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Om udregning af rumfang #4
On the Calculation of Volume IV
Tara Selter is one of many.
In a sprawling villa on the outskirts of Bremen, Tara Selter is starting to settle into a new kind of eighteenth of November. Her days with Henry, Ralf and Olga revolve around the daily routines of practical gathering provisions, splitting firewood. But one morning, there are five new arrivals at their wrought-iron gate.
As more people continue to arrive, their home fills with movement, voices fill the air; a flurry of people asking questions, sharing their eighteenths of November. Slowly, they settle into a new routine and Tara begins to breathe a little easier. Could they create a new world inside the eighteenth of November?
Shortlisted for the International Booker Prize and Winner of the Nordic Council Prize for Literature, On the Calculation of Volume IV is the fourth volume of the poetic, page-turning European masterpiece about one woman's fall through the cracks of time.
In a sprawling villa on the outskirts of Bremen, Tara Selter is starting to settle into a new kind of eighteenth of November. Her days with Henry, Ralf and Olga revolve around the daily routines of practical gathering provisions, splitting firewood. But one morning, there are five new arrivals at their wrought-iron gate.
As more people continue to arrive, their home fills with movement, voices fill the air; a flurry of people asking questions, sharing their eighteenths of November. Slowly, they settle into a new routine and Tara begins to breathe a little easier. Could they create a new world inside the eighteenth of November?
Shortlisted for the International Booker Prize and Winner of the Nordic Council Prize for Literature, On the Calculation of Volume IV is the fourth volume of the poetic, page-turning European masterpiece about one woman's fall through the cracks of time.
185 pages, Kindle Edition
First published November 18, 2022
466 people are currently reading
2920 people want to read
About the author
Solvej Balle
23 books716 followersSolvej Balle er en særegen stemme i dansk litteratur. Hun var del af en gruppe hovedsageligt kvindelige forfattere, som debuterede eller slog deres navne fast i begyndelsen af 90’erne. Siden Balle debuterede i 1986 med romanen ”Lyrefugl”, har hun udgivet ganske få værker, så det var en overraskelse, da hun i 2020 annoncerede det ambitiøse og filosofiske syvbindsværk ”Om udregning af rumfang”, som hun i 2022 modtog Nordisk Råds Litteraturpris for, for de første fire bind
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 395 reviews
April 26, 2025
I just love the atmosphere of these books. They are the perfect mix of tension, relaxation and intellectual stimulation. The only problem is they are too short...I finish them in 3 hours and then have to wait for months for the next instalment to come out...
April 30, 2026
Maybe my favourite one yet? All the people stuck in November 18 start finding each other and trying to work things out. They don't get very far (as far as I can tell) but there are a few hints as to the parameters. These books all have such great cliffhanger endings, too. Makes you want to pick up the next one immediately, although, alas, in this case V hasn't been published yet.
December 29, 2022
Det er det vildeste projekt. Tænk at Balle kan skabe et så spændende og samtidig dybt filosofisk værk om tid. Kan slet ikke vent på 5eren!!!
December 5, 2025
Thanks to the publisher for the gifted arc
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TL:DR I love this book and this series. give me all the existential sci-fi about loneliness/isolation, human connection, and resource use.
--------------------
Placing all the covers together, I finally realized that there's a bit of a hint hidden among them. Or maybe I’m reading too much into them, trying to find a rhyme or reason, trying to understand if there’s a logic or a singular meaning within them. Maybe like the characters in this volume?
This time Tara stays put and it’s other people around her moving about, trying to find seasons or figuring out ways to still celebrate things. You know, the simple act of creating meaning when the future seems impossible. Nothing too huge. There is a push to try to figure things out, what makes someone stuck on the 18th? Why is everyone so similar? Is everyone stuck but only a few people realize it? What does it even mean to be “stuck”? What is time when it's no longer linear, but this nebulous subjective thing?
The philosophical digging was so exciting to me, especially when everyone is trying to study every theory, theories that readers started bringing up back in volume I (and I’m so thankful most of them haven’t come through so far). I think the biggest question they face is what does it mean to be human (the second would be, what happens if you end up at the hospital)? Does life lose meaning when you’re essentially now part of the leisure class? How do you live in a static reality? But maybe having conversations where you talk about language and vocabulary (let’s get into linguistic relativity why don’t we), human connection, some sort of social order, focusing on tiny, everyday details is the most human you can be. Is it the rest of us that are missing out? But there’s that whole using up resources thing. Can we not win? Also, Tara gets some amazing one liners that hint at how she hasn’t been sharing everything in her journals. Maybe this is the one thing she can control. Honestly my mind is blown by how Balle can take what are essentially meeting notes and put so much heart and love into them. I promise I don't get attached to or emotional over meeting minutes.
Balle sure loves a cliff hanger. Something exciting and unexpected happens at the very end that has me champing at the bit for the next book.
It's wild to me that Tara’s been stuck for ten years now! How do you live with the knowledge that you've potentially missed ten years of your loved ones lives?
I can’t help staring at those rings though. I’m connecting it to some movement in the story and, of course, to how Tara has changed throughout the series. But have some form of Hierocles' Concentric Circles been staring at us the whole time? Maybe somebody can write me a paper analyzing Tara’s, but really every characters’, struggle with connection and isolation in the series through the Stoic lens of expanding one's sphere of concern. Who's up for that?
--------------------
TL:DR I love this book and this series. give me all the existential sci-fi about loneliness/isolation, human connection, and resource use.
--------------------
Placing all the covers together, I finally realized that there's a bit of a hint hidden among them. Or maybe I’m reading too much into them, trying to find a rhyme or reason, trying to understand if there’s a logic or a singular meaning within them. Maybe like the characters in this volume?
This time Tara stays put and it’s other people around her moving about, trying to find seasons or figuring out ways to still celebrate things. You know, the simple act of creating meaning when the future seems impossible. Nothing too huge. There is a push to try to figure things out, what makes someone stuck on the 18th? Why is everyone so similar? Is everyone stuck but only a few people realize it? What does it even mean to be “stuck”? What is time when it's no longer linear, but this nebulous subjective thing?
The philosophical digging was so exciting to me, especially when everyone is trying to study every theory, theories that readers started bringing up back in volume I (and I’m so thankful most of them haven’t come through so far). I think the biggest question they face is what does it mean to be human (the second would be, what happens if you end up at the hospital)? Does life lose meaning when you’re essentially now part of the leisure class? How do you live in a static reality? But maybe having conversations where you talk about language and vocabulary (let’s get into linguistic relativity why don’t we), human connection, some sort of social order, focusing on tiny, everyday details is the most human you can be. Is it the rest of us that are missing out? But there’s that whole using up resources thing. Can we not win? Also, Tara gets some amazing one liners that hint at how she hasn’t been sharing everything in her journals. Maybe this is the one thing she can control. Honestly my mind is blown by how Balle can take what are essentially meeting notes and put so much heart and love into them. I promise I don't get attached to or emotional over meeting minutes.
