and children are somewhat off kilter. She eschews conventional behavior and niceties, is oblivious to the needs of others, is independent and unpredictable, and doesn’t seem invested in any relationship until she bonds with Tumi. She is baffled that men find her attractive but willingly engages in casual sex even with a complete stranger.
This is a whimsical novel that includes flashbacks of the narrator’s childhood, random events, and Icelandic food recipes. The narrative is choppy at times. One event or thought catapults to a completely unrelated item with no apparent connection. This could be due to the translation or to the vagaries of a narrator with a short attention span. In spite of this, the novel is engaging. Iceland’s topography with its lava fields and uninhabited landscape is evoked in vivid detail. And the narrator’s voice is endearing as she deals with various mishaps and challenges while expressing her quirky, unconventional opinions.
My book reviews are also available at www.tamaraaghajaffar.com
When her best friend is hospitalized and has no one to take care of her four-year old son, the narrator reluctantly agrees to assume the role of caretaker. The child, Tumi, suffers from hearing loss. With their enormous winnings from a shared lottery ticket, the two of them embark on a road trip circling Iceland’s outer road. They stay in farming hotels, survive a car accident, endure horrendous weather, and are blocked by mudslides. The narrator suffers from a broken wrist and wards off her exes desperately trying to reconcile.
The road trip across Iceland takes on an almost surreal quality. They plow through deserted roads, heavy rain, mudslides, fog, and a sheep that didn’t get off the road in time. Men materialize out of nowhere to help her change a flat tire. A man looms out of the darkness to ask her for a ride. Her ex-boyfriend and then ex-husband show up wanting to take her back. She encounters people who are somewhat strange and with whom she has awkward conversations.
For the first time in her life, the narrator is obliged to take care of an individual who is totally dependent on her for survival. She experiences a profound transformation. She learns responsibility and accountability. She studies sign language to better communicate with him, and looks to him for guidance on food choices and activities. Although she knows nothing about parenting, she gradually learns to perform the role well by becoming sensitive to the child’s needs. Fortunately, Tumi is not a demanding child, so it doesn’t take them long to adapt to each other and form a strong bond.
The novel is engaging on a number of levels but primarily due to the narrator’s voice. She is funny, quirky, forgetful, and doesn’t take herself too seriously. Her attitude about marriage, relationships, sexual encounters, divorce, adultery, and children are somewhat off kilter. She eschews conventional behavior and niceties, is oblivious to the needs of others, is independent and unpredictable, and doesn’t seem invested in any relationship until she bonds with Tumi. She is baffled that men find her attractive but willingly engages in casual sex even with a complete stranger.
This is a whimsical novel that includes flashbacks of the narrator’s childhood, random events, and Icelandic food recipes. The narrative is choppy at times. One event or thought catapults to a completely unrelated item with no apparent connection. This could be due to the translation or to the vagaries of a narrator with a short attention span. In spite of this, the novel is engaging. Iceland’s topography with its lava fields and uninhabited landscape is evoked in vivid detail. And the narrator’s voice is endearing as she deals with various mishaps and challenges while expressing her quirky, unconventional opinions.
My book reviews are also available at www.tamaraaghajaffar.com
September 21, 2014
Strano
Racconto di un viaggio a tratti trasognato attraverso una Islanda novembrina immersa nella pioggia.
Protagonista-narrante è una giovane donna piuttosto eccentrica, che intende imprimere una svolta alla propria vita dopo la separazione (peraltro non molto dolorosa) dal marito; l'accompagna il figlio di un'amica, un bambino di quattro anni con problemi fisici.
Non si può certo affermare che questo libro sia esente da difetti: la trama è fragile, a tratti sconclusionata; si verificano circostanze bizzarre, non sempre credibili e con un sentore di magico che che lascia alquanto perplessi; alcuni dei temi introdotti non vengono sviluppati in maniera esaustiva e certi personaggi restano mere apparizioni prive di concretezza.
Tuttavia a me è piaciuto, l'ho trovato originale e gradevole, perché la prosa vivace coinvolge, i panorami descritti affascinano e il tono leggero, quasi scanzonato della narrazione suscita simpatia, complicità.
