#karl ove knausgard

[boldlymagnificentperson]

Libri: K.O. Knausgård, La morte del padre, Feltrinelli

Annamaria Migliore durante una chiacchiera estiva mi racconta d’essere rimasta affascinata e avvinta a questo tomo di 512 pagine. Sulla rete ne leggo meraviglie. L’inizio è shock. Eccone un breve estratto: Dalla presentazione dell’editore: “Quando si sa troppo poco, è come se questo poco non esistesse, ma anche quando si sa troppo, è come se questo troppo non ci fosse. Scrivere significa…

[most-nem]

@Nils Petter Nilsson

[viecome]

Vídeo: Entrevista con Karl Ove Knausgård por Laura Fernández

[henriduree]

Zitat d. W. 16

[waitmyturtles]

Love In The Big City: An Homage to the Best Queer Show I Watched This Year*

(*that actually aired this year, because I watch a lot of old shows.)

(TW: suicide attempt)

The time I spent reading the novel and watching the television drama series of Love In The Big City by Park Sang-Young was some of the very best time I invested in art this year.

(credit: @/khunkinn)

I wanted to try to keep up with the amazing LITBC Book Club (click the tag below to see all the club's meta!) earlier this year, but I couldn't on my mom schedule. So here's a wrap-up homage to my overall thoughts about this amazing book and its equally amazing drama adaptation, and hopefully I won't repeat anyone's points from earlier meta.

Earlier this fall season, as the drama was just released, I noted my overall thoughts on Park Sang-Young's 2021 novel. What's so great about the moment in time when a book and its drama adaptation meet the same levels of excellence in art, is that you get to see what each artistic medium can really offer by way of its specific ability to penetrate and dissect certain emotional states. With the drama adaptation, we got a more in-depth sense of the visual and behavioral whimsy of Go Young's T-aras friend group. We got a living, breathing sense of the simultaneous quiet and frantic pulse of the Seoul that Young occupied. We could almost taste and smell the sweat, the tequila, the apple martinis of the nightclubs that Young danced in at all hours.

I happened to love the novel, as I wrote in my previous piece linked above, because I love to cringe at really well-written, pathetic narrators. Like Proust's narrator, like Karl Ove Knausgard in his hefty autobiographical series, "My Struggle," you can read the internal musings of these narrators, and you squirm and cringe, being all like.... "really, bro? I know I have trouble getting it together -- emotionally, physically, sexually, everything -- but, dude, YOU are taking the CAKE."

The reason for the squirm is because excellently-written narrators like Proust's narrator, like Knausgard himself (okay, we can argue about "excellently written," but that's for another piece), are emotional pathologists, dissecting every minute whim of a feeling into words, cutting words that account for every last iota of mental anguish that these narrators feel at every given moment.

It's a brutal accountability test for us readers to weather. And, of course, as the very best art does -- it forces us, the readers, to face our own recognition of the kinds of emotions these narrators are detailing, and asks us to relate to them, vis à vis how we ourselves understand these emotions. Thus, a resulting squirm and cringe, as we reckon with our own emotional accountability in that very moment.

I had so many of these wonderful moments when I was reading the novel version of Love In The Big City. Go Young was so cringe. So pathetic.

(credit: @/my-rose-tinted-glasses)

And while the novel delved brutally into the reasons WHY Go Young was so pathetic and cringe, I enjoyed the drama's ability to sensually and holistically take me into that WHY place as well.

For me, Go Young's journey into the adulthood he ends up in begins with the intergenerational trauma and the avoidant attachment he must have with his mother. I say "must" because he's all she's got, and Go Young, to his misfortune, knows this, and must deal with it, and with her.

This is despite her utterly rejecting his identity, his sexuality, and forcing him at a young age to face conversion therapy in as abusive a situation as possible, literally being kidnapped into the therapy. We know from the novel that his therapists end up realizing that his sexuality is not his "issue," and that the "issue" is his actually deranged, Christian-devoted mother.

The drama doesn't get into that level of details. I will absolutely estimate that it COULDN'T get into that level of detail due to potential censorship, and the portrayed meaning of such a comparison as to show a devout Christian mother as a neglectful, bigoted mother.

But what the drama showed me, in real time, were the spontaneous movements and moments that punctuated Young's life, that were totally derived from the low self-esteem, the lack of internal love and respect he had for himself for most of the series. The emptiness, the lack of BELIEF that he had in himself, that stemmed from the refusal of his mother to accept him lovingly and holistically. I'd recommend LITBC to any potential parent as a guide on how to NOT parent your kid.