Balle sure loves a cliff hanger. Something exciting and unexpected happens at the very end that has me champing at the bit for the next book.
It's wild to me that Tara’s been stuck for ten years now! How do you live with the knowledge that you've potentially missed ten years of your loved ones lives?
I can’t help staring at those rings though. I’m connecting it to some movement in the story and, of course, to how Tara has changed throughout the series. But have some form of Hierocles' Concentric Circles been staring at us the whole time? Maybe somebody can write me a paper analyzing Tara’s, but really every characters’, struggle with connection and isolation in the series through the Stoic lens of expanding one's sphere of concern. Who's up for that?
November 1, 2024
Det har nu gått snart tio år sedan Tara fastnade i artonde november, den här boken rymmer drygt fyra av dem. I Bremen börjar ett mindre samhälle utveckla sig befolkad av människor med samma enahanda tideräkning. Nu är Tara del i ett kollektivt vi och det blir tydligt hur flockdjuret människan med hjälp av språk organiserar, planerar, skapar rutiner och samarbetar i arbetsgrupper för att skapa bästa möjliga förutsättningar. En människa som bokstavligen lever för dagen, är det ens en människa? Tara funderar på om de håller på att förlora sin mänsklighet utan karriärjakt, konkurrens, tillväxt och framtidsplanering.
Jag gillar fortfarande att följa Solvej Balles undersökning av vad en människa är, men i den här fjärde delen råder stiltje. Det är först på sidan 55 när diskussionen om ”Ego-bilen” avhandlas som mitt intresse vaknar. Men sen tycker jag inte heller den scenen är eklatant nog. Kanske börjar Om uträkning av omfång bli alltför politisk för min smak. Det verkar som att Balle fastnat med blicken på folket (”årstidsmonstren” =vi som inte nöjer oss med det klimat vi lever i utan reser och idkar resursslöseri) och att makthavare och industri hamnat i döda vinkeln.
Avslutningsvis placerar hon mig hängande på klippan och givetvis ser jag fram emot nästa del i Balle-septologin.
Jag gillar fortfarande att följa Solvej Balles undersökning av vad en människa är, men i den här fjärde delen råder stiltje. Det är först på sidan 55 när diskussionen om ”Ego-bilen” avhandlas som mitt intresse vaknar. Men sen tycker jag inte heller den scenen är eklatant nog. Kanske börjar Om uträkning av omfång bli alltför politisk för min smak. Det verkar som att Balle fastnat med blicken på folket (”årstidsmonstren” =vi som inte nöjer oss med det klimat vi lever i utan reser och idkar resursslöseri) och att makthavare och industri hamnat i döda vinkeln.
Avslutningsvis placerar hon mig hängande på klippan och givetvis ser jag fram emot nästa del i Balle-septologin.
April 12, 2026
All sources are of course different but English, as a language, can usually be found quite high up the list of world dictionaries with the most headwords. Most sources seem to cite Tamil as having the most. Joyce, in his later years, was learning other languages through tutors as he felt he had accomplished all he could with English alone. I think at one point he was learning some Nordic language, possibly Norwegian. Of the Nordic languages, I've found Finnish quite high up, then it usually appears to be Swedish. Either way: all this is to say, that volume IV is about using language to reflect the oddity of waking up every day on the 18th November. (I still haven't seen too many people mention the significance — or pure coincidence! — of the repeating day being the same date as Proust's death (18th Nov 1922); after all, he was in search of lost time.) This review would be much longer if I was not so conscious of spoiling where Tara has got to at this point. But, it is no spoiler to say language is being hedged against reality. What does one do when language fails us? And beyond that, what makes us human. If one person is waking up on the 18th November every day and aware of it, are they more or less human than their partner waking up every day on the recurring 18th November believing it to be their first shot at the day?
The question was always going to be this. Who will fatigue first: me or Balle. There was a creeping suspicion early on in this volume that it might be the former, but once again I got pulled in. I'm not the first person to realise these books are boring but addictive, about nothing but also everything. They're paradoxical in nature. I think that is part of the charm. Any hope of saying, I'm done, I can't read anymore when reaching the end of one volume must be about nil. Once again, Balle ends volume IV with a 'cliff-hanger'; so, yes, now I wait impatiently/patiently for volume V in November.
The question was always going to be this. Who will fatigue first: me or Balle. There was a creeping suspicion early on in this volume that it might be the former, but once again I got pulled in. I'm not the first person to realise these books are boring but addictive, about nothing but also everything. They're paradoxical in nature. I think that is part of the charm. Any hope of saying, I'm done, I can't read anymore when reaching the end of one volume must be about nil. Once again, Balle ends volume IV with a 'cliff-hanger'; so, yes, now I wait impatiently/patiently for volume V in November.
February 28, 2025
A bit of philosophical interlude in the middle of the septology, filled with the at times boring work of community building, including meetings, minutes and large group discussions. As always Balle leaves us with a tantalising cliffhanger
"Maybe there are too many of us by now," said Olga.
"Or just enough," said Chani.
"Enough people to let the world grow."
Giving Tower of Babel vibes and channeling the adagio that more cooks don't make for faster cooking, and a commune is not necessarily the most efficient form of organising a group of people, we are in a bit of a lull in Bremen in Volume IV.
Tara, biologically in her mid 30s now, discovers community, there are a lot of meetings and people coming by and branching out again to Liege, Osnabruck, Italy and Spain. There are some herbological signs that not everything is as fixed in 18 November as one might suspect. The fact that passport pictures are further and further from biologically aging people is a jolt, showing how deeply Solvej Balle thinks about the topic.
I am wondering how much impact years of consumption, even by a small group of people, would have on the food reserves of a relatively small town as Bremen. Things like coffee, tea and more particular fresh produce must run out quite quickly in our current just in time economy (making me think again of how every civilisation is just a few days from famine and anarchy if the logistics of food would be disrupted, recalling earlier volumes their passing fascination with the Roman empire).
And then there is a cliffhanger and twist at the end of the volume that leaves me eager to read part V.
Hopefully translated soon from Danish!
Onwards!
Dutch Quotes, decidedly spoilers if one has not read I through III yet:
'Opnieuw werd hij geloofd. Deze keer zonder iets te hoeven bewijzen. Veel begrip, geen hulp, zei hij. Maar wat kon je eraan doen?'
'Maar dan denk ik dat het misschien mijzelf betreft. Misschien ons allemaal. Misschien zijn we allemaal een beetje onrustig. Vrezen we schokken en onverwachte veranderingen. We hebben het eerder meegemaakt: een wereld verliezen die we kenden. We weten dat je nergens zeker van kunt zijn. Of van niemand. Alsof een ander mens een geschenk is waar we op moeten passen.'
