Armand V

by Dag Solstad

‘Solstad doesn’t write to please other people. Do exactly what you want, that’s my idea…the drama exists in his voice’ Lydia Davis

Armand is a diplomat rising through the ranks of the Norwegian foreign office, but he’s caught between his public duty to support foreign wars in the Middle East and his private disdain of Western intervention. He hides behind his knowing ironic statements about the war, which no one grasps and which change nothing in the real world. Armand’s son joins the Norwegian SAS to fight in the Middle East, despite being specifically warned against such a move by his father, which leads to catastrophic, heartbreaking consequences.

Told exclusively in footnotes to an unwritten novel, this is Solstad's radically unconventional novel about how we experience the passing of time: how it fragments, drifts, quickens, and how single moments can define a life.

Genres: Fiction, Literature, Novels, Roman, Literary Fiction, Scandinavian Literature

256 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2006

About the author

Dag Solstad was a Norwegian novelist, short-story writer and dramatist whose work has been translated into 20 languages. He wrote nearly 30 books and is the only author to have received the Norwegian Literary Critics' Award three times.
His awards include the Mads Wiel Nygaards Endowment in 1969, the Nordic Council's Literature Prize in 1989, for Roman 1987 and the Brage Prize in 2006 for Armand V. Solstad is among Norway's top-ranked authors of his generation. His early books were considered somewhat controversial, due to their political emphasis (leaning towards the Marxist–Leninist side of the political spectrum).

Reviews

[Paul Fulcher · Rating 4 out of 5]

The original novel is about the Norwegian diplomat Armand V. I don’t intend to write it down, but I’m making use of it in order to write the footnotes. Yet at times I may write about characters in these footnotes who aren’t found anywhere in the original novel; but of course this doesn’t mean that these characters are any less fictional than those in the actual unwritten novel.

Norwegian writer Dag Solstad's previous novels available in English translation are, by original publication date with the date of the English translation shown in brackets:

1992 Ellevte roman, bok atten (2008 Novel 11, Book 18 IFFP longlisted)
1994 Genanse og verdighet (2007 Shyness and Dignity IFFP shortlisted)
My review: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
1996 Professor Andersens natt (2012 Professor Andersen's Night IFFP longlisted) - (1996)
My review: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
1999 T Singer (2018 T Singer)
My review https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...

When he finished this series of novels he declared, that he was finished as a writer, having perfected, in T Singer, the form as far as he was able. E.g. he told Publishers Weekly this year: As a working hypothesis, I consider T. Singer to be the conclusion of my authorship. After I finished writing T. Singer, I didn't know what to do from that point on. I believed, and maybe I still believe, that I was incapable of writing a better novel than that, and here I was only 57 years old and not wanting to repeat myself for the next 20 years, perhaps getting worse and worse with each book.

Yet he also noted that while I was writing those books which definitely did define my authorship, I was also always playing around with other forms of expressing myself without really developing them. I had a suspicion that there were all these fascinating opportunities laying around in the midst of that chaos, within me, undeveloped, in embryo and in a Paris Review interview he then noted: Declaring that I was finished made me feel like I could do whatever I damn well pleased, which again opened up entirely new ways of thinking.

One of these new ways of thinking was to lead to the 2006 novel Armand V. Fotnoter til en uutgravd roman, now available in English in 2018 translated by Stephen T. Murray, as Armand V: Footnotes to an Unexcavated Novel. It begins:

1 ] This footnote, the very first, suffers from having a displaced time perspective. It originates from a specific event that has to do with Armand’s youth; however, it does not deal with Armand’s youth but with his son’s youth, as viewed by Armand, a man in his sixties. This footnote is a commentary on something that took place in a completely different time, and at a completely different place, and with characters who are altogether different, such as Armand, or those who aren’t even included here in this text at this time (such as Armand’s son, who wasn’t born yet); this was a time almost twenty years before Armand would meet the woman who’d later become his son’s mother, and yet the son is a central figure in this footnote, in this scene that illuminates his father’s youth.

The plot, insofar as there is one, revolves around Armand, a Norwegian diplomat, but one who started with radical anti-establishment beliefs, particularly as regards Norway’s friendly relationships with the United States. And perhaps unusually, particularly in his chosen profession, has retained those beliefs into his 60s, despite his career requiring him to represent the opposite viewpoint:

In other words, the young radical had done well. The paradox had enjoyed a meteoric career. And what’s interesting about this is: he’d done it without in any way changing his fundamental attitude towards the political game or the role of his own country in said game. The forty- two- year- old newly appointed Norwegian ambassador to Jordan had precisely the same attitude towards the United States as when he’d applied to the foreign service, and the now ageing diplomat continues to maintain these same attitudes, carrying them, strictly speaking, inside his own heart, even though the game is no longer the same.

And this dual identity, Armand’s real views versus those he diplomatically represents, tempered only by the occasional ironic aside in suitable company, are at the heart of the novel:

Had he ever had a secret desire to upset the game? Had he dreamt of the moment when he could cast aside the mask and show his true face? No. If he’d had such a wish, he wouldn’t have dared make a career within the foreign service. He wore a mask, but he’d never felt an urge to cast it aside, in one dreadful moment, so as to show his true face.

He has three children from three marriages, two daughters and a son. And, in a crucial moment, his son, coming to the end of his compulsory military service suggests he is thinking of signing up for the Norwegian special services, where he would undertake missions with the US troops in the Middle East and Asia. Armand’s reaction is the opposite of his normal diplomatic self and far from talk his son out of it, as he knows full well he could have done, he actually drives his son to turn a vague intention into a firm action, one that ends with tragic consequences.

