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174 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2015


So remembering a marriage that has fallen apart; that's the premise.
Told by the man but as if remembered by the woman. I.e. the man is attempting to take the woman's voice and write as she remembers things. At first I thought it was great, stylistically. The first thirty pages built some pretty high expectations. The voice seemed tender and vulnerable, sensitive, and like the book was going to turn into something poetic and beautiful. But then...at some point I realized that there would be no variation in this voice, that this was the only voice he could do and that it would become incredibly wearisome and grating. What was first seen as a soft shimmer turned into a maudlin Coelho-esque treacle. Everything just had to be so damn tender and vulnerable and sensitive, and often for seemingly no reason, to the point of ridiculousness or insincerity.
Even downright comical scenes. Like, OK, on a New Year's they keep getting interrupted during sex. This happens a bunch of times, and by coincidences which would otherwise be amusing. Once, when it's one of their children forcing them to stop, the woman shouts "Pappa kommer snart!" ("Daddy's coming soon!") during coitus, which the narrative coolly admits is funny but says that neither of them laughed at in that moment. OK, fine. But then he starts to wax poetic about the son who interrupted them, for no goddamn reason, "Vi hørte at han nærmet seg, han var på vei inn til oss igjen, han ville forsikre seg om at jeg ikke hadde glemt at jeg skulle hjelpe ham, han ville være i nærheten av oss, mamma og pappa. Han var varmesøkende, han trengte stemmene våre, kroppene våre, han trengte å vite at vi visste om ham, at vi holdt øye med ham [..]" Is this really the time? Sandwiched between (also vulnerable and intimate) descriptions of you fucking your wife? But it's not surprising: everything is like that, that exact voice, constant and forever. Urgh.
And I had some trouble with time. Apparently the book is supposed to span decades (was it 20? or just 10?) but it didn't feel like that at all. It kind of felt like it was all happening within a couple of years, at the most. There's no sense of so much time having passed; it's all so airy. No milestones or quote-unquote "big" moments are depicted. Things that usually happens to a family, things like the birth of your children, special holidays, moving house, death of relatives, et cetera, are ostensibly absent. Wouldn't these be pretty strong memories? Instead there's a focus on what I'd call non-moments. Non-moments which are neither beautiful nor remarkable but which have been rendered with this sentimental Instagram filter making it look all soft and fuzzy like it's an emotionally important moment. Yet there's no minutia or details either! No objects, no color, no rooms you can picture. It's all just so...empty.
So yeah, I liked the beginning. Even with what I know now, I still like the beginning. In its own right it's very strong, like if it hadn't just repeated over and over ten times. And the other thing I found interesting was how the guy basically turns his jealousy into a kind of cuckold fetish. That was something which surprised me (in a good way, as in a new experience).
There's a point made out of them having reversed gender roles, that the guy is consciously reversing their gender roles. The man is the traditional home-maker and the woman working, that kind of thing. I thought this insignificant, but the book makes some kind of deal out of this, literally pointing it out several times, so I assume it's intended to have significance.
* To understand Jon’s collapse see: „Take the life-lie away from the average man and straight away you take away his happiness.” Ibsen