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Byens spor #1
Byens Spor: Ewald og Maj
Nytt storslått episk verk fra Lars Saabye Christensen!
Vi befinner oss på Oslo vest rett etter krigen der vi møter Ewald og Maj Kristoffersen med deres sønn Jesper. Ewald jobber i et reklamebyrå som får i oppdrag og lage kampanjen i forbindelse med Oslos 900-årsjubiléum og Maj engasjerer seg i Røde kors.
Bli med når vi legger øret inntil konkylien og lytter: Hør lyden av Oslo. Se gatene som binder den sammen, se menneskene som bor i dem. Se Ewald og Maj, se slakteren, se legen, hør hyggepianisten på Bristol, hør telefonen ringe hos fru Vik i etasjen over. Se Maj gå på møte i Røde Kors, hør glassene klirre på Bristol. Hør lyden av hvinende bremser.
Vi befinner oss på Oslo vest rett etter krigen der vi møter Ewald og Maj Kristoffersen med deres sønn Jesper. Ewald jobber i et reklamebyrå som får i oppdrag og lage kampanjen i forbindelse med Oslos 900-årsjubiléum og Maj engasjerer seg i Røde kors.
Bli med når vi legger øret inntil konkylien og lytter: Hør lyden av Oslo. Se gatene som binder den sammen, se menneskene som bor i dem. Se Ewald og Maj, se slakteren, se legen, hør hyggepianisten på Bristol, hør telefonen ringe hos fru Vik i etasjen over. Se Maj gå på møte i Røde Kors, hør glassene klirre på Bristol. Hør lyden av hvinende bremser.
441 pages, ebook (EPUB)
First published January 1, 2017
96 people are currently reading
1462 people want to read
About the author
Lars Saabye Christensen
171 books613 followersLars Saabye Christensen is a gifted storyteller, a narrator who is imaginative, but equally down to earth. His realism alternates between poetic image and ingenious incident, conveyed in supple metropolitan language and slang that never smacks of the artificial or forced. His heroes possess a good deal of self-irony. Indeed, critics have drawn parallels with the black humour of Woody Allen. But beneath the liveliness of his portrayal melancholy always lurks in the books.
Since his début in 1976 Saabye Christensen has written ten collections of poetry, five collections of short stories and twelve novels. His great break through came with the novel Beatles in 1984. The book store sale of over 200,000 copies of the Norwegian edition has made this one of the greatest commercial successes in Norway, and it was voted the best novel of the last 25 years by Dagbladet's readers in 2006.
Since his début in 1976 Saabye Christensen has written ten collections of poetry, five collections of short stories and twelve novels. His great break through came with the novel Beatles in 1984. The book store sale of over 200,000 copies of the Norwegian edition has made this one of the greatest commercial successes in Norway, and it was voted the best novel of the last 25 years by Dagbladet's readers in 2006.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 126 reviews
March 29, 2022
“It is a national holiday. Savour the words. They feel good. Most things are national in this post-war period, before affluence grows too much and everyone has to look after themselves and not others. Most things that happen are the same and people talk about the same. That doesn’t mean you say the same.”
Echoes of the City, translated excellently as ever by the wonderful Don Bartlett, and from Machelose's consistently strong list of world literature, was published in the Norwegian as Byens Spor: Ewald og Maj in 2017.
It is the first in a planned trilogy (the second has already been published in Norwegian). This is the 5th Lars Saaybe Christensen novel in translation that I have read, and one of the strongest of an impressive body of work.
The novel opens on 21 September 1957, with a beautifully drawn panoramic sweep through the Oslo of that time, before zooming in on one individual:
“The boy, or rather the young man, because he is in the process of becoming a man, sitting on the tram, the one you can see passing by early this morning while everyone wakes to the saddest news a grateful nation can receive, wants to leave, leave Fagerborg, leave Oslo, everything, just leave. His name is Jesper Kristoffersen and he has a bulging seaman’s kitbag beside him on the seat. Take note of his eyes if you can: vacant yet alert, he sees and is seen. Incidentally, below his left eye there is a blue shadow, a relic of the past. Once he was diagnosed as sensitive.”
The sad news is the death of the Norwegian King, Haakon VII, but for the Kristoffersen family, his mother Maj and younger sister Stine, the day is more noted for young Jesper (aged c15) leaving home and signing on for duty on a merchant ship, having been declared fit for work, and no longer sensitive.
The story then returns to October 1948 and the post war City and the Fagerborg district, where Jesper is 6 years old, an only (Stine is yet to be born) and odd child, his schooling delayed a year, and thought of by people, including his parents Maj and Ewald, as, variously: restless, troubled, difficult, stubborn, indifferent, angry, on edge, his eyes flitting.
In practice he is, as per the quote above, sensitive and particular seems to have (undiagnosed) heightened auditory sensitivity and (as yet undiscovered) musical talent: “He can break as easily as he can produce the most beautiful sounds.”
As this volume of the novel progresses through the next five years, the story also introduces us to the butcher’s son Jostein, who loses most of his hearing in an accident, and who Jesper befriends on their first day at school, both being outsiders; the family’s neighbour Margrethe Vik, a widow, who starts a tentative romance with Olaf Hall, a widower and antiquarian bookseller (“she is wearing a perfume he likes so much today, although nothing can compare with the aroma of books”); Enzo Zanetti, an Italian immigrant and pianist, who introduces Jesper to his calling, music; and the family physician, Doctor Lund (responsible for the two diagnoses above), and whose wife inducts Maj into the local branch of the Red Cross.
The unfolding years, and a picture of the post war austerity years, are very effectively evoked by the unusual device of including at frequent intervals, the minutes of this local Red Cross branch.
“A SHORT RESUMÉ OF OUR FIRST YEAR, 1947
The Norwegian Red Cross, in order to rationalise and ease the workload, mapped out the city of Oslo and divided it into departments, each with its own board. In June 1947 a department was established in Fagerborg.”
And along with the standard third person narration, the novel, sometimes adopts a collective narrative voice to emphasise the social milieu, for example of those who don’t leave the city for the summer:
“We stayed in Oslo. No-one talks more about the weather than those left in the city. We sometimes complain and blame the Meteorological Institute, which isn’t far away, in Blindern. But when it starts to rain, which often happens in this area, no-one breaks into a run. They just continue walking at the same quiet pace, going nowhere in particular. When it stops, you notice that the buildings are a different colour and gleam in a different way. No renovation work has been done and it is not the rain’s fault, either. It is the light breathing on the facades, especially in the evening, slowly drawing out the day. Inside the abandoned flats the furniture is covered with sheets, which soon fade and resemble yellow bandages when the residents return in August. The flats sicken at being vacated, but on days with cloudless skies, which generally come one at a time, the people left in Oslo know where they are going. To Ingierstrand Beach, Lake Sognsvann or Fornebu Airport to watch planes taking off.”
