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Bjørndal-folket #2
The Wind from the Mountains
For the 1937 English hardback, see ISBN13: 9789997513069.
For the 2006 Norwegian hardback, see ISBN13: 9788203191305.
For the 2006 Norwegian hardback, see ISBN13: 9788203191305.
412 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1934
11 people are currently reading
276 people want to read
About the author
Trygve Gulbranssen
39 books52 followersTrygve Gulbranssen (1894-1962) er i dag mest kjent som mannen bak romanverket «Og bakom synger skogene», «Det blåser fra Dauingfjell» og «Ingen vei går utenom»; senere kalt «Bjørndaltrilogien» Han oppnådde med fortellingene sine å nå ut til mennesker over store deler av verden; uavhengig av alder, nasjonalitet og stand.
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Displaying 1 - 27 of 27 reviews
January 7, 2013
I wish there had been more than just three books (English edition has two)!
Simply written but effective. It describes the history of one family through generations. It shows all the struggles, virtues, flaws, that members of this family go through. How to continue to grow as a human, to live without fear before lives difficulties, how we rise and fall if we're not constantly on the lookout.
"No retreat, no way around, one has to take their fight to the end."
Sometimes we take people around us for granted, because we think they will be here forever. Even the strongest ones need someone to lean on. And if you are too strong than you cast a huge shadow over everyone else making them feel helpless or as if they have no role to play in life. Only by balancing our strength and weakness can we be complete. Never too strong, for the people around us suffer, nor too weak because then we are not a support.
A wonderful book, worth reading no matter how young or old you are!
Simply written but effective. It describes the history of one family through generations. It shows all the struggles, virtues, flaws, that members of this family go through. How to continue to grow as a human, to live without fear before lives difficulties, how we rise and fall if we're not constantly on the lookout.
"No retreat, no way around, one has to take their fight to the end."
Sometimes we take people around us for granted, because we think they will be here forever. Even the strongest ones need someone to lean on. And if you are too strong than you cast a huge shadow over everyone else making them feel helpless or as if they have no role to play in life. Only by balancing our strength and weakness can we be complete. Never too strong, for the people around us suffer, nor too weak because then we are not a support.
A wonderful book, worth reading no matter how young or old you are!
September 21, 2019
The latter two books of the trilogy that chronicles Dag Bjørndal’s life; a tale about the difficulties associated with the regrets and reparations of a misspent existence.
Det blåser fra Dauingfjell (literal translation: The Wind Blows from Death Mountain; actual translation: The Wind from the Mountains¹) and Ingen vei går utenom (literal translation: No Road Goes Aside²) are both just shy of two hundred pages each, which makes them easy to bundle together in a single binding, and so they often have been.³ These books also belong together as far as the life and times of the protagonist is concerned. Notice for instance what the titles say about what path his life has taken: From the title of the second book, notice the mountain of death and how it blows its cold winds where the forests once sung – the title of the first book, Og bakom synger skogene, translates to And Behind Sing the Forests – which tells the reader that a change has occurred in Dag Bjørndal’s life. Where life, or nature, if you will, once held the primary influence over his life, now he looks towards the end of life in search of guidance. The title of the third book says nothing of songs or winds; the final influence on Dag is one that comes from within, fuelled by the realization that any and all paths a human life may take can only lead to a single beyond; Dag is a devout Lutheran, and his thoughts now centre around the question of how God might see him in light of the life he has lived. In the last two books Dag tries to salvage himself and those around him from the wrongs he has done. But ascertaining what is just and right turns out to be a difficult undertaking, they are foggy truths and it is only by those around him that Dag is finally able to see any contours in the mist.
