På ett ensligt sommarresidens förvarar en framstående kvinnoläkare en flicka han en gång skar fram ur moderlivet som man lyfter den skimrande pärlan ur ett ostron. Det är den moderna gynekologins och obstetrikens gryning och kvinnokroppen är ett dunkelt landskap som öppnar sig under skalpellen.
I sin nya roman är Hanna Nordenhök tillbaka i 1800-talets disciplinära idéer och mekanismer, bland manlig hybris och ensamma barn på samhällets botten, bland smuts, fångenskap och skenande visioner. Ur en skildring som vagt bygger på historiska skeenden och gestalter väller en dockskåpslik värld präglad av övervakning och straff, av övergrepp och instängning, som skär rakt in i vår egen tid. Caesaria är en berättelse på gränsen mellan roman och saga som i drömlikt belysta bilder skildrar en omöjlig längtan ut.
Men hallå Hanna Nordenhök, vad glad jag är att jag hittade ditt författarskap! En stilist av rang, mycket vackert språk.
Caesaria handlar om ett barns utsatthet. Barns otroliga förmåga att anpassa sig efter rådande miljö. Caesaria lever bland vuxna på en gård. Hon saknar föräldrar. Doktorn utgör navet i narrativet, men är en huvudperson som håller sig på avstånd. Honom ser vi genom barnets blick. Via hans texter som han dikterar till flickan får vi en förståelse för vad han håller på med. Han är gynekolog som experimenterar sig fram. Det är riktigt ruggigt.
Här har vi den klassiska beskrivningen av kvinnans kropp som skrämmande, onaturlig, sjuklig vilket mycket väl speglar synen som kunde höra till 1800-talet. Sexualiteten dold men ändå hela tiden närvarande.
Nu ska jag genast skriva upp Asparna på min att-läsa-lista.
This was absolutely beautifully written and quite terrifying when you get to the core of the book. The narrator is a girl called Caesaria who has been adopted by a doctor after he pulled her from her mother’s womb that he had been surgically operating on. Through the girls eyes we come to understand the deep misogyny and misunderstanding of women’s bodies and the female anatomy, and how this has a horrifying consequence for the girl whose agency diminishes every day.
The idea of the book is very creepy and horrifying but I would have liked to feel that horror and tension more through the plot and the writing. Though written brilliantly, it fell flat at times when I felt as though it could have been used to shock. Especially as the subject matter is so disturbing, I felt as though I wanted to feel more visceral horror through the novel. Despite this I did think it was a good book and would recommend if it sounds interesting to you.
Caesaria is a quietly haunting and somber story. It was written by Swedish author Hanna Nordenhok and translated to English by Saskia Vogel.
This novel details the atrocities man and medicine have historically wreaked upon women’s bodies. It also explores the complexities of chronic abuse and its Stockholm Syndrome-like effect. Those mind-numbing results are juxtaposed with the violence we humans commit against animal life. Who among us actually has autonomy?
A novel about the violence that the male (medical) gaze has performed and still performs on women's bodies. In terms of ideas (or literary devices, for that matter), the novel brings nothing new, but given the times we live in, perhaps the message is worth repeating... several times a day.
Named after the procedure that brought her into the world, Caesaria is born during an age where the practice of gynecology was more an experimentation at the hands of men equating a woman’s mental state with what was occurring in her uterus than it was a treatment based on any verifiable science. Whisked away and “saved” from a life of orphanhood in the city, the doctor who delivered her takes her home to his country estate, Lilltuna, and provides for her a “dollhouse existence”.
Caesaria roams the country estate for years, watched over by the maids and farm help and tied around the waist with a makeshift leash. She waits patiently for the doctor to make his visits from the city whereupon he gives her dictation lessons and brings toys and treats that brighten this life of solitude.
Caesaria’s first person narration flits about from year to year, season to season, from toddlerhood to puberty and back again, but the narrative always returns to a fateful winter when the first guest comes to stay at Lilltuna.
Almost completely devoid of dialogue, Nordenhök’s prose is lush and descriptive, so immersed does the reader become in this setting that the country estate of Lilltuna becomes almost a character unto itself. Caesaria, with nothing else to do, becomes a loyal observer of the natural world around her. Every event, every action is framed by the color of the sky, the filtering of light through the tree canopies, the movement and shape of the clouds as they merge into one.
Though the young girl was once the prized possession of the doctor, the fate of all dolls is the same. There comes a day when their shininess has rubbed off, their once stark white dresses have dirtied and torn, and we knowingly or unknowingly play with them for the last time. We relegate them to a life sentence in the dollhouse to gather dust and deteriorate. Caesaria is no exception.
A beautifully wrought story of the direct and indirect methods of male violence and their devastating consequences. Really liked this one, I recommend.
A very dream-like experience, throughout. Reading this book is basically like reading someone's chronologically disconnected childhood memories. There's some pretty detailed medical procedures (her name is Caesaria for a reason), there's lesbian sex (Caesaria, who's watching from the shadows, has no idea what's going on). Caesaria's childhood was very strange, her adoptive surgeon dad loved telling her about how her mom died after she was born. (The dad kept her mother's pelvis! And often showed it to her! What!) Anyway, despite being a somewhat disorienting read, it's a good book.