There are also individual moments, such as when the family’s long wait for a telephone line finally ends (in passing, I’d note that Oslo was 30 years ahead of the rural Norfolk of my childhood in that regard):
“The telephone rings. They both jump. Ewald steps forward, hesitates, carefully lifts the receiver from the cradle and says in a tremulous voice: “This is the Kristoffersen household, hello.”
He hears a woman speaking fast.
“Ewald Kristoffersen, date of birth September 4th, 1911?”
“That is indeed the person you are talking to at this moment.”
“This is the telephone switchboard. You’re registered. Thank you.”
The conversation is broken and Ewald carefully replaces the receiver. He thinks: I exist. They exist. We exist.
“Who was that?” Jesper asks.
Ewald turns to him, running the back of his hand across his eyes.
“That was the world.””
This volume ends in April 1951 with, in that wider world, Red Cross aid being sent to war struck Korea, but also on a melancholy personal note for various of the characters. Maj watches her son and his friend playing:
“They are still children, but the war, of which they remember barely anything and yet cannot forget, has cast a shadow over them that causes their childhood age to lose its meaning. They are already carrying the darkness of adulthood. They are children in camouflage.”
I eagerly await the translation of the 2nd volume (https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/4...), apparently set in 1956-7 and subtitled Maj (which arguably should come with a spoiler alert, albeit one hinted at in the opening pages of this book).
Overall a nicely crafted story. Perhaps lacking the black humour and sheer crazy invention of The Half Brother but, particularly I suspect when read as the trilogy it will eventually be, as impressive in scope. Recommended and one to watch for the 2020 International Booker Prize. 4 stars
Thanks to the publisher via Netgalley for the ARC
Echoes of the City, translated excellently as ever by the wonderful Don Bartlett, and from Machelose's consistently strong list of world literature, was published in the Norwegian as Byens Spor: Ewald og Maj in 2017.
It is the first in a planned trilogy (the second has already been published in Norwegian). This is the 5th Lars Saaybe Christensen novel in translation that I have read, and one of the strongest of an impressive body of work.
The novel opens on 21 September 1957, with a beautifully drawn panoramic sweep through the Oslo of that time, before zooming in on one individual:
“The boy, or rather the young man, because he is in the process of becoming a man, sitting on the tram, the one you can see passing by early this morning while everyone wakes to the saddest news a grateful nation can receive, wants to leave, leave Fagerborg, leave Oslo, everything, just leave. His name is Jesper Kristoffersen and he has a bulging seaman’s kitbag beside him on the seat. Take note of his eyes if you can: vacant yet alert, he sees and is seen. Incidentally, below his left eye there is a blue shadow, a relic of the past. Once he was diagnosed as sensitive.”
The sad news is the death of the Norwegian King, Haakon VII, but for the Kristoffersen family, his mother Maj and younger sister Stine, the day is more noted for young Jesper (aged c15) leaving home and signing on for duty on a merchant ship, having been declared fit for work, and no longer sensitive.
The story then returns to October 1948 and the post war City and the Fagerborg district, where Jesper is 6 years old, an only (Stine is yet to be born) and odd child, his schooling delayed a year, and thought of by people, including his parents Maj and Ewald, as, variously: restless, troubled, difficult, stubborn, indifferent, angry, on edge, his eyes flitting.
In practice he is, as per the quote above, sensitive and particular seems to have (undiagnosed) heightened auditory sensitivity and (as yet undiscovered) musical talent: “He can break as easily as he can produce the most beautiful sounds.”
As this volume of the novel progresses through the next five years, the story also introduces us to the butcher’s son Jostein, who loses most of his hearing in an accident, and who Jesper befriends on their first day at school, both being outsiders; the family’s neighbour Margrethe Vik, a widow, who starts a tentative romance with Olaf Hall, a widower and antiquarian bookseller (“she is wearing a perfume he likes so much today, although nothing can compare with the aroma of books”); Enzo Zanetti, an Italian immigrant and pianist, who introduces Jesper to his calling, music; and the family physician, Doctor Lund (responsible for the two diagnoses above), and whose wife inducts Maj into the local branch of the Red Cross.
The unfolding years, and a picture of the post war austerity years, are very effectively evoked by the unusual device of including at frequent intervals, the minutes of this local Red Cross branch.
“A SHORT RESUMÉ OF OUR FIRST YEAR, 1947
The Norwegian Red Cross, in order to rationalise and ease the workload, mapped out the city of Oslo and divided it into departments, each with its own board. In June 1947 a department was established in Fagerborg.”
And along with the standard third person narration, the novel, sometimes adopts a collective narrative voice to emphasise the social milieu, for example of those who don’t leave the city for the summer:
“We stayed in Oslo. No-one talks more about the weather than those left in the city. We sometimes complain and blame the Meteorological Institute, which isn’t far away, in Blindern. But when it starts to rain, which often happens in this area, no-one breaks into a run. They just continue walking at the same quiet pace, going nowhere in particular. When it stops, you notice that the buildings are a different colour and gleam in a different way. No renovation work has been done and it is not the rain’s fault, either. It is the light breathing on the facades, especially in the evening, slowly drawing out the day. Inside the abandoned flats the furniture is covered with sheets, which soon fade and resemble yellow bandages when the residents return in August. The flats sicken at being vacated, but on days with cloudless skies, which generally come one at a time, the people left in Oslo know where they are going. To Ingierstrand Beach, Lake Sognsvann or Fornebu Airport to watch planes taking off.”
There are also individual moments, such as when the family’s long wait for a telephone line finally ends (in passing, I’d note that Oslo was 30 years ahead of the rural Norfolk of my childhood in that regard):
“The telephone rings. They both jump. Ewald steps forward, hesitates, carefully lifts the receiver from the cradle and says in a tremulous voice: “This is the Kristoffersen household, hello.”
He hears a woman speaking fast.
“Ewald Kristoffersen, date of birth September 4th, 1911?”
“That is indeed the person you are talking to at this moment.”
“This is the telephone switchboard. You’re registered. Thank you.”
The conversation is broken and Ewald carefully replaces the receiver. He thinks: I exist. They exist. We exist.
“Who was that?” Jesper asks.
Ewald turns to him, running the back of his hand across his eyes.
“That was the world.””
This volume ends in April 1951 with, in that wider world, Red Cross aid being sent to war struck Korea, but also on a melancholy personal note for various of the characters. Maj watches her son and his friend playing:
“They are still children, but the war, of which they remember barely anything and yet cannot forget, has cast a shadow over them that causes their childhood age to lose its meaning. They are already carrying the darkness of adulthood. They are children in camouflage.”
I eagerly await the translation of the 2nd volume (https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/4...), apparently set in 1956-7 and subtitled Maj (which arguably should come with a spoiler alert, albeit one hinted at in the opening pages of this book).
