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Transfer Window
Transfer Window is a utopian vision of the wealthy suburbs north of Copenhagen as a luxurious hospice. Everyone wears white. New-age nuns grow organic cannabis on the beach. The internet and music are forbidden, but you can swim in the icy sea in the winter. In amongst it all come the crushing memories of life as a terminal cancer patient, otherwise our narrator and her friend Mikkel hang out, talking about the 80s and about how they would prefer to die. They also laugh at the mistakes of the healthy.
92 pages, Paperback
Published June 27, 2019
17 people are currently reading
609 people want to read
About the author
Maria Gerhardt
19 books22 followersMaria Gerhardt debuterede med bestselleren Der bor Hollywoodstjerner på vejen i 2014. Året efter kom digtsamlingen Amagermesteren, som vandt Politikens litteraturpris. I 2017 udkom hendes tredje bog, Transfervindue.
Når Maria Gerhardt ikke skrev bøger, arbejdede hun med musik og følelser, under dj aliasset Djuna Barnes.
Når Maria Gerhardt ikke skrev bøger, arbejdede hun med musik og følelser, under dj aliasset Djuna Barnes.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 98 reviews
October 31, 2019
A good novella written in the form of vignettes or messages sent to a lover.
Although it's supposed to be, in part, a dystopia in which the government moved the terminally-illed to a kind of walled-in reserve in North Zealand, the dystopian plot is rather flimsy, and I read it mostly as an obvious memoir/diary/autofiction book, as Maria Gerhardt clearly writes about her own experiences as a cancer patient (she eventually died not long after publishing this book).
3,5*
Although it's supposed to be, in part, a dystopia in which the government moved the terminally-illed to a kind of walled-in reserve in North Zealand, the dystopian plot is rather flimsy, and I read it mostly as an obvious memoir/diary/autofiction book, as Maria Gerhardt clearly writes about her own experiences as a cancer patient (she eventually died not long after publishing this book).
3,5*
July 2, 2019
I wanted to spare you from witnessing any further destruction. Of my body, of memories, of the person I used to be. The person I will never be again.
Transfer Window (Tales of the Mistakes of the Healthy) is translated by Lindy Falk van Rooyen from Maria Gerhardt's Danish original Transfervindue (Fortællinger om de raskes fejl). See
https://inpressbooks.co.uk/blogs/news... for an interview with the translator.
As well as being a writer, Gerhardt was active in the punk and feminist scene in Copenhagen, notably as a leading DJ, under the stage name Djuna Barnes. She was also a successful footballer in her youth, so the connotation of her choice of title is likely deliberate.
But she was diagnosed with breast cancer in her mid 30s and, after an apparent recovery then relapse, died in 2017, aged 39: Transfervindue, her third book, was published just a few days before her death.
Transfer Window is published by the independent press Nordisk Books:
But in the fictionalised world of the novel the northern suburbs and coastline of Copenhagen, previously the preserve of the rich, have been appropriated by the authorities and turned into one enormous Hospice, unparalleled anywhere in the world, where cancer patients live out their days, in idealised surroundings but also, occasional visiting days aside, in isolation from “the healthy” and under a rather institutionalised, albeit benevolent, regime. A virtual-reality centre enables them to reconstruct fond memories.
This is a short but intense novel. 84 pages long but each page contains a separate vignette of text, some only a few lines long. It opens with the narrator looking over the sea:
I wait for the sun, smoking cigarettes while I wait, smoking cigarettes, even though it’s not allowed. When I close my eyes, I’m roused by the sounds. For a startled moment, I forget that doom isn't bearing down, doom is already here.
Jeg venter på solen, ryger cigaretter, imens jeg venter, ryger cigaretter, selvom jeg ikke må. Hver gang jeg lukker øjnene, bliver jeg vækket af lydene. Et nervøst øjeblik har jeg glemt, at katastrofen ikke er på vej, katastrofen er her allerede.
