Aha, thought so. Turns out read Reve before, didn’t like him, forgot the name. Didn’t forget the slow plodding nothingness of the book, though. And this one was much the same. Actually someone commented on my other review of Reve, saying it’s meant to be that unexciting, it’s a deliberate choice to accurately represent the zeitgeist of the era. But seriously, no, I don’t buy that. This is still literature and as such it is meant to excite the mind, engage, entertain. Not just drone on stylistically subdued and monotone. In all fairness this book is superior to Evenings, this one at least attempts to draw the reader in, however tepidly. It isn’t the writing’s fault, the writing’s quite good, but there’s just nothing or next to nothing going on. No conventional plot, not arcs, no character development…these are like very very plain slices of life, meant to represent the magic of childhood that shines under any circumstances including wartime. Actually the second story set directly during wartime is the best of the two, because well, because it has more of a story to tell. But other than that this collection of two novellas is flat, muted, turbid. If it were a color, it would be a very washed out gray. Maybe that is what Scandinavian fiction of the time was. Funny that, seeing how now it’s all the rage for all the thrills and excitement of their suspense thrillers. Time change. Lovely cover, one mildly redeeming story. This book might have its readership and it was quick enough to get through, but for me it was pretty much a waste of time. Thanks Netgalley.