Overall a nicely crafted story. Perhaps lacking the black humour and sheer crazy invention of The Half Brother but, particularly I suspect when read as the trilogy it will eventually be, as impressive in scope. Recommended and one to watch for the 2020 International Booker Prize. 4 stars
Thanks to the publisher via Netgalley for the ARC
November 23, 2020
4.5, rounded slightly downwards. A gentle, immersive, and humane novel to lose oneself in over a long weekend, life-affirming but emotionally restrained. Feels almost effortless, but it's the product of subtle craftsmanship, and a wonderfully lucid translation. Christensen follows the ordinary lives of a young family and their acquaintances in a leafy middle-class neighborhood in late 1940s Oslo, a city gradually recovering from occupation and austerity, with the traumas of wartime left acknowledged but unspoken.
Christensen's narration is ironic and detached, providing precise observations of the inner lives of deeply self-contained and frequently lonely people, gradually shifting perspectives as he sketches out the interconnections and acts of everyday kindness that hold this society together. The minutes of the neighborhood Red Cross association serve as a Greek chorus of sorts at the end of each short chapter, providing deeper social and historical context, and evidence that women are carrying the real burdens of emotional and domestic work here.
Christensen's narration is ironic and detached, providing precise observations of the inner lives of deeply self-contained and frequently lonely people, gradually shifting perspectives as he sketches out the interconnections and acts of everyday kindness that hold this society together. The minutes of the neighborhood Red Cross association serve as a Greek chorus of sorts at the end of each short chapter, providing deeper social and historical context, and evidence that women are carrying the real burdens of emotional and domestic work here.
October 15, 2019
Set against the backdrop of rapidly developing Oslo in the late 1940s and early 1950s, Lars Saabye Christensen Echoes of the City – translated from the Norwegian by Don Bartlett, who you may recognize as the translator of another Norwegian literary giant, Knausgård – follows the faiths of various residents living the Fagerborg district of the city.
Largely anchored in the slice-of-life tradition of storytelling, Christensen emphasizes the small details, bringing to the fore the interpersonal dramas of married couples, of children, of friends, and of those people who would unlikely end up together but still do. This may suggest a large cast of characters, but there really isn’t: at its core, it’s a story of the Kristoffersen family (wife Maj, husband Ewald, son Jesper), which branches out to include, for instance, an Italian immigrant playing piano in the local bar, who ends up as Jesper’s piano teacher.
In tandem with the main storyline, Christensen presents the history of Oslo’s Red Cross and the crucial role that women played in its development and success in the country. Maj attends the local meetings, and interspersed in the novel are the (faux-)memos of the Red Cross: “The first item on the agenda was the suggested purchase of a potato-peeling machine…” Christensen doesn’t seem to mind testing his readers’ patience with the minutiae of official documents. I might as well confess here I didn’t read each memo word-to-word, but I think that even a skim-read of these sections showcases what Christensen presumably set out to do: to demonstrate how small acts can turn into something big over the course of the years. In this way, the Red Cross documents mirror the main storyline in that even the tiny things may matter a great deal in the end.
In essence, this turned out to be a very positive reading experience, one that I timed really well. Amidst a half a dozen of grotesque novels dealing with violence, I took my copy of Echoes of the City along with me to the Åland Islands, where I spent a peaceful summer week, reading the novel in a matter of days. (This review appears much later, closer to the publication date in October.) Nearly 500 pages may seem like a big investment, but it never felt like that. Christensen is an experienced writer who knows how to maintain your interest all the way to the finish – although there is no finish per se. Echoes of the City is part one of a trilogy already published in Norwegian. I hope it is well received in the English-speaking world, so that we may expect to see parts two and three appear in translation soon.
Largely anchored in the slice-of-life tradition of storytelling, Christensen emphasizes the small details, bringing to the fore the interpersonal dramas of married couples, of children, of friends, and of those people who would unlikely end up together but still do. This may suggest a large cast of characters, but there really isn’t: at its core, it’s a story of the Kristoffersen family (wife Maj, husband Ewald, son Jesper), which branches out to include, for instance, an Italian immigrant playing piano in the local bar, who ends up as Jesper’s piano teacher.
In tandem with the main storyline, Christensen presents the history of Oslo’s Red Cross and the crucial role that women played in its development and success in the country. Maj attends the local meetings, and interspersed in the novel are the (faux-)memos of the Red Cross: “The first item on the agenda was the suggested purchase of a potato-peeling machine…” Christensen doesn’t seem to mind testing his readers’ patience with the minutiae of official documents. I might as well confess here I didn’t read each memo word-to-word, but I think that even a skim-read of these sections showcases what Christensen presumably set out to do: to demonstrate how small acts can turn into something big over the course of the years. In this way, the Red Cross documents mirror the main storyline in that even the tiny things may matter a great deal in the end.
In essence, this turned out to be a very positive reading experience, one that I timed really well. Amidst a half a dozen of grotesque novels dealing with violence, I took my copy of Echoes of the City along with me to the Åland Islands, where I spent a peaceful summer week, reading the novel in a matter of days. (This review appears much later, closer to the publication date in October.) Nearly 500 pages may seem like a big investment, but it never felt like that. Christensen is an experienced writer who knows how to maintain your interest all the way to the finish – although there is no finish per se. Echoes of the City is part one of a trilogy already published in Norwegian. I hope it is well received in the English-speaking world, so that we may expect to see parts two and three appear in translation soon.
August 29, 2019
This is a wonderful book, right up my street. I wondered how I would get on with it at first - so many street names, city landmarks etc in the prologue were initially offputting - but, by the end, I went back to read it again and it all fell into place in a really poignant way.
We follow the fortunes of a cast of utterly believable and engaging characters for a decade immediately after the end of WWII. I was riveted to their stories and to the story of Oslo, too, emerging from the war into peacetime. The structure of the book is key. Chapters dealing with the characters’ day-to-day lives are interspersed with short chapters taking the form of minutes of the Red Cross in the Fagerborg district of Oslo. These minutes serve to show the neighbourhood’s development over the years and also give the reader a moment to digest the action of the last ‘character’ chapter and the author the chance to move the action along without any jarring breaks. All very effective.
The writing is fluid, unpretentious and understated, conveying emotion without overplaying it. It appealed to me very much, all credit to the translator (who I’ve come across before in work by Scandinavian authors). The characters are so well drawn. I loved them all, especially the Kristoffersen family, Fru Vik and Enzo Zanetti. I am delighted to find that this is the first in a trilogy so I’ll have the opportunity to see how they make out beyond the pages of this book. I couldn’t recommend it more.
With thanks to Quercus/MacLehose Press via NetGalley for the opportunity to read an ARC.