In particolare, intenerisce il rapporto che viene via via rinsaldandosi tra la donna disorientata, alla ricerca di sé stessa, e il bambino "difficile", troppo saggio per la sua età. Entrambi trarranno vantaggi dalla reciproca vicinanza in termini di tolleranza, comprensione e amore.
Ad insolita conclusione del romanzo, una spassosa appendice con quarantasette ricette di cucina e una scheda di istruzioni per lavorare a maglia calzini da neonato, che a mio avviso non è da considerare a sé stante, ma parte imprescindibile dell'intero contesto.
Racconto di un viaggio a tratti trasognato attraverso una Islanda novembrina immersa nella pioggia.
Protagonista-narrante è una giovane donna piuttosto eccentrica, che intende imprimere una svolta alla propria vita dopo la separazione (peraltro non molto dolorosa) dal marito; l'accompagna il figlio di un'amica, un bambino di quattro anni con problemi fisici.
Non si può certo affermare che questo libro sia esente da difetti: la trama è fragile, a tratti sconclusionata; si verificano circostanze bizzarre, non sempre credibili e con un sentore di magico che che lascia alquanto perplessi; alcuni dei temi introdotti non vengono sviluppati in maniera esaustiva e certi personaggi restano mere apparizioni prive di concretezza.
Tuttavia a me è piaciuto, l'ho trovato originale e gradevole, perché la prosa vivace coinvolge, i panorami descritti affascinano e il tono leggero, quasi scanzonato della narrazione suscita simpatia, complicità.
In particolare, intenerisce il rapporto che viene via via rinsaldandosi tra la donna disorientata, alla ricerca di sé stessa, e il bambino "difficile", troppo saggio per la sua età. Entrambi trarranno vantaggi dalla reciproca vicinanza in termini di tolleranza, comprensione e amore.
Ad insolita conclusione del romanzo, una spassosa appendice con quarantasette ricette di cucina e una scheda di istruzioni per lavorare a maglia calzini da neonato, che a mio avviso non è da considerare a sé stante, ma parte imprescindibile dell'intero contesto.
January 13, 2015
Free from Goodreads Giveaways -
There's not much in this, plotwise, but for some reason I can't quite put my finger on, I really liked it. Maybe because it was simple and didn't really pretend to be anything too big, though the author might disagree with that. A woman in Iceland gets dumped by her husband and her boyfriend, gets stuck with her friend's kid while she's in the hospital, and goes on a road trip around the island. That's about it. Towards the end, it started to remind me a bit of Latin American magical realism, but only slightly.
There's not much in this, plotwise, but for some reason I can't quite put my finger on, I really liked it. Maybe because it was simple and didn't really pretend to be anything too big, though the author might disagree with that. A woman in Iceland gets dumped by her husband and her boyfriend, gets stuck with her friend's kid while she's in the hospital, and goes on a road trip around the island. That's about it. Towards the end, it started to remind me a bit of Latin American magical realism, but only slightly.
August 23, 2020
Nos encontramos ante una road movie con un personaje femenino en plena crisis existencial y un compañero de viaje, su no-hijo sordomudo de cuatro años. Y digo su no-hijo porque hay algo que planea por todo el libro: la decisión de no tener hijos.
Un libro frío y distante, como el paisaje que lo envuelve.
Interesante.
Un libro frío y distante, como el paisaje que lo envuelve.
Interesante.
December 12, 2019
What a strange and yet endearing little book this was! I chose to read it because we were driving the ring road in Iceland at the time and I thought it would be fun to follow this book trail. I found that the sense of place was not very strong but some of the impressions and people in the story reflected the unique experience of Iceland for me. At times, I got a bit confused about what was happening as the story took on an almost surreal quality, but I enjoyed the developing relationship between the main protagonist and her unusual four year old charge and their adventures. I think that this book won't be for everyone, but readers enjoying unusual characters and dark humour may appreciate the journey.