The text is searingly honest and emotional, the narration at different times sentimental, angry, cynical, resigned and scared. Maria looks back on her former life, thinks of the early days of her diagnosis, imagines the future she might have had and describes the visceral reality of her condition and treatment.
The book is addressed to a “you”, her partner, and their young son. We learn Maria left one day suddenly for the hospice and they've had relatively little contact since:
I wanted to spare you from witnessing any further destruction. Of my body, of memories, of the person I used to be. The person I will never be again. I didn’t want him to come home from school, a football tucked under his arm, only to be greeted by a large party from the palliative team. I didn’t want you to see my constantly hunched over, lumping, with crutches, with a walker. I didn’t want you to push me around in the wheelchair I would need one day.
And as the novel ends and she enters the transfer window (note the use of English in the original):
I'm going to the other side. The place that scares you. Amid the mild, planetary melodies. I'm going to soar with eagles. I'm going to soar with Grandad. I'm moving on. I'm meet new friends and there won't be a worry in the world. No walls. No wake up calls. There won't be an ego. The only thing I find frustrating about the next dimension is that you are not coming along.
Jeg skal om på den anden side. The place that scares you. Til planeternes milde, syngende støj. Jeg skal flyve med ørne. Jeg skal flyve med morfar. Jeg skal videre, jeg vil få nye venner, og der vil ikke være nogen problemer. Der vil ikke være nogen mure. Der vil ikke være nogen ure. Der vil ikke være noget ego. Det eneste, der frustrerer mig ved næste dimension, er, at du ikke skal med.
A moving and powerful work - its impact out of all proportion to the word count (indeed perhaps more powerful because of the sparse text).
This is the latest book from the excellent Asympote Book Club (see https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/... for a complete list) and their take on the book is here: https://www.asymptotejournal.com/blog...
4 stars.
Transfer Window (Tales of the Mistakes of the Healthy) is translated by Lindy Falk van Rooyen from Maria Gerhardt's Danish original Transfervindue (Fortællinger om de raskes fejl). See
https://inpressbooks.co.uk/blogs/news... for an interview with the translator.
As well as being a writer, Gerhardt was active in the punk and feminist scene in Copenhagen, notably as a leading DJ, under the stage name Djuna Barnes. She was also a successful footballer in her youth, so the connotation of her choice of title is likely deliberate.
But she was diagnosed with breast cancer in her mid 30s and, after an apparent recovery then relapse, died in 2017, aged 39: Transfervindue, her third book, was published just a few days before her death.
Transfer Window is published by the independent press Nordisk Books:
The goal of Nordisk Books is to bring a variety of modern and contemporary Nordic literature to an English speaking audience. The Scandinavian peninsular - not to forget the islands of Iceland, Greenland and the Faroe Islands - have had something of a golden era of crime writing in recent years. However, there is far more to our Northern neighbours' literary output than that, to which the works of our immensely talented, select band of authors bear testament.The novel is narrated by Maria who shares many of the author’s own biographical details: an author and DJ, mother with her female partner of a young son, but suffering with stage 4 cancer.
But in the fictionalised world of the novel the northern suburbs and coastline of Copenhagen, previously the preserve of the rich, have been appropriated by the authorities and turned into one enormous Hospice, unparalleled anywhere in the world, where cancer patients live out their days, in idealised surroundings but also, occasional visiting days aside, in isolation from “the healthy” and under a rather institutionalised, albeit benevolent, regime. A virtual-reality centre enables them to reconstruct fond memories.
This is a short but intense novel. 84 pages long but each page contains a separate vignette of text, some only a few lines long. It opens with the narrator looking over the sea:
I wait for the sun, smoking cigarettes while I wait, smoking cigarettes, even though it’s not allowed. When I close my eyes, I’m roused by the sounds. For a startled moment, I forget that doom isn't bearing down, doom is already here.
Jeg venter på solen, ryger cigaretter, imens jeg venter, ryger cigaretter, selvom jeg ikke må. Hver gang jeg lukker øjnene, bliver jeg vækket af lydene. Et nervøst øjeblik har jeg glemt, at katastrofen ikke er på vej, katastrofen er her allerede.
