Translated from Norwegian by Martin Aitken
The most recent offering from the Asymptote book club was Love by Hanne Ørstavik re-issued here by Archipelago books. It is a slight little book, coming in at around 120 pages, it could easily be read in one sitting. I chose to start it late one evening, too late to sit up reading it all in one go. I hadn’t realised the emotional turmoil it would leave me in. I was forced to wait until after work the following day, I had a meeting, then had to get the bus to my book group. I finished Love on the bus – I couldn’t have waited any longer – I had been worrying about the child character all day – and I had to know the worst. That might give you an idea of what kind of novella this is. It is also one that is hard to talk about without the risk of spoilers – though I will try to avoid them, and certainly won’t discuss the end – which has been a bit of a talking point on the Asymptote book club FB discussion page.
This is not a comfortable read, and had it been any longer it would be perhaps too over whelming. As it is, I think the reader has a sense that things might not end well – and we read on, with our hearts in our mouths. This was my first novel by Norwegian writer Hanne Ørstavik, and I am told that there is a recurring theme of bad mothers in some of her other work. So, if you don’t like reading such things, this won’t be for you, because it is brutal, brilliantly, beautifully written but utterly brutal. Stark, cold images remain in my head now – and it will be a long time before I stop feeling sad for a poor little boy called Jon.
Love is the story of a mother and son, and one long, bitterly cold night of their lives. Vibeke is a single mother, she and her eight-year-old son have fairly recently moved to this Northern town in Norway. Vibeke loves to read, getting though about three books a week, that evening she wants to get to the library before it shuts. It is the day before Jon’s ninth birthday, and that’s the main thing he’s thinking about as he waits for his mother to arrive home.
“The sound of the car. When he’s waiting he can never quite recall it. I’ve forgotten, he tells himself. But then it comes back to him, often in pauses between the waiting, after he’s stopped thinking about it. And then she comes, and he recognizes the sound in an instant; he hears it with his tummy, it’s my tummy that remembers the sound, not me, he thinks to himself. And no sooner has he heard the car than he sees it too, from the corner of the window, her blue car coming round the bend behind the banks of snow, and she turns in at the house and drives up the little slope to the front door.”
Jon is hopeful of a birthday cake – and thinks that perhaps if he leaves his mother alone for a while she will be able to make it without him seeing and spoiling the surprise. It is this kind of childish hopefulness against all evidence to the contrary that makes this so heartbreakingly bitter-sweet. Throughout the novel Ørstavik switches the point of view back and forth between Vibeke and Jon, it is always clear who we are with, and it is testament to Ørstavik’s ability that this constantly shifting perspective never gets confusing.
So, Jon leaves the house and goes off to sell the school raffle tickets to a neighbour, who shows him his old pair of ice skates. Meanwhile, Vibeke who has no more idea of making a birthday cake as flying a kite – smokes her cigarettes and considers nipping out to the library to change her books. She doesn’t check on Jon before she goes, assuming he has put himself to bed, now that he is getting older and not liking to be fussed over. And so, the two, each unknown to the other. go their separate ways. The library is closed – it is the wrong evening for late opening, but it is the night that the fairground has arrived, and it is there that Vibeke goes.
“She leans back against the wall and lights a cigarette, not knowing quite what to do now, having had a bath and everything. Her eyes follow a car as it skittles away, snow kicking up from its wheels. She looks across at the festoon of coloured lights at the entrance to the fair. They shine so brightly against the darkness of the sky, as if to tell everyone how irresistible they are. Our day’s Carnival, Vibeke thinks to herself. Maybe I should go in and have a look. Maybe there’s someone who can tell fortunes.”
Both Vibeke and Jon have various separate encounters that night – as gradually they are brought ever closer to tragedy. Jon is wonderfully lively, imaginative child, he has a problem with his eye which causes it to spasm and blink – he is very conscious of the blinking of his eyes and tries to stop it.