Un libro sobre las diferentes formas de violencia contra las mujeres vistas desde la visión de una niña llamada Cesaria. Ella vive recluida en una casa enmedio del bosque y, a través de un lenguaje poético, va relatando lo que ve, lo que oye sin darse cuenta cabalmente que va relatando los horrores que se cometen a su alrededor.El final fue totalmente inesperado.
Iata prima carte foarte bagacioasa a lui 2025. :)) Nu ca nu au fost si altele, dar asta a fost vazuta pe contul @amuchneededbreak de pe Instagram, comandata pe loc si citita in urmatoarele saptamani. Au existat doar cateva cuvinte si au fost de ajuns sa fiu nesabuita:
“A doctor who performs the first c-section decides to keep the baby and raise her as his own, naming her Caesaria after his medical success.”
Cesaria nu e un copil furat, cum am interpretat eu din putinele cuvinte citite despre ea, ci un trofeu pe care doctorul Eldh il pastreaza dupa prima lui cezariana. Mama moare la nastere, iar el duce bebelusul intr-o casa cumparata special pentru ea, cu servitori, jucarii, haine si lucruri frumoase si vizite sporadice pe care i le face doctorul. Anii trec, copilul creste, aflam detalii. E invatata despre stiintele naturale, sa cante la pian, i se repeta la nesfarsit povestea nasterii ei cu lux de amanunte, dar aflam si ca e tinuta in lesa - la propriu, e incuiata in camera ei din cand in cand, nu are contact cu nimeni in afara de angajatii casei, deci creste intr-o singuratate care incepe sa ii dea cosmaruri.
Caesaria isi spune singura povestea, vedem totul prin ochii ei, insa ce ea nu intelege e usor de dedus din observatiile ei. Si sunt cateva momente acolo care iti intorc sufletul pe dos. Am incercat sa imi inchipui cum e sa te nasti si sa traiesti intr-o bula de irealitate cum a trait ea, sa nu cunosti deloc viata cu bucuriile si tristetiile ei, doar satisfacerea nevoilor vitale. Sa nu ai nici un scop, nici o dorinta de a depasi nimicnicia la care ai fost condamnat, sa nu stii cate alte lucruri sunt in lumea asta in afara de acel univers inchis.
O carte foarte buna pentru un club de carte pentru ca ridica multe intrebari si multe presupuneri. Nu spun mai multe pentru ca daca aveti curiozitatea sa o cititi sa nu va stric surpriza.
The alegoric language can be overwhelming in the beginning, but it’s a matter of getting used to, it should be seen as an integral part of the atmosphere, making it dreamlike, cinematic.
I got to this book completely by accident: I saw a story of a reading by the author and her translator taking place at Shakespeare and Sons in Berlin last December, so I went and it felt like there’s nowhere I would rather be. Hanna Nordenhök is a diaphanous presence. What a different way of getting to know an author - before having read anything they wrote! I read my signed copy edited by Heloise publishing house, the cover is amazing, I sadly couldn’t find it on Goodreads.
I love my monthly buddy reads with Kate and last month we read CAESARIA by Hanna Nordenhök translated from the Swedish by Saskia Vogel and it was quite an interesting read even though I did find it sad and depressing. This historical fiction follows a girl named Caesaria who was the first baby delivered by caesarean section and is kept living in isolation by the doctor who delivered her. This book deals with bodily horror and autonomy, loneliness, and class and gender divide. That unease Caesaria felt in her life was evident in the writing throughout this book.
Unfortunately, this read was not for me. Although I can acknowledge the language being beautiful, I admit I skim-read quite a bit of passages as many things felt repetitive. I get that was the point but it just didn't work for me. The themes touched in this book are important, but there plot (?) is really confusing. It starts to pick up more than halfway through (or so it seems) and then it ends up going virtually nowhere. There was a strong sense of detachment sprinkled throughout the whole book, and while that was very well portrayed, the hopelessness it made me feel kind of made me want to throw up. Overall I get the point, it just wasn't for me.
Jag tyckte om boken och lockas av premissen, men upplever att mycket inte fullföljs och jag inte riktigt får grepp, dessutom tror jag inte på storyn, dvs bokens universa blir inte sant för mig. Små saker som skevar i texten. Ibland en poetisk grammatik som inte känns motiverad. I övrigt, som sagt gillar jag den.
Grosse déception pour moi ce roman. Pourtant, l’atmosphère gothique est totalement réussie. Cette propriété isolée dans laquelle habite Caesaria crée un univers étouffant qui contribue à installer cette ambiance plutôt horrifique.
Cependant, l’histoire est tellement ennuyante. Si vous souhaitez lire un roman qui met de l’avant les dérives du début de la médecine gynécologique (l’utilisation du corps de la femme comme un sujet d’études), lisez plutôt Boucher de Joyce Carol Oates qui réussit selon moi à rendre son sujet percutant, mais aussi, captivant.