3.5 stars
3.5 stars
September 29, 2021
The Icelandic novel that was supposed to enhance my journey around Iceland was sadly a disappointment. I kept on trying because I wanted this to be a great experience (me in Iceland reading Ólafsdóttir's book) but this did not work for me. It had some elements I enjoyed, some parts of the plot that I was interested in but the whole starting from writing style and ending with the complete random way to finish the novel: I struggled.
It's the kind of quirky book that some people probably find charming but for me it was so quirky that it read unbelievable. I constantly thought that no one acts this way, I even considered if the main character was meant to be on the spectrum because her emotional responses were so detached and odd for me. I wasn't sure I believed her to be a real person, nor actually most of these people. Sometimes you read whimsical things and it works without being completely realistic but here it just felt off to me. That might have a lot do with the writing which I thought was completely flat and disengaging (I am currently reading a different novel translated from Icelandic where I adore the writing, so it's not about being translated, it's about me not liking Ólafsdóttir's style). As far as the plot goes this is a character study with little happenings but I liked the driving along the ring road, there the quirky elements worked. Having some odd encounters during the drive enhanced the novel, the quirk failed when it came to the deeper look at the characters. I also liked her blossoming relationship with the deaf child in her care (her friend is in the hospital and she is taking care of him for several weeks).
The novel takes way too long to get to those parts though, we first deal with an odd separation from her lover, an even odder separation from her husband, her moving house... it drags. Later we see her having several brief affairs with men along the ring road and I found the whole emphasis on her and men so weird since she doesn't even seem interested in having any relationships. She is like, ok whatever, we have sex: cool, we break up: cool, we maybe see each other again: cool, we maybe won't see each other again: also cool. She is completely detached from and seemingly not interested in her love life yet keeps on having one (until the end when she thinks it is maybe better to stop seeing men and being a surrogate mother to the kid in her care which in no way needs to be an either or choice at all?!?!). The novel takes a strange shift to pushing the message that motherhood (even if it is not your own child) is what is fulfilling and romantic/ sexual relationships are a futile endeavor. Again, how are these things at odd with each other? I mean I'm all for you do you, live your life how it makes you happy but this novel gave me weird pro motherhood and anti love vibes, while I think you can pursue both or neither or just one, I found it so odd how it got juxtaposed in here. And also, as someone who chose not to have children I always react slightly allergic when a story tries to say something along the lines of true fulfillment comes with motherhood, and this kind of did.
All of this could have been fine though if it was at least engaging. But for the most part it wasn't. The parts that pulled me in were about her and the child, there are some lovely moments but it ends so random and unfinished. What about the kid's quest to find a father? Unfinished story element. What about his mother giving birth to twin siblings? Unfinished story element. Will the kid stay with the main character? Unfinished story element. Also, very randomly the novel ends with the list of recipes which I kind of loved but I didn't think the food element in the story was anywhere strong enough to warrant that. So again, what is this book even trying to do?
It's the kind of quirky book that some people probably find charming but for me it was so quirky that it read unbelievable. I constantly thought that no one acts this way, I even considered if the main character was meant to be on the spectrum because her emotional responses were so detached and odd for me. I wasn't sure I believed her to be a real person, nor actually most of these people. Sometimes you read whimsical things and it works without being completely realistic but here it just felt off to me. That might have a lot do with the writing which I thought was completely flat and disengaging (I am currently reading a different novel translated from Icelandic where I adore the writing, so it's not about being translated, it's about me not liking Ólafsdóttir's style). As far as the plot goes this is a character study with little happenings but I liked the driving along the ring road, there the quirky elements worked. Having some odd encounters during the drive enhanced the novel, the quirk failed when it came to the deeper look at the characters. I also liked her blossoming relationship with the deaf child in her care (her friend is in the hospital and she is taking care of him for several weeks).
