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On the Other Side Is March
A poignant and darkly witty portrait of aging, memory, and multigenerational caretaking from the first female Faroese writer to ever appear in English.
I’m a woman in my early sixties. Somewhere between late and never. No longer the career woman, mother, housewife, and lover doing it all… Now I’m wife, mother, grandmother and my mother’s mother. But I still have to satisfy all the demands placed on me.
So begins Sólrún Michelsen’s tender and darkly witty exploration of what she considers to be the strange, remaining leg of life’s journey. Her kids are grown and out of the house and she’s faced with a time that, for years, she always seemed to be looking toward—a time when she wasn’t needed by somebody or something. But now, with her mother’s declining health, she finds herself revisiting childhood scenes, family hymns, and folk songs—revealing a lifetime of love, duty, awe, and regret. She tends to her mother amid the stark rhythms of Faroese life, waiting for a new nursing home that never arrives, and confronts the reality of being part of the “army of women” who inherit care. In her grief and private goodbye to her mother, however, is also a gorgeous meditation about life, as translator Marita Thomsen says in her preface, “in its ragged mundane glory.”
A lyrical portrait of caretaking and the invisible labor of motherhood, On the Other Side Is March is a tribute to caretakers across generational lines, as well as the the rich oral traditions of singing and storytelling that kept the Faroese language alive centuries before its standard written form.
I’m a woman in my early sixties. Somewhere between late and never. No longer the career woman, mother, housewife, and lover doing it all… Now I’m wife, mother, grandmother and my mother’s mother. But I still have to satisfy all the demands placed on me.
So begins Sólrún Michelsen’s tender and darkly witty exploration of what she considers to be the strange, remaining leg of life’s journey. Her kids are grown and out of the house and she’s faced with a time that, for years, she always seemed to be looking toward—a time when she wasn’t needed by somebody or something. But now, with her mother’s declining health, she finds herself revisiting childhood scenes, family hymns, and folk songs—revealing a lifetime of love, duty, awe, and regret. She tends to her mother amid the stark rhythms of Faroese life, waiting for a new nursing home that never arrives, and confronts the reality of being part of the “army of women” who inherit care. In her grief and private goodbye to her mother, however, is also a gorgeous meditation about life, as translator Marita Thomsen says in her preface, “in its ragged mundane glory.”
A lyrical portrait of caretaking and the invisible labor of motherhood, On the Other Side Is March is a tribute to caretakers across generational lines, as well as the the rich oral traditions of singing and storytelling that kept the Faroese language alive centuries before its standard written form.
121 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2013
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June 13, 2026One of those books that shakes you and wakes you up. About life and its confusing unfairness book-ended by non-existence. Of mothers of daughters who go on to become mothers themselves, and eventually those same daughters who have to mother their own mothers in old age. About acknowledging your inner child. About the beauty in small, simple things: the wonder of a blade of grass, the leaping of a fish out of a brook, the night sky full of stars, memories. And the loss of memories, the loss when you are no longer remembered. It's poignant, poetic. A book to be gobbled up in one sitting, and also to be savored.
December 7, 2025
A very quiet and contemplative novel about the seasons of life, of the bookends of motherhood and how to become a mother to your mother. The first novel by a Faroese woman translated into English!