'Het is duidelijk dat Ralf vindt dat we ons meer zouden moeten richten op de tijd na de achttiende, zodat we daar klaar voor zijn, maar de meesten van ons geloven niet dat er haast bij is. Het is moeilijk je voor te bereiden op iets waarvan je niet gelooft dat het zal gebeuren
'Misschien zijn we inmiddels met te veel, zei Olga. Of met genoeg, zei Chani. Met genoeg mensen om de wereld te laten groeien.
'Er moest plaats zijn in de woorden, er moest niet alleen plaats zijn voor iedereen, maar ook voor kennis en inzicht. We moesten goed nadenken. Hoe konden we anders weten of een woord juist was. Je kunt niet zomaar een woord aanwijzen en eisen dat andere mensen zich erin kunnen vinden. Hoe kunnen we weten of onze stilstand een catastrofe is of gewoon een kentering. Als we een woord willen bedenken voor wat ons is overkomen, moeten we eerst begrijpen wat het is. Ze bedoelde dat we veel te weinig ons best hadden gedaan om te begrijpen wat er feitelijk was gebeurd. Lag het aan ons? Was er iets veranderd in onze hoofden? Was de wereld zelf ontwricht geraakt? Dat moesten we allemaal weten, wilden we enige hoop koesteren om woorden te vinden die precies waren.'
'Er waren grenzen aan hoeveel kennis we konden verlangen. De mensen van vroeger konden de zon zien opgaan en dus noemden ze dat een zonsopkomst, want dat was wat ze zagen. Een object dat zich omhoog bewoog. Hadden ze de zaak moeten onderzoeken en grondiger te werk moeten gaan? Hadden ze moeten wachten met over de zon spreken tot na Copernicus? Of nog langer? Hadden ze moeten zeggen dat ze helaas pas over duizenden jaren over het opkomen en ondergaan van die gele schijf konden spreken als iemand ontdekt dat wij en de planeet waarop we leven om de zon draaien. Dat de zon geen schijf is, maar een bol, dat ze niet geel, oranje of rood is, maar dat de atmosfeer haar de kleuren geeft. Wanneer weten we genoeg om de dingen een naam te geven? Wanneer gooien we de woorden die we hebben weg en bedenken we nieuwe?
'Geobserveerd worden. Dat was erger dan de gedachte dat hij uit het geheugen van de mensen werd gewist. Liever vergeten dan te veel bekeken, zei hij.'
'Olga snapt niet dat iemand kan denken dat hij zelf schuld heeft aan het tot stilstand komen van de tijd. Alsof de wereld een plek is die stabiel blijft als je maar het juiste doet. Een balans die je niet mag verstoren. Alsof er panklare oplossingen bestaan, en als je die maar volgt, zal jou niets overkomen. Helemaal niets. En als jou wel iets overkomt, heb je iets verkeerd gedaan.’
'De wereld is geen kalme zee die je bevaart en waarbij je alleen maar moet voorkomen dat je bootje begint te schommelen, zei ze. De wereld is een schommelende boot, een schip in een storm, en als je omvergeworpen wordt komt het daardoor. Omdat de wereld een plek is die je omverwerpt.
Ze vond dat al onze overwegingen over eigen schuld een overschatting waren van onze capaciteiten. Alsof we het universum in beweging konden brengen, buiten werking stellen, de dag op repeat konden zetten. Als we dat echt vonden, begreep ze niet dat we onze superkrachten niet allang voor iets beters gebruikten. Als je de natuurwetten en het hele universum kon tarten door het stelen van ziekenhuishemden, dan moesten we maar eens aan de slag.'
'Ze had het gevoel gehad dat elke golftop het einde had kunnen betekenen en dat elk dal het laatste moment kon zijn geweest voordat de golven over de boot heen sloegen. Maar die gedachte kwam pas in haar op toen ze weer aan land was. Dat verbaasde haar. Alsof we ons op de toppen en in de dalen van het bestaan bevinden zonder te weten wat er gaande is. Terwijl je daar bent denk je dat je veilig bent.'
'En nu? Wie oefende druk op ons uit? Niemand. Waar moesten we heen? Nergens heen. Wat werd er van ons verwacht? Niets. We leefden niet in een wereld van botsingen en hindernisbanen, we waren niet elkaars tegenstanders of springplank of helpers of pionnen in elkaars spel. We hoefden ons niet te laten gelden, te positioneren, hoefden niet te performen, niet het tempo te verhogen, geen doel te bereiken. Het ontbrak ons aan niets, we hoefden elkaar niet te bevechten om banen en aanzien en hoger loon. We hoefden onze status en rijkdom niet te tonen met auto’s, woningen, gadgets of mooie kleren, want iedereen kon hetzelfde krijgen. Als je wilde.'
'Maar dan denk ik dat ik hem gisteren heb gezien. Op de zeventiende. Waarom zou ik hem nu al missen? En morgen zie ik hem weer. Op de negentiende. Zeg ik. Dat is gauw. Morgen is gauw, zelfs al duurt het misschien nog heel wat dagen. Als morgen komt. Maar je kunt nooit weten of dat gebeurt. Vandaag is vandaag en de dagen vloeien in elkaar over. Vandaag vloeit over in vandaag. Dat is geen ramp, het is enkel een dag die is gestopt en ik weet hoe het is: Thomas is gelukkig in zijn huis en hij mist me niet, want ik kom morgen.’
'Ze willen steeds meer: nieuwe plekken, een betere zomer dan laatst, nieuwe wintergerechten, vers geplukte paddenstoelen uit verre bossen, ze willen nieuwe vrienden en reisgenoten, ze willen nieuwe schoenen en verse bessen. Wat is er mis mee om iets te willen, wilde Stevan weten, en wat is er mis mee om te krijgen wat je wilt?'
'Wie zijn wij? Horen we bij elkaar? Hebben we een richting? Hebben we iets gemeen? Zijn er anderen op weg naar hun lang geleden verloren geliefde? Op weg om deel van een groepje van twee te worden die veel te lang van elkaar gescheiden waren? En ben ik dáár naar op weg?
Ik weet het niet, maar we vervolgen onze weg. Ik kijk naar het landschap achter het raam en het wordt een beetje donker buiten, alsof het gaat regenen. Ook hierbinnen wordt het donkerder en het licht gaat aan in de coupé. Ik kijk uit het raam. Het regent.'
"Maybe there are too many of us by now," said Olga.
"Or just enough," said Chani.
"Enough people to let the world grow."
Giving Tower of Babel vibes and channeling the adagio that more cooks don't make for faster cooking, and a commune is not necessarily the most efficient form of organising a group of people, we are in a bit of a lull in Bremen in Volume IV.