The novel takes way too long to get to those parts though, we first deal with an odd separation from her lover, an even odder separation from her husband, her moving house... it drags. Later we see her having several brief affairs with men along the ring road and I found the whole emphasis on her and men so weird since she doesn't even seem interested in having any relationships. She is like, ok whatever, we have sex: cool, we break up: cool, we maybe see each other again: cool, we maybe won't see each other again: also cool. She is completely detached from and seemingly not interested in her love life yet keeps on having one (until the end when she thinks it is maybe better to stop seeing men and being a surrogate mother to the kid in her care which in no way needs to be an either or choice at all?!?!). The novel takes a strange shift to pushing the message that motherhood (even if it is not your own child) is what is fulfilling and romantic/ sexual relationships are a futile endeavor. Again, how are these things at odd with each other? I mean I'm all for you do you, live your life how it makes you happy but this novel gave me weird pro motherhood and anti love vibes, while I think you can pursue both or neither or just one, I found it so odd how it got juxtaposed in here. And also, as someone who chose not to have children I always react slightly allergic when a story tries to say something along the lines of true fulfillment comes with motherhood, and this kind of did.
All of this could have been fine though if it was at least engaging. But for the most part it wasn't. The parts that pulled me in were about her and the child, there are some lovely moments but it ends so random and unfinished. What about the kid's quest to find a father? Unfinished story element. What about his mother giving birth to twin siblings? Unfinished story element. Will the kid stay with the main character? Unfinished story element. Also, very randomly the novel ends with the list of recipes which I kind of loved but I didn't think the food element in the story was anywhere strong enough to warrant that. So again, what is this book even trying to do?
July 24, 2018
Mi piace stare fra tanta gente, avere vicino a me degli sconosciuti e starmene sotto la pioggia ad ascoltare gli ottoni della banda. Non ho mai provato un’attrazione particolare per il «centro». In effetti, però, in certi momenti riesco a comprendere i vantaggi del rintanarsi «nel mezzo»: ad esempio si può evitare di portare l’ombrello e rimanere lo stesso all’asciutto, riparandosi sotto gli ombrelli degli altri. Ma forse il bello dell’essere nel mezzo è potersi confondere con gli altri fino a diventare praticamente invisibili.
La protagonista del romanzo, narratrice inaffidabile e anonima, è un personaggio strano. Ha un rapporto molto particolare col sesso e soprattutto con la maternità, probabilmente a causa di un'esperienza adolescenziale - che viviamo in flashback e in terza persona nel corso del libro. Ha appena divorziato dal marito, ma il loro non era certo un rapporto convenzionale. Lui le aveva fatto una proposta di matrimonio per gioco, e lei l'aveva accettata seguendo l'impulso del momento, ma poi avevano condotto per i quattro anni e mezzo abbondanti del loro matrimonio una relazione molto sregolata e di certo priva di fedeltà da entrambe le parti.
Dopo aver rifiutato la maternità, però, la protagonista si ritrova a compiere un viaggio attraverso l'Islanda - e verso il paese dei suoi nonni - con il figlio della sua amica Audur, che sta per partorire due gemelle, e scopre che in realtà non sarebbe stata una cattiva madre. Del resto, il piccolo Tumi è un bambino splendido. Per problemi alla nascita è quasi del tutto sordo e ha gravi problemi di vista; ma, proprio per questo motivo, ha sviluppato una spiccata sensibilità e un'attitudine per le lingue, che sembra saper leggere e comprendere anche se ha solo quattro anni. Per la protagonista che traduce in islandese undici lingue, è il figlio ideale; .
Il viaggio attraverso l'Islanda sembra quasi una fiaba in cui la protagonista incontra personaggi bizzarri e si scontra con animali di diverso genere.
È strano leggere di un paese che sembra essere così libero dal punto di vista sessuale e che però ha ancora una netta divisione di genere. Ci sono compiti ritenuti tipicamente femminili. La madre della protagonista ritiene che sia strano che lei insegni al bambino - che ha chiesto di farlo - a lavorare a maglia e a punto a croce per preparare dei regalini per le sue sorelline. E un uomo single non si sognerebbe mai di farsi un bucato da solo o di stirare, ma pretende che ci sia una donna a farlo. Del resto, le donne non rifiutano mai di accontentarlo, anche quando non lo meriterebbe affatto.
Alla fine del romanzo Olafsdottir ripropone anche in chiave romanzata le ricette che compaiono nel romanzo, anche le più improbabili. È chiaro che le ho lette con aria scettica.
