When good lives go bad
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| Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson |
Absalom’s Hair is a novel by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson, winner of the 1903 Nobel Prize in Literature and one of the “Four Greats” of Norwegian literature. The story begins with an unlikely marriage between an intelligent, determined young woman and an abusive old adventurer. The product of this union is a son, Rafael Kaas. At a young age, Rafael demonstrates an exceptional talent for engineering, and his mother works to develop his faculties and secure his career prospects. Her love for her son becomes oppressive, however, and Rafael chafes under her motherly tyranny, especially when she attempts to separate him from the woman he loves.
I enjoyed Absalom’s Hair at first. I appreciated its depiction of Norwegian life, both at the rural seaside estate of Hellebergene—Rafael’s ancestral home—and in the urban setting of Christiania (present-day Oslo). The characters were unique and intriguing. When things were going well for Rafael, I rooted for him and wished him success. When things started going badly for him, however, I had little sympathy for him because his misfortunes were largely due to his own stupid choices. The book ends up being a struggle between three or four main characters, all of whom treat each other like garbage. The title refers to a biblical legend which teaches a moral lesson; a lesson which is applied rather heavy-handedly in the book’s climax. By the time I got to the final third of the book, I had lost interest and was merely reading to get it done, out of morbid curiosity.
Bjørnson is a great writer and a brilliant observer of human nature, but this is not one of his better books. Many writers strive to depict genuine human emotions and psychological motivations, and Bjørnson does it very well, but without a moving story to back it up it all just seems like self-indulgent navel-gazing. In that sense, despite being over a century old, the book was a little too modern for my tastes. It resembles too many of today’s novels in that it examines a dysfunctional family and asks the reader to identify with them and feel their pain, as if such psychological examination were enough to constitute a satisfying book. As a fan of older literature, I would have preferred a little more plot and a lot less angst.
I’m not sure when Bjørnson wrote this work, but the English edition came out in 1908. Also included in that edition was a short story entitled “A Painful Memory from Childhood,” which is also included in many of today’s ebook editions. In this story, the narrator gives an account of a murder that took place in his home village when he was a young boy, and how the killer was brought to justice. It’s brutal matter-of-factness is gripping and compellingly disturbing. Unlike Absalom’s Hair, it shows off Bjornson at the height of his literary powers. I have previously been impressed by his short stories “The Father” and “The Railroad and the Churchyard,” and his novel A Happy Boy. For anyone interested in Norwegian lit, I would recommend spending a couple bucks on The Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson Megapack, the most comprehensive ebook collection of this author’s works in English that I have yet seen.
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The waiting is the hardest part
A Happy Boy was originally published in 1860 under the Norwegian title of En glad Gut. It was written by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson, who won the 1903 Nobel Prize in Literature. The novel tells the story of Oyvind Thoresen Pladsen, beginning when he’s about four years old. In the first chapter, he meets a young girl named Marit from a neighboring farm, and immediately develops a fascination with her that will prove enduring as he grows older. At first it seems as if the novel will focus chiefly on the concerns of childhood—growing up on a farm, attending school, the social life of children, etc.—but despite the title the story does follow young Oyvind into early manhood. The main thrust of the narrative revolves around an issue so central to any lad’s adolescence: what sort of a man will this boy grow to be? What kind of a life will Oyvind make for himself, and will Marit be a part of it?
Matters are complicated by issues of class. In the English translation by Rasmus B. Anderson, one word that’s ubiquitous throughout the text is “gard,” which is essentially synonymous with “farm.” (I don’t know why he chose not to translate it as such.) To own a gard is to be a member of the landed class. Oyvind is merely the son of a houseman, which is roughly equivalent to a tenant farmer or sharecropper. As Oyvind grows up, he slowly and painfully develops a consciousness of class. Though he may be the brightest student in his school, his lower-class status looms as a seemingly insurmountable obstacle in his quest for a happy and successful life.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from reading the literature of Bjørnson and other Norwegian writers, it’s that Norwegians must be the world’s greatest waiters. By “waiter” I don’t mean a food service employee, but rather “one who waits.” Frequently, the protagonists of Norwegian novels don’t win battles by conquering their enemies but by outlasting them. Heroism does not rely on strength or power but on endurance and stoicism—a resignation to one’s present situation with the determination that one shall triumph in the end. There is a quiet gravity that underlies every action of Oyvind’s, and the steps he takes to achieve his goals are measured, deliberate, and pragmatic. Far from being boring, this romance of anticipation actually makes for a really engaging read.
On the surface, A Happy Boy appears to be simply a series of scenes from ordinary life. You won’t find the life-or-death struggle of a peasant epic, but nonetheless there’s a powerful drama softly boiling underneath the fallen snow. There is a universal familiarity to this coming-of-age story that reminds us of the importance and dignity of the cycle of life that we all take for granted. After all, there’s nothing less at stake here than the fate of a boy’s life. What could be more important than that?
The subject matter here is similar to an earlier novel of Bjørnson’s entitled Arne. Both chronicle the growth of a young lad in a rural Norwegian village and both are peppered with snippets of poetry and song. Of the two, A Happy Boy is clearly the superior work. The story of Arne is rather meandering and comes across as a bit pointless. In telling Oyvind’s tale, on the other hand, Bjørnson makes more of an attempt to craft a satisfyingly structured narrative, and he succeeds. If you’ve never read Bjørnson and are looking for an introduction to his work, A Happy Boy is a great place to start.
