A coming of age novel and exploration of social and gender identity. What is unique about this book is that it’s not plot driven (there are neither farcical nor grandiloquent dramatic scenes here), that it’s composed mostly of interior monologue, but above all that it takes place not in a big city – but in Nuuk, the capital of Greenland (population 18,800).

To be honest I found this a little hard to read there was a sort of thorough disillusionment throughout the book which made it a little hard to connect to. As an insight into Greenland, it's rather quite fascinating. There's a sort of sense of uniqueness to this kind of narrative though also a sort of timelessness. She's definitely writing from a small-town kind of perspective but the entire island of Greenland is a bit small town so it's very much its own thing. It’s permeated with the angry sense of struggling in a place too small for you and a need for diversity. This novel is short so there’s a little superficiality to the characterizations. But hooray for queer romance

I so, so wanted to love this, but I found its queer themes extremely shallow and stereotypical, and it didn't satisfy me either on a human, character-driven level or an artistically avant-garde level. Sorry :(

This Greenlandic novel following young LGBT people is a very different read and not like any other genre I've read. It felt very raw and captures what it's like to be young (or perhaps the author is young - I don't know)
I would've liked more depth to the characters and more about Greenland as I couldn't really imagine it. Although perhaps that's the point - that time is spent in bars and parties what young people do everywhere.

If I were to describe this in 3 words, it would be: content over form. I didn't warm up to the form, in fact my first thought were: "what in the world am I reading?" but it is actually impressive how Korneliussen manages to convey such raw emotions in literally a few pages.

This novel sounded intriguing when it came up on NetGalley: a story of coming out in Greenland, a country with a troubled colonial history which does not often produce literature in English. This novel was originally written in Greenlandic, also interesting as I understand the majority of Greenland's literary output is written in danish. The author translated it into the Danish herself, and now comes the English edition.

The format is bold and modern, a mixture of almost stream-of-consciousness first-person narration, text messages, and emails telling the story of five young people exploring their gender and national identity, hampered by the inferiority complex that is the colonial legacy, and the conservative morals of the older generation.

However, overall I found this less groundbreaking than I had expected. It feels almost like a story that would have been cutting-edge in the 1950s, but is now old hat - my reaction throughout was 'so what?'. It is hard to imagine that coming out and being in a queer relationship in a European city today is still so difficult. What the author did best, I felt, was conveying the overwhelming sense of emptiness and lack of belonging in our protagonists as they go about their self-destructive lives in an endless round of sex, betrayal and emotional confusion, all the while drinking themselves into oblivion. There is a bit too much detailing of the lifestyle, and not enough attention given to the underlying emotions and the slow journey out of the darkness into something maybe a little more life-affirming.

Overall, I thought this was interesting enough to keep me going, a flawed first effort from an author who is nevertheless very promising.

Sex and drugs and rock’n’roll are not things we immediately associate with Greenland but, after this book, the impression many of us have of Greenland is likely to change. The book follows the story of five young people in Nuuk, three young woman, a young woman who would rather be a young man and a young man.

We start with Fia (a woman). She is in the process of breaking up with her partner, Peter. She wants her freedom and, frankly, is bored with Peter, a man she considers worthy but whom she does not love and with whom she is not happy. Peter is not happy with her decision. She moves in with Arnaq (a woman), who is a friend of her brother, Inuk. The two women go to a party where they meet Sara. Fia is immediately struck by Sara’s beauty (If God’s a woman, then she’s more beautiful than God). Indeed, against her better judgement, she finds herself falling for Sara. We know, though she does not, that Arnaq is also attracted to Sara, who is living with Ivinnguaq/Ivik.

Fia is so horrified at her Lesbian feelings that she immediately finds a (less than attractive) man whom she nicknames Pig-With-A-Nose-Like-A-Prick and has sex with him. His nose is not the only part of his anatomy she mocks. She is also disgusted with herself for having sex with him. When Arnaq returns to the flat, Arnaq is aware of Fia’s interest in Sara and seduces Fia. We see this story both from Fia’s point of view and then from Arnaq’s.

While partner-changing and bisexuality is going on, we also follow Ivinnguaq/Ivik who has been questioned by friends and families as to why she does not have a boyfriend but prefers to hang out with boys. She eventually questions her gender identity.