Ørstavik reminds us in this novel that love can be a dreadful thing too – when we love we trust, we assume all will be well continue as it always has. A child’s love is unquestioning and innocently trusting. Ørstavik understands the evil that lies in the betrayal of that – however accidental or merely thoughtless that betrayal is. Vibeke is not drawn as a wholly monstrous figure – it would have been so easy to write her like that. She is self-absorbed, thoughtlessly neglectful – but we believe she loves her son, perhaps in the way a young, naive girl might, I assumed she had been a young mother.
“She reaches out and smooths her hand over his head.
“Have you made any friends yet?”
His hair is fine and soft.
“Jon,” she says. “Dearest Jon.”
She repeats the movement while studying her hand. Her nail polish is pale and sandy with just a hint of pink. She likes to be discreet at work. She remembers the new set that must still be in her bag, plum, or was it wine; a dark, sensual lipstick and nail polish the same shade. To go with a dark, brown-eyed man, she thinks with a little smile.”
This was my third book of a three-month subscription to the Asymptote book club – and I have now signed up for another year. If you haven’t yet – I recommend you have a look at it
Great review, Ali. I’ve been reading a lot of novellas recently and have come to the conclusion that it’s an excellent form. So much more disciplined than long baggy novels and often so much more powerful as a result. This one certainly sounds as if it packs a punch.
Yes, I’m finding that with a lot of short novels or novellas that their strength can lie in their not being too long. There is power in an economy of language.
Great review. I read The Blue Room by Orstavik a while back and there are similarities here: terrible mother, brutal story but brilliant writing. When my book-buying ban is over I’ll hunt this out – sadly I don’t think my library will have it.
I have heard great things about The Blue Room, so I think I shall have to add that one to my list too.
Lovely review Ali. I’ve heard such good things about this one. We need bleak sometimes don’t we? And well done on reviewing without giving too much away!
Oh yes I do admit to sometimes appreciating bleakness, though I felt so sad for the little boy in this one.
This is a terrific review, just the right amount of detail without too much spoiled. Sounds like a most intriguing read, but probably not one I can handle. But I’m so glad you’ve had such interesting reads with your Asymptote club books!
Thank you, yes the Asymptote book club is providing me with such interesting and varied books to read. Looking forward to another year’s worth.
It is an excellent book though isn’t it? I read The Blue Room last year and it was immediately a favourite book and so I had to get this one as soon as it came out. Ørstavik could well be a new favourite author of mine.
We really feel for both mother and son throughout the book. The mother may be thoughtless but she seems to potentially be in as much danger as her son. I kept dreading what was going to happen to both of them —and then that ending!
Funnily enough I used two of the same quotes you used in my review. I felt the one with Vibeke brushing Jon’s hair was excellent as her attention quickly turns back to herself.
I had previously seen reviews of The Blue Room (which I now want to read) but not this one. It is excellent in its sad bleak way.
Originally I had typed up the first two quotes, as I wanted one about him and one about her. Then I looked at the quotes for this book on Goodreads and found that third one which I thought was so evocative of her distracted affection for Jon that I used that too. A powerful little book.
An excellent review as always and I’m always intrigued about stories of bad mothers so I need to check this author out – that childish hopefulness against all odds will be heart-breaking to read though so I’m not surprised you couldn’t wait to read on to see if the son was ok.
It’s a very compelling, though heartbreaking little novel.
[…] read some great reviews of the book already by Asymptote Book Club subscribers. Ali comments on how love can be both good and terrible. Old Books Abe describes the feeling of […]
Mm I can feel the anxiousness in your review, and in MarinaSofia’s, clearly a very powerful read
I saw this reviewed over on Marina Sofia’s site. It sounds like an emotional read! Great review.
It certainly was, I still think about it.
Gosh, you’re certainly getting some different reading material from this inspiring subscription, aren’t you!
Oh I am. In fact the fourth book from them arrived today, and it looks fabulous. Will probably read it in a week or two. So glad I subscribed to it.
[…] latest book from the Asymptote book club was Love by Hanne Ørstavik, a heart-breaking story of a mother and son in Norway. Brutal and bleak it is […]