Norway has become one of the most secular countries in the world, this is true, but this is a recent development. In the latter half of the 18th century and the first quarter of the 19th, which is the span covering the life of the protagonist, Norway was a place where the Lutheran approach to morale and worship was almost absolute. At the time the country was a Danish colony and therefore had no king of its own. Most Danish monarchs had no interest in their northern subjects beyond the taxes they collected from them and there was no Norwegian nobility at the time. Consequently, these neglected citizens had rather deaf ears when it came to the admonitions from Denmark, looking instead to the priests for guidance in their everyday lives. The priests and the land they lived on and by. That nature is a religious experience might be erroneously interpreted as being so at the cost of Christianity, but those who believe them to be separate from each other will neither understand Dag’s mindset nor the typical Norwegian one. Dag Bjørndal himself describes it like this:
There are deeds enough to de done. And then I quicken myself with a trip into the forest now and then, because I liven up in there, and Our Lord can be just as present in forest and weather and in the seasons of the year as in books and words. (Ingen vei går utenom, p. 100; reviewer’s own translation⁴)
Another telling description would be this one, observed by the character Adelheid from atop a horse, standing by Dag in a birch forest:
He stood with his feet so close together and seemed so immense across the shoulders from up there – a giant of figure, but he hunched his head so strangely down and stared away from her into the greenery, where evening shadows dragged themselves up the trunks, and where the gleam of the sun across the leaves began to pale. An old man – in the sunset – in thoughts no one could guess what were – in a church built by Our Lord himself – (Det blåser fra Dauingfjell, p. 169; reviewer’s own translation)
In short, churches built by mankind and books written by them are inferior to the works done directly by the deity of Christianity, namely the world itself, the most valuable part of which is the life that was sown there. Viewed like this the timber buildings adorned with a cross on top do not constitute the primary meeting place between the people and their god, they are merely the places of ceremony where the rituals of the religion are performed. Understanding this mindset is essential to understanding many of the underlying currents of Dag’s story, and much of the story itself will seem unreal to those who do not.
Another worthwhile piece of information is that Gulbranssen first began writing about Dag Bjørndal in 1914, a mere nine years after Norway got its independence from Sweden, and the trilogy is indeed marked by this period of strong patriotism. Perhaps the strongest sentiment of the kind comes as an outburst from Dag, spoken in the winter of 1814 – an important year to the nation: Napoléon Bonaparte lost the Battle of Leipzig in October the year before, and Denmark, which had been an ally of France in the Napoléonic Wars, withdrew from the war as a result of the defeat; Sweden, however, had thrown their lot with the winning side and was awarded Norway as a result from the peace treaty with Denmark; during the short time of upheaval between the union with Denmark and the union with Sweden, a gathering of Norwegian representatives took the opportunity to make a national constitution; it would take until 1905 for Norway to gain the sovereignty claimed in the constitution, but it was in 1814 that the claim was first made – when he first hears of Norway being traded to another country:
And so rose Old Dag – and became threateningly big in the flaming light of the hearth in the parlour where they sat, and there was an authoritative force in his voice when he said: “I further think that we could tend to ourselves, without Danes or Swedes – as in times of old. If there isn’t mettle enough in us for that, then I am equally satisfied, whether we are governed from the south or the east. Here at Bjørndal we govern ourselves for the most part, and... now I think we could bid Maiden Kruse bring some glasses to us. What say you about that?” (Det blåser fra Dauingfjell, pp. 93-94; reviewer’s own translation)
The books would not be published until the 1930’s, but the exhilaration found in the wake of the independence was never abandoned – and neither is it lost on today’s readers, especially since the trilogy were the first books to embrace a national-romantic characteristic which has since become one of the most important ones: Namely the dialects spoken throughout Norway, and thus also the local cultures that intertwine with them. While many later books would be written in “pure dialects” – i.e. written precisely as the dialects are spoken – the prose of Gulbranssen can best be characterised as a missing link, retaining traits from both the official written language of the time (Riksmål) and an unspecified Eastern-Norwegian dialect. The result is both surprisingly poetic and down-to-earth at the same time; both as magical as if this was high fantasy and as common as if it was village gossip. In encapsulating the elated and the downtrodden, the language manages two feats simultaneously: It is able to connect Dag Bjørndal’s ponderous mindset with his farmer’s heart – these two characteristics might have seemed so at odds with each other that they would end up feeling like separate parts of the same person, but the duality of the language rather leaves a gestalt feeling of a single, unified personality. The other feat is to bridge the pastoral world and high culture, successfully elevating the farmer to the noblest of people, and to the representative of the spirit of a nation.