The text is searingly honest and emotional, the narration at different times sentimental, angry, cynical, resigned and scared. Maria looks back on her former life, thinks of the early days of her diagnosis, imagines the future she might have had and describes the visceral reality of her condition and treatment.
The book is addressed to a “you”, her partner, and their young son. We learn Maria left one day suddenly for the hospice and they've had relatively little contact since:
I wanted to spare you from witnessing any further destruction. Of my body, of memories, of the person I used to be. The person I will never be again. I didn’t want him to come home from school, a football tucked under his arm, only to be greeted by a large party from the palliative team. I didn’t want you to see my constantly hunched over, lumping, with crutches, with a walker. I didn’t want you to push me around in the wheelchair I would need one day.
And as the novel ends and she enters the transfer window (note the use of English in the original):
I'm going to the other side. The place that scares you. Amid the mild, planetary melodies. I'm going to soar with eagles. I'm going to soar with Grandad. I'm moving on. I'm meet new friends and there won't be a worry in the world. No walls. No wake up calls. There won't be an ego. The only thing I find frustrating about the next dimension is that you are not coming along.
Jeg skal om på den anden side. The place that scares you. Til planeternes milde, syngende støj. Jeg skal flyve med ørne. Jeg skal flyve med morfar. Jeg skal videre, jeg vil få nye venner, og der vil ikke være nogen problemer. Der vil ikke være nogen mure. Der vil ikke være nogen ure. Der vil ikke være noget ego. Det eneste, der frustrerer mig ved næste dimension, er, at du ikke skal med.
A moving and powerful work - its impact out of all proportion to the word count (indeed perhaps more powerful because of the sparse text).
This is the latest book from the excellent Asympote Book Club (see https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/... for a complete list) and their take on the book is here: https://www.asymptotejournal.com/blog...
4 stars.
March 26, 2017
"Min mor har verdens farligste sygdom. Hun kan dø af det. Hun går rundt hele dagen i underbukser"
June 27, 2019
Raw and honest little novella about a relatively young terminal cancer patient living in a luxurious hospice. The story is filled with feelings of anger, sadness, pain and unfairness but also with memories of how good life used to be. Very impressive!
May 18, 2017
Hmmm....
Må indrømme, at den ikke rigtig greb mig. Jeg kom ikke rigtig ind under huden på fortælleren eller de andre personer. Teksten stod ligesom i vejen.
Det er en vigtig bog med et vigtigt tema skrevet på et særdeles vigtigt tidspunkt for forfatteren (på kanten af døden). Derfor er det ikke så fedt at skrive, at den ikke rigtig betød noget for mig. Det er nok det, som vækker flest følelser i mig. Øv.
Må indrømme, at den ikke rigtig greb mig. Jeg kom ikke rigtig ind under huden på fortælleren eller de andre personer. Teksten stod ligesom i vejen.
Det er en vigtig bog med et vigtigt tema skrevet på et særdeles vigtigt tidspunkt for forfatteren (på kanten af døden). Derfor er det ikke så fedt at skrive, at den ikke rigtig betød noget for mig. Det er nok det, som vækker flest følelser i mig. Øv.
September 14, 2020
My sweetheart, I wanted to be your best, but we had just a short session, and no matter how many walls we built, how many mattresses we piled up, the pea always made its way, mutated, sailed along the drains and sprouted in clumps of disused potential. Life is not fair; death comes into its own.
Despite having no expectations for this book whatsoever (I picked it up without reading the synopsis as it's a Borderless Bookclub pick) I was still surprised by it.
It's teeny tiny. Not only in page count but also that it's made up of vignettes ranging in length from one page to just one sentence. You move through the book like through a fog. It's a story in pieces, fractured and fragmented, making for an, at times, perturbing, others melancholy, but consistently unputdownable read. The writing itself really imbues the reader with the feelings of apathy and loss of autonomy that the main character is experiencing.
