I Dea Trier Mørchs roman Aftenstjernen udfoldes historien om tre søskende, der efter et ni måneder langt sygdomsforløb har måttet tage afsked med deres kræftsyge mor og som sammen opholder sig i et sommerhus for at rydde op efter hendes død. I løbet af oprydningen bearbejdes tanker og følelser om sygdommen og sorgen.
Romanen leger samtidig med forskellige genrer og skifter mellem portræt, debat og lyrik.
Meget hod og stemningsfuld, jeg siger det er den blå time hele tiden nu. Var lidt forvirret men det er min egen skyld, læste den første halvdel for længe siden og læste bare videre fra hvor jeg slap, så var selv uden om det. Elsker den, måden de tre søskende er så mærkelige omkring deres sorg, og hvordan sørger man en person der stadig er i live og hvad gør man så når de ikke er her mere og hvem skal gøre alt det administrative? Det var nok den del jeg syntes mest om, hvor meget papir arbejde der egentlig er når nogen er ved at dø, og hvilket forhold det skaber mellem den døende og de pårørende, når de lidt er i “work-mode” hvis man kan kalde det det.
En inderligt smuk og grusom fortælling om døden. Om at give slip og sige farvel, såvel som at forlige sig med sin egen utilstrækkelighed, når et familiemedlem er døende. Sætningerne fletter sig let ind og ud imellem hinanden, og formår at videregive øjeblikke og stemninger, så man virkelig bliver ramt.
Jeg har købt denne roman, da jeg i 70’erne var medlem af Gyldendals bogklub. Jeg har garanteret læst den dengang, men kunne ikke huske indholdet. Læst igen nu i 2024 har jeg været meget optaget af den. Hvor skriver Dea Trier Mørch godt. Det er en fortælling om en families liv med en kræftdøende i sin midte.
It is not often that you read a book, that handles death this harshly and yet delicately. The mix of beautiful language and social realism creates such an intimate and simply perfect atmosphere that lets you almost feel part of the family for the 286 pages you get to share.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Tog lidt tid om at blive fanget af den, men synes den var overall god. Bett’s personlighed var grineren og fortællingen bød på spændende livssyn. Meget fin
I came to Dea Trier Mørch's Evening Star with absolutely no background information or preconceptions. I found it in a university library (so no back cover description), and picked it up solely because it was in the Danish section and is illustrated throughout with the author's (lovely) woodcuts.
The story is centered around Nils Peter, a divorced translator living in Copenhagen with his two sons and, frequently, his mother--the well-meaning, but overbearing Bette. They have a somewhat unconventional relationship of mutual dependence, which is upset when they discover that Bette is seriously ill. She refuses to have a preventative operation or be treated at a large specialty hospital until it is too late, and her manageable illness develops into terminal liver cancer. Her children--primarily Nils Peter--then spend the summer nursing her through the last phases of her illness.
The novel's narration is one of the more interesting aspects of Evening Star. Subdivided first by dates (October 17 - 26, 1980), the story is further dissected into small paragraphs and sub-sections, giving an episodic, almost pulsing rhythm to the narrative as it floats through memories of the events surrounding Bette's death. Plot-heavy scenes are punctuated with naturalistic observations--such as meaningless conversations between children or simply impressionistic descriptions of a moment: "...the fields in the filtered October light, blue hills merging one behind the other as in a painting by Brueghel." The narrative is gently quilted together, a cobbling of memories and impressions that somehow encompass an experience as opaque and blindly traumatic as the loss of a parent.
The story is then in many ways a sensual experience, rather than a psychological one. Characterizations remain rather thin and static. We know much about Bette's eccentric brood (a family with occasional--albeit faint--echoes of the Glass clan), but their reactions to their mother's impending death never feel fully realized or invested. I am still not sure if there's a cultural gap here that I'm missing, but suffice to say that from my perspective, everyone in this novel is amazingly cold--or at the very least, extremely reserved--about Bette's illness. Almost everyone believes that Nils Peter is being excessive, and perhaps a bit childish, by insisting that his mother live with him--instead of being checked into a hospital--for the duration of her illness. Emotions between the mother and son rise and fall almost inexplicably. Betta decides that Nils Peter's girlfriend should no longer be allowed to come over to his house while Bette is awake. Nils Peter rages over his mother's selfishness at wanting a birthday party and a funeral. And underlying everything is a sense of frustration that Bette holds on to her life as long as she does. As if life could go back to normal if only she would hurry up and die.
Now, admittedly, a prolonged terminal illness is a stressful and painful thing for any family member to bear--and anger, even undeserved anger towards the invalid--is a real, and very natural part of the process. In this way, Evening Star's portrayal of the grieving process is acute and honest. All the same, I found this undercurrent of antagonism quite distancing and unrelatable. I could only keep thinking about how I might react, if it were my own mother. And it looked nothing like this.
After Niels Peter jubilantly sees his mother finally die("It worked! Oh, God! That's it! It's over!...It couldn't have been better."), the novel seems to make up for some of its coldness. As Nils Peter comes to realize, "...he will once again find the love that he once felt for her, the love he felt all his life--but which seems to have left him during these nine months. Step by step he will learn to regain her."