Bistecca di balena? Testa di pecora in gelatina? 😨😨😨
Insomma, io sono pugliese! Se mai dovessi seguire una ricetta che non ho mai fatto opterei per il Purpu alla pignata o per una Taieddhra (Riso, patate, zucchine e cozze). 😉
La protagonista del romanzo, narratrice inaffidabile e anonima, è un personaggio strano. Ha un rapporto molto particolare col sesso e soprattutto con la maternità, probabilmente a causa di un'esperienza adolescenziale - che viviamo in flashback e in terza persona nel corso del libro. Ha appena divorziato dal marito, ma il loro non era certo un rapporto convenzionale. Lui le aveva fatto una proposta di matrimonio per gioco, e lei l'aveva accettata seguendo l'impulso del momento, ma poi avevano condotto per i quattro anni e mezzo abbondanti del loro matrimonio una relazione molto sregolata e di certo priva di fedeltà da entrambe le parti.
Dopo aver rifiutato la maternità, però, la protagonista si ritrova a compiere un viaggio attraverso l'Islanda - e verso il paese dei suoi nonni - con il figlio della sua amica Audur, che sta per partorire due gemelle, e scopre che in realtà non sarebbe stata una cattiva madre. Del resto, il piccolo Tumi è un bambino splendido. Per problemi alla nascita è quasi del tutto sordo e ha gravi problemi di vista; ma, proprio per questo motivo, ha sviluppato una spiccata sensibilità e un'attitudine per le lingue, che sembra saper leggere e comprendere anche se ha solo quattro anni. Per la protagonista che traduce in islandese undici lingue, è il figlio ideale; .
Il viaggio attraverso l'Islanda sembra quasi una fiaba in cui la protagonista incontra personaggi bizzarri e si scontra con animali di diverso genere.
È strano leggere di un paese che sembra essere così libero dal punto di vista sessuale e che però ha ancora una netta divisione di genere. Ci sono compiti ritenuti tipicamente femminili. La madre della protagonista ritiene che sia strano che lei insegni al bambino - che ha chiesto di farlo - a lavorare a maglia e a punto a croce per preparare dei regalini per le sue sorelline. E un uomo single non si sognerebbe mai di farsi un bucato da solo o di stirare, ma pretende che ci sia una donna a farlo. Del resto, le donne non rifiutano mai di accontentarlo, anche quando non lo meriterebbe affatto.
Alla fine del romanzo Olafsdottir ripropone anche in chiave romanzata le ricette che compaiono nel romanzo, anche le più improbabili. È chiaro che le ho lette con aria scettica.
Bistecca di balena? Testa di pecora in gelatina? 😨😨😨
Insomma, io sono pugliese! Se mai dovessi seguire una ricetta che non ho mai fatto opterei per il Purpu alla pignata o per una Taieddhra (Riso, patate, zucchine e cozze). 😉
September 3, 2014
It is a well-used plot device to have a nameless narrator, this generally indicates that the lead character feels somehow unnoticed or anonymous. In Butterflies in November, it felt more as if she had genuinely forgotten to introduce herself. The anonymous heroine is somewhat out of touch with the mundane matters of the everyday. Fluent in eleven languages, she is suspicious of language and words in general. As a translator, she points out that no words 'are categorical enough to exclude any possibility of misinterpretation.' Which makes it fairly ironic then that this novel has itself achieved such success in translation.
Originally published in Icelandic, Butterflies in November received a rapturous response in France and is apparently going to be made into a film. It begins with the narrator having what one might suppose was a bad day; she is dumped twice (by both her husband and the man she was indifferently having an affair with) and then she accidentally kills a goose. The woman remains rather detached from proceedings however; when her husband explains carefully that one of his colleagues will be giving birth to his child within eight weeks, the narrator responds, "Isn't that a rather short pregnancy? Like a guinea pig?" The milk in her fridge is always out of date, she climbs over hedges rather than going through the gate, it is not surprising that she is the last one to notice an affair.