We follow the fortunes of a cast of utterly believable and engaging characters for a decade immediately after the end of WWII. I was riveted to their stories and to the story of Oslo, too, emerging from the war into peacetime. The structure of the book is key. Chapters dealing with the characters’ day-to-day lives are interspersed with short chapters taking the form of minutes of the Red Cross in the Fagerborg district of Oslo. These minutes serve to show the neighbourhood’s development over the years and also give the reader a moment to digest the action of the last ‘character’ chapter and the author the chance to move the action along without any jarring breaks. All very effective.
The writing is fluid, unpretentious and understated, conveying emotion without overplaying it. It appealed to me very much, all credit to the translator (who I’ve come across before in work by Scandinavian authors). The characters are so well drawn. I loved them all, especially the Kristoffersen family, Fru Vik and Enzo Zanetti. I am delighted to find that this is the first in a trilogy so I’ll have the opportunity to see how they make out beyond the pages of this book. I couldn’t recommend it more.
With thanks to Quercus/MacLehose Press via NetGalley for the opportunity to read an ARC.
January 1, 2024
“The streets are crowded this Saturday, perhaps the first day of spring this year. No-one notices a young fair-haired man, elegantly dressed, otherwise ordinary in every way, suddenly stop and take a deep breath. It is just one of many movements that go unregistered, which aren’t recorded in a ledger but slip into place in the city’s choreography, an apparent chaos that is still meaningful, unpredictable and purposeful.”
Lars Saabye Christensen’s, “Echoes of the City” is just that. A soft, quietly pulsating flowing rhythm of the sounds that come together to make up the city of Oslo, awakening, unfolding, emerging from the ashes of World War 2. Resurrecting as an infant, tentatively taking its first steps in a world that could never be the same again.
Centred around Kirkeveien which “begins in Frogner Square, where the tram turns east towards the districts of Elisenberg and Solli, if you’re going in that direction, of course, and away from Fagerborg, away from Majorstua, away from this city that I love, despite everything...”, Echoes of the city breathes through the lives of a number of individuals who are ordinary yet demonstrative of life.
The book opens with the young man, Jesper Kristofferson reminiscing and reflecting on this part of Oslo, and the chapters that follow take us back to his childhood. And while the narrative is not told through Jesper in the first person, he remains a central figure... “a sensitive boy”... along with Maj, his mother and Ewald, his father. Christensen tells stories that otherwise might go unnoticed. These are the daily events, life narratives, the things that happen. And somehow this is not a boring story. It is life in all its fullness and mundaneness. All the pieces coming together to form a cohesive whole.
A beautiful and sensitive read. Looking forward to book two of this trilogy and reading more of this Norwegian writer.
Lars Saabye Christensen’s, “Echoes of the City” is just that. A soft, quietly pulsating flowing rhythm of the sounds that come together to make up the city of Oslo, awakening, unfolding, emerging from the ashes of World War 2. Resurrecting as an infant, tentatively taking its first steps in a world that could never be the same again.
Centred around Kirkeveien which “begins in Frogner Square, where the tram turns east towards the districts of Elisenberg and Solli, if you’re going in that direction, of course, and away from Fagerborg, away from Majorstua, away from this city that I love, despite everything...”, Echoes of the city breathes through the lives of a number of individuals who are ordinary yet demonstrative of life.
The book opens with the young man, Jesper Kristofferson reminiscing and reflecting on this part of Oslo, and the chapters that follow take us back to his childhood. And while the narrative is not told through Jesper in the first person, he remains a central figure... “a sensitive boy”... along with Maj, his mother and Ewald, his father. Christensen tells stories that otherwise might go unnoticed. These are the daily events, life narratives, the things that happen. And somehow this is not a boring story. It is life in all its fullness and mundaneness. All the pieces coming together to form a cohesive whole.
A beautiful and sensitive read. Looking forward to book two of this trilogy and reading more of this Norwegian writer.
December 29, 2019
I really enjoyed this, such a delightful book. It opens in 1947 in post-war Oslo as Norway is emerging from wartime austerity after the German occupation. We see how the city and its inhabitants are changing and adapting to changing times. The novel centres around the Kristoffersen family, and embraces their neighbours, family, colleagues and friends as well as the wider community. The structure is unusual and very effective, as each narrative chapter is appended by notes and minutes from the meetings of the local branch of the Norwegian Red Cross and these notes give background and context to the characters’ daily lives, especially after Maj Kristoffersen starts working for the branch. The pace is slow and measured so that the reader gets a real feel for the daily round with its ups and downs, triumphs and disappointments. The Krisotoffersen family feel very real and relatable and I got completely caught up in their trajectory throughout the novel. The book is at once a snapshot of a particular place and time as well as an engaging, insightful and compassionate portrait of an “ordinary” family.
January 19, 2020
A novel of family, set in OSLO
Echoes of the City is a beautifully written and beautifully translated novel. It describes life for one family in post WW2 Oslo. The war is over, but hardship remains. Maj (the mother of the family) is the treasurer of the local branch of the Red Cross, and much of the background to the story comes from the minutiae of work they do – whose plea for food and clothing they accept, and whose they reject. Ewald (the father of the family) is a designer in an advertising agency. He also drinks too much. In the course of the book (not, I think, a spoiler) he is diagnosed with terminal cancer. Jesper (their son) is a somewhat troubled boy. Stine (their daughter) is born towards the end of the novel. Jesper befriends, and becomes the ears for, Jostein who hearing was damaged when he was in a traffic accident. The relationship between the two of them is one of the foundations of the book. As is the relationship between Fru Vik, a widow and upstairs neighbour, and the family itself. She babysits Jesper when he is young. She has an affair with, and then marries, a widowed antiquarian book seller. The various strands of the story all come together as it progresses – it was, for example, the bookseller’s son who carried out on the spot first aid when Jostein was in his accident.
The storyline is gentle and well observed. The reader becomes involved in the lives of those we read about. They are normal folk struggling to survive and make sense of life in post WW2 Norway. The Oslo of that time comes through strongly, and some of the landmarks will be familiar to those with a current knowledge of the city.
Lars Saabye Christensen is one of Norway’s pre-eminent novelists. And Don Bartlett is one of the very best translators of Norwegian fiction. The combination is powerful and makes for an utterly convincing read.
Definitely recommended.
Echoes of the City is a beautifully written and beautifully translated novel. It describes life for one family in post WW2 Oslo. The war is over, but hardship remains. Maj (the mother of the family) is the treasurer of the local branch of the Red Cross, and much of the background to the story comes from the minutiae of work they do – whose plea for food and clothing they accept, and whose they reject. Ewald (the father of the family) is a designer in an advertising agency. He also drinks too much. In the course of the book (not, I think, a spoiler) he is diagnosed with terminal cancer. Jesper (their son) is a somewhat troubled boy. Stine (their daughter) is born towards the end of the novel. Jesper befriends, and becomes the ears for, Jostein who hearing was damaged when he was in a traffic accident. The relationship between the two of them is one of the foundations of the book. As is the relationship between Fru Vik, a widow and upstairs neighbour, and the family itself. She babysits Jesper when he is young. She has an affair with, and then marries, a widowed antiquarian book seller. The various strands of the story all come together as it progresses – it was, for example, the bookseller’s son who carried out on the spot first aid when Jostein was in his accident.