Unfortunately, in the wake of the second world war the works of Gulbranssen was reinterpreted through the lens of hatred. Once Norway was liberated from Nazi Germany the hunt began for more or less hidden supporters of said occupants, often turning into mobs hunting witches rather than genuine seekers of justice. Some of the frothing seekers of vengeance against whoever-is-closest-at-hand were literates and they lifted their pens against this trilogy and its author, making many claims on how it contains proof of his sympathies with Hitler, often bolstered with a blatant lie or two. Apparently the most damning of accusations were that Gulbransson let the books be published in German translations – which he did, but this is a rather meaningless accusation considering that by then he had also consented to translations in Swedish, Danish, Dutch, Finnish, and British – and for answering the (then) occupants when they wanted him to tour Germany and promote their view of the story – he answered ‘no’ – and for not criticizing Nazi-Germany in his journalism – he didn’t mention it because he was a sports journalist.⁵ In short, they grasped at straws to vilify him. But it worked. The venom broke Gulbranssen and he never wrote again. When his works are mentioned people still think of him as a fascist. They are no longer published the world over, even the rare Norwegian edition is published only in small numbers. This is why one of the most essential works of Norwegian literature is not taught in the schools of its home country. This is why it went from being the fourth best selling works worldwide of the 1930’s to complete obscurity. And it is why today’s reader is better off searching the second hand book stores to find a copy than to pray for the off chance that a new edition comes out. In fact, most countries hasn’t seen a new edition for decades – for instance, the most recent English one is from 1937 – and the few available second hand fetch prices only an enthusiast would be willing to pay. The hundred-year anniversary is not until 2033, which is still many years away when this review is written (i.e. 2019), but hopefully by then we will have seen a renewed interest in these books, perhaps even a new English edition, this time with all three books included – never before or after has a Norwegian book sold so well across the globe, never before or after has one been such an international success, and only a few have been as important as far as the Norwegian national-romantic movement is concerned – surely it deserves such a renaissance and more.
1. The actual translation of the title of the second book misses something essential, namely that the wind that blows does so from a specific mountain: Death Mountain. Thus this reviewer saw it prudent to translate it in a manner which preserves its original intent.
2. The third book was never translated to English – it is not even included in the misleadingly titled The Bjorndal Cycle, published by G. P. Putnam’s Sons – and so there exist no official English translation of its title. However there exists editions in German, Swedish, Danish, Dutch, Czech, Slovakian, Bulgarian, Estonian, and Croatian, and perhaps others which I am not aware of.
3. The volume being reviewed is one such instance where the two books are combined. More specifically it is the edition published by Den norske bokklubben in 1973 (ISBN: 82-525-0158-3) – a version which, it might be added, shares the artwork of the corresponding edition of the first book, Og bakom synger skogene , and as I observed in my review of it, it is terribly misrepresentative as far as the story is concerned. The recommendation to the potential reader would therefore be to ignore it and to place their focus on the synopsis instead when deciding whether or not to read these books.
4. The English editions are all from the 1930’s and fetch rather high prices on the second hand market, hence I never bought them. Also, if their titles are anything to go by then the translations do not preserve the original intent very well. For both of these reasons I choose to make my own translations of anything quoted in this review. (Of course, regarding No Road Goes Aside I would have had to do my own anyway since there are no existing ones.)
5. The author’s Norwegian Wikipedia page goes into more depth on this. Unfortunately for those who do not read Norwegian, the English page does not.
Det blåser fra Dauingfjell (literal translation: The Wind Blows from Death Mountain; actual translation: The Wind from the Mountains¹) and Ingen vei går utenom (literal translation: No Road Goes Aside²) are both just shy of two hundred pages each, which makes them easy to bundle together in a single binding, and so they often have been.³ These books also belong together as far as the life and times of the protagonist is concerned. Notice for instance what the titles say about what path his life has taken: From the title of the second book, notice the mountain of death and how it blows its cold winds where the forests once sung – the title of the first book, Og bakom synger skogene, translates to And Behind Sing the Forests – which tells the reader that a change has occurred in Dag Bjørndal’s life. Where life, or nature, if you will, once held the primary influence over his life, now he looks towards the end of life in search of guidance. The title of the third book says nothing of songs or winds; the final influence on Dag is one that comes from within, fuelled by the realization that any and all paths a human life may take can only lead to a single beyond; Dag is a devout Lutheran, and his thoughts now centre around the question of how God might see him in light of the life he has lived. In the last two books Dag tries to salvage himself and those around him from the wrongs he has done. But ascertaining what is just and right turns out to be a difficult undertaking, they are foggy truths and it is only by those around him that Dag is finally able to see any contours in the mist.