Want to Read
February 3, 2026ok whoops i lied i will tackle this later actually <3
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The first female Faroese writer to ever appear in English - gonna try and tackle this as my last read of January xx
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The first female Faroese writer to ever appear in English - gonna try and tackle this as my last read of January xx
July 15, 2026
On the other side of march
In this small yet punchy book an unnamed woman in her early 60s is navigating thru this very hectic phase of life. She is stuck between taking care of her grandkids while also looking after her own aging mother. As someone who was a caregiver herself for a large part of life, I was absolutely clued into what & how the narrator felt
The constant tug of war between grief & guilt is enough to scar you for life
Yet the book is not written with a sense of heaviness. The text is quite witty & helps you find humor in tense situations
I learned that Faroese culture is largely based on oral tradition. There are lots of folk songs, hymns that form an integral part of their culture
Strangely there are times when sentences sound absurd in the book. Translator Marita Thomsen has cleared in her note that authors writing style includes interspersing text with these folk song lyrics & hymns, which I can only imagine would have made translator's task all the more complicated
I went in this book with very open mind & accepted all the niggling issues. The brevity of it being a 1st women translated book coming out from such a small piece of land gives us enough reason to read & appreciate it. The plot itself is nothing less in comparison
In this small yet punchy book an unnamed woman in her early 60s is navigating thru this very hectic phase of life. She is stuck between taking care of her grandkids while also looking after her own aging mother. As someone who was a caregiver herself for a large part of life, I was absolutely clued into what & how the narrator felt
The constant tug of war between grief & guilt is enough to scar you for life
Yet the book is not written with a sense of heaviness. The text is quite witty & helps you find humor in tense situations
I learned that Faroese culture is largely based on oral tradition. There are lots of folk songs, hymns that form an integral part of their culture
Strangely there are times when sentences sound absurd in the book. Translator Marita Thomsen has cleared in her note that authors writing style includes interspersing text with these folk song lyrics & hymns, which I can only imagine would have made translator's task all the more complicated
I went in this book with very open mind & accepted all the niggling issues. The brevity of it being a 1st women translated book coming out from such a small piece of land gives us enough reason to read & appreciate it. The plot itself is nothing less in comparison
July 16, 2026
Before she became one of the Faroe Islands’ most acclaimed writers, Sólrun Michelsen ran a hair salon in Tórshavn. That grounding in everyday women’s lives—listening, observing, sharing stories—shapes the intimacy of On the Other Side Is March.
This short novel follows a woman in her sixties caring for her elderly mother, and through that caregiving lens it meditates on aging and the fragile threads of cultural survival. Michelsen weaves in Faroese hymns and oral traditions, reminding us that the language itself was carried forward by voices long before it was standardized in print.
The tone is quiet, lyrical, and deeply humane. It’s a book with a story, not a plot: the repetition of caregiving tasks, the ebb and flow of recollection, the weight of family duty. What makes it remarkable is how universal these themes feel, even as the setting is a remote North Atlantic community.
This is the first time Michelsen’s work has appeared in English. In fact, she is the first Faroese woman to be translated into English. That milestone alone makes the book noteworthy, but the novel itself more than justifies the attention.
For readers drawn to Annie Ernaux’s writing, Michelsen offers a parallel from a very different cultural vantage point. On the Other Side Is March lingers long after the last page.
This short novel follows a woman in her sixties caring for her elderly mother, and through that caregiving lens it meditates on aging and the fragile threads of cultural survival. Michelsen weaves in Faroese hymns and oral traditions, reminding us that the language itself was carried forward by voices long before it was standardized in print.
The tone is quiet, lyrical, and deeply humane. It’s a book with a story, not a plot: the repetition of caregiving tasks, the ebb and flow of recollection, the weight of family duty. What makes it remarkable is how universal these themes feel, even as the setting is a remote North Atlantic community.
This is the first time Michelsen’s work has appeared in English. In fact, she is the first Faroese woman to be translated into English. That milestone alone makes the book noteworthy, but the novel itself more than justifies the attention.
For readers drawn to Annie Ernaux’s writing, Michelsen offers a parallel from a very different cultural vantage point. On the Other Side Is March lingers long after the last page.
March 3, 2026
4.5 ⭐️
V knjigi pisateljice s Farskih otokov (angleški naslov je On the other side is March) se pripovedovalka predstavi kot ženska v začetku 60-ih let, nič več ženska s kariero, mama, ljubimka, nekdo, ko zmore vse z levo roko. Zdaj je le še žena, mama, babica in mama svoji mami, ampak še vedno se pričakuje, da bo postorila vse.
Poetičen roman o različnih fazah življenja in vlogah, ki jih v njih imamo ženske. O ciklu, ki se zaključuje, kjer se je začel - v nebogljenem otroštvu. O spominih in o mami, ki počasi izgublja svoje spomine.
Priporočam!
V knjigi pisateljice s Farskih otokov (angleški naslov je On the other side is March) se pripovedovalka predstavi kot ženska v začetku 60-ih let, nič več ženska s kariero, mama, ljubimka, nekdo, ko zmore vse z levo roko. Zdaj je le še žena, mama, babica in mama svoji mami, ampak še vedno se pričakuje, da bo postorila vse.
Poetičen roman o različnih fazah življenja in vlogah, ki jih v njih imamo ženske. O ciklu, ki se zaključuje, kjer se je začel - v nebogljenem otroštvu. O spominih in o mami, ki počasi izgublja svoje spomine.
Priporočam!
June 24, 2026
I tend to gravitate towards books about loss. Constantly looking for why we are who we are.