So, what's it about? That's really for you to find out. It explores themes of isolation and end of life. If you're intrigued, I don't think you can go wrong with giving it a go. You can read it in a single sitting and experience it for yourself. ☁️
March 25, 2017
"Den syge får tilsendt vældig mange emojis"
Maria Gerhardt skriver om livet på et Hospice, om det at være syg og tankerne bag. Det gør hun fantastisk. Bogen er 90 sider lang, men det er meget hårde 90 sider at læse. Hun formår virkelig at få en til at føle hvad man går igennem, når man er terminalsyg. Opkastningerne bliver beskrevet, sorgen i familien og hos pårørende og tankerne omkring døden + det at være væk.
Du sidder tilbage med en følelse af, at man skal huske og bruge sin tid fornuftigt og ikke bare lade den forsvinde i arbejde. Udover det skal man passe på dem man elsker.
Selve skrivestilen er kort små tekster, som på sin vis har en sammenhæng. Teksterne kan skifte frem og tilbage mellem, hvad jeg mener er erindringer, tanker, følelser og lidt fantasi hist og her. Udover det er det en 4 -5 enkel tekster om andre, der har været syge. Alle de unge mødre som Maria kalder dem:
"Louise skrev i påsken, direkte fra ambulancen: "Det er gået i rygmarven, det er gået stærkt".
Bogen for følelserne ude på tøjet og derfor skal den have 5 stjerner. Alle burde læse Marias bog!
Tak for ordene <3
Maria Gerhardt skriver om livet på et Hospice, om det at være syg og tankerne bag. Det gør hun fantastisk. Bogen er 90 sider lang, men det er meget hårde 90 sider at læse. Hun formår virkelig at få en til at føle hvad man går igennem, når man er terminalsyg. Opkastningerne bliver beskrevet, sorgen i familien og hos pårørende og tankerne omkring døden + det at være væk.
Du sidder tilbage med en følelse af, at man skal huske og bruge sin tid fornuftigt og ikke bare lade den forsvinde i arbejde. Udover det skal man passe på dem man elsker.
Selve skrivestilen er kort små tekster, som på sin vis har en sammenhæng. Teksterne kan skifte frem og tilbage mellem, hvad jeg mener er erindringer, tanker, følelser og lidt fantasi hist og her. Udover det er det en 4 -5 enkel tekster om andre, der har været syge. Alle de unge mødre som Maria kalder dem:
"Louise skrev i påsken, direkte fra ambulancen: "Det er gået i rygmarven, det er gået stærkt".
Bogen for følelserne ude på tøjet og derfor skal den have 5 stjerner. Alle burde læse Marias bog!
Tak for ordene <3
October 2, 2020
I read this as part of the Borderless Book Club. Short, devastating, honest and beautiful.
June 27, 2017
En meget smuk kort fortælling som både fik mig til at fælde en tåre og grine en enkelt gang.
March 23, 2024
en blanding af fantasifuld fortælling om en slags hospice for alle kræftsyge der fylder hele strandvejen og tanker om kærlighed, sygdom og det at være døende fra et liv man gerne vil holde fast i. føles utrolig følsom, sand og rørende.
March 10, 2017
Anmeldelsen kan læses på Bognørden
http://bognorden.blogspot.dk/2017/03/...
http://bognorden.blogspot.dk/2017/03/...
September 17, 2017
En intens, hjerteskærende og smuk fortælling om kræftens og dødens favntag. At den så oven i købet er blændende velskrevet og original, føles næsten som et kuriosum ved siden af.
October 21, 2017
Ej hvor var den smuk og rørende! Det gjorde helt ondt at læse om raske mennesker set igennem en syg persons øjne. Hvor dumme og ufølsomme vi fremstår i vores uvidenhed. Jeg har aldrig tænkt på det som en "dem og os" situation før nu.
April 18, 2020
Rørende og trist - men ikke humorforladt - fortælling om en kvinde, der er syg af kræft.