Norway has become one of the most secular countries in the world, this is true, but this is a recent development. In the latter half of the 18th century and the first quarter of the 19th, which is the span covering the life of the protagonist, Norway was a place where the Lutheran approach to morale and worship was almost absolute. At the time the country was a Danish colony and therefore had no king of its own. Most Danish monarchs had no interest in their northern subjects beyond the taxes they collected from them and there was no Norwegian nobility at the time. Consequently, these neglected citizens had rather deaf ears when it came to the admonitions from Denmark, looking instead to the priests for guidance in their everyday lives. The priests and the land they lived on and by. That nature is a religious experience might be erroneously interpreted as being so at the cost of Christianity, but those who believe them to be separate from each other will neither understand Dag’s mindset nor the typical Norwegian one. Dag Bjørndal himself describes it like this:
There are deeds enough to de done. And then I quicken myself with a trip into the forest now and then, because I liven up in there, and Our Lord can be just as present in forest and weather and in the seasons of the year as in books and words. (Ingen vei går utenom, p. 100; reviewer’s own translation⁴)
Another telling description would be this one, observed by the character Adelheid from atop a horse, standing by Dag in a birch forest:
He stood with his feet so close together and seemed so immense across the shoulders from up there – a giant of figure, but he hunched his head so strangely down and stared away from her into the greenery, where evening shadows dragged themselves up the trunks, and where the gleam of the sun across the leaves began to pale. An old man – in the sunset – in thoughts no one could guess what were – in a church built by Our Lord himself – (Det blåser fra Dauingfjell, p. 169; reviewer’s own translation)
In short, churches built by mankind and books written by them are inferior to the works done directly by the deity of Christianity, namely the world itself, the most valuable part of which is the life that was sown there. Viewed like this the timber buildings adorned with a cross on top do not constitute the primary meeting place between the people and their god, they are merely the places of ceremony where the rituals of the religion are performed. Understanding this mindset is essential to understanding many of the underlying currents of Dag’s story, and much of the story itself will seem unreal to those who do not.
Another worthwhile piece of information is that Gulbranssen first began writing about Dag Bjørndal in 1914, a mere nine years after Norway got its independence from Sweden, and the trilogy is indeed marked by this period of strong patriotism. Perhaps the strongest sentiment of the kind comes as an outburst from Dag, spoken in the winter of 1814 – an important year to the nation: Napoléon Bonaparte lost the Battle of Leipzig in October the year before, and Denmark, which had been an ally of France in the Napoléonic Wars, withdrew from the war as a result of the defeat; Sweden, however, had thrown their lot with the winning side and was awarded Norway as a result from the peace treaty with Denmark; during the short time of upheaval between the union with Denmark and the union with Sweden, a gathering of Norwegian representatives took the opportunity to make a national constitution; it would take until 1905 for Norway to gain the sovereignty claimed in the constitution, but it was in 1814 that the claim was first made – when he first hears of Norway being traded to another country:
And so rose Old Dag – and became threateningly big in the flaming light of the hearth in the parlour where they sat, and there was an authoritative force in his voice when he said: “I further think that we could tend to ourselves, without Danes or Swedes – as in times of old. If there isn’t mettle enough in us for that, then I am equally satisfied, whether we are governed from the south or the east. Here at Bjørndal we govern ourselves for the most part, and... now I think we could bid Maiden Kruse bring some glasses to us. What say you about that?” (Det blåser fra Dauingfjell, pp. 93-94; reviewer’s own translation)
The books would not be published until the 1930’s, but the exhilaration found in the wake of the independence was never abandoned – and neither is it lost on today’s readers, especially since the trilogy were the first books to embrace a national-romantic characteristic which has since become one of the most important ones: Namely the dialects spoken throughout Norway, and thus also the local cultures that intertwine with them. While many later books would be written in “pure dialects” – i.e. written precisely as the dialects are spoken – the prose of Gulbranssen can best be characterised as a missing link, retaining traits from both the official written language of the time (Riksmål) and an unspecified Eastern-Norwegian dialect. The result is both surprisingly poetic and down-to-earth at the same time; both as magical as if this was high fantasy and as common as if it was village gossip. In encapsulating the elated and the downtrodden, the language manages two feats simultaneously: It is able to connect Dag Bjørndal’s ponderous mindset with his farmer’s heart – these two characteristics might have seemed so at odds with each other that they would end up feeling like separate parts of the same person, but the duality of the language rather leaves a gestalt feeling of a single, unified personality. The other feat is to bridge the pastoral world and high culture, successfully elevating the farmer to the noblest of people, and to the representative of the spirit of a nation.