Looking and examining how one sits with grief on different levels throughout life.
That's what literature is for.
A story about a daughter taking care of her mother who has dementia.
We start at the early stages as it slowly progresses to the end of her life.
The focus is on the caretaker though.
Being a grandmother herself. Remembering her own father.
Remembering when she was young.
Moving through time. Back and forth.
Simultaneously everything is escalating and what that feeling is like.
I was happy that she included the guilt when taking care of
someone you deeply love and also the sigh of relief at the end.
Emotions are complicated.
This book showed that well.
Worthwhile.
Looking and examining how one sits with grief on different levels throughout life.
That's what literature is for.
A story about a daughter taking care of her mother who has dementia.
We start at the early stages as it slowly progresses to the end of her life.
The focus is on the caretaker though.
Being a grandmother herself. Remembering her own father.
Remembering when she was young.
Moving through time. Back and forth.
Simultaneously everything is escalating and what that feeling is like.
I was happy that she included the guilt when taking care of
someone you deeply love and also the sigh of relief at the end.
Emotions are complicated.
This book showed that well.
Worthwhile.
July 21, 2026
This was a masterful and reflective journey through grief, explored through a mother-daughter relationship inextricably rooted in island life. Stunning, poetic, and as mesmeric as the sway of seagrass. A beautiful testament to the importance of translation. I would be shocked if this didn’t at least make the 2027 International Booker Prize longlist.
July 26, 2026
“Somewhere words
words that slip
words that slip away
between away
and somewhere”
On the Other Side Is March by Sólrún Michelsen is the first book by a Faroese woman to be translated into English. @transitbooks recently published this book, and @rachelsradreads first put it on my radar. This story exceeded my expectations!
We follow a woman whose children have grown up and who is finally looking forward to a new chapter in her life. Instead, she finds herself becoming the primary carer for her mother, who is living with dementia.
This is a tender, deeply moving meditation on family, ageing, love, loss, and the ever-changing bond between mother and daughter. If you’ve experienced dementia in your own family, this story may resonate particularly strongly. As translator Marita Thomsen writes in her translator’s note, the novel “gets under your skin, tugs at your memories and weaves its own tapestry with them.”
One of the aspects I loved most was Michelsen’s use of hymns, Faroese medieval ballads, and folk songs woven throughout the narrative. These beautifully reflect the Faroese tradition of oral storytelling and singing, while highlighting the role they played in preserving the Faroese language. They give the novel a distinctive rhythm and a great sense of place.
“What is a mother?
A mother is someone who puts plasters on knees and hearts. Your first cradle. Your confessional. Your ally against the world. A warm embrace. Someone who sings away trolls. Someone who possesses neither gender nor looks, but who just is. Someone who will do anything for you.”
“Someone who says words that never fade.”
“Someone whose absent love you always yearn for.”
“Someone whose approval you look for your entire life.”
This is a stunning story about appreciating the everyday moments that make up a life and the memories we create with the people we love. It brought me to tears, and there were so many beautiful passages that I found myself highlighting something on almost every other page.
On the Other Side Is March is an emotional and poignant read. I highly recommend this book!
words that slip
words that slip away
between away
and somewhere”
On the Other Side Is March by Sólrún Michelsen is the first book by a Faroese woman to be translated into English. @transitbooks recently published this book, and @rachelsradreads first put it on my radar. This story exceeded my expectations!
We follow a woman whose children have grown up and who is finally looking forward to a new chapter in her life. Instead, she finds herself becoming the primary carer for her mother, who is living with dementia.
This is a tender, deeply moving meditation on family, ageing, love, loss, and the ever-changing bond between mother and daughter. If you’ve experienced dementia in your own family, this story may resonate particularly strongly. As translator Marita Thomsen writes in her translator’s note, the novel “gets under your skin, tugs at your memories and weaves its own tapestry with them.”
One of the aspects I loved most was Michelsen’s use of hymns, Faroese medieval ballads, and folk songs woven throughout the narrative. These beautifully reflect the Faroese tradition of oral storytelling and singing, while highlighting the role they played in preserving the Faroese language. They give the novel a distinctive rhythm and a great sense of place.
“What is a mother?
A mother is someone who puts plasters on knees and hearts. Your first cradle. Your confessional. Your ally against the world. A warm embrace. Someone who sings away trolls. Someone who possesses neither gender nor looks, but who just is. Someone who will do anything for you.”
“Someone who says words that never fade.”
“Someone whose absent love you always yearn for.”