His father scorned the new warriors as cowardly dogs, and this included of course, and above all, his own son if he should make good on his fatal desire to join this system as an enlisted soldier whose exclusive task was to drown others in blood, as a warning against any attempt to change the structures of this system, to replace the free with the unfree, the just with the unjust, the good with the bad, the holy with the unholy, or the insane.

So far – in my review at least, so conventional - but as mentioned, and as the opening quote suggests, this is an unusual novel told in footnotes.

The narrator (who can safely be identified with Solstad who has expressed the same intention in interviews) had planned at one stage to write a book as footnotes to a famous novel Brodsky’s Watermark or Thomas Mann’s Death in Venice.

But another of his concerns was to investigate: Is a novel something that has already been written, and is the author merely the one who finds it, laboriously digging it out? I have to admit that with each passing year I have come to realise more and more clearly that I am enveloped in such a notion. But who wrote the novel originally, if I’m simply the one who discovered and excavated it?

The two intentions combined here, where the story of Armand is presented as footnotes to an another unwritten, or unexcavated, novel about Armand, the ‘book above’ as the narrator tells it. Solstad told Publishers Weekly:

I have never in detail excavated the unexcavated novel. And I fortunately haven’t really imagined it either, because that would require imagining a whole series of boring scenes that it’s best to spare myself, and not the least my reader. However, I did work quite a bit with the correspondence between the footnotes and what they were building upon, that is, the unexcavated novel.

And the narrator explains:

Of course I could have delved into the novel above and written it down. It would have taken a lot of work to lay it out, and in the end it would have been composed just as it was from the very beginning. Can I say that? Then what about the fact that all my novels have turned out differently from how I thought they would when I first set out? In other words, a novel comes together little by little, but does that contradict the fact that it has been there all along, from the beginning? Hidden. Slumbering. Buried. No matter how much I repudiate the notion that the novel has been there from the beginning, I can’t escape the possibility, at any rate, that it might be true after all. In fact, the more I contradict myself, the more convinced I am that I’m not contradicting myself, but that writing a novel means not inventing it, but uncovering it.
...
One thing is certain, however: wishing to write a novel about the Norwegian diplomat Armand V., I’ve decided the best way to realise this is not by writing a novel about him, but by allowing him instead to appear in an outpouring of footnotes to this novel. The sum of these footnotes, therefore, is the novel about Armand V. Linked to these footnotes are also the author’s comments about what he’s doing, something that is also linked to the sum of these footnotes; which, taken as a whole, constitute the novel about Armand V.; I’m now in the process of writing a series of these footnotes and for the second time. That’s why I call them footnotes about the relationship between the unwritten novel and the footnotes to this novel.

Now one small criticism of the novel would be that, as Solstad admits is true, I didn’t really find myself believing that the novel above actually existed, and at times the footnotes don’t really read as footnotes, but simply an alternative take on a story.

In a sense though one could see this book more as a shadow or a sister or a twin novel to the unexcavated one. Indeed Solstad himself follows this line of reasoning, when he has Armand’s first wife and mother of his first child, a daughter, as N, a fellow University student, who plays a key role in the novel above. But in the book we are reading, Footnote 8 tells us:

Here I must point out that N, who appears at this stage in the novel, and who plays the role of an utterly decisive woman in Armand’s life, is not included here, in the footnotes, at the same time. Here we find her twin sister.

This book reveals that the twin sister of N (who is here referred to often as the twin sister’s twin sister) was actually, secretly, his true life long love, from before and long after he divorced her sister.

Another counterpoint is provided by the lengthy, and rather Kunderaesque, story of Paul Buer, Armand’s childhood best friend:

In the mid- 1960s, Paul Buer and his best friend Armand arrived in Oslo to study at the university at Blindern. Paul ended up among the physical scientists, known as the ‘realists’, while Armand settled down with the ‘humanists’.

The different circles meant they went their different ways at University but here, but seemingly not in the novel above, the narrator devotes a lot of pages to Buer’s own story. Indeed he tells us that:

I also knew Paul Buer; for a time we belonged to the same circle, a group of students, and we shared a background, having grown up in the same town on the west side of the Oslo Fjord. Actually, it was Paul Buer that I was interested in for a literary project. And that’s not so strange, considering his tragic end. But it turned out to be Armand instead, maybe because of the indecipherable nature of his life, seen from my point of view.

And again in interviews, while Solstad doesn’t claim to have known the fictional Paul Buer and Armand V, he does say that the Paul Buer section was lifted from a draft novel he had started but failed to complete some years earlier.

In many respects Buer is closer to the self-effacing subjects of the conventional novels that Solstad wrote culminating with T Singer, indeed the timing suggests the Buer novel is one of those that he abandoned realising he had nowhere left to take the form. Of Buer the narrator writes:

But usually you kept quiet and good- naturedly played along with this superficial diminishing of the ‘I’ that you experienced from the inside. In spite of everything, this was an attempt by the others to pigeonhole you, a type of deep delving into your very existence, and hence this exaggerated one- sidedness and superficiality functioned as a means of protecting your own ‘I’, your true ‘I’, which had absolutely no wish to be exposed to the spotlight. Use of ‘typical’, as applied to yourself, and not just to the others, protected the sense of reserve which, through all the noise and commotion, was a fundamental trait shared by this group of science students, a contributing factor which lent their personalities such a strong aura of anonymity.