Unfortunately, in the wake of the second world war the works of Gulbranssen was reinterpreted through the lens of hatred. Once Norway was liberated from Nazi Germany the hunt began for more or less hidden supporters of said occupants, often turning into mobs hunting witches rather than genuine seekers of justice. Some of the frothing seekers of vengeance against whoever-is-closest-at-hand were literates and they lifted their pens against this trilogy and its author, making many claims on how it contains proof of his sympathies with Hitler, often bolstered with a blatant lie or two. Apparently the most damning of accusations were that Gulbransson let the books be published in German translations – which he did, but this is a rather meaningless accusation considering that by then he had also consented to translations in Swedish, Danish, Dutch, Finnish, and British – and for answering the (then) occupants when they wanted him to tour Germany and promote their view of the story – he answered ‘no’ – and for not criticizing Nazi-Germany in his journalism – he didn’t mention it because he was a sports journalist.⁵ In short, they grasped at straws to vilify him. But it worked. The venom broke Gulbranssen and he never wrote again. When his works are mentioned people still think of him as a fascist. They are no longer published the world over, even the rare Norwegian edition is published only in small numbers. This is why one of the most essential works of Norwegian literature is not taught in the schools of its home country. This is why it went from being the fourth best selling works worldwide of the 1930’s to complete obscurity. And it is why today’s reader is better off searching the second hand book stores to find a copy than to pray for the off chance that a new edition comes out. In fact, most countries hasn’t seen a new edition for decades – for instance, the most recent English one is from 1937 – and the few available second hand fetch prices only an enthusiast would be willing to pay. The hundred-year anniversary is not until 2033, which is still many years away when this review is written (i.e. 2019), but hopefully by then we will have seen a renewed interest in these books, perhaps even a new English edition, this time with all three books included – never before or after has a Norwegian book sold so well across the globe, never before or after has one been such an international success, and only a few have been as important as far as the Norwegian national-romantic movement is concerned – surely it deserves such a renaissance and more.
1. The actual translation of the title of the second book misses something essential, namely that the wind that blows does so from a specific mountain: Death Mountain. Thus this reviewer saw it prudent to translate it in a manner which preserves its original intent.
2. The third book was never translated to English – it is not even included in the misleadingly titled The Bjorndal Cycle, published by G. P. Putnam’s Sons – and so there exist no official English translation of its title. However there exists editions in German, Swedish, Danish, Dutch, Czech, Slovakian, Bulgarian, Estonian, and Croatian, and perhaps others which I am not aware of.
3. The volume being reviewed is one such instance where the two books are combined. More specifically it is the edition published by Den norske bokklubben in 1973 (ISBN: 82-525-0158-3) – a version which, it might be added, shares the artwork of the corresponding edition of the first book, Og bakom synger skogene , and as I observed in my review of it, it is terribly misrepresentative as far as the story is concerned. The recommendation to the potential reader would therefore be to ignore it and to place their focus on the synopsis instead when deciding whether or not to read these books.