The storyline is gentle and well observed. The reader becomes involved in the lives of those we read about. They are normal folk struggling to survive and make sense of life in post WW2 Norway. The Oslo of that time comes through strongly, and some of the landmarks will be familiar to those with a current knowledge of the city.
Lars Saabye Christensen is one of Norway’s pre-eminent novelists. And Don Bartlett is one of the very best translators of Norwegian fiction. The combination is powerful and makes for an utterly convincing read.
Definitely recommended.
September 26, 2019
VISIT THE LOCATIONS IN THE NOVEL
What a unique read. Echoes of the city is many things – a tale of one city, a series of stories of those who live there and a snapshot of history and human emotion.
It also works extremely well as a guide book! There’s so many mentions of street names, city landmarks and statues to note moments in history etc that you could literally walk around the city with this book in your hand and discover much more than you normally would.
The characters who live at Kirkeveien are delightful characters to meet in a novel. It’s just after WW2 and we get to meet them gradually, all of them with fascinating stories and their hopes and dreams. It’s through their stories that we really start to explore and discover the real face of Oslo as the city moves from wartime into peacetime.
This is when the structure of the book really comes into its own. It’s uniquely set out with chapters on characters interspersed with notes and minutes from the Norwegian Red Cross. This is the organization which has played a major role in the city in helping developing it and mapping it out. Through the Red Cross, we see how the city has changed, is changing now and adapting to the changing times. Then when we meet the characters again, we see how the city and the people, the people and the city live side by side, and how the stories of one intertwine with those of the other.
This really is a unique and insightful read. A novel that’s hard to categorise as it carves out its own niche. First of a trilogy that I am very much looking forward to revisiting.
July 20, 2020
“On the tennis courts the nets have been taken down. A white ball lies in the shale, like a full stop after the final serve of the summer.”
*
“He cries. He doesn’t know why. It is that longing of which we know nothing. It is what we only sense, vague and intangible, it is what will reveal itself one day, clear and grounded in real experience.”
*
“He is surrounded by distance.”
*
“December is putting on its evening gown early.”
*
“Right after Schubert,” Enzo Zanetti says. “Right after Schubert’s finales and Norwegian sausages come jealous women. On my list of things I hate.”
*
“Where does the shadow belong in the darkness?”
*
“He cries. He doesn’t know why. It is that longing of which we know nothing. It is what we only sense, vague and intangible, it is what will reveal itself one day, clear and grounded in real experience.”
*
“He is surrounded by distance.”
*
“December is putting on its evening gown early.”
*
“Right after Schubert,” Enzo Zanetti says. “Right after Schubert’s finales and Norwegian sausages come jealous women. On my list of things I hate.”
*
“Where does the shadow belong in the darkness?”
October 15, 2019
‘She just stands watching the two boys. They are still children, but the war, of which they remember barely anything and yet cannot forget, has cast a shadow over them that causes their childhood age to lose its meaning. They are already carrying the darkness of adulthood. They are children in camouflage.’
This book is the first in a trilogy (parts 2 and 3 have already been published in Norway) by acclaimed author Lars Saabye Christensen. Having previously read 3 of his works I was super-excited to get hold of this, and it certainly lives up to expectations. This is, in essence, a love letter to Oslo, its people – especially the women – and to a nation, emerging from the terrible consequences of occupation during the Second World War and a devastated economy. The novel opens in 1957 with the death of King Haakon, and then jumps back in time to 1947. The central figures of the novel are the Kristoffersen family: father Ewald, his wife Maj, and their children Jesper and Stine, who is born later in the novel. In truth, it is the area around Kirkeveien that is the main ‘character’, and the people who live and work there, from the butcher and his son, to the Kristoffersen’s upstairs neighbour, to the school teacher Lokke and the Italian immigrant Enzo. As their lives intertwine and stories develop, it is Jesper who is the one who binds them all together. He is a wonderfully created character; overly-sensitive to sounds but with a natural talent for music, he is often taken for being a bit slow, or sullen. As with much of Christensen’s novels it is a way of directing our view of events, seen through the eyes of a young(ish) child, usually a boy, which helps us to re-interpret how we, as adults, live our lives.
Interspersed with the narrative is an ongoing celebration of the work of the Red Cross in this post-war country. Minutes of meetings are given throughout, which in many ways quietly yet movingly pay tribute to the work of this extraordinary charity, but also gives a subtle insight into the lives of many people struggling to cope in these hard times. There are also, again in a quietly unforced way, genuinely funny moments as the ‘impartial’ notes give way to personal comments and opinions.
Nothing much happens, and that’s the joy of this novel. It is the small things that matter: the arrival of a telephone in the Kristoffersen’s apartment; piano lessons; selling stamps for the charity; a gentle love-affair between two widowed neighbours. There is joy and beauty in the smallest things, like a snowman in the backyard or the sound of church bells. There is a sense of the place, of the city, as there is in Joyce’s ‘Ulysses’, as we follow our characters down streets and hills and passed specific buildings. It is also profoundly moving, and I defy anyone to remain dry-eyed at certain moments.
Christensen is one of my favourite contemporary writers and, if this first book of the trilogy is anything to go by, this will stand as his defining work. For anyone who calls a city or a place ‘home’, you will recognise the people and the stories. The themes are universal, the stories deeply personal, and always it is written in such a lyrical prose that you can just lose yourself in the rhythm of the words:
‘Summer plunges this city even deeper between the mountain ridges while raising those people who remain after the others have gone, raising them into a majestic loneliness. Summer here isn’t a season. Summer is a moment in time.’
(And here, this is the moment to highlight the extraordinary translation by Dan Bartlett, always an excellent reader of tone and nuance in the original work.)
Glorious, epic in its attention to the small things in life, this book deserves to be read. I, for one, cannot wait for parts 2 and 3 to get an English translation.
This book is the first in a trilogy (parts 2 and 3 have already been published in Norway) by acclaimed author Lars Saabye Christensen. Having previously read 3 of his works I was super-excited to get hold of this, and it certainly lives up to expectations. This is, in essence, a love letter to Oslo, its people – especially the women – and to a nation, emerging from the terrible consequences of occupation during the Second World War and a devastated economy. The novel opens in 1957 with the death of King Haakon, and then jumps back in time to 1947. The central figures of the novel are the Kristoffersen family: father Ewald, his wife Maj, and their children Jesper and Stine, who is born later in the novel. In truth, it is the area around Kirkeveien that is the main ‘character’, and the people who live and work there, from the butcher and his son, to the Kristoffersen’s upstairs neighbour, to the school teacher Lokke and the Italian immigrant Enzo. As their lives intertwine and stories develop, it is Jesper who is the one who binds them all together. He is a wonderfully created character; overly-sensitive to sounds but with a natural talent for music, he is often taken for being a bit slow, or sullen. As with much of Christensen’s novels it is a way of directing our view of events, seen through the eyes of a young(ish) child, usually a boy, which helps us to re-interpret how we, as adults, live our lives.
