Everything Like Before

This compilation of 37 stories is a series of vignettes that bring into view the lives and inner thinking of us: the elderly, wives, husbands, sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, moms, and dads. That we are shaped by our memory and memories (faulty as they can be), and our shared plight with aloneness and loneliness. How we hide our true selves under bravado and cruelty, in fear that our weaknesses and neediness will be discovered. That death, love, and life can be scary, lingering, unwanted, ignored, painful, humorous, and wonderful.

You won’t find much drama or plot in this book. What you will get are interactions: a couple vacationing at a cabin; a son visiting his dad after a prolonged absence; a lonely man who is unable to ask out a waitress; an old man meeting another old man on a park bench; a widower who throws out all of his dead wife’s things so he’d finally have room for himself (who needs three drawers for underwear?).

Many of these vignettes are only a page or two; there are no wasted words. The longest story is Thomas F’s Final Notes to the Public Carl Lange. The plot is the police visit Carl to question him about a rape. What the story is really about is how he thinks and acts during and after this visit. It is spot on—to me—how an insecure person might react in such a situation. A wonderful story.

I highly recommend this book.
I would like to thank NetGalley and Archipelago Books for the opportunity to read and review this wonderful book.

A quietly devastating collection of stories, mostly specific events taking place over the course of one day. They relate encounters between strangers or, just as often, between people who are related or living together who find they do not know each other well at all. There is a tendency for one person to guess what the other is thinking or how they will react to their, often provocative or even malevolent, behaviour. Combined with dialogue fraught with misunderstanding and evasion, this creates tense atmospheres with frequently surprising outcomes. As they progress, the stories become shorter and more observational, preoccupied with old age and death, and increasingly poignant. Scandinavian noir at its best and highly recommended.

Vignette visits into lives of contemporary Norwegians, sometimes just a sliver of a view. Another gem from archipelago imprint.

I’m not much of one for reading short stories, but I found this collection from acclaimed Norwegian writer Kjell Askildsen very entertaining indeed. More vignettes than fully-fledged out stories, I enjoyed the black absurdist humour, laconic dialogue and the insightful portrayal of the lack of human connection. Shades of Beckett and Kafka at times, but actually a completely original voice. Clever use of pauses, eloquent depiction of what’s not said rather than what is, and the ability to unsettle are all much in evidence. Not a volume to read straight through, but one to pick up and read just one or two at a time to get the full disorienting effect.

This collection of short stories has been translated from the Norwegian by Stan Kinsella. While they cover place, family and memory in their various ways they preponderantly show a view of the fading and constraints of old age. Thomas in his eighties a writer is still recording the passing of his life. The reader might wonder how close those tales are to true autobiography.
A few of the tales are of teenage years – perhaps sixty to seventy years previously, in a harsh farming life with an abusive father. That life and then escape to a completely different lifestyle, but the reader can only wonder if the experiences fed into the later life choices and responses. We see a series on married life – again filled with dissatisfaction (and alcohol) making do, but seemingly not happy. The ambit of experience starts to move to the foreign holiday, sitting watching and enduring. A later tale tells of the satisfaction of the rapid clearing out of a dead wife’s possession leaving the flat and his life totally free of her – except the scolding from another in the family. Another the death of an elderly sister rarely seen. All are from the perspective of a detached viewer, really not interested in the views or feelings of the other.
But essential they talk of aging, meeting elderly friends and hearing of others dead and dying – however funerals might need to be avoided. But do you bother to build new friends and relationships if you think you are heading to death? Is it worth the effort? With no friends, there is no real reason to go out far, life contracts even further, then weakness creeps. Constrained in a room by disability or stairs, the view of the possibly “interesting” will be limited by the width of the window and the willingness of people outside to oblige. The mind will then be the only place to go – but mean while the essential writer survives with pen and the words.
The reader needs to decide through the clever visual creation of these places how much is true, how much is distortion or overlaid by delusional memories, or is a wished other. The later tales seem to be a way of not just marking the passing days, but affirming the writer is still alive. But collectively they mark the shrinking of mobility, occupations, companionship and reliance on just memory or the minutiae of every simple repeating day.
But reading the realities (woes?) of a man ill fitted to the community around him is not comfortable. His self imposed life could so easily become a close to reality to others as they age and weaken (even without the impact of Covid and such things). In reality of course he was never was as isolated as claimed because the writing of books is a reaching out to others, even if you do not want them to reply.