As someone trained in the social services, and as a steadfast lover of intergenerational trauma in shows -- and how dramas demonstrate the long-term impact of intergeneration trauma unto their characters -- Love In The Big City is utterly SUPERLATIVE in this category.

And this kind of neglect that young queer people so very often face in their families NEEDS to be depicted in art, so that we can see the risks of what these young people could, and will, grow up to be, without nurturing love in their life.

So. Man. Go Young goes fucking ham on fucking hipster doofus Yeong Su in a restaurant. Yeong Su, who himself deals with a kind of internalized homophobia that results in him producing bigoted "research" on homosexuality. And Go Young, unconsciously hoping that he could find love with a most unlovable man, subsequently attempts suicide.

Go Young breaks up with Gyu Ho minutes before Gyu Ho is to depart to China. I saw that moment as Go Young "releasing" Gyu Ho from the burden that Go Young assumes himself to be -- emotional baggage, Kylie, and all.

Go Young cavorts with Habibi, a man escaping just about everything by way of luxury hotels and unfulfilling work. After his real relationship with Gyu Ho, Go Young follows Habibi on Habibi's orders, having little to no agency in the coupling until the absolute end, as he leaves Habibi with a note. Habibi, who himself is also a subject of clear internalized homophobia, another example of the absolute wrath that social bigotry can lay waste on a queer individual.

Love In The Big City balanced these brutal moments of internalized trauma, bigotry, and homophobia with LIFE as it could be lived: life spent working, writing, drinking, partying, sucking dick and moving mattresses, catching up with old friends, supporting engagements, comforting friends after break-ups, BEING PRESENT for yourself and your family and your friends.

There was a shift of growth and responsibility in Go Young's life when his cancer-addled mother sank her head down on his lap in the sunlight of a park at the end of the second chapter of the drama. But what was so OUTSTANDING about the drama version of Love In The Big City, is that the drama didn't assume that that shift would be a great dramatic moment. Go Young certainly got into a relationship with Gyu Ho afterwards.... but he damn fucked it up at the end.

AND IT WAS OKAY. Even though we viewers were fucking heartbroken, IT WAS OKAY....

... because I believe Love In The Big City was communicating to us that it's perfectly okay to stumble in one's continued growth, in the movement forward of one's life. Go Young gets a new apartment, new light in his windows and his life, and celebrates the move (and the end of Eun Su's engagement) on his rooftop with his besties.

The novel ends a bit more brutally than the drama. In the drama, we do very much get to see Go Young doing a moving-forward thing. I was screaming and pacing at @lurkingshan when I finished the novel, and I felt slightly more uplifted when I watched the drama.

I love that I felt those two ways about my experience with each medium. Again, it shows what I GOT from the experience of reading and watching this story separately. And the drama very much played up the T-aras group more for kicks and lights (especially in the hospital), but I still got such a brutal sense of Go Young's internal mishegoss, that maybe I needed those gworls, too, the way Go Young always did.

The other best queer show that I watched this year did not actually air this year. That one is 2022's The Miracle of Teddy Bear from Thailand, which I will review soon for my Thai QL Old GMMTV Challenge project. The Miracle of Teddy Bear was rooted in anger and accountability against parents, adults, and society, for the wreckage that bigotry and abuse can render, internally and externally, on the bodies and minds of young queer people. It was an utterly exacting exercise in a brutal breakdown of queer pain.

Love In The Big City, in comparison, was a visual meditation on the mundanity of an individual's life -- depicting all the cringe and the pain associated with it -- vis à vis broken and incomplete love from family and lovers. But Love In The Big City also had LIFE, LIFE LIVED, woven through it all. Go Young kept clubbing with his friends, because he needed it, because he needed his friends, because his FRIENDS needed the club, and because his friends needed HIM.

While I felt a broken heart for his relationship with Gyu Ho at the end of the drama, what I had for Go Young was hope -- a hope that, while I knew the man, in fiction, would still experience hurt while moving forward, would still very much move forward nonetheless, on his own accord.

(credit: @/khunkinn)

(tagging @neuroticbookworm for awareness <3)

[thedarkkeep]

"What makes life worth living? No child asks itself that question. To children life is self-evident. Life goes without saying: whether it is good or bad makes no difference. This is because children don't see the world, don't observe the world, don't contemplate the world, but are so deeply immersed in the world that they don't distinguish between it and their own selves."