And in the footnote novel, Armand meets Buer again, after many years, much later in his life. Buer is obsessed by a political and scientific scandal (he discovered results of experiments used to determine where an airport should be build had been falsified, but when he tried to expose this the scandal was politically hushed up) and shortly after they meet, with Armand failing to engage with Buer’s concerns, Buer commits suicide. Armand realises this defines how different to the two are:

The reality of the wronged individual went against the grain for Armand. He couldn’t share in the situation of the wronged individual, even though that person was right and represented Truth and the order that needed to be restored. Armand was too bound to his own position as a diplomat. He liked the ways of diplomacy, which were as far from Buer’s ways as they could possibly be.

And at the novel’s close Armand is left wondering what is left of his identity and what he is aiming to achieve:

Serve his God? Armand was an atheist, or rather an agnostic. Serve his country? Armand, in his heart, had been a disloyal servant to his country, although not outwardly. Serve his society? Armand feared he was a hanger- on, regardless of how that was viewed. Now he was going to pick up his son, whom he had not prevented from becoming a professional soldier in a special unit that had fought the war to which Armand himself was strongly opposed, and who had returned from that war disabled. Yet the claim is made here, once again, that if Armand cannot be connected with a noble life, then he quite simply does not exist.

4.5 stars – perhaps my favourite Solstad to date.

[Jaguar Kitap · Rating 5 out of 5]

Deniz Canefe çevirisiyle 2022 yaz kitaplarımız arasında olacak.

[meliverse · Rating 3 out of 5]

Bu bir romandan çok henüz yazılmamış bir romanın dipnotlarından oluşan bir “roman”. Evet, kulağa tuhaf geliyor. Ama öyle. Bu yönüyle alışılmadık bir biçemi var ve okur bu tarzı dağınık ve bulanık bulabileceği için uyum sağlamakta zorlanabilir. Çünkü bahsi geçen esas roman bilinmiyor, birtakım varsayımlarla roman hakkında fikirler üretmekse mümkün. Örneğin, "dipnotlar Armand V hakkındaysa roman da pekâlâ onunla ilgilidir” çıkarımı yapılabilir. Ayrıca dipnotları yazan yazarın monologlarından da anlaşılıyor ki romanı kâğıda dökme motivasyonunu yitirmiş altmışlarında biri olarak onun için dipnotları tamamlamak bile kâfi. Ancak burada bir parantez açmak gerekiyor, aslı olmayan (?), bilinmeyen bir romana dipnot nasıl yazılır? Dag Solstad’a bu fikir nereden gelmiş, doğrusu merak ettim. Bu arada dipnotlar tam anlamıyla bir olay örgüsü içermiyor. Yine de Solstad, Armand V hakkında pek çok şey öğrenme şansı bırakmış ve okumayı sürdürülebilir kılmayı sağlamış.

Başlangıçta Armand’ın üniversitede öğrenci olan oğluyla sıkı fıkı denmeyecek bir baba-oğul ilişkilerinin olduğu sezdiriliyor. Bir büyükelçi ve aynı zamanda İtalyan deri ayakkabılar ve pahalı kaşmir eşarplar takarak Oslo sokaklarında dolaşan bir flanöre benziyor. İlk sayfalarda oğlunu ziyarete gittiğinde bir kapı aralığından gördüğü manzara karşısında yaşadığı hayreti anlatıyor. Bir erkeğin bir kadın karşısında yarı çıplak bir şekilde diz çökmesini aşağılanma olarak ifade etmesi ve bu şaşkınlığını kerelerce belirtmesinden ne anlamam gerektiğine emin olamadım. Bir süre buraya takıldığımı itiraf edeyim. Karakterin öngörülemez ve biraz tuhaf olduğunun hissettirilmesi de sanırım bu noktalarda başlıyor. Açıkçası Armand’ın tüm hikayesini anlatıp tat kaçırmak istemem. Karakterin büyükelçiliğe başlama hikayesi, üniversite yaşamı ve arkadaşı Paul’e ilişkin anlattıkları, ailesi ve oğlunun üniversiteyi bırakıp asker olma kararı derken Armand’ın yaşamının pek çok detayı dipnotlarda bulunabiliyor. Dag Solstad’ın anlatmayı sevdiği erkek karakterlere aşinaysanız bahsi geçen şeylere karşı bir yabancılık hissetmeyeceksinizdir. Ancak benim empatlığım bu sularda zaman zaman etkisiz elemana dönüşüyor. Anlatılanlardan çok onların nasıl anlatıldığını ilgi çekici buldum desem daha doğru olur.

[Hakan · Rating 2 out of 5]

Solstad’ın en az sevdiğim kitabı oldu Armand V. Dipnotlardan oluşan bir roman gibi bir deneyselliğe girmiş. İlginç olabilirdi bu deney ama bu romanda bölük börçük bir metin sonucunu vermiş. Arka kapak yazısı ilgimi epey kışkırtmış olsa da, bahsedilen tema (diplomat baba ve savaşa giden oğul) metnin onda birini bile kapsamıyor herhalde. Bitsin diye okuduğum kitaplardan oldu.

Bir sözüm de kitaptaki vahim çeviri hatasına. Öyle bir hata ki kitabın neredeyse her sayfasında tekrarlanıyor. Ana kahraman diplomat Armand’ın mesleki unvanı “konsolos”, görev yaptığı makam da “konsolosluk” olarak çevrilmiş. Oysa bu işlere çok az da olsa aşina olan biri adamın “büyükelçi”, görev yerinin de “büyükelçilik” olduğunu hemen daha ilk değinildiğinde anlar. Birçok kitap çevirmiş olan Deniz Canefe’nin böyle basit bir hata yapması, sıkı yayınevi Jaguar’ın da bunu gözden kaçırması üzücü. Editörlüğün ülkemizde pek işlemediğinin de bir göstergesi.