“Someone whose approval you look for your entire life.”
This is a stunning story about appreciating the everyday moments that make up a life and the memories we create with the people we love. It brought me to tears, and there were so many beautiful passages that I found myself highlighting something on almost every other page.
On the Other Side Is March is an emotional and poignant read. I highly recommend this book!
July 8, 2026
This type of books is usually not my cup of tea. I love contemplative fiction, but not when it becomes so abstract. Yet, I felt differently about this one.
It's not really a story as much as a snapshot in the life of someone. A scene that captures the complexity of grief, loss, motherhood, parental relationships, and the vulnerability of old age.
The following are some passages that I particularly loved:
"We grow. And shrink. The distance between head an feet determine whether we see what is right before our eyes. We become half blind. Stop marveling, relishing."
"As your days, so shall your strength be. It takes immense strength. I cannot even imagine it. The strength to remain dignified and even-tempered as your body so utterly betrays you. As your head slowly empties. As you lie there wet and soiled and have to put up with everything not uttered in words, but plain to read in other people's eyes."
"To get back up again and again, until you are spent. To keep smiling and not just let your legs give way and let a wave of tears wash you clean. To clutch the reins so tightly. But perhaps this is the last weapon left in your arsenal. With your dignity you play them check and mate."
It's not really a story as much as a snapshot in the life of someone. A scene that captures the complexity of grief, loss, motherhood, parental relationships, and the vulnerability of old age.
The following are some passages that I particularly loved:
"We grow. And shrink. The distance between head an feet determine whether we see what is right before our eyes. We become half blind. Stop marveling, relishing."
"As your days, so shall your strength be. It takes immense strength. I cannot even imagine it. The strength to remain dignified and even-tempered as your body so utterly betrays you. As your head slowly empties. As you lie there wet and soiled and have to put up with everything not uttered in words, but plain to read in other people's eyes."
"To get back up again and again, until you are spent. To keep smiling and not just let your legs give way and let a wave of tears wash you clean. To clutch the reins so tightly. But perhaps this is the last weapon left in your arsenal. With your dignity you play them check and mate."
July 24, 2026
"Perhaps the aftertime is merely a summary of our best moments here in life. Of stars: You are with your own."
On the Other Side is March is a quiet, reflective novel following a sixty year old woman who taking care of her mother as her dementia progresses. Throughout the short novel, she reflects on her past: her interactions with her mother as a young child and the summers of her youth. She also contemplates the loss of her mother, the woman that she knew that has slowly disappeared as the disease has progressed, as well as the grief of knowing that her mother's life (and her own) will soon end.
Overall, I thought the writing and translation was so well done. There are some stylistic choices in the narration that make the movement of the plot from start to finish a bit too opaque at times, but there are so many rich reflections woven into the story that really impacted me as a reader. The last ten or so pages, in particular, affected me quite a bit as someone who has experienced a lot of loss and grief.
This is a novella I know I will want to return to as I age. I hope we see more Faroese literature translated soon.
On the Other Side is March is a quiet, reflective novel following a sixty year old woman who taking care of her mother as her dementia progresses. Throughout the short novel, she reflects on her past: her interactions with her mother as a young child and the summers of her youth. She also contemplates the loss of her mother, the woman that she knew that has slowly disappeared as the disease has progressed, as well as the grief of knowing that her mother's life (and her own) will soon end.
Overall, I thought the writing and translation was so well done. There are some stylistic choices in the narration that make the movement of the plot from start to finish a bit too opaque at times, but there are so many rich reflections woven into the story that really impacted me as a reader. The last ten or so pages, in particular, affected me quite a bit as someone who has experienced a lot of loss and grief.
This is a novella I know I will want to return to as I age. I hope we see more Faroese literature translated soon.
July 7, 2026
Found this book at library just on a whim. After I got done reading it, it shook me to pieces.
This daughter, her mother’s caretaker, writes the truth that she was looking forward to a time when she wasn’t needed by somebody or something. And yet, now she’s a wife, a mother, a grandmother and now her mother’s mother. And she still has to satisfy all the demands placed on her. She is one of the army of women who “inherit” caregiving.
The prose is written so well. The small, often insignificant things, that really have so much much meaning at the end.
I admire her patience, not her exhaustion. The caring and love of her grandchildren. The frustration that awaits for a nursing home for her mother that has a list that seems (and is) not happening. Alas, this is a tribute to her sorrow, her grief, and a nod to all caretakers in the world. She has become her mother’s mother, at the end.