Set in Reykjavik, the woman blankly packs up her possessions and repairs to her new studio flat, having occasional sex with her ex-husband as she does so. She plans to take a summer holiday despite the fact that it is now November, which is something of a classic trope for fictional women in their thirties post-divorce. Further complications take this beyond some kind of Eat, Pray, Love-esque quest however (and I am aware that Eat, Pray, Love is based on true events, but still). The narrator's best and only friend is Audur, a single mother who is heavily pregnant with equally fatherless twins. She slips on ice while attempting to bring the woman some alcohol to commiserate with and is dragged off to hospital to rest up before the delivery, meaning that her deaf-mute son Tumi is in need of guardianship. Enter the woman.
For my full review:
http://girlwithherheadinabook.blogspo...
Originally published in Icelandic, Butterflies in November received a rapturous response in France and is apparently going to be made into a film. It begins with the narrator having what one might suppose was a bad day; she is dumped twice (by both her husband and the man she was indifferently having an affair with) and then she accidentally kills a goose. The woman remains rather detached from proceedings however; when her husband explains carefully that one of his colleagues will be giving birth to his child within eight weeks, the narrator responds, "Isn't that a rather short pregnancy? Like a guinea pig?" The milk in her fridge is always out of date, she climbs over hedges rather than going through the gate, it is not surprising that she is the last one to notice an affair.
Set in Reykjavik, the woman blankly packs up her possessions and repairs to her new studio flat, having occasional sex with her ex-husband as she does so. She plans to take a summer holiday despite the fact that it is now November, which is something of a classic trope for fictional women in their thirties post-divorce. Further complications take this beyond some kind of Eat, Pray, Love-esque quest however (and I am aware that Eat, Pray, Love is based on true events, but still). The narrator's best and only friend is Audur, a single mother who is heavily pregnant with equally fatherless twins. She slips on ice while attempting to bring the woman some alcohol to commiserate with and is dragged off to hospital to rest up before the delivery, meaning that her deaf-mute son Tumi is in need of guardianship. Enter the woman.
For my full review:
http://girlwithherheadinabook.blogspo...
December 13, 2018
Strano
Racconto di un viaggio a tratti trasognato attraverso una Islanda novembrina immersa nella pioggia.
Protagonista-narrante è una giovane donna piuttosto eccentrica, che intende imprimere una svolta alla propria vita dopo la separazione (peraltro non molto dolorosa) dal marito; l'accompagna il figlio di un'amica, un bambino di quattro anni con problemi fisici.
Non si può certo affermare che questo libro sia esente da difetti: la trama è fragile, a tratti sconclusionata; si verificano circostanze bizzarre, non sempre credibili e con un sentore di magico che che lascia alquanto perplessi; alcuni dei temi introdotti non vengono sviluppati in maniera esaustiva e certi personaggi restano mere apparizioni prive di concretezza.
Tuttavia a me è piaciuto, l'ho trovato originale e gradevole, perché la prosa vivace coinvolge, i panorami descritti affascinano e il tono leggero, quasi scanzonato della narrazione suscita simpatia, complicità.
In particolare, intenerisce il rapporto che viene via via rinsaldandosi tra la donna disorientata, alla ricerca di sé stessa, e il bambino "difficile", troppo saggio per la sua età. Entrambi trarranno vantaggi dalla reciproca vicinanza in termini di tolleranza, comprensione e amore.
Ad insolita conclusione del romanzo, una spassosa appendice con quarantasette ricette di cucina e una scheda di istruzioni per lavorare a maglia calzini da neonato, che a mio avviso non è da considerare a sé stante, ma parte imprescindibile dell'intero contesto.
Racconto di un viaggio a tratti trasognato attraverso una Islanda novembrina immersa nella pioggia.
Protagonista-narrante è una giovane donna piuttosto eccentrica, che intende imprimere una svolta alla propria vita dopo la separazione (peraltro non molto dolorosa) dal marito; l'accompagna il figlio di un'amica, un bambino di quattro anni con problemi fisici.
Non si può certo affermare che questo libro sia esente da difetti: la trama è fragile, a tratti sconclusionata; si verificano circostanze bizzarre, non sempre credibili e con un sentore di magico che che lascia alquanto perplessi; alcuni dei temi introdotti non vengono sviluppati in maniera esaustiva e certi personaggi restano mere apparizioni prive di concretezza.