Tara, biologically in her mid 30s now, discovers community, there are a lot of meetings and people coming by and branching out again to Liege, Osnabruck, Italy and Spain. There are some herbological signs that not everything is as fixed in 18 November as one might suspect. The fact that passport pictures are further and further from biologically aging people is a jolt, showing how deeply Solvej Balle thinks about the topic.
I am wondering how much impact years of consumption, even by a small group of people, would have on the food reserves of a relatively small town as Bremen. Things like coffee, tea and more particular fresh produce must run out quite quickly in our current just in time economy (making me think again of how every civilisation is just a few days from famine and anarchy if the logistics of food would be disrupted, recalling earlier volumes their passing fascination with the Roman empire).
And then there is a cliffhanger and twist at the end of the volume that leaves me eager to read part V.
Hopefully translated soon from Danish!
Onwards!
Dutch Quotes, decidedly spoilers if one has not read I through III yet:
'Opnieuw werd hij geloofd. Deze keer zonder iets te hoeven bewijzen. Veel begrip, geen hulp, zei hij. Maar wat kon je eraan doen?'
'Maar dan denk ik dat het misschien mijzelf betreft. Misschien ons allemaal. Misschien zijn we allemaal een beetje onrustig. Vrezen we schokken en onverwachte veranderingen. We hebben het eerder meegemaakt: een wereld verliezen die we kenden. We weten dat je nergens zeker van kunt zijn. Of van niemand. Alsof een ander mens een geschenk is waar we op moeten passen.'
'Het is duidelijk dat Ralf vindt dat we ons meer zouden moeten richten op de tijd na de achttiende, zodat we daar klaar voor zijn, maar de meesten van ons geloven niet dat er haast bij is. Het is moeilijk je voor te bereiden op iets waarvan je niet gelooft dat het zal gebeuren
'Misschien zijn we inmiddels met te veel, zei Olga. Of met genoeg, zei Chani. Met genoeg mensen om de wereld te laten groeien.
'Er moest plaats zijn in de woorden, er moest niet alleen plaats zijn voor iedereen, maar ook voor kennis en inzicht. We moesten goed nadenken. Hoe konden we anders weten of een woord juist was. Je kunt niet zomaar een woord aanwijzen en eisen dat andere mensen zich erin kunnen vinden. Hoe kunnen we weten of onze stilstand een catastrofe is of gewoon een kentering. Als we een woord willen bedenken voor wat ons is overkomen, moeten we eerst begrijpen wat het is. Ze bedoelde dat we veel te weinig ons best hadden gedaan om te begrijpen wat er feitelijk was gebeurd. Lag het aan ons? Was er iets veranderd in onze hoofden? Was de wereld zelf ontwricht geraakt? Dat moesten we allemaal weten, wilden we enige hoop koesteren om woorden te vinden die precies waren.'
'Er waren grenzen aan hoeveel kennis we konden verlangen. De mensen van vroeger konden de zon zien opgaan en dus noemden ze dat een zonsopkomst, want dat was wat ze zagen. Een object dat zich omhoog bewoog. Hadden ze de zaak moeten onderzoeken en grondiger te werk moeten gaan? Hadden ze moeten wachten met over de zon spreken tot na Copernicus? Of nog langer? Hadden ze moeten zeggen dat ze helaas pas over duizenden jaren over het opkomen en ondergaan van die gele schijf konden spreken als iemand ontdekt dat wij en de planeet waarop we leven om de zon draaien. Dat de zon geen schijf is, maar een bol, dat ze niet geel, oranje of rood is, maar dat de atmosfeer haar de kleuren geeft. Wanneer weten we genoeg om de dingen een naam te geven? Wanneer gooien we de woorden die we hebben weg en bedenken we nieuwe?
'Geobserveerd worden. Dat was erger dan de gedachte dat hij uit het geheugen van de mensen werd gewist. Liever vergeten dan te veel bekeken, zei hij.'
'Olga snapt niet dat iemand kan denken dat hij zelf schuld heeft aan het tot stilstand komen van de tijd. Alsof de wereld een plek is die stabiel blijft als je maar het juiste doet. Een balans die je niet mag verstoren. Alsof er panklare oplossingen bestaan, en als je die maar volgt, zal jou niets overkomen. Helemaal niets. En als jou wel iets overkomt, heb je iets verkeerd gedaan.’
'De wereld is geen kalme zee die je bevaart en waarbij je alleen maar moet voorkomen dat je bootje begint te schommelen, zei ze. De wereld is een schommelende boot, een schip in een storm, en als je omvergeworpen wordt komt het daardoor. Omdat de wereld een plek is die je omverwerpt.
Ze vond dat al onze overwegingen over eigen schuld een overschatting waren van onze capaciteiten. Alsof we het universum in beweging konden brengen, buiten werking stellen, de dag op repeat konden zetten. Als we dat echt vonden, begreep ze niet dat we onze superkrachten niet allang voor iets beters gebruikten. Als je de natuurwetten en het hele universum kon tarten door het stelen van ziekenhuishemden, dan moesten we maar eens aan de slag.'
'Ze had het gevoel gehad dat elke golftop het einde had kunnen betekenen en dat elk dal het laatste moment kon zijn geweest voordat de golven over de boot heen sloegen. Maar die gedachte kwam pas in haar op toen ze weer aan land was. Dat verbaasde haar. Alsof we ons op de toppen en in de dalen van het bestaan bevinden zonder te weten wat er gaande is. Terwijl je daar bent denk je dat je veilig bent.'
'En nu? Wie oefende druk op ons uit? Niemand. Waar moesten we heen? Nergens heen. Wat werd er van ons verwacht? Niets. We leefden niet in een wereld van botsingen en hindernisbanen, we waren niet elkaars tegenstanders of springplank of helpers of pionnen in elkaars spel. We hoefden ons niet te laten gelden, te positioneren, hoefden niet te performen, niet het tempo te verhogen, geen doel te bereiken. Het ontbrak ons aan niets, we hoefden elkaar niet te bevechten om banen en aanzien en hoger loon. We hoefden onze status en rijkdom niet te tonen met auto’s, woningen, gadgets of mooie kleren, want iedereen kon hetzelfde krijgen. Als je wilde.'
'Maar dan denk ik dat ik hem gisteren heb gezien. Op de zeventiende. Waarom zou ik hem nu al missen? En morgen zie ik hem weer. Op de negentiende. Zeg ik. Dat is gauw. Morgen is gauw, zelfs al duurt het misschien nog heel wat dagen. Als morgen komt. Maar je kunt nooit weten of dat gebeurt. Vandaag is vandaag en de dagen vloeien in elkaar over. Vandaag vloeit over in vandaag. Dat is geen ramp, het is enkel een dag die is gestopt en ik weet hoe het is: Thomas is gelukkig in zijn huis en hij mist me niet, want ik kom morgen.’