This daughter, her mother’s caretaker, writes the truth that she was looking forward to a time when she wasn’t needed by somebody or something. And yet, now she’s a wife, a mother, a grandmother and now her mother’s mother. And she still has to satisfy all the demands placed on her. She is one of the army of women who “inherit” caregiving.
The prose is written so well. The small, often insignificant things, that really have so much much meaning at the end.
I admire her patience, not her exhaustion. The caring and love of her grandchildren. The frustration that awaits for a nursing home for her mother that has a list that seems (and is) not happening. Alas, this is a tribute to her sorrow, her grief, and a nod to all caretakers in the world. She has become her mother’s mother, at the end.
July 26, 2026
Beautiful, written like a painting
July 27, 2026
I can honestly say this is the best Faroese novel I have ever read.
July 13, 2026
Probably the most affecting book I’ve ever read.
That’s all that needs to be said.
That’s all that needs to be said.
June 28, 2026
“November is a strange month. Where the wheel turns. The last sallow leaves let go of their branches and twirl before they are hurled against a window. With the rain they gently slide down to tuck in slumbering spring.
“November is also when we are forced to slow down into the darkness. Where we curl up and shelter from life. On the other side is March.”
Described as a fictionalized memoir, “On the Other Side is March” captures a specific sentiment of grief in its extension. The slow leak of mourning that occurs when a loved one dies slowly and the pain that bleeds out little by little as you try to find the strength to be steady and unchanging even while you’re watching someone else disintegrate into decay.
I remember watching over the years as my father went from daily phone calls with his mother after work to instead becoming the one who was forgotten first - too far away to do more than handle finances and taxes and logistics. The pain of memory loss is almost more cruel than the sudden loss from an accident - the gradual breaking of the body more devastating to those left behind than the alternatives.
“I swim. It loosens the knots tied by mental contortions. But the best thing about swimming is that I am forced to leave the mobile phone in the changing room locker. There is no chance of hearing it in the sauna or the pool.”
And then comes the guilt of not doing enough - of sacrificing so much and yet feeling like a failure for the relief of the brief respite. Of feeling weak for complaining, or ungrateful, because you love the person so much and yet cannot live with what they need from you.
And caring for those who cared for you carries its own kind of weight. The bickering and fights that come with sharing too much space with another person are now flipped, the angst and lack of control that led to fights as a child now mirrored back in a fragile body that needs your help and resists it at every turn.
This book captures so much so well. It’s one that I think is maybe an easier read from someone who has watched caretaking at a distance but could hit too closely to the root of the hurt for someone who is the caretaker themselves. But what a wonderful gift to those of us who cannot read in the original language to be able to read in our own.
4.5/5 rounded down
“November is also when we are forced to slow down into the darkness. Where we curl up and shelter from life. On the other side is March.”
Described as a fictionalized memoir, “On the Other Side is March” captures a specific sentiment of grief in its extension. The slow leak of mourning that occurs when a loved one dies slowly and the pain that bleeds out little by little as you try to find the strength to be steady and unchanging even while you’re watching someone else disintegrate into decay.
I remember watching over the years as my father went from daily phone calls with his mother after work to instead becoming the one who was forgotten first - too far away to do more than handle finances and taxes and logistics. The pain of memory loss is almost more cruel than the sudden loss from an accident - the gradual breaking of the body more devastating to those left behind than the alternatives.
“I swim. It loosens the knots tied by mental contortions. But the best thing about swimming is that I am forced to leave the mobile phone in the changing room locker. There is no chance of hearing it in the sauna or the pool.”
And then comes the guilt of not doing enough - of sacrificing so much and yet feeling like a failure for the relief of the brief respite. Of feeling weak for complaining, or ungrateful, because you love the person so much and yet cannot live with what they need from you.
And caring for those who cared for you carries its own kind of weight. The bickering and fights that come with sharing too much space with another person are now flipped, the angst and lack of control that led to fights as a child now mirrored back in a fragile body that needs your help and resists it at every turn.
This book captures so much so well. It’s one that I think is maybe an easier read from someone who has watched caretaking at a distance but could hit too closely to the root of the hurt for someone who is the caretaker themselves. But what a wonderful gift to those of us who cannot read in the original language to be able to read in our own.