[foteini_dl · Rating 2 out of 5]

[2.5*]
Μέχρι τώρα δεν είχα διαβάσει κάτι από τις εκδ. Ποταμός*. Ε, αυτό άλλαξε με μια βόλτα στο βιβλιοπωλείο της γειτονιάς. Ο Άρμαντ Β. φάτσα φόρα στον κεντρικό πάγκο. Και είναι από *εκείνες* τις φορές που αγοράζεις βιβλίο για το εξώφυλλο. Λιτό εξώφυλλο, ωραίος χρωματικός συνδυασμός (παίρνεις ιδέες και για τα ρούχα ε), και το γεγονός ότι ο τίτλος του σχηματίζει ένα ανάποδο Γ με το όνομα του συγγραφέα, πώς να μην πέσει το μάτι πάνω του. Και αν η σκιά του ανθρώπου έπεφτε πάνω στο L, αντί για το Ο, θα ήταν ακόμα πιο τέλειο στα μάτια μου, γιατί θα ήταν σαν να τονίζε το Sol (=☀️).

Το γενικό στόρι έχει κάπως έτσι. Ο Άρμαντ είναι Νορβηγός διπλωμάτης. Πρώην αριστερός που πλέον υποστηρίζει πράγματα που καταδίκαζε παλιά. Μέσα σε 200+ βλέπουμε διάφορα συμβάντα της ζωής του, πώς σκέφτεται, τους φιλοσοφικούς και λογοτεχνικούς προβληματισμούς του και τη δύσκολη σχέση με τον γιο του.

Νταγκ Σούλστα (αν το διάβασες και εσύ Σόλσταντ, είσαι δικός μου άνθρωπος) δεν είχα ξαναδιαβάσει, νομίζω ούτε και νορβηγική λογοτεχνία τώρα που το σκέφτομαι. Ο συγγραφέας που λες παίζει με τη φόρμα, και όλο το βιβλίο έχει τη μορφή υποσημειώσεων. Και ενώ μέχρι τα μέσα (και κάτι) του βιβλίου ήμουν μια χαρά, μετά κάπως κουράστηκα. Ενδιαφέρον το παιχνίδι με συμβατικές και μεταμοντέρνες προσεγγίσεις, αλλά το μεταμοντέρνο δεν είναι για όλους. Για μένα πχ σίγουρα δεν είναι, σε καμία μορφής τέχνης.

Αν και με τον Σούλστα μάλλον δεν θα τα ξαναπούμε, κρατάω κάποια σημεία, ειδικά αυτά της περιπλάνησης στις συνοικίες του Όσλο, το ωραίο εξώφυλλο, τη μετάφραση και τη συνολικά όμορφη έκδοση.

* Πόσο τέλειο που η σειρά ελληνικής και ξένης λογοτεχνίας των εκδόσεων λέγεται Ποταμόπλοια;

[Özgür Balmumcu · Rating 2 out of 5]

Romanın yenilikçi biçimsel denemesine ikinci yıldız, yoksa benim için en olmamış romanlardan. Solstad sevgime rağmen. Dipnotlarla paramparça edilen metin okurken benim zihnimi de parçaladı ve bundan hiç hoşlanmadım. Bu yüzden kısa sayılabilecek 177 sayfalık romanı okumam haftalar sürdü. Dikkatimi hiç veremedim. Bu gripten kurtulamadığım haftalardan olduğu kadar romanın biçimsel yapısından da kaynaklanıyor. Hiçbir şeyi birleştiremedim romanda. Doğrusal olmayan anlatı da bir bütüne dönüşmesini engelledi romanın bende. Darmadağın her şey. Solstad'ın bu metin üzerinden olası hedeflerinin hiçbiri bende nihayete ermedi. Büyükelçi ile oğlu arasında bir bağ kurabildiğini, oğlunun askerlik tercihi ile büyükelçinin politik çıkmazlarının birbirine bağlanabildiğini ifade etmem mümkün değil.

[Chik67 · Rating 4 out of 5]

Da un lato una di quelle idee post-moderne che, da lettore forte, un po' mi affascinano un po' mi fan venir voglia di buttare il libro.; un non-romanzo che consiste di 99 note a piè di pagina del vero romanzo che però l'autore non scrive. Una specie di "Fuoco Pallido" in salsa norvegese.

Invece ne viene fuori una operazione brillante e intelligente e nelle note si dipanano due linee distinte ma costantemente intrecciate.
Il romanzo di Armand V., che narra la sua evoluzione da brillante studente a cinico ambasciatore, parallelamente alla evoluzione del suo paese, che sembra contraddistinta da uguale evoluzione dalla speranza allo spietato realismo.
Assieme: la narrazione di uno scrittore che riflette, ad alta voce, sul come si seleziona quello che si scrive e perché, in maniera non banale e, cruciale, senza mai perdere la voglia di narrare storie.
Armand V. diventa quindi simbolo della transizione di un intero paese, simbolo della arbitrarietà di una narrazione falsamente biografica e tu ti aspetteresti che dietro tutto questo carico simbolico il personaggio sia morto, schiacciato dal peso.
Invece no. Ti ci sei affezionato, vorresti sapere, di lui, qualcosa di più; con lui vorresti sedere a parlare del futuro del mondo, vorresti capire perché la gemella non è stata amata fino in fondo e vorresti, arrivato all'ultima pagina, mollare un sonoro ceffone alla vedova cattiva. Quel ceffone che forse Armand le darà nella nota n. 101.