4. The English editions are all from the 1930’s and fetch rather high prices on the second hand market, hence I never bought them. Also, if their titles are anything to go by then the translations do not preserve the original intent very well. For both of these reasons I choose to make my own translations of anything quoted in this review. (Of course, regarding No Road Goes Aside I would have had to do my own anyway since there are no existing ones.)
5. The author’s Norwegian Wikipedia page goes into more depth on this. Unfortunately for those who do not read Norwegian, the English page does not.
December 1, 2025
Je zaujímavé, ako inak som vnímala druhý diel tejto ságy. V porovnaní s prvou časťou som výrazne viac vnímala dobové zasadanie deja - hladovanie z počiatku 19. storočia, zmenu vedenia a fungovania krajiny prechodom spod dánskej do švédskej nadvlády v roku 1814, pozemkové a majetkové zmeny s tým súvisiace - ale aj až mýtickú silu prírody a prostredia.
Hoci zostávam pri názore, že aj v klasických severských rodových ságach možno nájsť aj silnejšie tituly, baví ma čítať aj túto záležitosť.
Hoci zostávam pri názore, že aj v klasických severských rodových ságach možno nájsť aj silnejšie tituly, baví ma čítať aj túto záležitosť.
August 21, 2017
Mám ráda rodinné ságy. A tuto jsem si oblíbila hodně. Jde už o druhý díl a musím říct, že mě bavil ještě víc, než ten první. Přece jenom mám velmi blízký vztah ke knihám, které se odehrávají v skandinávii. Sever mě vždycky přitahoval.
Tato druhá generace rodiny sídlícího na Medvědím dole to zase nemá jednoduché. Příroda je pořád krutá a oni bojují, jak nejlépe vědí, nejenom proti přírodním živlům, ale i nepřízni osudu nebo zlobě lidí, kteří štěstí, úspěch a bohatství jednoduše odpouštějí.
Popisy přírody, lidské blízkosti, ale i bolesti a snahy zabezpečit sebe, své nejbližší jsou zas jednou tak věrně popsané na stránkách této knihy, že mě tak pohltila, že i když bylo léto, tak mě místy mrazilo a nemohla jsem se odtrhnout.
Až mě mrzí, že mám před sebou už jenom jeden díl.
Tato druhá generace rodiny sídlícího na Medvědím dole to zase nemá jednoduché. Příroda je pořád krutá a oni bojují, jak nejlépe vědí, nejenom proti přírodním živlům, ale i nepřízni osudu nebo zlobě lidí, kteří štěstí, úspěch a bohatství jednoduše odpouštějí.
Popisy přírody, lidské blízkosti, ale i bolesti a snahy zabezpečit sebe, své nejbližší jsou zas jednou tak věrně popsané na stránkách této knihy, že mě tak pohltila, že i když bylo léto, tak mě místy mrazilo a nemohla jsem se odtrhnout.
Až mě mrzí, že mám před sebou už jenom jeden díl.
November 2, 2013
The continuation of the Bjorndal story is just as wonderful as Beyond Sing the Woods. I enjoyed reading of Old Dag and his further discovery of faith, goodwill, and God. The different character perspectives are insightful aswell.
There is much good to say about this story. It is now among my favorites.
There is much good to say about this story. It is now among my favorites.
January 26, 2011
I loved this book. This Trilogy was written in the 1930's. Beautifully written about family life and love and God and the hardships they face on a farmstead deep in the mountains in Norway.
July 27, 2024
Mulig jeg leste denne og den første litt for tett på hverandre så jeg kan skylde meg selv, men jeg ble i alle fall litt lei i løpet av denne boka. Liker fortsatt karakterene godt og synes de har god utvikling, men det blir litt for langdrygt i bok nr 2 altså. Lar siste boka ligge en stund før jeg avslutter triologien.
April 28, 2024
En solid fortsettelse på første bok med flere dype karakterer og uforglemmelige scener.
September 12, 2010
I don't know if I can really say I've read this. My copy is missing the last however-many pages, always has been. I'd really like to find a copy that hasn't fallen apart. It's one of my favorite books.
April 2, 2018
The saga continues in the same manner as in Beyond Sing the Forests. This time, the story takes much longer to lift off and there is less of a strong overarching story line. The same warmth and traditional Christian ethics are present as usual, though.