Arnaq, meanwhile, as well as visiting her sister, after giving birth, also confesses all to her sister though admits to having had a boyfriend as well as Lesbian affairs. Arnaq worries about herself and feels that she has the Devil inside her: Burning and glowing, Lucifer emerges as a gas from far inside my guts. As he spreads out into the air, I almost die. Fuck. Lucifer is trying to suffocate me.

Meanwhile, Inuk, who has been somewhat holier-than-thou towards his sister and also somewhat anti-gay, may have been having an affair with the local (male) M.P.

Yes, it is all about growing up and young people struggling with their demons, with their sexuality, with their relationships, with their gender identity, with their alcohol dependency and with life in general. And yes, Greenland young people seem to have many of the same problems as young people have elsewhere in the world. Having said that, had this book been written by a British or US writer, I very much doubt if I would have read it. I did think it was interesting to read, to learn that Nuuk – population 16,786 when this book was written – is as much a party town as New York or Newcastle and that young Greenland people seem to spend their time, when not studying or working, partying, having sex and drinking (heavily). Doubtless this book will do well – it has already been translated into several languages – and well done to Korneliussen for showing us a side of Greenland of which we were almost all probably ignorant but it is not great literature.

No doubt Niviaq Korneliussen’s debut novel will catch many people’s eye for the novelty that its young author is from Greenland, but its real appeal and power resides in its diversity of assertive young voices. The narrative follows five different characters whose romantic and familial entanglements with each other produce moments of self-revelation and big life changes over a night of drinking and partying in the city of Nuuk, Greenland’s capital. “Crimson” is heavily inflected with Greenlandic and Danish language, references and culture, but its themes of young adults trying to come to terms with their gender and sexuality have a much more global outlook. The characters communicate with each other through Facebook and SMS text messages, sum up their moods in hashtags and search Google for answers to life’s questions. These are young people you could meet anywhere in the world. I found it poignant how the characters corner themselves into moments of intense self-reflection through these intensely private and confessional forms of electronic communication. In this virtual space they gradually sift through ways of being to discover who they really are and what they really want. By relating their different points of view in a finely-orchestrated succession, Korneliussen builds an engaging story with many revelations and forms a picture of a modern generation in microcosm.

This novel was first published in its native language with the title “Homo Sapienne” in 2014, but has now been translated into English. It’s just been published in the UK under the title “Crimson” but the American publication in January 2019 will publish it with the title “Last Night in Nuuk”. The UK title no doubt arose from the song ‘Crimson and Clover’ by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts which in the story plays in the bar on the night in question and is referenced several times throughout the text. The song’s dream-like quality and expression of spontaneous sensual intimacy amidst emotional confusion sums up the tone of the novel quite well. I’d have projected this book would take on a kind of cult status a generation ago, but it feels like its decidedly queer perspective will have a much more mainstream appeal today. I can imagine many kinds of young people relating to it and many mature people appreciating it. It’s not so much a novel that recognizably comes from a Nordic literary tradition, but from that of a new generation. It’s more in line with a novel such as “Conversations with Friends” by Sally Rooney which is an Irish novel that doesn’t carry many hallmarks which make it specifically Irish. There’s something exciting about an emerging literary movement which isn’t restrained by national borders and alights on common experiences mediated through the digital world.

The five different characters may share a kind of frenetic energy and express different forms of queer experience, but each voice is quite distinct in its timbre and point of view. The opening section is narrated by Fia whose rapid-fire train of thought sparks with intriguing moments of reflection: “I make up my mind because death won’t leave my mind. There has always been something missing here.” She finds it challenging to articulately sum up how her desire can be defined and instead humorously relates her abrupt break with her boyfriend by stating “My thoughts make no sense. I’m simply tired of sausages.” Fia’s brother Inuk wrestles more combatively with issues of sexuality and national identity to show how deeply ingrained traditions die hard.