[Ingeborg Riis]

Endelig ble jeg ferdig med denne! Det skyldes ikke så mye boken som innlevering av master.

En underlig bok. Den er både underholdene og springende. Det blir tidvis litt for oppstykket for min smak, men dette kan skyldes at jeg har lest boken over lang tid. Må allikevel berømme Solstads lekenhet og orginalitet. Til slutt er det som vanlig humoren som redder det hele for min del. Særlig godt er portretteringen av realfagstudentene og studentmiljøet på Blindern (fomo)!

[Andreas · Rating 5 out of 5]

Dag Solstad’s writing is my favourite discovery of the year and the best novel I have read in 2018. I loved this (anti-)novel with its witty intellectualism.

I can’t wait to read all of his work that has been translated into English.

[Halvdan Orning · Rating 3 out of 5]

Denne var rar og tidvis uforståelig (ugjennomtrengelig?).
Dette er hva jeg sitter igjen med:
Vi er alle underlagt historiens lenker. Kjemp imot og gå til grunne. Godta det og før et distansert liv.

[Lukáš Palán · Rating 2 out of 5]

Dobré den ve spolek.

Rok 2019 nám začal dobrou zácpou. Armand V. je literární zácpa, která se z gatí třepe opravdu těžce. Jelikož je to už čtvrtá kniha od norského fantoma nudy, byl jsem připraven na to, že to nebudou žádný Transformers. Solstadovy knihy většinou fungují na premise podobné této: snědl jsem špagety - teď na to myslím - povyprávím 100 stran o něčem jiném, třeba o komisi Evropské unie - konec.

Že se ovšem budu nudit takto moc, jsem nečekal. Armand V. je kniha, která je napsaná jen v poznámkách pod čarou, které jsou o knize, kterou Solstad nikdy nenapsal. Tohle je tak meta, že je to heavy-metal. Nicméně kromě toho, že Solstad párkrát vstoupí do děje se toho zase tolik neděje. Hlavní hrdina je Armand, norskej velvyslanec, který sní o tom, že jednoho dne napíše 16 svazků o historii Evropy (o tom ale snad sní naprosto každý) a mezitím chodí platit nájem za syna. No a tím jsem popsal začátek, střed i konec knihy. Fascinující.

V ostatních knihách mě Solstad nějakým způsobem vždy umotal a fascinoval, především svými břitkými komentáři a zdánlivě nesouvisejícími myšlenkami, které textu dávaly hlubší význam. V tomto případě jsem ovšem nějakej větší význam minul (on tam asi je), protože level nudy stoupl o 200% procent a jakýkoliv klimax naopak klesl. Tedy skoro jako manželský sex.

40%, ale možná jsem jen hloupej člověk.

[Panagiotis · Rating 4 out of 5]

Η ζωή και οι σκέψεις του Άρμαντ Β – διπλωμάτη καριέρας, πρώην αριστερού που τώρα υπηρετεί αυτά που μάχονταν στο παρελθόν – θα ήταν ένα πολύ ενδιαφέρον βιβλίο. Μόνο που αυτό το μυθιστόρημα δεν γράφτηκε ποτέ. Το βιβλίο είναι οι υποσημειώσεις ενός άγραφου μυθιστορήματος. Μέσα από αυτές θα γνωρίσουμε τον Άρμαντ Β, τις σκέψεις του, την σχέση του με τον γιό του, την χώρα του.
Τολμηρό εγχείρημα που θα μπορούσε να ήταν τουλάχιστον βαρετό. Εγώ δε που δεν είμαι πολύ των πειραματισμών στην λογοτεχνία, αυτά τα έκανα στα νιάτα μου, κανονικά θα έπρεπε ν�� το είχα παρατήσει από τις πρώτες σελίδες. Αλλά ο Νταγκ Σούλστα κάνει μια πετυχημένη μίξη κλασικής γραφής και μεταμοντέρνας που τελικά το εγχείρημα είναι τόσο συναρπαστικό που δεν μπορείς να το αφήσεις από τα χέρια σου. Ένα πράγμα κατάλαβα τελειώνοντας το βιβλίο του. Πόσο γερές βάσεις, πόσο στέρεες είναι οι γνώσεις του στην λογοτεχνία. Θα ψάξω να βρω και το προηγούμενό του.

[Paolo Latini · Rating 5 out of 5]

https://americanorum.wordpress.com/20...

Negli ultimi anni si sono riaccesi i riflettori sulla narrativa norvegese, soprattutto grazie all’opera monumentale di Karl Ove Knausgård, ben difficile da ignorare. Ma lo scrittore che è alla base di molta letteratura norvegese, come ispiratore e come suo più eccelso autore in attività, è senz’altro Dag Solstad, più volte citato da Knausgård stesso su La mia lotta dove, tra le altre cose, si dice anche che il suo linguaggio “brilla grazie a una vecchia e rinnovata eleganza e irradia questo suo splendore del tutto unico, inimitabile e pieno di vitalità,” e non è un caso se in norvegese l’aggettivo “solstadiano” viene usato per indicare un modo di scrivere con frasi lunghe e molte subordinate. Dag Solstad è un autore più che prolifico, diciotto romanzi e un totale di trenta libri, contando novelle e saggi. Ha cavalcato generi e stili, destreggiandosi tra realismo, sperimentalismo, tradizione e innovazione, arrivando anche a pubblicare cinque libri sul calcio, con precisa scadenza ogni quattro anni, dopo ogni mondiale dal 1982 al 1998.