4.5/5 rounded down
June 22, 2026
“On the Other Side Is March” is a quiet, reflective novel that contemplates aging, memory, caregiving, and the approach of death. The narrator, a woman in her mid-sixties, is caring for her elderly mother, who is living with dementia. As she navigates the daily realities of that role, her thoughts drift frequently into memories of her own childhood, particularly recollections of her mother and the influence she had on her life. The narrator's own adult children remain largely at the periphery, reinforcing the sense that this is a story focused primarily on the bond between daughter and mother.
Michelsen writes with warmth, compassion, and gentle humor. Her portrayal of the narrator's mother avoids sentimentality while remaining deeply affectionate. Some of the novel's most effective moments arise from the small exchanges between the two women, which capture both the frustrations and unexpected tenderness that often accompany dementia and end-of-life caregiving.
The novel's greatest strength is its lyrical prose. Michelsen vividly evokes both family life and the landscape of the Faroe Islands, creating an atmosphere that is often as important as the events themselves. The narrative unfolds less as a conventional story than as a sequence of memories, observations, and conversations. It meanders intentionally, following the rhythms of consciousness rather than the demands of plot. At times, the book feels closer to a collection of prose poems than to a traditional novel.
Readers seeking a strong narrative arc may find this approach challenging and a little disappointing. I came to the book expecting a more conventional work of fiction, and its wandering structure occasionally made it a struggle to remain fully engaged. Yet this short novel rewards patience. Scattered throughout are thoughtful insights about family, memory, mortality, and the peculiar emotional terrain of caring for a parent whose mind is slowly slipping away.
While the novel was not entirely successful for me as a novel, many of Michelsen's observations struck me as wise, humane, and ultimately life-affirming. It is a contemplative work that values moments of recognition over dramatic events, and readers willing to surrender to its poetic sensibility may find much to appreciate.
Michelsen writes with warmth, compassion, and gentle humor. Her portrayal of the narrator's mother avoids sentimentality while remaining deeply affectionate. Some of the novel's most effective moments arise from the small exchanges between the two women, which capture both the frustrations and unexpected tenderness that often accompany dementia and end-of-life caregiving.
The novel's greatest strength is its lyrical prose. Michelsen vividly evokes both family life and the landscape of the Faroe Islands, creating an atmosphere that is often as important as the events themselves. The narrative unfolds less as a conventional story than as a sequence of memories, observations, and conversations. It meanders intentionally, following the rhythms of consciousness rather than the demands of plot. At times, the book feels closer to a collection of prose poems than to a traditional novel.
Readers seeking a strong narrative arc may find this approach challenging and a little disappointing. I came to the book expecting a more conventional work of fiction, and its wandering structure occasionally made it a struggle to remain fully engaged. Yet this short novel rewards patience. Scattered throughout are thoughtful insights about family, memory, mortality, and the peculiar emotional terrain of caring for a parent whose mind is slowly slipping away.
While the novel was not entirely successful for me as a novel, many of Michelsen's observations struck me as wise, humane, and ultimately life-affirming. It is a contemplative work that values moments of recognition over dramatic events, and readers willing to surrender to its poetic sensibility may find much to appreciate.
Review of advance copy received from Edelweiss+
On The Other Side Is March by Sólrún Michelson and translated by Marita Thomson is a beautiful story about womanhood, motherhood, dementia, and the potential responsibilities women face as our parents get older.
The story is explained through the eyes of a daughter that ultimately inherits the responsibility of taking care of her mother while patiently waiting for a home to take over her care. The author also does a really good job at giving us glances of their culture and I found myself captivated to learn more. While fictitious, there is a lot of truth about women carrying the world on their shoulders. What I got from this book was a reminder on how I can appreciate the women in my life as a man. I did have one minor gripe; I felt as if the book wasn’t sure if it wanted to be poetry or a memoir. The book description did mention that it had lyrical and poetic elements, but I didn’t realize to what degree. At times the book seemed a bit cluttered? That being said, it didn’t discourage from finishing the book and ultimately praising it. It’s a love letter to life coupled with its ups and downs. I do recommend this book if you’re looking for a slower paced read.
Thank you so much to Edelweiss and Transit Books for the advanced copy. All opinions are my own.