October 11, 2020
Oof, heart-wrenching book.
October 26, 2021
I finished Transfer Window by Maria Gerhardt (translated from Danish by Lindy Falk Van Rooyen) in a single day on a train journey in September ♡
This little novella is an ethereal and unsettling depiction of illness and isolation. The author wrote these vignettes following her diagnosis of breast cancer and sadly passed away less than a week after its original publication. Her personal melancholy and bitterness can be felt throughout the book, as can the very raw truth of mortality. But this isn't simply an autobiographical story. The author crafts a dystopian, oneiric world which is an extension of our/her own; the narrator rests in a luxurious hospice and waits for death, chronicling this disturbing reality, but also the delicate lightness of what life could have been like.
A few saved passages...
"I saw the dying. I saw the first signs of rot and ruins. I took note of endings. I read obituaries. They stuck to me, and I was starting to stink."
"At first my body wasn't destroyed, I can remember being fit on my feet in spring, crisp. When I look at the young girls in the canteen it isn't them I want; it's their bodies, which aren't destroyed, which I want, so I can destroy them."
"I'd always been brutally honest about my grotesque need for attention. My compulsive need to communicate [...] And it's starting to hurt. It gnaws at my body, deeper than the pain for which I get prescribed drugs in significant doses."
"I can't face any more white [...] I'm going to the other side. The place that scares you. Amid the mild, planetary melodies. [...] I'm moving on, I'll meet new friends and there won't be a worry in the world. No walls. No wake up calls. There won't be an ego. The only thing I find frustrating about the next dimension is that you are not coming along."
This little novella is an ethereal and unsettling depiction of illness and isolation. The author wrote these vignettes following her diagnosis of breast cancer and sadly passed away less than a week after its original publication. Her personal melancholy and bitterness can be felt throughout the book, as can the very raw truth of mortality. But this isn't simply an autobiographical story. The author crafts a dystopian, oneiric world which is an extension of our/her own; the narrator rests in a luxurious hospice and waits for death, chronicling this disturbing reality, but also the delicate lightness of what life could have been like.
A few saved passages...
"I saw the dying. I saw the first signs of rot and ruins. I took note of endings. I read obituaries. They stuck to me, and I was starting to stink."
"At first my body wasn't destroyed, I can remember being fit on my feet in spring, crisp. When I look at the young girls in the canteen it isn't them I want; it's their bodies, which aren't destroyed, which I want, so I can destroy them."
"I'd always been brutally honest about my grotesque need for attention. My compulsive need to communicate [...] And it's starting to hurt. It gnaws at my body, deeper than the pain for which I get prescribed drugs in significant doses."
"I can't face any more white [...] I'm going to the other side. The place that scares you. Amid the mild, planetary melodies. [...] I'm moving on, I'll meet new friends and there won't be a worry in the world. No walls. No wake up calls. There won't be an ego. The only thing I find frustrating about the next dimension is that you are not coming along."
February 18, 2019
En vanvittig tragi-komisk og bevægende fortælling om at vide at man er døende. En mavepuster af en barsk kærlighedshistorie, en ønskefortælling om et bedre sted at dø en Det Store Hospital, en ode til livet, en bøn til at de pårørende om at få fingeren ud. Benhård! Og stærkere på 90 sider, end mange andre er det på det tredobbelte.
May 4, 2017
Transfervindue er fortællingen om den dobbelttydige frygt, der opstår, når man på én gang er bange for at blive erstattet og samtidig frygter, at man ikke bliver det. Læs hele anmeldelsen på www.bookmeupscotty.blogspot.com
March 3, 2018
Læs den, læs den, læs den! Hvad er det der gør, at den er så eminent? Kan du forklare mig det?
“Der er oprør over mangel på rødbede”
“Jeg fedter altid for mine venner, det er sådan de bliver”
“Tænk, hvis jeg bliver et mirakel. En af dem, de raske vil stå i kø for at røre ved”
“De er så grundtrygge, at apokalypsen er et sofistikeret emne til middagsselskaber. Noget man måske endda går og savner lidt. For så sker der i det mindste noget.”