- Karl Ove Knausgard, Autumn

[gegendensatz]

Über Endlichkeit und Ewigkeit

„Wie man den Wolf auch füttert – er schaut immer zum Wald. Wir alle sind Wölfe des Urwalds der Ewigkeit.“

Wie lässt sich dieses Wunder namens Leben erklären und was bedeutet es überhaupt, am Leben zu sein? Lässt sich das Leben auf pure Wissenschaft, Religion oder Philosophie reduzieren? In seinem Roman Die Wölfe aus dem Wald der Ewigkeit (erschienen bei Luchterhand) sucht Karl Ove Knausgård nach Antworten und was er dabei findet, und dem Leser präsentiert, ist eine Mischung aus Bildungs- und Ideenroman. Er nimmt seine Leser mit auf eine über 1000 Seiten lange Reise und zeigt ihnen sowohl durch das Wirken seiner Protagonisten als auch durch darin eingewobene kurze theoretisch- wissenschaftliche Einschübe, wie das Leben und alles, was dazu gehört, gedeutet oder erklärt werden könnte. Dabei drängt er sich niemals auf, sondern führt seinem Leser lediglich eine Fülle von sehr unterschiedlichen Ideen und Ansätzen vor. Von der Evolutionstheorie bis zum russischen Glauben an Unsterblichkeit ist alles dabei.

Der Roman ist die Fortsetzung seines 2022 erschienen Romans Der Morgenstern (ebenfalls erschienen bei Luchterhand).  Erzählen tut er aber eigentlich die Vorgeschichte zu den seltsamen Ereignissen rund um das Auftauchen des neuen Himmelskörpers. Beginnend als Bildungsroman, erzählt Knausgård zunächst die Geschichte des 19-jährigen Syvert, der 1986 von seinem Militärdienst nach Hause zurückkehrt und nicht so recht weiß, was er mit seinem Leben anfangen soll. Während in Tschernobyl ein Atomreaktor explodiert und Norwegen in eine Regierungskriese stürzt, entdeckt Syvert eines Tages, dass sein verstorbener Vater ein verborgenes zweites Leben hatte, das bis in die Sowjetunion zurückführt. Und während man als Leser noch rätselt, was das alles zu bedeuten hat, wechselt die Perspektive schon zu Alevtina, einer russischen Wissenschaftlerin, die sich mit Evolutionsbiologie beschäftigt und mit ihrem Sohn grade ihren Vater besucht. Als Alevtina viele Jahre später Besuch aus Norwegen bekommt, fangen die losen Fäden langsam an, sich zu verbinden, so dass sich am Ende ein schillerndes Mosaik aus all dem, was das Leben ausmacht, ergibt. Die Wölfe aus dem Wald der Ewigkeit ist eine Erzählung voller Liebe, Vergebung, Erkenntnis und dem festen Glauben daran, dass alles auf der Welt miteinander verbunden ist.

So wie das Leben selbst manchmal seiner eigenen Logik folgt und unklare Wege geht, so tut es auch dieser Roman: Er schweift aus, er geht Umwege und erzählt auch einige Dinge, die für die Handlung nicht unbedingt wesentlich sind. Darin liegt jedoch auch sein besonderer Zauber: Am Ende fügt sich nämlich alles zu einem großen Ganzen zusammen. Als Leser muss man ein wenig Geduld an den Tag legen, denn 1050 Seiten lesen sich nicht nebenbei und man muss am Ball bleiben, um den sich im Verlauf der Erzählung immer weiter aufbauenden Ideen und Theorien folgen zu können. Wer aber mit den Büchern von Knausgård bereits vertraut ist, der weiß, dass das nicht schwerfällt und dass es sich auf jeden Fall lohnt. Er überzeugt auch in dieser Erzählung durch gelungene, teils poetische Formulierungen, die stets auch eine Liebeserklärung an die Natur sind. Außerdem ist dieser Roman grade durch seine Perspektivwechsel und Zeitsprünge spannend und abwechslungsreich bis zur letzten Seite.

Lest weiter unter: https://www.penguinrandomhouse.de/Buch/Die-Woelfe-aus-dem-Wald-der-Ewigkeit/Karl-Ove-Knausgard/Luchterhand-Literaturverlag/e567004.rhd

[xcziel]

belated tuesday new release news

(i had the *worst* migraine yesterday and had to work a long shift so i was dead by the time i got home)

louse erdrich the mighty red

patterson's (and david ellis) lies he told me

'danielle steel' released triangle

society of lies by lauren ling brown

the mistletoe mystery a pocket story from the maid author nita prose

for horror buffs the last one at the wedding by jason rekulak

third realm karl ove knausgard

rupi kaur's milk & honey special collector's edition

the wild huntress by emily lloyd-jones

song to drown rivers by ann liang joins the fancy sprayed edges gang

city in glass by nghi vo

also a fancy edges version of emily henry's beach read

fang fiction by kate stayman-london

frieda mcfadden thriller the boyfriend

john scalzi's starter villain is out in paperback

in ya releases:

kathleen glasgow the glass girl

the heir by sabaa tahir, newest in the ember in the ashes series (new covers now in box set!)