'Ze willen steeds meer: nieuwe plekken, een betere zomer dan laatst, nieuwe wintergerechten, vers geplukte paddenstoelen uit verre bossen, ze willen nieuwe vrienden en reisgenoten, ze willen nieuwe schoenen en verse bessen. Wat is er mis mee om iets te willen, wilde Stevan weten, en wat is er mis mee om te krijgen wat je wilt?'
'Wie zijn wij? Horen we bij elkaar? Hebben we een richting? Hebben we iets gemeen? Zijn er anderen op weg naar hun lang geleden verloren geliefde? Op weg om deel van een groepje van twee te worden die veel te lang van elkaar gescheiden waren? En ben ik dáár naar op weg?
Ik weet het niet, maar we vervolgen onze weg. Ik kijk naar het landschap achter het raam en het wordt een beetje donker buiten, alsof het gaat regenen. Ook hierbinnen wordt het donkerder en het licht gaat aan in de coupé. Ik kijk uit het raam. Het regent.'
October 10, 2025
De filosofische onderstroom van Solvej Balles tijdexperiment worstelt zich in dit vierde en voorlopig interessantste en vlotst lezende deel opvallend meer naar de oppervlakte. Enerzijds is er het concept - kraakhelder en toch moet je er je hoofd bij houden en zijn er onregelmatigheden die het spannend houden. Dat concept zorgt voor de verhaallijnen en maakt 'Over de berekening van ruimte' bijgevolg nog steeds een roman, literatuur dus.
Maar anderzijds worden er in dit deel heel wat filosofische thema's en benaderingen aangesneden, niet alleen over het concept tijd en onze beleving(en) daarvan, maar ook over het bewustzijn, over 'wat te doen?' en 'hoe te leven?' binnen een gegeven situatie. Het collectieve wordt tegenover het persoonlijke afgewogen en zeker hedendaags zijn de ecologische, duurzame en milieubewuste keuzes die je kan maken.
Met voorlopig nog slechts 1 vertaald deel binnen handbereik en dan, volgens de website van de uitgeverij, is het wachten tot augustus 2026 om het voorlaatste deel te kunnen lezen. Ik ga de tijd dus zijn werk laten doen en iets langer wachten om deel V als overgang naar volgende zomer te lezen, niettegenstaande opnieuw een intrigerende cliffhanger.
Maar anderzijds worden er in dit deel heel wat filosofische thema's en benaderingen aangesneden, niet alleen over het concept tijd en onze beleving(en) daarvan, maar ook over het bewustzijn, over 'wat te doen?' en 'hoe te leven?' binnen een gegeven situatie. Het collectieve wordt tegenover het persoonlijke afgewogen en zeker hedendaags zijn de ecologische, duurzame en milieubewuste keuzes die je kan maken.
Met voorlopig nog slechts 1 vertaald deel binnen handbereik en dan, volgens de website van de uitgeverij, is het wachten tot augustus 2026 om het voorlaatste deel te kunnen lezen. Ik ga de tijd dus zijn werk laten doen en iets langer wachten om deel V als overgang naar volgende zomer te lezen, niettegenstaande opnieuw een intrigerende cliffhanger.
May 6, 2026
My reviews Volume I and II and III.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
I’ve now read (audio) volume IV and this is still a very intriguing series.
It is hard to write much without giving away spoilers.
This has become a large cast as many have become stuck in the 18th of November and are getting in touch with each other. Some are living apart and some are living in communes. The philosophical debates as the why, what and wherefore are getting deeper. As I have listened through this series I have asked, as I know other readers have, questions as to certain situations such as health, birth and death. These don't get answered, but they do get discussed.
Three more to go and with that I wish for an ending with the last as I do not want to be disappointed and left hanging.
Bronas Books blog has some interesting things to say.
https://bronasbooks.com/2026/04/26/on...
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
I’ve now read (audio) volume IV and this is still a very intriguing series.
It is hard to write much without giving away spoilers.
This has become a large cast as many have become stuck in the 18th of November and are getting in touch with each other. Some are living apart and some are living in communes. The philosophical debates as the why, what and wherefore are getting deeper. As I have listened through this series I have asked, as I know other readers have, questions as to certain situations such as health, birth and death. These don't get answered, but they do get discussed.
Three more to go and with that I wish for an ending with the last as I do not want to be disappointed and left hanging.
Bronas Books blog has some interesting things to say.
https://bronasbooks.com/2026/04/26/on...
October 7, 2024
Tycker serien som helhet är fantastisk men det kändes aldrig riktigt som jag kom in i den här boken. Lite för mycket samma samma, väldigt många namn som jag inte höll isär, kanske läste jag den för sakta och för upphackat? Men, tio sista sidorna, där hände något! Och såklart kommer jag läsa del 5 och 6 och 7.
August 9, 2024
Det er utroligt at læse en romanserie, der virker så gennemtænkt og så velplanlagt som Om udregning af Rumfang. Den måde Solvej Balle har udregnet sit univers er fænomenal.
Bare måden hvert enkelt bind i serien opererer som ringe i vandet er fascinerende. Hun udvider for hvert bind. Det går fra det nære, minimale, intime til i højere og højere grad at blive det kollektive, maksimale og allestedsnærværende.
Den kredsende koncentriske koncentration, der ligger i hendes begrebsforskydninger er mesterlig.
Læs bare læs.
Vi er heldige, at så stor kunst kan udspringe af vores middelmådige socialdemokratiske smatstat.
Bare måden hvert enkelt bind i serien opererer som ringe i vandet er fascinerende. Hun udvider for hvert bind. Det går fra det nære, minimale, intime til i højere og højere grad at blive det kollektive, maksimale og allestedsnærværende.
Den kredsende koncentriske koncentration, der ligger i hendes begrebsforskydninger er mesterlig.
Læs bare læs.
Vi er heldige, at så stor kunst kan udspringe af vores middelmådige socialdemokratiske smatstat.
February 1, 2026
Holy Crapppppppppp
Many thanks to ND publishing for this advanced copy. This series is mind-bogglingly good
Many thanks to ND publishing for this advanced copy. This series is mind-bogglingly good
March 27, 2026
Hiljalleen rakentuva suurteos, jota tuntuu etuoikeutetulta lukea pala kerrallaan, aina seuraavan osan julkaisua jo odottaen.
April 23, 2026
3.5. There are a couple of standout moments that redeemed some of the dumber moments, but a good chunk of this was a slog to get through. Least successful entry in the series so far, but this volume once again ends with a cliffhanger so still excited to read book 5!
April 21, 2026
I can’t explain how much I’m enjoying this series, what sounds like a simple premise is going in directions to never expected. I can see the cracks forming and I am anxious for the next book!