Interspersed with the narrative is an ongoing celebration of the work of the Red Cross in this post-war country. Minutes of meetings are given throughout, which in many ways quietly yet movingly pay tribute to the work of this extraordinary charity, but also gives a subtle insight into the lives of many people struggling to cope in these hard times. There are also, again in a quietly unforced way, genuinely funny moments as the ‘impartial’ notes give way to personal comments and opinions.
Nothing much happens, and that’s the joy of this novel. It is the small things that matter: the arrival of a telephone in the Kristoffersen’s apartment; piano lessons; selling stamps for the charity; a gentle love-affair between two widowed neighbours. There is joy and beauty in the smallest things, like a snowman in the backyard or the sound of church bells. There is a sense of the place, of the city, as there is in Joyce’s ‘Ulysses’, as we follow our characters down streets and hills and passed specific buildings. It is also profoundly moving, and I defy anyone to remain dry-eyed at certain moments.
Christensen is one of my favourite contemporary writers and, if this first book of the trilogy is anything to go by, this will stand as his defining work. For anyone who calls a city or a place ‘home’, you will recognise the people and the stories. The themes are universal, the stories deeply personal, and always it is written in such a lyrical prose that you can just lose yourself in the rhythm of the words:
‘Summer plunges this city even deeper between the mountain ridges while raising those people who remain after the others have gone, raising them into a majestic loneliness. Summer here isn’t a season. Summer is a moment in time.’
(And here, this is the moment to highlight the extraordinary translation by Dan Bartlett, always an excellent reader of tone and nuance in the original work.)
Glorious, epic in its attention to the small things in life, this book deserves to be read. I, for one, cannot wait for parts 2 and 3 to get an English translation.
November 9, 2017
Min første tanke er at jeg er glad for at dette skal bli en trilogi, for jeg er på ingen måte klar til å gi slipp hverken på byen eller karakterene.
Jeg sier "byen eller karakterene", men byen er nærmest en karakter i seg selv i Saabye Christensens nyeste verk. Byen binder sammen, og i sentrum står Ewald, Maj og Jesper Kristoffersen. Det er på Fagerborg de hører hjemme: Ewald jobber med Oslos 900-årsjubileum, Maj er frivillig i Røde Kors og Jesper sliter med å finne til rette i en forvirrende barnetilværelse farget av både etterkrigstiden og byen selv. Hvis boken kan sies å ha hovedpersoner, må det være disse tre. Men "Byens spor" omhandler ganske mange flere, deriblant Enkefru Vik, pianisten Enzo Zanetii, enkemannen Olaf Hall og hans stesønn Bjørn Stranger.
Alle disse karakterene veksles det mellom med tanke på perspektiv, og perspektivet byttes fortløpende, nærmest som et slags maraton. Man skulle tro dette ville bli forvirrende, men det er ryddig og oversiktlig gjort, slik at det blir en utrolig god flyt i fortellerstemmen. Det skaper også en slags ekstra spenning i lesningen som i hvert fall jeg koste meg ordentlig med.
På tro Saabye Christensen-vis, skildres byen i fantastisk detaljrikhet og med et språk som er både levende og originalt. Man skjønner, som leser, at det har vært gjort grundig research for å få de historiske elementene til å falle på plass.
Denne boken er definitivt en must-read for alle Saabye-Christensen entusiaster.
Jeg gleder meg i hvert fall veldig til neste bok kommer ut.
Kan jeg få den nå?
Vær så snill?
Jeg sier "byen eller karakterene", men byen er nærmest en karakter i seg selv i Saabye Christensens nyeste verk. Byen binder sammen, og i sentrum står Ewald, Maj og Jesper Kristoffersen. Det er på Fagerborg de hører hjemme: Ewald jobber med Oslos 900-årsjubileum, Maj er frivillig i Røde Kors og Jesper sliter med å finne til rette i en forvirrende barnetilværelse farget av både etterkrigstiden og byen selv. Hvis boken kan sies å ha hovedpersoner, må det være disse tre. Men "Byens spor" omhandler ganske mange flere, deriblant Enkefru Vik, pianisten Enzo Zanetii, enkemannen Olaf Hall og hans stesønn Bjørn Stranger.
Alle disse karakterene veksles det mellom med tanke på perspektiv, og perspektivet byttes fortløpende, nærmest som et slags maraton. Man skulle tro dette ville bli forvirrende, men det er ryddig og oversiktlig gjort, slik at det blir en utrolig god flyt i fortellerstemmen. Det skaper også en slags ekstra spenning i lesningen som i hvert fall jeg koste meg ordentlig med.
På tro Saabye Christensen-vis, skildres byen i fantastisk detaljrikhet og med et språk som er både levende og originalt. Man skjønner, som leser, at det har vært gjort grundig research for å få de historiske elementene til å falle på plass.
Denne boken er definitivt en must-read for alle Saabye-Christensen entusiaster.
Jeg gleder meg i hvert fall veldig til neste bok kommer ut.
Kan jeg få den nå?
Vær så snill?
April 11, 2020
This started out well - it's also weirdly pretty prescient, being about Oslo slowly coming back to life after the disastrous consequences of World War 2.
The writing is lovely, the detail intruiging, the characters rounded and real.
But it truly is the most plotless book I've read. Nothing happens. Which is fine for a couple hundred pages but at almost 500 it gets a bit boring.
The writing is lovely, the detail intruiging, the characters rounded and real.
But it truly is the most plotless book I've read. Nothing happens. Which is fine for a couple hundred pages but at almost 500 it gets a bit boring.
August 30, 2018
"- Jeg faller. Jeg faller bakover. Noen ganger forover også. Men mest bakover.
Dr. Lund lener seg fram igjen.
- Du drømmer at du faller, ikke sant?
- Jeg faller.
- Slår du deg?
Jesper ler plutselig og sier ikke mer."
October 31, 2018
Nok en innertier fra Osloforfatteren - eminent bra lest av Kim Haugen.
July 15, 2018
Byens Spor is a bit of a slow burn, but once the flame catches it burns as bright as anyone could ask it to.
This isn't a story about something in particular. It's a window into post-war Oslo and the lives of some of the people living in it. We follow a handful of characters through their everyday lives. The ups the downs, the mundane, and the extraordinary.