Je pense que l’autrice souhaitait faire une certaine critique de l’emprise masculine, comme quoi même si elle est dans un but de bienveillance et de protection, il reste que le contrôle absolu est une forme de violence. Cependant, il faut lire entre les lignes pour le comprendre. Ce n’était vraiment pas clair pour moi… même chose pour le personnage du visiteur. Je sais qu’il n’est pas gentil, mais encore une fois, je lisais entre les lignes, je ne sais pas trop concrètement son rôle dans tout ça.
Bref, j’ai eu un peu l’impression d’être dans la brume. C’est peut-être moi qui manquais de concentration.
Roman gothique nordique à l'ambiance et à l'écriture délectable. Il m'a manqué quelque chose pour avoir un coup de coeur, mais l'atmosphère est vraiment inoubliable.
Det var en bok! Kan störa mig på språk där man staplar saker på varandra à la ”Augustihimlar. Knottsvärmar” och liknande (annat exempel: Strega) men i övrigt fin & bra
A painfully sad story made all the more poignant knowing it is based, albeit loosely, on a true story. It left me heartbroken and also furious at the wrongs men have always done, and continue to do, to women and their bodies, often in the name of science; mainly because they can. This story is beautifully written and translated into a bizarre and beguiling, strange and surreal, and fully absorbing novel that is dark, disturbing and multilayered. It will stay with me for a long time.
No sé ni qué decir. Abuso por todas partes. Coger a una niña y hacer que viva en el campo, aislada de todo, sin contacto con ningún otro niño ni nadie q no sean los criados, que la cuidan porque no tienen más remedio mientras el doctor aparece de vez en cuando para ver cómo crece y hacerle unos dictados que provocarían pesadillas en cualquiera. Que sí, que probablemente en un orfanato no habría estado mejor, pero coño, ¿le evitas una vida de orfanato para meterla en una de aislamiento y carencias afectivas? Eso sí, todo con una prosa muy poética y mucha naturaleza de por medio. Y lenta la historia como para aburrir a las ovejas. Leeros otra cosa.
La lectura fue un poco pesada, pese a lo escueta de la novela, por la tendencia de la autora por sobrecargar el texto a falta de acontecimientos. Lo que pasa hacia el final del libro lo libera de esa pesadez: Cesárea se vuelve feral y hay imágenes grandiosas sobre ese proceso.
Creo que lamentablemente olvidaré rápidamente este libro.
Lately I have been reading a lot of stories about isolation from the outside world. This one follows a girl raised by the doctor who delivered her, alongside the servants of a house in Liltuna, hidden away from society. Her worldview begins to take shape through her interactions with the servants, witnessing how their growing feelings of claustrophobia eventually impact her own.
A haunting story but the pacing had me losing interest by the 50-75% mark. Parts of this had me more confused than I felt like I should have been, but generally I liked the writing and the way Nordenhök incorporated some intense themes.
Unik historia om en kvinnoläkare på 1860-talet som efter en födsel med kejsarsnitt där modern dör tar hand om/isolerar en flicka. Vackert språk. Hyperpretentiös. Extremt okroppslig fast det handlar om kroppen? Faller lite platt för mig. Förstår syftet men det blir tråkigt! Ändå är jag svag för författare som skriver så genomtänkt och använder en berättarteknik som ger en specifik effekt på berättelsen. Läste den i tvång så kanske färgar min uppfattning? Läsvärd ändå.
Cesárea, una niña secuestrada por el doctor responsable de su nacimiento (bajo la justificación científica), crece aislada en el campo mientras ve como van ocurriendo horrores a su alrededor. Mientras como lector observas la cruda realidad de la vida de Cesárea, ella te cuenta en primera persona una historia de esperanza y creencia en el amor. Un libro bonito a la par que oscuro.
In a gothic tale set in the early days of modern gynecology, a young girl named Caesaria is kept as a trophy by a renowned obstetrician on a remote estate in nineteenth-century Sweden. Living a restricted and fearful life in the doctor's mansion, Caesaria narrates her experiences with its mysterious inhabitants and visitors. The story explores themes of gender warfare and class oppression, as Caesaria reflects on her confinement and lack of connection to the outside world. Through lush and dreamlike prose, author Hanna Nordenhök presents a haunting and mythological tale of one girl's struggle for freedom and understanding.
This was a dark yet incredibly intriguing read. I have always considered myself fortunate to live in this era, where we have access to electricity, running water, food, and established laws.
In the past, they lacked even basic medical knowledge or penicillin. It was truly eye-opening to see how slowly progress occurred over time, with some things remaining unchanged due to seclusion from society.
The main character was depicted as sweet, kind, curious, and obedient. The caretaker attempted to provide a better life for this girl, prompting readers to consider what they would do in her situation.
If you appreciate thought-provoking, dark historical literature, this book is must-read. It will undoubtedly make you grateful for the modern conveniences we often take for granted.
Thank you, Book*hug Press for digital ARC copy. I am leaving this review voluntarily.