The story is explained through the eyes of a daughter that ultimately inherits the responsibility of taking care of her mother while patiently waiting for a home to take over her care. The author also does a really good job at giving us glances of their culture and I found myself captivated to learn more. While fictitious, there is a lot of truth about women carrying the world on their shoulders. What I got from this book was a reminder on how I can appreciate the women in my life as a man. I did have one minor gripe; I felt as if the book wasn’t sure if it wanted to be poetry or a memoir. The book description did mention that it had lyrical and poetic elements, but I didn’t realize to what degree. At times the book seemed a bit cluttered? That being said, it didn’t discourage from finishing the book and ultimately praising it. It’s a love letter to life coupled with its ups and downs. I do recommend this book if you’re looking for a slower paced read.
Thank you so much to Edelweiss and Transit Books for the advanced copy. All opinions are my own.
July 24, 2026
“one day i too shall be but a photo. stopped in time. one picked out along with others from an old cigar box and put aside. one nobody recognises. one no longer worth keeping.”
this was a blind read, and it was by its cover and its title that hooked and captivated me to collect all the willing to read this book. turns out, this was actually the first novel by a Faroese woman author to be published in English! (so unexpected).
the narrator of this book presents herself as a woman in her early 60s, no longer a career woman, a mother, a lover, someone who can do everything with her left hand. now she's just a wife, a mother, a grandmother and a mother to her mother, but she is still expected to do everything. a poetic way to tell about the different stages of life and the roles that women have in them. about a cycle that ends where it began - in helpless childhood. about memories and about a mother who is slowly losing her memories.
i probably will soon reread this when i closely face the similar phase in my life, so that it may become more relatable so that i hold it more more dearly to my heart. definitely recommend it!
"what am i to do with all my thoughts and hours now that she no longer needs them?"
this was a blind read, and it was by its cover and its title that hooked and captivated me to collect all the willing to read this book. turns out, this was actually the first novel by a Faroese woman author to be published in English! (so unexpected).
the narrator of this book presents herself as a woman in her early 60s, no longer a career woman, a mother, a lover, someone who can do everything with her left hand. now she's just a wife, a mother, a grandmother and a mother to her mother, but she is still expected to do everything. a poetic way to tell about the different stages of life and the roles that women have in them. about a cycle that ends where it began - in helpless childhood. about memories and about a mother who is slowly losing her memories.
i probably will soon reread this when i closely face the similar phase in my life, so that it may become more relatable so that i hold it more more dearly to my heart. definitely recommend it!
"what am i to do with all my thoughts and hours now that she no longer needs them?"
June 19, 2026
This short novel may be remarkable because it's the first novel written in Faroese translated into English, but I find it just plain old compelling as an account of what it means to lose a parent to the prolonged death of dementia. That its characters get to use Faroese officially (not Danish) or still recall getting to put away the Danish flag (curtains were made of it by the narrator's family) certainly matter, as does the islands' geography (small, in the middle of the North Atlantic, with connections both to Britain and Norway). But its themes feel familiar, location, language or the culture notwithstanding. At least if you're dealing or have dealt with the combination of your own and your parents' aging.
I found the almost total absence of men, with the exception of the narrator's late papi, both interesting and hardly noticeable. That is, it is not a political treatise on the invisible work women do (although it's good for us to notice how much that still happens). It's really just an account of some relationships, particularly the narrator's relationship to her mother, and I found them compelling in their complexity.
I found the almost total absence of men, with the exception of the narrator's late papi, both interesting and hardly noticeable. That is, it is not a political treatise on the invisible work women do (although it's good for us to notice how much that still happens). It's really just an account of some relationships, particularly the narrator's relationship to her mother, and I found them compelling in their complexity.
Review of advance copy received from Publisher
3.5.