August 2, 2024
Nu bliver det rigtigt, rigtigt godt!
April 23, 2026
This series is all I am really thinking about nowadays.
April 9, 2026
This was such a slog to get through, but that ending had me pointing and hollering at the walls. This series drags me back in every damn time.
This is still my favourite series, one I pre-order and read as soon as the books are released but this one, right at the half way mark, truly was filler. The ending of the last book had me worried we'd be stuck with the convoluted plan to save people from accidents every day, but that idea quickly fizzled out as more people arrived.
For me, adding new people to the story kills my interest somewhat. Outside of Tara, I just don't really... care about the other people. Tara is a quieter character, and her thoughts and feelings quickly get stuffed down as she recounts the thoughts of the others around her instead. So the ending pages were a massive high for me, and renewed my interest in continuing.
This is still my favourite series, one I pre-order and read as soon as the books are released but this one, right at the half way mark, truly was filler. The ending of the last book had me worried we'd be stuck with the convoluted plan to save people from accidents every day, but that idea quickly fizzled out as more people arrived.
For me, adding new people to the story kills my interest somewhat. Outside of Tara, I just don't really... care about the other people. Tara is a quieter character, and her thoughts and feelings quickly get stuffed down as she recounts the thoughts of the others around her instead. So the ending pages were a massive high for me, and renewed my interest in continuing.
January 21, 2024
vau, kokia pabaiga! skaitant paskutinį skyrių per kūną lakstė šiurpuliukai ir dabar siaubingai reikia penktos dalies. :D šiek tiek kankinausi skaitydama filosofines diskusijas apie kalbą ir žodyną, bet paskui grįžo istorijos, kurias balle moka taip gražiai sugalvoti, o netikėtas posūkis pabaigoje buvo lyg šviežio oro gūsis - gaivinantis ir net gąsdinantis. šiaip šita dalis išsiskiria iš kitų savo utopiškumu, buvo gera patirti tą utopiją, žavią, bet kartu grėsmingą, nes einant laikui, ar tiksliau, klojantis dienų pasikartojimams, paslaptis sunkėja. labai smalsu, kaip viskas rutuliosis toliau.
April 27, 2026
It is hard to know where something ends and where something begins. Or someone. Where a person starts or stops. Where the next begins. You think you can see it: the bodies with air in between.
*
We are guests, and when we have guests, it reminds us that everything is on loan, that we've been sitting on borrowed sofas and chairs, with arms and legs that are ours, belonging to bodies that are ours, and all the words and sentences, all the gestures, none of which are truly our own. That much was clear to us, since we couldn't help but borrow one another's gestures. Or sentences.
*
It feels as though we had each been walking down our own path in the same forest. As though we had got lost and done so separately, but we were not alone in being lost, because the others were on the paths too. And now we have found our way to a clearing and suddenly we see that we share not only the clearing but the forest too. We think it begins when we meet, but in fact, our stories were already entwined.
*
I think of Thomas, of our time together, but that was long ago. I remember how it was, but I have no need to hear a similar story when ours has disappeared into a long tunnel of November days, and theirs is happening right here.
Maybe we just need to get to know them a little better. Maybe one has to grow a little fonder of them before they get to sit there, bathed in so much happiness.
But that probably won't be too difficult.
*
It has happened before: losing a world familiar to us. We know that we cannot be sure of anything. Or anyone. As if another person were a gift we must cherish.
*
We are joined together by the unpredictability of time, or that is how we think of it - we have fallen out of the world, each of us plummeting, all of us dizzy. Our lonely wanderings in the eighteenth. And our meetings. Not being alone anymore. All the things we do not need to explain.
*
Personally, I was more inclined to believe in random chance and a simmering enthusiasm, I claimed. That one must take action where one can,
when one can. I began talking about excitement and seizing the moment and running with good ideas, that sort of thing. My own excitement, I said, had always been more of a gentle simmer, and my momentum like the sound of pebbles on the shore shifting with the waves on a calm day. The sound of pages turning. Quiet weather systems. A crackle in the fireplace.
*
We need all the love we can get in the house. If we are to keep our faith in love, that is. Even though I feel longing or sorrow when I hear about the happiness they have found in the eighteenth of November, I cannot imagine anything worse than it all falling apart. Then I wouldn't know what to believe anymore.
*
Many feel we are missing words - that is, we have enough words, the house is overflowing with them, but they are imprecise. There are too many things for which we lack terminology, and it is difficult to come to an agreement.
Apparently, before we can find the right words, we must discuss everything at great length, with everyone speaking all at once.
*
how does one mark the days in a time without years or seasons, and how does one divide a run of days when neither weeks nor months have any meaning?
*
dadirri, a word she had learned of when visiting a friend in Darwin in Australia. It described a way of listening, she said: a peaceful attentiveness to one's surroundings, to the forest or the water.
*
It is not the same as a nineteenth of November. It is not a life with Thomas.
It is not the same as getting everything back, because there, inside the relief, the busyness, the routines, and all our discussions, sits the knowledge that the world is no longer the same. The sorrow that has been revived and flares up. The dizziness that has now passed. The understanding that has dawned. That you are no longer dizzy, that thanktully you were dizzy enough not to fully grasp how it was.
*
But no one says I have to stay here. I know: Being alone is always an option. There's no end to what one could be. One could be a ferry passenger. A cyclist or a motorist. A backpacker or a pedestrian. One could be a horseback rider or a passenger on a plane. Or a pilot, if one wished. A deckhand on a ship. A kayaker. One could travel east or south or north or west. One could go to Clairon. Of course, one can go to Clairon. Or to Ithaca, with Henry. Perhaps Olga wants to come to Düsseldorf, perhaps even farther. To Naples with Mayte and the boys. To the Goldilocks house with Daniel. One could go to Poland with Anton and eat apple pancakes in a bay window overlooking the family's house. There's so much one could do. But one does not necessarily do it.
*
It was a relief. He could live with a day that repeated. His fear and the thought of the red dot were worse than an endless stretch of eighteenths of November. Being under surveillance. It was worse than the thought of being wiped from other people's memories, he said. Better to be forgotten than to be watched too closely.
*
She didn't believe that heartbreak or misfortune could stop time.
*
The world is not a calm sea where all you have to do is refrain from rocking the boat, she said. The world is a rocking boat, a ship in a storm, and when you're capsized, that's why. Because the world is a place that throws you overboard.
*
But it wasn't until she had safely made it to shore that this thought occurred to her. That was what was so puzzling: We seem to sail through life's crests and troughs, oblivious to what's going on. We go about our days, assuming we are safe.
*
Seasons, she believed, were always a little off. Even the real ones. You couldn't count on them to keep their promises.
*
She's always reading, maybe that's why.