Tra i titoli dei suoi romanzi possono essere trovate delle assonanze quasi tematiche, non solo nella trilogia Svik. Førkrigsår, Krig. 1940 e Brød og våpen, trilogia di guerra che illustra il conflitto tra socialdemocrazia e comunismo nella classe operaia norvegese, prima durante e dopo la guerra, e che è anche il cuore della fase comunista di Dag Solstad (fase che lo stesso Solstad definirà “il mio periodo utopico”) iniziata con 25 Septemberplassen, romanzo che segue la storia norvegese dalla liberazione al referendum sulla CEE del 1972.

Altri romanzi sembrano proporre una riflessione sulla serialità, fin dal titolo: Roman 1987, 16.07.41, 17. Roman, Ellevte roman, bok atten (trad. it. Romanzo diciotto, libro undici). Altri suggeriscono un contenuto quasi da saggio accademico su un conflitto (il già citato Brød og våpen e Genanse og verdighet) e non è difficile vedere delle assonanze nei titoli dei romanzi Gymnaslærer Pedersens beretning om den store politiske vekkelsen som har hjemsøkt vårt land (che possiamo tradurre pressappoco come Il racconto del professore di liceo Pedersen sulla grande rinascita politica che ha perseguitato il nostro paese), Professor Andersens natt (trad. it. La notte del Professor Andersen) e Det uoppløselige episke element i Telemark i perioden 1591–1896 (più o meno, L’insolubile elemento epico di Telemark nel periodo 1591-1896), forse la cosa più sperimentale e difficile di Dag Solstad, costruito su biografie dei membri della sua famiglia nel corso di tre secoli. È anche il romanzo che ha stregato Lydia Davis.

Non ultimi T. Singer del 1999 e Armand V. del 2006, due romanzi che sin dal titolo sembrano aver a che fare con il tema dell’identità, della coscienza e della creazione del personaggio letterario in un contesto metanarrativo. Si nota subito il carattere speculare dei due titoli: uno formato dall’iniziale di un nome più il cognome intero, l’altro da un nome più l’iniziale del cognome.

Armand V racconta la storia, per l’appunto, di Armand, in un certo senso alter-ego dello stesso Dag Solstad e che di Dag Solstad rispecchia alcuni dati biografici, seppur ben camuffati all’interno della storia di un anonimo diplomatico norvegese di stanza. Londra durante la guerra in Afghanistan e che si trova a assistere all’ascesa e declino della sua stessa patria, divenuta sempre più marginale e schiacciata dall’ingerenza di un suprematismo occidentale, ben rappresentata in un episodio surreale dove Armand incrocia l’ambasciatore americano nel bagno durante una serata di gala e lo vede con una testa di maiale. La cosa che rende particolare Armand V è che tutto viene raccontato sotto forma di note a piè di pagina di un romanzo inesistente, in un esperimento mentale non poi tanto lontano da quello di The Pale Fire di Nabokov, un esperimento mentale che lo stesso Solstad, in una frattura della quarta parete afferma che in un certo senso consiste di “note a piè di pagina a Fondamento degli incurabili di Brodsky o a Morte a Venezia di Thomas Mann, una strana coppia, tra problemi del terzo mondo e un progetto letterario ambizioso che totalmente separato dal primo.” In realtà su Armand V se si fa attenzione Dag Solstad riesce a discutere i suoi precedenti romanzi, mostrando la loro genesi e ponendo una domanda aperta, ossia se sia l’autore a scrivere il romanzo o se il romanzo è sempre stato lì da qualche parte, e l’autore deve solo saper scavare per dissotterrare quel contenuto: “il romanzo è qualcosa che è già stato scritto, e l’autore è soltanto colui che lo trova, e lo dissotterra faticosamente?… Ma chi è ha scritto il romanzo originario, se io sono solo colui che lo ha scoperto e estratto?” Sembra una domanda oziosa, ma riguarda la libertà creatrice dell’autore, che in un certo senso non inventa niente liberamente, ma si limita a riportare alla luce qualcosa in pre-esistente.

Dag Solstad si era già tramutato in personaggio narrativo, su 16.04.41 ma in modo più esplicito. Qui su Armand V Solstad non nasconde la sua mano, ma dichiara comunque di essere presente solo come autore del romanzo che si sta leggendo. Anzi, nemmeno del romanzo, ma delle note a piè di pagina di un altro romanzo, che ha un altro protagonista, e dove Armand, protagonista della storia raccontata nelle note, è solo una comparsa nemmeno troppo importante. Lo scopo è quello di mostrare la libertà totale di uno scrittore, che può inventare, disfare, rifare, scrivere un romanzo sotto forma di note, inventarsi un personaggio principale che è protagonista nelle note ma quasi totalmente invisibile nel corpo del romanzo di cui le note sono un commento, e lo fa mostrando, per contrappasso, quanto un ambasciatore norvegese sia poco libero, costretto dagli eventi, dalla storia, dalla responsabilità. Nel corso del libro per una buona porzione Armand quasi scompare, quando si racconta della sua formazione universitaria e di come la vita accademica era bipartita tra una conventicola di umanisti, intellettuali à la page, e una più introversa fazione scientifica, che in altri contesti verrebbe definita nerd. Quella contrapposizione serve a Solstad per mostrare come la realtà sia frutto della comprensione scientifica e non della libera invenzione interpretativa delle arti, così Jan Brosten, un fisico amico di Armand, “Quando parlava di ‘realtà’ … poteva essere critico o scettico ma mai ‘libero’ nei suoi pensieri anche se, da buon norvegese, sceglieva sempre la libertà come punto d’avvio ogni volta che giudicava un fenomeno.” La stessa necessità si ha una volta che si cerca di fissare la propria identità caratteriale e esistenziale: “quando decidi di diventare qualcosa, diventi quella cosa per sempre, e non c’è modo di tornare indietro, nessuna possibilità di cambiare idea, almeno non in senso pratico.”