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Get some northern exposure
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| Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson |
This collection of Scandinavian short fiction was originally published in 1899 by Charles Scribner’s Sons as one of ten books in their Stories by Foreign Authors series, each volume of which focuses on a different nation or region of Europe. Most of the books in the series have been scanned and are now available for free online through sites like Project Gutenberg, Hathi Trust, and Amazon. Of the authors featured in this volume, the only name that’s likely to be recognizable to today’s English-language readers is that of Norwegian writer Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson, simply because he won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1903. After having previously read a mediocre novel by Bjørnson, I was pleasantly surprised by his two exceptional pieces in this collection. In fact, five of the six stories included in this volume are very good; only the final entry disappoints.
The book kicks off with a very brief piece by Bjørnson entitled “The Father.” It concisely encapsulates one father’s relationship with his son in an unconventional and touching way. “When Father Brought Home the Lamp” by Finnish author Juhani Aho is the best story in the book. When a rural family buys a brand new oil lamp, freeing them from the necessity of burning wood chips, it immediately elevates their social status within their rural village. At times it has the same tongue-in-cheek, warmly nostalgic flavor of the movie A Christmas Story. In “The Flying Mail” by Danish author M. Goldschmidt, a bachelor lawyer writes a love letter to his ideal dream girl and casts it to the wind, letting fate decide his romantic future. The rather whimsical premise stretches the boundaries of credibility, but still it’s an engaging piece. Bjørnson’s second offering, “The Railroad and the Churchyard,” is another very strong work. When two lifelong friends disagree over a matter of local politics, it brings years worth of envy and resentment boiling to the surface. “Two Friends” by Alexander Kielland deals with a similar falling out between two old friends and business partners. Though the author is Norwegian, the story takes place entirely in Paris.
The final piece in the book, entitled “Hopes,” is by Swedish author Frederika Bremer. It’s a stream-of-consciousness narrative from the point of view of a poor man with neither enough food to eat nor wood for a fire. He doesn’t mind his lifestyle all that much, until he begins to feel an uncontrollable longing to be loved. Bremer tries hard to be clever, but mostly it’s just a rambling string of unintelligible drivel. The stories in this book represent a period at which Scandinavian literature was making its transition into modernism. The first five stories all have a naturalistic style that’s reminiscent of the literature of French writer Emile Zola. The Bremer story, on the other hand, feels more modern than the rest, and suffers from the pointlessness of experimentation for experimentation’s sake. For a more successful attempt at the same style and subject matter, read Norwegian author Knut Hamsun’s novel Hunger.
These days Scandinavian literature is undergoing a bit of a renaissance, thanks in large part to the murder mystery genre, but beyond Henrik Ibsen the classic authors of Norway, Sweden, Denmark, and Finland are still largely unfamiliar to English-language readers. This volume provides a good introduction to some worthy authors who deserve greater notoriety. Had they been born in France or Russia, perhaps they’d be household names. Based on the stories included here, Bjørnson, Aho, and Kielland definitely deserve further investigation.
Stories in this collection
The Father by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
When Father Brought Home the Lamp by Juhani Aho
The Flying Mail by M. Goldschmidt
The Railroad and the Churchyard by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
Two Friends by Alexander Kielland
Hopes by Frederika Bremer
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A meandering mix of melancholy and whimsy
Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1903, and is considered by Norwegians to be one of their nation’s greatest authors. Arne is one of his earliest works, originally published in 1859. According to the translator’s preface, this novel was instrumental in the formation of a distinctly Norwegian national style of literature.
Arne begins with a surprisingly fantastical opening that features a conversation between talking trees. This serves merely as a prologue, however, and is not indicative of the novel as a whole. Though the subtitle, “A Sketch of Norwegian Country Life” leads the reader to believe they are in for a story of the quaint charms of peasant life, the novel starts out remarkably bleak. Arne is the name of a boy, born of an unwed mother and an alcoholic, philandering father. Tragic events early on, coupled with the tumultuous relationship of his parents, makes for a rough childhood for Arne.
An unlikely protagonist, Arne is a socially inept loner with a sensitive soul. He shuns contact with others, and is more at home alone in the woods. Besides managing his family farm, Arne is a writer of songs. The narrative is interspersed with lyrics, poetry, and folk tales. At times it feels like the sole purpose of the novel is to act as a venue for displaying these poems and fables, as if Bjørnson were more concerned with the poetry than with the primary narrative. The novel has a bit of a schizophrenic feeling. It can’t seem to make up its mind what it wants to be, or find a tone and stick with it. Early on, the story emphasizes the hardship of rural life. Later in the book, however, this gritty realism is betrayed when everything magically falls into place for Arne, without a whole lot of effort on his part. Arne sort of drifts through the book like a leaf on the sea, buffeted by this wave or that, before finally settling on a rock. There is some pleasantness in drifting along with him, but for the most part the reader is left wanting a little more gravity.
This is a short novel of about 150 pages, so it does not constitute a major investment of reading time. Arne is a good book, but not great. It delivers a contented satisfaction, but it won’t rock your world. For a truly moving and memorable look at Norwegian rural life, I would wholeheartedly recommend Knut Hamsun’s masterpiece Growth of the Soil.
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