catherine doyle's the dagger and the flame

lynne painter hardcover nothing like the movies

lauren roberts powerless + reckless box set

and volume seven of the lore olympus graphic novel series

* also, to tie in with the new maguire book elphie due out this month, all the new merch for the wicked movie is out so if you love the show/book or just pink and green there's so. much.

** plus the wicked lego sets and holiday legos are out! (i predict the poinsettia set will sell out fast)

in final fiction notes: sally roberts' intermezzo is selling out fast and the publisher is dragging their feet on printing more of the fancy trending cover just fyi

dan jones big new history tome henry v

ta nehisi coates' the message

malcolm gladwell revisits his bestselling idea with revenge of the tipping point

ina garten the barefoot contessa has a memoir out be ready when the luck happens

and dolly parton and her sister have a new cookbook good lookin' cookin'

a bunch of kids new releases also came out but the main one where i am is the last dragon on mars by scott reintgen, which going up against british import juggernaut impossible creatures

(note: my personal most looked-forward-to title of the month? villain. the sequel to hench by natalie zina walschots. i can't wait)

OH! OHHHH ! i can't believe i almost forgot to mention:

seven seas paid that horror show daemi for the rights to publish kp and the first volume is out in stores!!

idk whether to be pleased: art is nice! promo for my beloved characters! or to be upset: bad writing! money for a nightmare author!

(i mean .. i read the online translation that was running on wattpad (not good) and heard from some folks who bought the books from overseas and the consensus was that it was not well-written at all, but i have not read through this new version so maybe they got a better translator? new editor? who knows? i will have to check and see)

all i have to say is that if you do buy this, you should be obligated to go and watch or re-watch the show

[nyuszimotor]

Jelentem: kurvajó - igazi klasszikus Knausgard. Tegnap kezdtem, de már felét kiolvastam. Több ilyet! - utoljára a Houellebecq - Megsemmisülni kötete nyügözött le ennyire.

[thedhananjayaparkhe]

"Dawn's Secret: Revealing Life's Canvas"

“Dawn’s Secret: Revealing Life’s Canvas” Part 1: Abstract: In the tranquil essence of mornings lies the profound secret to a fulfilling day. Simon Sarris and Karl Ove Knausgard, through their insightful musings, illuminate the transformative power of early awakening. These moments of serene solitude pave the path to self-discovery and vitality. Opening: “Life’s most profound truths are often…

[gabrielpardal]

Lista dos livros que li em 2020

Leio mais de um livro ao mesmo tempo, pois são muitas e variadas as razões para se abrir um livro. Leio por prazer, por estudo, por trabalho, para me sentir melhor. Aqui uma lista com tudo o que li em 2020.

Ficção

O Senhor das Moscas - William Golding

Enterre seus Mortos - Ana Paula Maia

Os Melhores Contos de H. P. Lovecraft - H. P. Lovecraft

O Evangelho Segundo Jesus Cristo - Saramago

A Uruguaia - Pedro Mairal

Enterre seus mortos - Ana Paula Maia

As Perguntas - Antônio Xerxenesky

Stoner - John Williams

História da sua vida - Ted Chiang [Conto]

68 Contos de Raymond Carver - Raymond Carver

Vida Querida - Alice Munro

Os Melhores Contos de H. P. Lovecraft - H. P. Lovecraft

A Loteria - Shirley Jackson [Conto]

Os Salgueiros - Algernon Blackwood [Conto]

O Povo Branco - Arthur Machen [Conto]

O Cobrador - Rubem Fonseca [Releitura]

Os Prisioneiros - Rubem Fonseca [Releitura]

Paraísos Artificiais - Paulo Henriques Britto

Clube da Luta - Chuck Palahniuk [Releitura]