In tutto il libro c’è una tensione netta tra essere e apparire, finzionale e fattuale, Aristotele direbbe tra potenza e atto e tra necessario e contingente, tra ciò che è reale e non può smettere di esserlo e ciò che è solo caratteristica accidentale: “queste distinzioni tra finzionale e fattuale… [tra] pensabile e impensabile, tra paradosso e status sociale, tra chi è Armand e chi gli sarebbe possibile essere” rappresentano l’argine tra libertà e necessità. Lo stesso Armand V, il libro intero, è spesse volte presentato come qualcosa di accidentale, e lo stesso Solstad scrive che lo sta scrivendo in un tempo supplementare: “il mio corpus letterario è terminato con T. Singer, scritto e pubblicato nel 1999. Tutto ciò che viene dopo è un’eccezione, che non si ripeterà mai. Incluso questo libro.” Stessa cosa che Solstad ha poi ripetuto in varie interviste.

È però difficile resistere alla tentazione di vedere Armand V come un corollario dello stesso T. Singer. Come detto Armand V è anche un romanzo sulla distinzione tra necessità e contingenza, tra come siamo e siamo visti in quanto persone con un’identità fissata e caratteristiche accidentali. Su T. Singer a un certo punto si legge “Il mio linguaggio termina dove terminano le meditazioni di Singer.” Frase che per certi versi ricorda la proposizione wittgensteiniana “I limiti del mio mondo sono i limiti del mio linguaggio.” I limiti di Dag Solstad scrittore, sono i limiti dei pensieri T. Singer, personaggio.

[Brooke Salaz · Rating 4 out of 5]

Puzzling, confusing but ultimately quite poetic and well done. Armand V is a 60 something diplomat who we learn about in footnotes to a book we can't read and may not exist. He is in some ways a very ordinary character but one who seems to have some gaping hole in his character where there should be some code of ethics or guiding principle. He has lived a life mostly seeking comfort and ease and presents as one with the outward trappings of success. We are given a picture of a dapper, fit older gentleman who seems to skate through life with few regrets but also few passions or beliefs. He seems to view others as appendages to his own centrality but in the footnote format all is seen a bit askance or askew. We are given one hint in the final unexpected sentence that he may actually be quite terrible. Thought provoking and oneiric.

[Sevim Tezel Aydın · Rating 3 out of 5]

Armand V. Norveçli bir diplomatın hayatını anlatan farklı bir roman, zira metin alt alta eklenmiş dipnotlardan oluşuyor. Önce yadırgasam da merakla okudum. İnanmadığı meseleleri görev gereği savunmak durumunda kalan bir adamın iç çatışmalarını, bu çatışmaların hayatına ve ilişkilerine yansımasını düşündürücü buldum.
Bu arada Türkçe tercümede Armand için konsolos denmiş, oysa görevi ile ilgili satırlardan konsolos değil büyükelçi olduğunu anlıyoruz. Kitabın İngilizcesini bulamadım ama taradığım sitelerde Armand anlatılırken "ambassador" denmiş, umarım bir dahaki baskıda bu durum düzeltilir.

[Lex Poot · Rating 5 out of 5]

Leave it to the Scandinavians to come up with unique literature. For instance this book is comprised of footnotes to an unpublished novel. It is utterly brilliant. Highly recommended.

[Kilburn Adam · Rating 5 out of 5]

1. Dag Solstad’s postmodern novel Armand V employs an unorthodox format of footnote storytelling to craft a rich, fragmented literary tapestry. Through this elaborate framework of annotations spiralling outwards, Solstad subverts conventions to interweave an enthralling yet elusive labyrinth of text and white space.

2. The extensive footnotes illuminate snippets rather than a linear narrative, guiding readers to piece together diplomat Armand V’s journey across continents and decades. We gather emotional resonance and philosophical depth from the margins, tracing relationships and geopolitical context embedded in the digressive notes.

3. Solstad’s pioneering voice layers dissonant registers, at once playful and despairing, wielding wry wit and wonder between the lines like a dissenting instrument. The unconventional delivery eschews pleasure for interpretive play, empowering imagination over authoritarian narrative.

4. Meaning crystallises through reader participation as we review the strata of Armand's storied existence, encapsulated elliptically across fragmented vignettes. By subverting expected novelistic form, Solstad creates a postmodern genre—ambiguity and mystery woven into the work’s negative spaces.

5. The sparse central text provides mere handholds as we ascend into the story not in the story. In coaxing our cognition, Solstad cements his singular voice through a resonant technique which unveils emotional depths unconfined by words alone. His remarkable innovation licenses others to follow in fortifying lacunae with the unspoken and unwritten.

6. The unconventional reliance on footnote storytelling pioneers new terrain—a map charting the avant-garde edges of contemporary literature. It drives readers to venture beyond the page and forge their own voyages, assembling meaning by bridging gaps between resonating fragments.

[Sigve Wiedswang · Rating 4 out of 5]

Vanskelig, vanskelig tingest. Men kribler av innsikt og dybde. Leses nok best veldig sakte - da når man nok (i hvert fall jeg) mer av de kvalitetene som (paradoksalt) var merkbare samtidig som de var hinsides min fatteevne. For en merkverdig forfatter Solstad var!