February 15, 2017
Great sequal of previous book, almost as much as entertaining.
Great landscape descriptions, and epic battle between a man and a nature.
Great landscape descriptions, and epic battle between a man and a nature.
October 17, 2020
"Život je smrť."
Príbeh pokračuje, príroda sa viac dostáva do deja a ten je o kus temnejší a živelnejší.
Príbeh pokračuje, príroda sa viac dostáva do deja a ten je o kus temnejší a živelnejší.
December 6, 2020
I don't really know the reason, all I know that I loved this book very much. In my opinion it is a gem.
December 26, 2020
Nok en fantastisk god bok. Fengslende og spennende
September 6, 2025
Die junge Adelheid zieht nach der Hochzeit zu ihrem Mann Dag auf dessen Hof, den er gemeinsam mit seinem Vater bewirtschaftet. Das Leben der Bergbauern ist hart und nach der Arbeit bleibt nur wenig Zeit und Ruhe für Zweisamkeit. In der Einsamkeit der Wälder muss Adelheid erkennen, dass Liebe manchmal nicht genug ist.
Der Roman ist nicht nur eine Familiengeschichte. Die Geschichte geht viel tiefer. Adelheid und Dag lieben sich, aber sie können nicht miteinander reden. Das erkennen sie beide, aber sie sind unfähig, die Situation zu ändern. Ihre Kinder bringen sie einander näher, aber jeder Schicksalsschlag bringt sie weiter auseinander, als sie vorher waren.
Es ist eine unglückliche Konstellation auf dem Hof. Manchmal habe ich mich gefragt, ob Adelheid nicht besser den Vater statt des Sohnes geheiratet hätte. Mit ihm kann sie reden und das ist ihr mindestens genauso wichtig wie die Liebe ihres Mannes. Aber nur Gespräche bringen ihr genauso wenig wie nur die Liebe ihres Mannes. So zieht sich Adelheid immer mehr in sich zurück und kann sich bald an nichts mehr freuen.
Der Autor beschreibt die Wälder um so eindringlich, dass ich mir den Ort der Handlung genau vorstellen konnte. Ich habe die dunklen Winter und die kurzen Sommer so deutlich vor mir gesehen, als ob ich selbst da wäre. Ich muss gestehen, dass ich vor der Lektüre skeptisch war, ob mir das Buch wegen seines Alters und Themas gefallen würde. Aber schon auf der ersten Seite hat mich Trygve Gulbranssen vom Gegenteil überzeugt.
Der Roman ist nicht nur eine Familiengeschichte. Die Geschichte geht viel tiefer. Adelheid und Dag lieben sich, aber sie können nicht miteinander reden. Das erkennen sie beide, aber sie sind unfähig, die Situation zu ändern. Ihre Kinder bringen sie einander näher, aber jeder Schicksalsschlag bringt sie weiter auseinander, als sie vorher waren.
Es ist eine unglückliche Konstellation auf dem Hof. Manchmal habe ich mich gefragt, ob Adelheid nicht besser den Vater statt des Sohnes geheiratet hätte. Mit ihm kann sie reden und das ist ihr mindestens genauso wichtig wie die Liebe ihres Mannes. Aber nur Gespräche bringen ihr genauso wenig wie nur die Liebe ihres Mannes. So zieht sich Adelheid immer mehr in sich zurück und kann sich bald an nichts mehr freuen.
Der Autor beschreibt die Wälder um so eindringlich, dass ich mir den Ort der Handlung genau vorstellen konnte. Ich habe die dunklen Winter und die kurzen Sommer so deutlich vor mir gesehen, als ob ich selbst da wäre. Ich muss gestehen, dass ich vor der Lektüre skeptisch war, ob mir das Buch wegen seines Alters und Themas gefallen würde. Aber schon auf der ersten Seite hat mich Trygve Gulbranssen vom Gegenteil überzeugt.
October 22, 2020
I'm very confused about which books is which in this trilogy, as I'm reading an old French edition, "Les Maitres de Bjorndal".
I think, from what I can gather, that the French editions of Gulbranssen's trilogy only focus on the latter two books of the trilogy, and the English ones only publish the first two??