Later in the novel, the character of Ivik is more assertive in volleying back society’s confusion so as not to limit how he’s defined: “I was an enigma to my friends. They didn’t know which box to put me in. When they began to question me, I began to question them. I began to question why they called me into question. My parents, siblings and family began to be uncertain about me. They were uncertain about who I was. Since my family were uncertain about me, I began to be uncertain about myself. I was uncertain about why they were uncertain about me.” I enjoy how this string of logic takes on a musical quality in its repetition of words. But it’s also really powerful in how it shows the inner dialogue which takes place in response to being made to feel like a social outcast or oddity. I found it especially striking how Korneliussen captures Ivik’s emotional confusion in how physical barriers arise from sexual contact.

When the novel arrives at the final perspective of Sara it’s striking how the story takes on a much more hopeful tone. Throughout “Crimson” the characters must naturally stumble through a lot of messy drunkenness and unwieldy sexual encounters to gain insight into their own motivations. Sara discovers profundity and solace in the pleasure of really knowing oneself: “Being alone isn’t all bad. It’s enough that somebody loves you and you love somebody. If you love yourself, you’re not lonely when you’re alone.” Korneliussen is a welcome new voice in global fiction not because of the specifics of her geography, but because she captures so perceptively and vividly the expansive heart of a new generation.

Crimson, Niviaq Korneliussen's first novella to be translated into English from its original Greenlandic, follows five LGBT twentysomethings living in the city of Nuuk and their journey towards understanding their identity. The key themes the author explores are those of gender, sexuality and relationships. For a very short novel, it packs a powerful punch and is a refreshing take on coming-of-age. Each chapter is told from a different character's perspective, and as well as the normal narrative there are text messages and Facebook posts interspersed throughout. It perfectly captures the confusion and opportunity of youth and of trying to find yourself as a person.

This is an emotive and heartfelt novella, but I would have liked the Greenlandic scenery to be more prevalent as it was not really focused on that much. I feel if you are setting a book in somewhere remote, icy and beautiful, you need to make the most of that. This is not a comfortable read, but I think the author has achieved what she set out to. Some of what is explored is likely to have come from Korneliussen's own experiences of growing up as a gay woman. Honest, brave and authentic, this is a quirky work with many important messages hidden throughout it.

Many thanks to Virago for an ARC. I was not required to post a review, and all thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.

When one thinks of Greenland, the mental image is likely to be of a remote Arctic landscape shaped by glaciers, or perhaps one of a lonely Inuit hunter dressed in caribou skin clothing driving a dog sledge through icy winds. Indeed, this vast non-continental island with mountainous icebergs has the world’s sparsest population with only the occasional village of colourfully painted wooden cottages dotted along its west coast. There are, however, a handful of large urban areas, including Nuuk, the capital city, with its apartment blocks, industrial buildings and avant-garde architecture.

It is here, author Niviaq Korneliussen has set her tale of love, lust, despondency and queer life. At weekends her wild, narcissistic young Greenlanders hook up with friends, meet lovers and indulge in one-night stands. They become drunk in downtown bars, get stoned at house parties, and generally desensitize themselves from overwhelming emotional issues – probably not so very different from young people the world over.

Its edgy characters include Fia who splits with her long-term boyfriend and becomes infatuated with Sara – although, the latter is really in love with Ivik who struggles with gender dysphoria. There’s Inuk, who almost loses his sanity questioning what it means to be a Greenlander and Arnaq, a manipulative, bisexual partygoer with a troubled past. We experience the same events, in turn, from each person’s perspective.

Crimson may sound amusing, but it isn’t. Quite the reverse: it is dispiriting and joyless, its protagonists resentful and discontented with their claustrophobic lives, but it is also a fearless work of modern literature. A sort of Greenlandic Trainspotting for the 21st century, but without the humour. The Guardian named it one of its top ten modern Nordic fiction books, and I can appreciate its reasons for doing so. While it may be self-absorbed, it is also original, inventive and touchingly courageous.

Korneliussen was born in Nuuk, South Greenland in 1990 and studied Psychology at Aarhus University in Denmark before spending a year in California as an exchange student. She started writing in 2013 and won many writing competitions in her homeland, where this novel was first published under the title of HOMO sapienne. She translated it herself from Greenlandic to Danish.

This was not what I expected it to be. It is a raw and personal look at sexuality. I am sorry it is just not my type of book.

Thank you to Netgalley for my copy.