You get the impression that she sees the world through a different lens, as she wonders and speculates and unexpectedly breaks into bizarre reflections.
*
Adriano thought it was something else entirely. And simpler. That our arrested day had left us in an unusual position where we no longer had to constantly think about how to keep moving, whether we were lacking momentum, whether someone was in our way,
whether we could keep up. A pressure had been lifted. The rat race and the hamster wheel and the career ladder and the competitiveness. That sort of thing.
*
There has always been someone to miss.
Think of that. Think of all the people who miss someone, and who go on living anyway. Day after day. It's manageable. Think of that. Of course you can be happy in the meantime.
*
Everything is easier when I rinse vegetables in a sink. When I chop and slice and think of the past. It's what people have always done when they missed someone. History helps. A little.
*
That is what I hadn't understood: He thinks of me, and I think of him, and both of us are happy. That is what I'm coming to realize now. It leaves me dizzy. A deeper vertigo. Alone. Leaning on no one. Or at least, not much.
*
but I knew: All my seasons were November. The eighteenth of November, in color.
*
Who are we? Do we belong together? Do we share a direction? Do we have something in common? Are others on their way to reunite with a long-lost love? On their way to becoming a group of two, finally together after far too long apart? And is that what I am headed for? I do not know, but now we're moving on. I watch the landscape outside the window, and it's growing a little darker out there, as if rain is on the way. It's getting darker in here too, and the light turns on in the car. I look out the window. It is raining.
*
We are guests, and when we have guests, it reminds us that everything is on loan, that we've been sitting on borrowed sofas and chairs, with arms and legs that are ours, belonging to bodies that are ours, and all the words and sentences, all the gestures, none of which are truly our own. That much was clear to us, since we couldn't help but borrow one another's gestures. Or sentences.
*
It feels as though we had each been walking down our own path in the same forest. As though we had got lost and done so separately, but we were not alone in being lost, because the others were on the paths too. And now we have found our way to a clearing and suddenly we see that we share not only the clearing but the forest too. We think it begins when we meet, but in fact, our stories were already entwined.
*
I think of Thomas, of our time together, but that was long ago. I remember how it was, but I have no need to hear a similar story when ours has disappeared into a long tunnel of November days, and theirs is happening right here.
Maybe we just need to get to know them a little better. Maybe one has to grow a little fonder of them before they get to sit there, bathed in so much happiness.
But that probably won't be too difficult.
*
It has happened before: losing a world familiar to us. We know that we cannot be sure of anything. Or anyone. As if another person were a gift we must cherish.
*
We are joined together by the unpredictability of time, or that is how we think of it - we have fallen out of the world, each of us plummeting, all of us dizzy. Our lonely wanderings in the eighteenth. And our meetings. Not being alone anymore. All the things we do not need to explain.
*
Personally, I was more inclined to believe in random chance and a simmering enthusiasm, I claimed. That one must take action where one can,
when one can. I began talking about excitement and seizing the moment and running with good ideas, that sort of thing. My own excitement, I said, had always been more of a gentle simmer, and my momentum like the sound of pebbles on the shore shifting with the waves on a calm day. The sound of pages turning. Quiet weather systems. A crackle in the fireplace.
*
We need all the love we can get in the house. If we are to keep our faith in love, that is. Even though I feel longing or sorrow when I hear about the happiness they have found in the eighteenth of November, I cannot imagine anything worse than it all falling apart. Then I wouldn't know what to believe anymore.
*
Many feel we are missing words - that is, we have enough words, the house is overflowing with them, but they are imprecise. There are too many things for which we lack terminology, and it is difficult to come to an agreement.
Apparently, before we can find the right words, we must discuss everything at great length, with everyone speaking all at once.
*
how does one mark the days in a time without years or seasons, and how does one divide a run of days when neither weeks nor months have any meaning?
*
dadirri, a word she had learned of when visiting a friend in Darwin in Australia. It described a way of listening, she said: a peaceful attentiveness to one's surroundings, to the forest or the water.
*
It is not the same as a nineteenth of November. It is not a life with Thomas.
It is not the same as getting everything back, because there, inside the relief, the busyness, the routines, and all our discussions, sits the knowledge that the world is no longer the same. The sorrow that has been revived and flares up. The dizziness that has now passed. The understanding that has dawned. That you are no longer dizzy, that thanktully you were dizzy enough not to fully grasp how it was.
*
But no one says I have to stay here. I know: Being alone is always an option. There's no end to what one could be. One could be a ferry passenger. A cyclist or a motorist. A backpacker or a pedestrian. One could be a horseback rider or a passenger on a plane. Or a pilot, if one wished. A deckhand on a ship. A kayaker. One could travel east or south or north or west. One could go to Clairon. Of course, one can go to Clairon. Or to Ithaca, with Henry. Perhaps Olga wants to come to Düsseldorf, perhaps even farther. To Naples with Mayte and the boys. To the Goldilocks house with Daniel. One could go to Poland with Anton and eat apple pancakes in a bay window overlooking the family's house. There's so much one could do. But one does not necessarily do it.
*
It was a relief. He could live with a day that repeated. His fear and the thought of the red dot were worse than an endless stretch of eighteenths of November. Being under surveillance. It was worse than the thought of being wiped from other people's memories, he said. Better to be forgotten than to be watched too closely.
*
She didn't believe that heartbreak or misfortune could stop time.
*
The world is not a calm sea where all you have to do is refrain from rocking the boat, she said. The world is a rocking boat, a ship in a storm, and when you're capsized, that's why. Because the world is a place that throws you overboard.
*
But it wasn't until she had safely made it to shore that this thought occurred to her. That was what was so puzzling: We seem to sail through life's crests and troughs, oblivious to what's going on. We go about our days, assuming we are safe.
*
Seasons, she believed, were always a little off. Even the real ones. You couldn't count on them to keep their promises.
*
She's always reading, maybe that's why.
You get the impression that she sees the world through a different lens, as she wonders and speculates and unexpectedly breaks into bizarre reflections.
*
Adriano thought it was something else entirely. And simpler. That our arrested day had left us in an unusual position where we no longer had to constantly think about how to keep moving, whether we were lacking momentum, whether someone was in our way,
whether we could keep up. A pressure had been lifted. The rat race and the hamster wheel and the career ladder and the competitiveness. That sort of thing.
*
There has always been someone to miss.
Think of that. Think of all the people who miss someone, and who go on living anyway. Day after day. It's manageable. Think of that. Of course you can be happy in the meantime.
*
Everything is easier when I rinse vegetables in a sink. When I chop and slice and think of the past. It's what people have always done when they missed someone. History helps. A little.
*
That is what I hadn't understood: He thinks of me, and I think of him, and both of us are happy. That is what I'm coming to realize now. It leaves me dizzy. A deeper vertigo. Alone. Leaning on no one. Or at least, not much.