At the start of the book, it's easy to turn against it. The amount of literary embellishments and unnecessary detail interrupting the story seems almost ridiculously self-indulgent, but as the story progresses it all starts to make sense. The book isn't trying to tell you what happened - it's giving you an opportunity to feel what happened. And it works. I imagine the experience of this book will vary wildly from reader to reader, but I've lived in Oslo for long enough that the constant references to street-names, places, and the extraneous details about pretty much everything made me picture what the streets might have been like, what it might have felt like to walk down them, and what the characters in the book might have experienced as they did so. And once I got dragged into the setting of the story, it just flowed along. Whether it be birth, death, friendship, love, or a family just eating breakfast. I felt like I was there in post-war Oslo, just witnessing the lives of these characters.
On that note, it almost feels inappropriate to even write anything about whether the characters felt believable, whether I felt they were plausible and well fleshed out. Of course they were! How could they not have been? I was right there with them... Or at least I felt like I was. The book really drew me in that much.
That said, as much as the book drew me in, it really didn't engage me. I'm not blaming it for not doing so, that would be like blaming a cup of Earl Grey for not being spicy enough, but it's not the kind of book that will make you sit on the edge of your seat in anticipation of what will happen next. But it will make you care about what's happening in the moment you're reading about. And it will make you want to experience more of those moments.
I really liked this book. I wouldn't argue against anyone who claims that it's slow, plodding, and packed with self-indulgent nostalgic flourishes. Because it is. And it's supposed to be. And I really liked it.
This isn't a story about something in particular. It's a window into post-war Oslo and the lives of some of the people living in it. We follow a handful of characters through their everyday lives. The ups the downs, the mundane, and the extraordinary.
At the start of the book, it's easy to turn against it. The amount of literary embellishments and unnecessary detail interrupting the story seems almost ridiculously self-indulgent, but as the story progresses it all starts to make sense. The book isn't trying to tell you what happened - it's giving you an opportunity to feel what happened. And it works. I imagine the experience of this book will vary wildly from reader to reader, but I've lived in Oslo for long enough that the constant references to street-names, places, and the extraneous details about pretty much everything made me picture what the streets might have been like, what it might have felt like to walk down them, and what the characters in the book might have experienced as they did so. And once I got dragged into the setting of the story, it just flowed along. Whether it be birth, death, friendship, love, or a family just eating breakfast. I felt like I was there in post-war Oslo, just witnessing the lives of these characters.
On that note, it almost feels inappropriate to even write anything about whether the characters felt believable, whether I felt they were plausible and well fleshed out. Of course they were! How could they not have been? I was right there with them... Or at least I felt like I was. The book really drew me in that much.
That said, as much as the book drew me in, it really didn't engage me. I'm not blaming it for not doing so, that would be like blaming a cup of Earl Grey for not being spicy enough, but it's not the kind of book that will make you sit on the edge of your seat in anticipation of what will happen next. But it will make you care about what's happening in the moment you're reading about. And it will make you want to experience more of those moments.
I really liked this book. I wouldn't argue against anyone who claims that it's slow, plodding, and packed with self-indulgent nostalgic flourishes. Because it is. And it's supposed to be. And I really liked it.
March 20, 2020
Vi får bli med til et Oslo etter krigen, og som Saabye Christensen skildrer så godt. Vi følger Ewald som har blitt syk, Maj som har engasjert seg i Røde kors og sønnen deres Jesper - som ikke er helt som andre gutter.
Boken er full av følelser, og skildrer et samfunn med karakterer i utvikling. Dette er første boken i en trilogi, og jeg gleder meg stort til å lese resten! Anbefales 💜
Boken er full av følelser, og skildrer et samfunn med karakterer i utvikling. Dette er første boken i en trilogi, og jeg gleder meg stort til å lese resten! Anbefales 💜
March 17, 2018
Pent, men overfladisk.
December 21, 2019
Oslo i mitt hjerte ❤️
July 28, 2023
For noen silkemyke overganger mellom karakterene!
July 7, 2020
oslo, byen min liksom
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
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September 4, 2021Andektighet er ordet. Jeg har lest med andektighet og medlevelse. Saabye Christensen er så varlig og tett inn på alle karakterene i denne romanen, og likevel denne avstanden. Og denne sårheten-! Glede- og like plutselig et mørke, et tungsinn, noe som man ikke kommer forbi helt. Sånn går det, i en evig bølgebevegelse. Som leser ble jeg helt bergatt. Disse litt bøyde og slitne menneskene, i sitt kav og sin uro i etterkrigstidens Oslo. De står liksom rett ved siden av deg mens jeg leser. Og så Oslo da, alle de gatene jeg selv har gått i. Dette er noe av det fineste jeg har lest av Lars Saabye Christensen. Har aldri vært superfan av han. Men nå er jeg det. Kanskje jeg ikke var klar for hans forfatterskap før nå.
«Nå smelter isen og kan ikke brukes til noe, bare en øde sørpe. Barnehagen ved det gule trehuset er like øde og forlatt på denne tiden av dagen. Det tomme lekestativet ligner et skjelett fra et firkantet, forhistorisk dyr som døde ut før krigen begynte. Jesper føler seg plutselig voksen, ikke gammel, men voksen, med disse notene under armen er han voksen.»
«Nå smelter isen og kan ikke brukes til noe, bare en øde sørpe. Barnehagen ved det gule trehuset er like øde og forlatt på denne tiden av dagen. Det tomme lekestativet ligner et skjelett fra et firkantet, forhistorisk dyr som døde ut før krigen begynte. Jesper føler seg plutselig voksen, ikke gammel, men voksen, med disse notene under armen er han voksen.»
January 1, 2018
I byrjinga syntest eg det gjekk litt treigt, at eg ikkje kom heilt innpå karakterane, at det var litt tamt. Eg klarte ikkje heilt å verte nysgjerrig på nokon andre enn Jesper. Eg venta på DEN passasjen. Det avsnittet som ein kan ringe rundt, skrive ned og sitere. Som slår deg i magen. Det kom aldri. Men dette er etterkrigstidas Oslo. Det er litt stillferdig. Nøkternt. Alle strir med sitt eige. Når eg omsider skjønte dette, vart eg med eitt veldig glad i denne romanen likevel. Og då skjønte eg plutseleg kva slags rolle møtereferata frå Røde Kors spelte i det heile. Eg kjem til å ha med meg Jesper ei stund, trur eg. Og eg gler meg til å møte han att.
Mykje rar kommabruk, forresten. Ubetydeleg? Ja, kanskje. Men likevel irriterande.
Mykje rar kommabruk, forresten. Ubetydeleg? Ja, kanskje. Men likevel irriterande.
November 23, 2022
En god bok, som er bra skrevet. Liker skildringene av Oslo og hvordan karakterene blender inn i hverandre. Boken får frem livet i Oslo på 50-tallet, noe som er spennende å lese. Jeg klarer likevel ikke å bli helt oppslukt i boken, mye da jeg ikke kjenner meg igjen i noen av karakterenes og situasjonene deres. Men absolutt en fin bok.