When I read the second half of the book I'll doubtless know more. It's basically two tomes published as one, and this one picks up at Adelheid's wedding to Dag, so I'm guessing it's the second book?
I think, from what I can gather, that the French editions of Gulbranssen's trilogy only focus on the latter two books of the trilogy, and the English ones only publish the first two??
When I read the second half of the book I'll doubtless know more. It's basically two tomes published as one, and this one picks up at Adelheid's wedding to Dag, so I'm guessing it's the second book?
July 8, 2023
Tunturilta tuulee jatkaa suoraan siitä, mihin Metsien humina jäi.
Tässä osassa on vahvempi kristillinen sävy, ja teemat ovat aika isoja ja raskaita: kirjassa pohditaan kuolemaa, menetyksiä, oikeaa ja väärää...
Lisää blogissa: https://kirjailujakirjablogi.blogspot...
Tässä osassa on vahvempi kristillinen sävy, ja teemat ovat aika isoja ja raskaita: kirjassa pohditaan kuolemaa, menetyksiä, oikeaa ja väärää...
Lisää blogissa: https://kirjailujakirjablogi.blogspot...
January 26, 2019
Druhy diel ma bavil podstatne menej ako prvy. Asi si dam chvilu pauzu, pokym sa pustim do tretieho. Miestami velmi dobre, inokedy otravne, celkovo 3.5 by som dala...
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January 24, 2023It was a "Dad" read .
February 1, 2024
I bok to kommer vi ordentlig tett på karakterene, og jeg er totalt bergtatt. Nydelige filosofiske betraktninger, naturskildringer og beskrivelse av relasjoner. Kaster meg nå over bok tre.
January 4, 2026
Druhá časť trilógie nesklamala. Opäť silné ľudské osudy, aj som si stihla poplakať.
April 17, 2024
After proving that you can teach an Old Dag new tricks we move onto the story of the kinder, gentler Dag and the adjustment problems of his socially challenged son. I'm loving this family saga, but that boy has some serious issues. Even though it's hard to imagine, I find this book even better than the first.
July 30, 2025
As with 'Beyond Sing the Woods', this book was such a pleasure to read. I did read it in Croatian as well, and the translation is extraordinary. Gulbranssen's writing is so poetic and beautiful, it truly transports you to the era and the places he describes. This book continues the story, connecting all previous topics with the subject of death and the meaning of life. A masterpiece, and I am very surprised that these novels are kind of unknown to the wider public today, despite their initial success. I was very lucky to stumble upon this author randomly on a used books stand, and I very much look forward to reading the third book of The Bjørndal Cycle.
October 24, 2017
3,5.
Miestami čarovná, inokedy trochu otravná kniha. Rada som čítala o nórskych horách, fujaviciach a škrípajúcom dreve chalúp, oveľa menej ma zaujímali patetické nábožensko-filozofické úvahy.
Zároveň nerozumiem niektorým dejovým výhonkom - načo tam boli, keď nikam neviedli.
Celkovo čítanie tejto knihy nebol stratený čas, ale rozmyslím si, či sa pustím do ďalších dvoch dielov.
Miestami čarovná, inokedy trochu otravná kniha. Rada som čítala o nórskych horách, fujaviciach a škrípajúcom dreve chalúp, oveľa menej ma zaujímali patetické nábožensko-filozofické úvahy.
Zároveň nerozumiem niektorým dejovým výhonkom - načo tam boli, keď nikam neviedli.
Celkovo čítanie tejto knihy nebol stratený čas, ale rozmyslím si, či sa pustím do ďalších dvoch dielov.
July 23, 2016
Na přebalu knihy je napsáno: "Rodová sága o nespoutané severské přírodě, vášnivé lásce a boji o holý život". Asi všechno je trochu jinak. Nejvíc ten "holý život", protože všichni hrdinové jsou docela zazobaní. Jinak příroda tam nějaká je a je jí víc než v prvním díle.
November 17, 2012
Storartet såpe fra tiden rundt 1814. Skog, skogsadel, barnedød.
Displaying 1 - 27 of 27 reviews