*
but I knew: All my seasons were November. The eighteenth of November, in color.
*
Who are we? Do we belong together? Do we share a direction? Do we have something in common? Are others on their way to reunite with a long-lost love? On their way to becoming a group of two, finally together after far too long apart? And is that what I am headed for? I do not know, but now we're moving on. I watch the landscape outside the window, and it's growing a little darker out there, as if rain is on the way. It's getting darker in here too, and the light turns on in the car. I look out the window. It is raining.
March 20, 2025
Jag är helt förtrollad av dom här böckerna!!! Otroliga
April 23, 2026
50th read of the year and it’s ABOUT TIME!
August 11, 2024
det blir bara bättre och bättre
May 1, 2026
I was lulled for a while, intentionally I think, and then gasped audibly twice. This series has levelled up even further, if possible.
May 1, 2026
Weirdly, now that there are more people & things going on, I enjoyed this less. However, the ending still has me hooked on this series & I am anxiously awaiting the next installment.
April 27, 2026
Every time I think I’m out, they pull me back in!!
June 22, 2025
Denne var bra, men kanskje den jeg likte minst hittil. Den føles litt ut som eneren men hvor forfatteren bare har fantasert om hvordan forskjellige folk kan ha opplevd å sitte fast i tiden. Likte likevel alle samtalene og møtene som kom ut av de forskjellige menneskemøtene. Og hun avslutter selvsagt boka med en cliffhanger.
Tror ikke den skal inn i bingoen, men hvis jeg blir desperat kan jeg plassere den i «land jeg har vært»
Tror ikke den skal inn i bingoen, men hvis jeg blir desperat kan jeg plassere den i «land jeg har vært»
May 4, 2026
Deeper discussions with others exploring their situation. Interesting thoughts.
October 12, 2025
what is actually Solvej Balles literary strength? the fact that she has written these seven volumes, that it’s a cohesive story and that it is continuous in style. what is the thing that she is doing really well in these books, what is her focus? there isn’t really a focus: the books don’t really dig deep into the characters’ emotional experiences, it doesn’t really narrate very interesting events at regular intervals, it’s doesn’t seem to intent to answer the questions why the standstill has happened and why it’s still there, and it’s stylistically not really especially interesting. it seems she just wanted to write a report on how life would be in case of a standstill like this one. she’s dragging on through the days without shying away from mundanity, which makes it realistic though not necessarily in a way that would make the work impressive. the characters are all kind of flat, a little bit similar, they just carry the same kind of funny names.
earlier i wrote that i missed some broader reflections on the protagonist’s part concerning the way her life changed, some reflections as to whether she misses her husband, her previous life and the anticipation of a future. that affect finally gets some attention in part 4, where she actually writes that it is precisely the being together with peers that was necessary to bring about such reflections (page 117). i am actually not sure if i find that a very credible way of thinking. there must have been moments before, short moments of reflection on what it entails that this is her life now — precisely because she was alone then, and had a lot of time to think — where i’d expected an overwhelming sadness. i’d think being together with other people is only a welcome distraction from that loss. it is, the protagonist tells us, but it also puts emphasis on that loss — i am not sure if i believe that. if i agree with the author in that regard.
many extra characters have been introduced, but they’ve been introduced at such a high pace that they’re not really introduced but rather mentioned in passing, the reader doesn’t really get an idea of who those characters actually are. the not-so-thorough philosophical discussions that i found a little tiring in part III are continued now, and the only thing that’s different is the amount of people participating in those discussions, but because the characters don’t really come alive, it’s only more names that have been added and not more interesting perspectives on those discussions and it feels like nothing has really changed or developed at all in comparison to part III. consequently, the narrative falls flat a little bit. it’s as if the book has fallen prey to the scepter that haunts big cycles like this one, it falls flat in the middle.
i wonder how Solvej Balle researched this series. or is it just one big thought experiment?
there’s something a bit unconvincing about these endless meetings. i just don’t buy that after the standstill everyone has turned into a cooperative being that is so open for discussion, so mentally flexible, as to allow these unending and wavering discussions. why aren’t there any people who aren’t open to the opinions of others, and just act uncompromisingly according to their own convictions?
earlier i wrote that i wondered why the protagonist did not really think about the people who aren’t stuck in November 18th; about their perspective; now it seems that this has finally gotten some attention in one of the many discussions the characters engage in. they discuss everything, so also this — i’m just surprised that the protagonist hasn’t considered these things herself in the, what, four years that she has spent alone?
earlier i wrote that i missed some broader reflections on the protagonist’s part concerning the way her life changed, some reflections as to whether she misses her husband, her previous life and the anticipation of a future. that affect finally gets some attention in part 4, where she actually writes that it is precisely the being together with peers that was necessary to bring about such reflections (page 117). i am actually not sure if i find that a very credible way of thinking. there must have been moments before, short moments of reflection on what it entails that this is her life now — precisely because she was alone then, and had a lot of time to think — where i’d expected an overwhelming sadness. i’d think being together with other people is only a welcome distraction from that loss. it is, the protagonist tells us, but it also puts emphasis on that loss — i am not sure if i believe that. if i agree with the author in that regard.
many extra characters have been introduced, but they’ve been introduced at such a high pace that they’re not really introduced but rather mentioned in passing, the reader doesn’t really get an idea of who those characters actually are. the not-so-thorough philosophical discussions that i found a little tiring in part III are continued now, and the only thing that’s different is the amount of people participating in those discussions, but because the characters don’t really come alive, it’s only more names that have been added and not more interesting perspectives on those discussions and it feels like nothing has really changed or developed at all in comparison to part III. consequently, the narrative falls flat a little bit. it’s as if the book has fallen prey to the scepter that haunts big cycles like this one, it falls flat in the middle.
i wonder how Solvej Balle researched this series. or is it just one big thought experiment?
there’s something a bit unconvincing about these endless meetings. i just don’t buy that after the standstill everyone has turned into a cooperative being that is so open for discussion, so mentally flexible, as to allow these unending and wavering discussions. why aren’t there any people who aren’t open to the opinions of others, and just act uncompromisingly according to their own convictions?
earlier i wrote that i wondered why the protagonist did not really think about the people who aren’t stuck in November 18th; about their perspective; now it seems that this has finally gotten some attention in one of the many discussions the characters engage in. they discuss everything, so also this — i’m just surprised that the protagonist hasn’t considered these things herself in the, what, four years that she has spent alone?
January 3, 2026
Boek 4 wist mij minder te grijpen dan de vorige delen. Waar ik eerder genoot van de eenzaamheid en verstilling van de personages, overheerst hier meer chaos en onderlinge verwachtingen. Ik miste de rust die de eerdere boeken voor mij zo bijzonder maakte.
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