Crimson follows the lives of five interconnected twentysomethings living in Greenland, who are either discovering or exploring their own queer identities. Each chapter is a character's interpretation of a particular moment in time and along with the stream of consciousness writing, I liked how each character's portrayal differed slightly but also helped shed more light on what was happening. Though it was only short, I really liked the book, and the writing style blew me away. It was very raw and emotional and representative of trying to navigate life in your twenties. I thought this was a brill piece of queer lit. Will definitely recommend.

Crimson is a novella translated from the original Greenlandic, offering five interrelated narratives from young people. The cast are introduced at the start with a brief synopsis of who they are and how they interrelate. This was really helpful because the names are unfamiliar to an anglophone ear, and they all seem to be involved in a complex love triangle - or perhaps a love pentagon.

So inevitably, given there are five of them, there is quite a heavy emphasis on sexuality and sexual minorities. Some characters are quite clear in their identity: Sara is lesbian and has no problem with this, but others - Fia - is just starting to explore possibilities in a land where unconventional behaviour leads to instant ostracism. Inuk, Fia's brother, equates Greenland to a prison and counts the days until his escape to Denmark.

The writing is quirky - stream of consiousness interspersed with letters (e-mails?) and text messages. There's no great plot, and what there is, is really just a driver for characters to explore themselves and their relationships with others. The scenes shoot from one party to another - Nuuk's Manhattan nightclub (it really exists - Google it!) - a taxi after a late night out. There is a real sense of place, and who knew Nuuk had a university scene and different suburbs? But as well as the place, there's the vibe. The reader gets a real sense of the social values and constraints in Greenland. Having spent time on the Isle of Lewis, I can identify with it. I was especially struck by the way you go out into a small town and you won't meet specific people you're looking for, and you won't know most of the people you see, but you will know some people.

For the most part, this is a highly readable and thought provoking piece. There is one section that is quite confusing - Ivik. In very broad terms, Ivik does not like being touched by her partner Sara, but she doesn't seem quite so squeamish with others. I think some of the opequeness in this section is purposeful, and to an extent Sara's fifth section sheds some light on it.

Crimson is a quirky piece of writing that feels fundamentally different to contemporary writing in English. It shines a light on an almost unknown part of the world, and presents it as human and connected. Recommended.

Short novel- very odd to read. It was translated from Greenlandic. So some of the words didn't make sense. It is an emotional read.
Thank you Little Brown Book Group UK for my ARC of this book. In exchange for my honest unbiased opinion/review.

Crimson is a short novel translated from Greenlandic about twentysomething LGBT Greenlanders in the city of Nuuk who look for love and identity, go to parties, and deal with the complications of their lives. Each chapter follows a different character—Fia, Sara, Ivik, Inuk, and Arnaq—as they interact over the same period of time, showing their inner thoughts in a mostly stream of consciousness way.

The novel moves between being distinctively Greenlandic, particularly with Inuk's internal issues with being a Greenlander and through small details through the narratives, and being like many other edgy novels that aim to depict gay and trans life and friendship groups in cities. The characters are recognisable people that you are given a snapshot of, though the length of the novel makes them more like passing acquaintances. Crimson feels like it could be adapted into a film, using the same kind of structure and giving a fleeting look at a group of interconnected people.

With emotions laid bare and the barest of language, ‘Crimson’ is an exploration and discovery of sexuality, gender and relationships.

A unique writing style translated (perhaps a little clunkily) from the original Greenlandic, this is a short, punchy narrative. Not an easy read.

This is a very short (the description says 200pp. but it took less than 2 hours to read: text messages and white space on the page) quasi stream-of-consciousness novel that has a modern sensibility: youth, drinking, restlessness, depression, love, most of all sexual identities. Perhaps it feels fresher in Greenland than it does in London where this kind of urban angst with hook-ups, gay and/or trans characters has an established place: does anyone turn their head at a young woman ditching her boring boyfriend and falling in love with a beautiful woman anymore?

At the risk of sounding annoying, this just isn't that edgy... That said, it captures a sense of frenetic confused youth, of possibilities and excitement. I'd have liked to have had a more grounded sense of Greenland - this could have been set in any university city with a pulsing student youth population.

Definitely worth reading for the buzz but I'm a bit on the shelf with this one.