*She sits there proud, stubborn. Her cheeks are flushed. She won’t sell out her convictions. Never has. I find her mesmerizing. You don’t inherit everything.*
Sweet staccato grieving. A teaching book, if only out of habit, long expectation. *The stream gushes on. And why not? Have you ever seen an ugly river? Even a ditch can captivate.* Pour so deeply into me, my spirit, my fountain. I cannot miss you more than now. Clenched and let go — good to be held, even just that long. It is hard to lose a parent, a fountain, even as it runs backward, climbs the tall cliff back to its source. The defrauding cruelty of dementia, the hand always full always outstretched now needs your hand, now needs it full. And all that can be done — *you don’t inherit everything.*
*She sits there proud, stubborn. Her cheeks are flushed. She won’t sell out her convictions. Never has. I find her mesmerizing. You don’t inherit everything.*
Sweet staccato grieving. A teaching book, if only out of habit, long expectation. *The stream gushes on. And why not? Have you ever seen an ugly river? Even a ditch can captivate.* Pour so deeply into me, my spirit, my fountain. I cannot miss you more than now. Clenched and let go — good to be held, even just that long. It is hard to lose a parent, a fountain, even as it runs backward, climbs the tall cliff back to its source. The defrauding cruelty of dementia, the hand always full always outstretched now needs your hand, now needs it full. And all that can be done — *you don’t inherit everything.*
June 26, 2026
3.25 stars —— ❝And you walk between the graves reading names and years. Reminding yourself that this isn’t the final destination, but the beginning of endless adventures. This is just what posterity requires as proof that here lived. Briefly. It doesn’t take a hundred years to be forgotten.❞
i learned a lot from this book, even if the writing itself never fully worked for me. still, the ideas it explores have stayed with me far more than the prose did. despite my mixed feelings, i’m already getting another copy for my mom because she absolutely has to read it. i think she’ll get so much out of it, so it feels like the perfect birthday gift ♡
i learned a lot from this book, even if the writing itself never fully worked for me. still, the ideas it explores have stayed with me far more than the prose did. despite my mixed feelings, i’m already getting another copy for my mom because she absolutely has to read it. i think she’ll get so much out of it, so it feels like the perfect birthday gift ♡
July 26, 2026
There is more room for reflection in the night, I reflect, and send out thoughts. Thoughts crammed with questions, but they return in silence, empty.
Some books come to find you, whether you like it or not and they force you to explore feelings that you rather not but you know you will. Mom's last trip abroad was to the Faroe Islands so picking this made even more sense to me.
November is also when we are forced to slow down into the darkness. where we curl up and shelter from life.
On the other side is March.
In between there is nothing to get worked up about.
Review of advance copy received from Publisher
From the first female Faroese writer to ever appear in English comes this poignant and utterly captivating novel about a woman in her 60's, caretaking for her mother while also doing the emotional labor of caring for her adult children and young grandchildren. For Michelsen's character, the present is a time of in-between; she is perpetually caught in memories of the past and nudged into a future state of bereavement by the inevitable knowledge that every day her mother is one day closer to death. Throughout, Michelsen ties sentences together with humor and a brief but profound simplicity, a simplicity that belies an emotional depth and keen understanding of the human spirit. What a beautiful book!
August 19, 2023
Auch in einer sehr gelungenen englischen Übersetzung verfügbar.
Als völliger Blindkauf eine Überraschung der angenehmsten Art. Zärtlich, mit wunderbarer Sprache und vielen Gedanken, die im Kleinen wurzeln aber Großes berühren, erzählt die Autorin von der letzten Zeit mit ihrer dementen Mutter, von Mutterschaft und dem Leben als Frau im Allgemeinen. Melancholisch, berührend, anregend.
Als völliger Blindkauf eine Überraschung der angenehmsten Art. Zärtlich, mit wunderbarer Sprache und vielen Gedanken, die im Kleinen wurzeln aber Großes berühren, erzählt die Autorin von der letzten Zeit mit ihrer dementen Mutter, von Mutterschaft und dem Leben als Frau im Allgemeinen. Melancholisch, berührend, anregend.
Review of advance copy received from NetGalley
This book was written with love for her mother and father but mostly her mother who had dementia and the use of her feelings was tremendously witty and had snippets throughout the story. It was easy to read but it had many and I mean many thoughts that stray and find there way to mean much of what was brought to your attention. Many thoughts strayed on purpose.
June 12, 2026
Poetical written in snippets that resemble are divided attention. A 60 something woman reflects on her life as a woman, a mother, a grandmother and now as a carer for her mother who is slipping away both mentally and physically in fits and starts. Poignant but also funny. Reflects beautifully on what constitutes a life through memory and in the moment interactions with young and old.
July 12, 2026
3.5 — ON THE OTHER SIDE IS MARCH is a challenging and abstract short novel about a woman taking care of her mother while she is dying of dementia. It is rich in images that are often elusive, with very little in the way of a traditional plot. As a result at times I felt like there was too little to anchor myself on. It read more like poetry at times than prose.
July 17, 2026
This book is for anyone who truly understands multigenerational caretaking and/or caretaking generally. It hugged pieces of my soul that I didn’t know existed. I expect to return to this book as I move through the various seasons of my life, if only to experience that feeling of being seen once again. Thank you Sólrun Michelsen, and thank you Marita Thomsen.
Review of advance copy received from Edelweiss+
this left me with an ache i am grateful for.
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