Tuttavia a me è piaciuto, l'ho trovato originale e gradevole, perché la prosa vivace coinvolge, i panorami descritti affascinano e il tono leggero, quasi scanzonato della narrazione suscita simpatia, complicità.
In particolare, intenerisce il rapporto che viene via via rinsaldandosi tra la donna disorientata, alla ricerca di sé stessa, e il bambino "difficile", troppo saggio per la sua età. Entrambi trarranno vantaggi dalla reciproca vicinanza in termini di tolleranza, comprensione e amore.
Ad insolita conclusione del romanzo, una spassosa appendice con quarantasette ricette di cucina e una scheda di istruzioni per lavorare a maglia calzini da neonato, che a mio avviso non è da considerare a sé stante, ma parte imprescindibile dell'intero contesto.
February 12, 2020
Toto je môj kelímok skyru!
A ešte si tu odložím:
Banánový dezert
Kdo by neznal nejjednodušší dezert na světě, ideální pro pobyt v přírodě a táboření? Počítejte s jedním banánem na osobu. Slupku banánu podélně rozřízneme ostrým kapesním nožem a do vzniklé štěrbiny nastrkáme 4–5 kousků čokolády na vaření. Banány zabalíme do alobalu, položíme je na chladnoucí gril a necháme chvíli péct. Kost se zbytkem jehněčí kýty v případě potřeby kousek posuneme. Čokoládou plněný banán můžeme podávat se šlehačkou. Tu si připravíme tak, že smetanu nalijeme do skleněné lahvičky nebo jiné uzavíratelné nádoby, třeba do prázdné půllitrové lahve po Fantě, najdeme si vhodný rytmus a třeseme s ní (je žádoucí se přitom střídat s ostatními), dokud smetanu neušleháme. Pokud s sebou máme přenosný CD přehrávač, můžeme celý úkon podbarvit hudebním doprovodem. Z batohu vyndáme lahev kalvádosu a čokoládou plněný banán se šlehačkou jíme lžičkou přímo ze slupky. Rum značky Captain Morgan (s. 94) doporučujeme pouze ostříleným pijanům. Posadíme se do otevřeného stanu nebo si lehneme do spojených spacáků a posloucháme zpěv bekasin, dokud v noci neutichne.
A ešte si tu odložím:
Banánový dezert
Kdo by neznal nejjednodušší dezert na světě, ideální pro pobyt v přírodě a táboření? Počítejte s jedním banánem na osobu. Slupku banánu podélně rozřízneme ostrým kapesním nožem a do vzniklé štěrbiny nastrkáme 4–5 kousků čokolády na vaření. Banány zabalíme do alobalu, položíme je na chladnoucí gril a necháme chvíli péct. Kost se zbytkem jehněčí kýty v případě potřeby kousek posuneme. Čokoládou plněný banán můžeme podávat se šlehačkou. Tu si připravíme tak, že smetanu nalijeme do skleněné lahvičky nebo jiné uzavíratelné nádoby, třeba do prázdné půllitrové lahve po Fantě, najdeme si vhodný rytmus a třeseme s ní (je žádoucí se přitom střídat s ostatními), dokud smetanu neušleháme. Pokud s sebou máme přenosný CD přehrávač, můžeme celý úkon podbarvit hudebním doprovodem. Z batohu vyndáme lahev kalvádosu a čokoládou plněný banán se šlehačkou jíme lžičkou přímo ze slupky. Rum značky Captain Morgan (s. 94) doporučujeme pouze ostříleným pijanům. Posadíme se do otevřeného stanu nebo si lehneme do spojených spacáků a posloucháme zpěv bekasin, dokud v noci neutichne.
December 30, 2019
Interesting and quirky, it's an enjoyable read, but not very satisfying. It's a voyage of self-discovery that doesn't arrive anywhere, full of odd encounters that don't tie together.