The Green Mile - Stephen King

O Náufrago - Thomas Bernhard

Woodcutters - Thomas Bernhard

A Descoberta da Escrita - Karl Ove Knausgard

Lincoln no Limbo - George Saunders

Não Ficção

Ideias para adiar o fim do mundo - Ailton Krenak

Sapiens - Yuval Noah Harari

Changing my mind - Zadie Smith

Feel Free - Zadie Smith

Verifique se o mesmo - Nuno Ramos

Formas Breves - Ricardo Piglia

Tudo que é belo - The Moth

Aprendendo com o Vírus - Paul B. Preciado

Na luta e na dança contra o vírus - Domingos Guimaraens

Queda livre: Ensaios de risco - Otavio Frias Filho

Lovecraft - Contra o Mundo, Contra a Vida - Michel Houellebecq

A Vida de H. P. Lovecraft - S. T. Josh

O Erro de Descartes - Antônio Damásio

Treze Crônicas - Mariano Marovatto

Every Love Story is a Ghost Story - D. T. Max [Releitura]

Como funciona a ficção - James Wood [Releitura]

Infinitamente Pessoal - Rafael Julião

Escrever sem Escrever - Leonardo Villa-Forte

Manifesto Ciborgue - Donna Harraway

[delectablywaywardbeard-blog]

Karl Ove Knausgard presenta il romanzo La stella del mattino

source

[leinwandfrei]

Karl Ove Knausgard: Im Sommer (2016) [Übersetzt von Paul Berf]

[mesutbahtiyarolacak]

Fırsatı kaçırmış olmam çok önemli değildi; çok daha önemlisi elimdeki fırsatı kaçırış biçimimdi, son adımları atacak, son köprüden geçecek cesareti bulamamış olmamdı.

[principleofplenitude]

Yesterday I read a book which had a sentence that I took note of because it seemed so very young. The first-person narrator expresses his unease that lately he has been stagnating intellectually. I remember worrying about the same thing when I was in my twenties. Well, actually it was worse, for if one stagnates at least there has been a prior progression. I considered my intellectual deficiencies, the cognitive stasis that marked me, as something fundamentally unchangeable, a trait of my character. The anxiety I felt when I simply wasn’t able to grasp what I was reading, for instance Julia Kristeva’s book Revolution in Poetic Language or anything at all by Lacan. And in a sense I was right that it was a flaw, that a certain kind of knowledge at a certain level of difficulty simply wasn’t for me, that I was too stupid, for in this respect nothing has changed. This spring, in the evenings when I lie reading Safranski’s book about Heidegger, I just don’t get his philosophical explications, I don’t understand what they mean even when I exert myself to the utmost. It’s worse when I try reading Heidegger’s own writings. Even when I consider that Heidegger writes about being a human being and I am a human being too, so that his thoughts and insights also pertain to me, it doesn’t help: I just don’t have it in me. When I was twenty-five, that certainty pained me, and if I didn’t exactly repress it, I distorted it and fooled myself that it wasn’t necessarily true. Back then so much in life centred on the desire to become someone, ambition was powerful, and since it is blind, a life of ambition is restricted. Though actually I think that being in one’s twenties is in itself to be restricted. At that age one’s vigour is great, and one looks ahead, keeps one’s eyes fixed on things to come, and of the things found in one’s surroundings the most important are always those that hold the most promise. At the same time, and this is the cruelty of it, this forward-looking gaze is constantly confronted with the limitations of one’s character, constantly coming up against a sense of stagnation – hence the youthful fear of stagnating intellectually. To turn forty is to realise that one’s limitations will last one’s whole life through, but also to know that all the time, whether one likes it or not, and whether one is aware of it or not, new layers are being added to one’s character, a type of knowledge and insight that isn’t directed towards the future, towards what will come to pass or one day be accomplished, but towards the here and now, in the things you do every day, in what you think about them and what you understand of them. That is experience. The vigour one had in one’s twenties is gone, and the will is weaker, but life is richer. Not in a qualitative sense, only quantitatively. When I read Safranski’s biography of Heidegger in the evenings, I understand nothing of his philosophy, but I understand him, in the sense that what makes up his life doesn’t seem foreign and complicated but fathomable and meaningful. And in the mornings, when the three children all have to get up, put on some clothes, maybe shower, eat something, all of them in different moods and at different stages, “with different problems and joys, getting it all to run smoothly, making it all work, demands a kind of knowledge that isn’t written down anywhere, which it isn’t possible to acquire by reading or studying but which all parents possess, perhaps without appreciating it, precisely because it is the opposite of ambition and isn’t concentrated or restricted, nor is it oriented towards something to come, a future triumph, and therefore it is nearly invisible. This is how experience works, it settles around the self like a sediment, and the self, as the possibilities open to it increase in number, becomes more and more difficult to nail down: the wisest person knows that ‘I’ is nothing in itself.

Karl Ove Knausgard, from Autumn (2015)

[channeledhistory]

Karl Ove Knausgård in his VW Multivan photographed by Jürgen Teller