Jeg mærker, jeg er i live, når nu jeg læser Maria’s fantastiske ord.
Maria, jeg håber, du får kigget på fugle i din himmel-kikkert....
“Der er oprør over mangel på rødbede”
“Jeg fedter altid for mine venner, det er sådan de bliver”
“Tænk, hvis jeg bliver et mirakel. En af dem, de raske vil stå i kø for at røre ved”
“De er så grundtrygge, at apokalypsen er et sofistikeret emne til middagsselskaber. Noget man måske endda går og savner lidt. For så sker der i det mindste noget.”
Jeg mærker, jeg er i live, når nu jeg læser Maria’s fantastiske ord.
Maria, jeg håber, du får kigget på fugle i din himmel-kikkert....
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
August 2, 2023
'Jeg husker listen, som jeg ugentligt redigerede, over, hvilke af mine venner der ikke kunne overskue mig'
Ovenstående citat er blot et af de adskillige mavepustfremkaldende erkendelser som den terminale hovedperson nøgternt nedskriver.
For mig var bogens styrke at ligeså nedslående dyster den var, ligeså livselskende effekt havde den på mig. Bag al mørket synes at være et ekko der formanende hvisker at vi skal elske det liv vi har fået. Måske banalt, men ordene vægter så meget tungere når de bliver sagt af en hvis død allerede er startet og som oplever livet smuldre ud mellem sine fingre
Ovenstående citat er blot et af de adskillige mavepustfremkaldende erkendelser som den terminale hovedperson nøgternt nedskriver.
For mig var bogens styrke at ligeså nedslående dyster den var, ligeså livselskende effekt havde den på mig. Bag al mørket synes at være et ekko der formanende hvisker at vi skal elske det liv vi har fået. Måske banalt, men ordene vægter så meget tungere når de bliver sagt af en hvis død allerede er startet og som oplever livet smuldre ud mellem sine fingre
July 4, 2017
Ingen tvivl om, at dette ikke er opmuntrende læsning MEN sikke en kæmpe stor fornøjelse det alligevel har været at læse den - sproget er SÅ lækkert!
January 9, 2019
En utroligt velskrevet bog, dybt rørende og meget tankevækkende.
March 20, 2017
<33 uendeligt mange hjerter til maria gerhardt
May 19, 2018
4-4½ stars.
May 6, 2018
Painfully beautiful and bravely honest. Maria Gerhardt shares fears, thoughts and memories with a careful straightforwardness and admirable strength.
January 11, 2020
“This really is a ghastly place to be. Half dead and half alive. It’s not surprising that people duck; my thrashing wings, such a horde is flailing in and out of every world. You have one of two possibilities: to rise from the ashes, and run a marathon. The self-healing human being. Or, you can be a tragedy. ... Do we look into or out of a transfer window? The bane of always having to be existential when you’d rather be talking about so-and-so’s screwed-up love life.”
This is a short book, but the one that you won’t be able to finish in one sitting: it is a deeply personal and painful portrait of a life derailed by illness and the recognition of its inevitable end. It is written by Gerhardt as a series of fragments, blurring the line between fiction and reality – the line between the life of a terminal patient and its exaggerated, fictional extreme. This lack of narrative structure works well – it hits home the message of a life that has been taken away and will remain unlived. This is a book worth reading: it is a novel made of rawness that will surprise you, haunt you, and embroil you in a different reality.
This is a short book, but the one that you won’t be able to finish in one sitting: it is a deeply personal and painful portrait of a life derailed by illness and the recognition of its inevitable end. It is written by Gerhardt as a series of fragments, blurring the line between fiction and reality – the line between the life of a terminal patient and its exaggerated, fictional extreme. This lack of narrative structure works well – it hits home the message of a life that has been taken away and will remain unlived. This is a book worth reading: it is a novel made of rawness that will surprise you, haunt you, and embroil you in a different reality.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 98 reviews