June 10, 2018
“Erindring er sorg. Historie er forsoning.”
July 8, 2018
Egentlig ganske fin, men tror ikke jeg kjenner Oslo godt nok til virkelig å like denne
June 22, 2020
Hverdagsliv i Oslo umiddelbart efter anden verdenskrig. Vi følger en middelklassefamilie og de mennesker, som familiemedlemmerne kender.
Historien fortælles indefra de forskellige personer, som fortælleren springer rundt mellem. Enkelte gange er der en slags alvidende fortæller, som ved, hvad skæbnen bliver for nogle af bipersonerne (det virker lidt pjattet på mig). Sproget er enkelt, letflydende.
Det er en ren fornøjelse at læse bogen, selvom den er lang. Jeg tror faktisk, at jeg tager de næste 400 sider også - bogen er en del af en triologi.
På bagsiden står der: “et kærlighedbrev til en by - og til dens kvinder”. Mærkeligt, for mændene er mindst lige så godt beskrevet, som kvinderne. Faktisk overvejede jeg, om kvinderne var mere stereotype, kedelige end mændene. Er det ikke hos mændene og drengene, at følelserne rigtigt spiller sig ud? Og er kvinderne ikke mere passive, låste, med færre interessante tanker og iagtagelser, end mændene? Jeg tror det faktisk. Det skyldes nok, at drengen og faren har langt mere spændende historier i denne bog, end moren og datteren (som er spædbarn). Det skyldes nok også, at de to centrale kvinder ligesom ikke kommer nogen vegne. Moren i familien føler sig låst i sin rolle og har faktisk meget få interessante overvejelser. Ovenboen, som er enke, er næsten karikeret i hendes ubeslutsomhed og utilfredshed. Heller ikke hun tænker ret meget rigtigt interessant. Hvorimod manden og drengen har mange overraskende og interessante tanker.
Løgne, fortielser og tavshed bliver ofte brugt som en slags motiv i bøger (måske mere i nutidige end i ældre bøger?). Det er også tilfældet her. Men hvor tavshed og fortielser almindeligvis ses som et udtryk for noget forkvaklet, ser man her mere tavshed og fortielser som noget positivt, omsorgsfuldt. Igen er det mændene, der får rollerne som dem, der kan holde ting for sig selv, når det vil skade andre, hvis de “åbnede op”. Jeg vil holde øje med dette i de næste bøger. Det er jo muligt, at forfatteren faktisk mener, at mænd er bedre til at holde tanker for sig selv, hvorimod kvinder snakker for meget om for lidt. Det er også muligt, at kvinderne vi udvikle sig i de følgende bøger.
Historien fortælles indefra de forskellige personer, som fortælleren springer rundt mellem. Enkelte gange er der en slags alvidende fortæller, som ved, hvad skæbnen bliver for nogle af bipersonerne (det virker lidt pjattet på mig). Sproget er enkelt, letflydende.
Det er en ren fornøjelse at læse bogen, selvom den er lang. Jeg tror faktisk, at jeg tager de næste 400 sider også - bogen er en del af en triologi.
På bagsiden står der: “et kærlighedbrev til en by - og til dens kvinder”. Mærkeligt, for mændene er mindst lige så godt beskrevet, som kvinderne. Faktisk overvejede jeg, om kvinderne var mere stereotype, kedelige end mændene. Er det ikke hos mændene og drengene, at følelserne rigtigt spiller sig ud? Og er kvinderne ikke mere passive, låste, med færre interessante tanker og iagtagelser, end mændene? Jeg tror det faktisk. Det skyldes nok, at drengen og faren har langt mere spændende historier i denne bog, end moren og datteren (som er spædbarn). Det skyldes nok også, at de to centrale kvinder ligesom ikke kommer nogen vegne. Moren i familien føler sig låst i sin rolle og har faktisk meget få interessante overvejelser. Ovenboen, som er enke, er næsten karikeret i hendes ubeslutsomhed og utilfredshed. Heller ikke hun tænker ret meget rigtigt interessant. Hvorimod manden og drengen har mange overraskende og interessante tanker.
Løgne, fortielser og tavshed bliver ofte brugt som en slags motiv i bøger (måske mere i nutidige end i ældre bøger?). Det er også tilfældet her. Men hvor tavshed og fortielser almindeligvis ses som et udtryk for noget forkvaklet, ser man her mere tavshed og fortielser som noget positivt, omsorgsfuldt. Igen er det mændene, der får rollerne som dem, der kan holde ting for sig selv, når det vil skade andre, hvis de “åbnede op”. Jeg vil holde øje med dette i de næste bøger. Det er jo muligt, at forfatteren faktisk mener, at mænd er bedre til at holde tanker for sig selv, hvorimod kvinder snakker for meget om for lidt. Det er også muligt, at kvinderne vi udvikle sig i de følgende bøger.
July 31, 2020
Jeg elsker bøker som enkelt beskriver livet. Lars Saabye Christensen gjør dette på et glimrende vis ved å kildre karakterene og flette historiene deres sammen på en naturlig og glatt måte. Han hopper fra å beskrive tankene til en av personene til en annen, uten at det blir rotete. I tillegg kildrer han historiene ved å legge stort fokus på hvor de finner sted, i hvilke gater eller plasser i Oslo, noe som får leseren til å føle at historiene til karaktenere har funnet sted, og ikke er oppdiktet.
May 1, 2019
En godt skrevet bok, men litt langsom i handlingen for min del. Jeg klarte ikke helt engasjere meg for hovedpersonene, og syns det hele ble for trått. Hvert kapittel avsluttes også med et resymé fra Røde Kors sine møter, og det syns jeg ble for tamt og uinteressant. Det er visstnok to oppfølgere til denne, de har jeg ikke tenkt å lese!
May 24, 2021
I haven't read anything by Lars Saabye Christensen since I was 15, and that is a LONG time ago..
I quickly recognized his writing style though!
Byens spor/Echoes of the City is a slow, warm story about the lives of a few people living in Oslo, Norway after WW2.
The characters are slowly evolving, changing, learning, connecting and they feel like family after I've finished the book.
As I have grown up in Oslo myself and have always been interested in it's history, this was a perfect book for me.
Loved the book, will continue with the next one soon! (I'm excited that a 4th book is coming soon too!)
4,5/5 ⭐⭐⭐⭐🌠
I quickly recognized his writing style though!
Byens spor/Echoes of the City is a slow, warm story about the lives of a few people living in Oslo, Norway after WW2.
The characters are slowly evolving, changing, learning, connecting and they feel like family after I've finished the book.
As I have grown up in Oslo myself and have always been interested in it's history, this was a perfect book for me.
Loved the book, will continue with the next one soon! (I'm excited that a 4th book is coming soon too!)
4,5/5 ⭐⭐⭐⭐🌠
August 25, 2019
Fin bok i Saabye Christensenstil. Rett på bok nummer 2.
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