[Paul Dembina · Rating 2 out of 5]

Whilst I like the conceit of a book consisting purely of footnotes this just didn't work for me. I had no sense that these footnotes were at all related to some other work and to be honest just didn't care about the the characters and their concerns

[Robert Wechsler]

There was nothing about this novel that I enjoyed, except the translation. The frame (footnotes to a novel) didn’t work for me, the self-reflexiveness didn’t work for me, the narrative tone put me off. Just not my kind of book. I put it down after about 50 pages.

[Edward · Rating 3 out of 5]

I can’t decide if I grudgingly liked this novel or if I less grudgingly disliked it. It’s clever, all right, but how far can cleverness take a book? Solstad points out at the beginning that, first, this is not a novel at all, but a series of notes for a novel which never takes place. As the author puts it, “The compositional principle of the present text cannot be deduced from the form of the original novel, but it must be sought, and has already been sought by the author. . .” He adds that he did indeed write the footnotes , 99 of them, but not the novel.

But setting aside such a disclaimer, the footnotes do indeed tell a coherent chronological story, and so a “novel” exists. I think Solstad’s intention is to remind a reader that a conventional novel is made up of arbitrary choices, and that as much reality is left out of any story as is included. Why do we need to reminded of this? A good question, as it seems obvious to any reflective reader.

An example of what is left out of the life of Armand, followed from his youth to a career as a Norwegian diplomat, is Armand’s good friend in his youth, Paul Buer. The story (footnotes) follow him for awhile and then he is completely dropped. He does emerge briefly at the end of the story, passionately, but unsuccessfully committed to uncovering some governmental corruption. He is frustrated and unhappy.

Armand, on the other hand, is not committed to much of anything. He understands that Norway, a small country, is subservient to a great power, the United States. Not an ideal situation, but he never concerns himself with how this relationship should, or could, be different. He advances his personal career in various postings around the world, but there is “no Armand plan that makes a novel about him readable, or writable.” Armand know this, but ironically, or cynically, keeps his inner cheerfulness. To lose that would be to lose his “soul”, small and insignificant as it is.

In the end, Armand is caught up in an obligation that he can’t sidestep. His son suffers a war injury and is blinded, and Armand goes to great lengths to make his son’s life tolerable. It’s the personal life of Armand that is important here, not his professional life which fades into insignificance.

Still, the novel, or rather the 99 footnotes takes a long time to come to this point, but then again anyone’s life is made up of the reality of false starts, dead ends, mistakes. The novel ends on an slightly absurd note with a letter canceling, for no discernible reason, a rental agreement that Armand has already paid for. No wonder I felt ambiguous about this effort on Solstad’s part.

[Johanne Volden · Rating 5 out of 5]

En bok om (bl.a) moral, politikk, hykleri, og akademisk overfladiskhet hos Blindernstudenter som tror de vet alt.
Fotnotene er selve kjernen i narrativet, og fungerer som hyppige tilføringer av minner, refleksjoner og kritiske spørsmål fra forfatterens hold. Dette gir en følelse av både avstand og nærhet- vi er både inne i Armands tankeverden, ig betrakter ham på avstand, som gir en fantastisk unik leseropplevelse

[Dave · Rating 2 out of 5]

This novel hasn't aged well because in this day and age we actually celebrate when guys are being absolutely dominated by a goth muscle mommy.

Idk what sorta footnotes they have in Norway but this ain't it.

[Caroline Waters]

i need to read this again

[Anaruh · Rating 5 out of 5]

Etter mange år med lettere irritasjon over alle Solstads fotnoter, var det herlig å lese en roman utelukkende bestående av fotnoter! Likte denne boka kjempegodt ⭐️

[Dan Ust · Rating 3 out of 5]

I've now read three Dag Solstad novels. The other two are
Professor Andersen's Night and Shyness and Dignity -- both of which I thoroughly enjoyed. So I was eager for more...

This one is the most experimental of the three. It's a novel done as a series of footnotes to a novel. This sometimes works out the background story -- the story the novel is about -- coalesces through the footnotes, though sometimes not. However, be ready for a very slow burn. This felt more like a Thomas Bernard novel in that one has to figure out what the narration is distracting you from. In the novels of both writers, often one incident -- which might be ordinary or very extraordinary -- triggers off lengthy analyses by the narrator and the real story is how the one incident shaped everything else and centers the narrative wherever it's revealed.

In the case of this novel, it didn't work for me. Well, it worked but the labor was too much given the effort of reading. Still, it's an interesting experiment.

[Lee Klein]

Highly recommend reading any of his other translated novels before this one. Put it down on page 80 after skimming from page 60. Had some interesting metafictional moments but the conceit doesn't seem work -- seems false and unnecessary and so I couldn't stick with it and my eye wandered to other books.

[Jostein Gjertsen · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fotnotegrepet funka ikke helt for meg. Men Blindern-sekvensen er strålende, nydelig og presis utlevering av Fredrikke-kantine karakterer, spesielt fra realfag. Og uten denne boka ville jeg aldri fått vite om Grønlandssaka! Nå må du google Grønnlandssaka.

[Justin Evans · Rating 4 out of 5]

Solid, with some great moments, but I'm unconvinced either that Solstad's philosophy-of-writing stuff is any good at all, or that the format really did the book any favors. Good on him for trying it, for sure, and good on him for writing an interesting book.

[Ernst · Rating 5 out of 5]

Etwas sperriger zu lesen, da etwas experimentell, aber genauso genial wie alle seine Romane. Würde ich für Solstad Einsteiger aber nicht als erste Lektüre empfehlen, für den Einstieg bitte T. Singer!!!