January 16, 2022
I typically love quirk. Zany, daffy, off-kilter that is my joint. Even a cloying Zooey Deschanel performance or a manic pixie character is alright. But this pile of excrement masquerading as charm is not for me. This novel tries so damn hard to be eccentric and fails so miserably that perhaps it could come full circle and be a cult classic but alas it is just bad. Not fun bad or humorous but a poorly translated heap of words that is some gross word salad. That is not to say that there are not some glimmers, namely some of the pretty prose but this frequently get overshadowed by a nonsensical plot with ridiculous characters.
The main character is a woman undergoing a personal crisis. In the span of hours, two relationships have ended. Her husband, a reasonable enough fellow has fallen in love with a different woman and they are going to have a child together. Before this, she gave up her side piece who was quite irrelevant. As if this was not convoluted enough, the translation from Icelandic to English frequently is missing words or just nonsensical. In a sense of irony, the job of the main character is being a master of languages, able to translate some 10 of them. I would have been happy if the translator of this book could have been fluent in the two requisite languages.
Attempting to clear her mind, she embarks on a long vacation to a very desolate part of Iceland. For some reason, her artist friend decides it would be a good idea for her special needs son to be stuck in a car with this irresponsible woman for however long. Thankfully, this friend has only one child to neglect. Oh wait, no she is pregnant with twins, which along with an injury to her leg prevents her from caring for her infant son. For some reason this young child has extrasensory perception and can pick numbers like a savant. This leads to a windfall as the main character wins a nation-wide lottery and a portable home from a drawing.
It would be nice if this journey would have led to self-discovery or a greater understanding of nature but it is largely just an advantage to have casual sex. At the beginning of receiving the child, she openly frets about no longer being able to get her swerve on but that is clearly no impediment. She has random hookups at the hotel restaurant, during a traffic jam where she sneaks off to a waterfall and with a Santa Claus figure in her vacation home. There might have been other incidents but as like most of this book they were not memorable.
I do not know if it was a translation or writing issue but this book had a chance to be a decent change of pace work but failed. It reminded of one of those movies which has had numerous production issues or numerous directors. You could see an outline of something good but it is so overwrought and convoluted that any of the charm is lost. Even something like the last 40-50 pages which were recipes that were mentioned throughout the story seems tacked on and poorly thought out. It was a chore to read this and I do not know why anyone should subject themselves to this work.
The main character is a woman undergoing a personal crisis. In the span of hours, two relationships have ended. Her husband, a reasonable enough fellow has fallen in love with a different woman and they are going to have a child together. Before this, she gave up her side piece who was quite irrelevant. As if this was not convoluted enough, the translation from Icelandic to English frequently is missing words or just nonsensical. In a sense of irony, the job of the main character is being a master of languages, able to translate some 10 of them. I would have been happy if the translator of this book could have been fluent in the two requisite languages.
Attempting to clear her mind, she embarks on a long vacation to a very desolate part of Iceland. For some reason, her artist friend decides it would be a good idea for her special needs son to be stuck in a car with this irresponsible woman for however long. Thankfully, this friend has only one child to neglect. Oh wait, no she is pregnant with twins, which along with an injury to her leg prevents her from caring for her infant son. For some reason this young child has extrasensory perception and can pick numbers like a savant. This leads to a windfall as the main character wins a nation-wide lottery and a portable home from a drawing.
It would be nice if this journey would have led to self-discovery or a greater understanding of nature but it is largely just an advantage to have casual sex. At the beginning of receiving the child, she openly frets about no longer being able to get her swerve on but that is clearly no impediment. She has random hookups at the hotel restaurant, during a traffic jam where she sneaks off to a waterfall and with a Santa Claus figure in her vacation home. There might have been other incidents but as like most of this book they were not memorable.
I do not know if it was a translation or writing issue but this book had a chance to be a decent change of pace work but failed. It reminded of one of those movies which has had numerous production issues or numerous directors. You could see an outline of something good but it is so overwrought and convoluted that any of the charm is lost. Even something like the last 40-50 pages which were recipes that were mentioned throughout the story seems tacked on and poorly thought out. It was a chore to read this and I do not know why anyone should subject themselves to this work.
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