#naja marie aidt

[secretnameofeverydeath]

My dad just got hit by a bus. And it broke his neck and now he's dead. I gotta pick up my mom and bring her to the morgue so she can identify his body. No I'm not kidding. This is actually happening. And now I'm high on crack.

6.1. When my brother died (unexpectedly) his widow couldn't find a phone number for me among his papers until two weeks later. While I swept my porch and bought apples and sat by the window in the evening with the radio on, his death came wandering slowly towards me across the sea.

5.6. When my parents died I chose not to eat but to burn them. Then buried the ashes under a stone cut with their names. For my brother I had no choice, I was a thousand miles away. His widow says he wanted to be cast in the sea, so she did this. There is no stone and as I say he had changed his name.

On finding things to do instead of eating your dead family

The Haunting of Hill House episode 2 | Wikipedia, Fore People | DSix Feet Under, pilot episode | Naja Marie Aidt, When Death Takes Something from You, Give it Back, with an English translation by Denise Newman | Herodotus, with an English translation by A. D. Godley. Cambridge. Harvard University Press. 1920 | Six Feet Under, pilot episode | Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch (both quotations) | The Haunting of Hill House episode 6 | Mary Oliver, Flare | Anne Carson, Nox | Naja Marie Aidt, When Death Takes Something from You, Give it Back, with an English translation by Denise Newman | Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch | The Goldfinch (2019) | Wooden Overcoats season 3 episode 8, written by David K. Barnes | Cindy Millstein, Ghost Stories, in the essay collection she edited: Rebellious Mourning | Anne Carson, Nox | Six Feet Under, pilot episode

[violettesiren]

Then suddenly beech woods, all green behind the dozing eyes a deer leaps across the forest road scents of acid and moss and cheek against bark, sunrain between trunks, I’m home and hear the Baltic Sea crash against big rocks far away and I rest like a fairy or a witch in the sweet smells of the forest floor we can so easily forget what we are who we are that we are, but it takes only a little call to waken the sleepers, as now, in the forest, for LISTEN, isn’t that song and the chiming of goblets sounding in the green chambers? YES by golly, a celebration for the child in his seventeenth year, who never has been happier and never will be happier; the world shimmers everything unimaginably possible while a handspring and a new but not disturbing sensitivity have settled in the middle of his irresistibly marzipanescent body.

from Everything Shimmers by Naja Marie Aidt (Translated by Susanna Nied)

[slateblueearthbelow]

from “Everything Shimmers”

by Naja Marie Aidt

translated from the Danish by Susanna Nied

Then suddenly beech woods, all green behind the dozing eyes  a deer leaps across the forest road  scents of acid and moss and cheek against bark, sunrain  between trunks, I’m home and hear the Baltic Sea  crash against big rocks far away and I rest like a  fairy or a witch in the sweet smells of the forest floor  we can so easily forget what we are who we are  that we are, but it takes only a little call  to waken the sleepers, as now, in the forest, for  LISTEN, isn’t that song and the chiming of goblets  sounding in the green chambers? YES by golly, a celebration  for the child in his seventeenth year, who never has  been happier and never will be happier; the world shimmers  everything unimaginably possible while a handspring  and a new but not disturbing sensitivity have settled  in the middle of his irresistibly marzipanescent  body. 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Alting Blinker

Så pludselig bøgeskov, helt grønt bag de blundende øjne  en hind springer over den stampede jordvej  her lugter af syre og mos og kinden mod bark, solregn  mellem stammer, jeg er hjemme og hører Østersøen  slå mod store sten langt borte er jeg hvilende som en  fe eller en heks i skovbundens dufte  vi kan så let glemme at vi er dem vi er  at vi er, men der skal bare et lille signal til  at vække den slumrende, som nu, i skoven, for  HØR NU er det ikke sang og bægerklang  der lyder i de grønne sale? JO, et gilde sørme  for barnet i sit syttende år, der aldrig har  haft det bedre og aldrig får det bedre; verden blinker  alting ufatteligt muligt mens et kraftspring  og en ny men ikke forstyrrende følsomhed har slået sig ned  midt i den uimodståeligt marcipanemmende  krop.

[loudrats]

Loud Rats Book Club 2023

This year the rats became literate!

We suggested a number of books each month and then voted on one to read (somehow Fish managed to read all 12 of them… wild!). The ones in red are the winners, but there are some other really good books in there.

Hopefully you can find your next favourite read below! :)

January

Piranesi by Susanna Clarke

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

Hangsaman by Shirley Jackson

The Butchering Art by Lindsay Fitzharris

Earthlings by Sayaka Murata

Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk

Why Fish Don't Exist by Lulu Miller

The Death of Ivan Ilyich by Tolstoy

Fledgling by Octavia Butler

Pirates and Prejudice by Kara Louise

If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin

February

Adua by Igiaba Scego

The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K Le Guin

Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters

The Passion by Jeanette Winterson

Upright Women Wanted by Sarah Gailey

March

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

The Humans by Matt Haig

Cane by Jean Toomer

Book of Disquiet by Fernando Pessoa

The Memory Police by Yōko Ogawa

The Fifth Season by N. K. Jemisin (#1 Broken Earth Trilogy)

Young Mungo by Douglas Stewart

April

Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrel

Dubliners by James Joyce

The Tiger's Wife by Téa Obreht

My Cousin Rachel by Daphne du Maurier

On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong

Entangled Life by Merlin Sheldrake

May

Mary: An Awakening of Terror by Nat Cassidy

No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy

Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield

Where You Come From by Saša Stanišić

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

Gwen and Art Are Not in Love by Lex Croucher

June

Death in Her Hands by Ottessa Moshfegh

Our Hideous Progeny by C. E. McGill

Swimming in the dark by Tomasz Jędrowski

Girls like Girls by Hayley Kiyoko

Diary of a Wimpy Kid 17 by Jeff Kinney

Zami: A New Spelling of my Name by Audre Lorde

Lesser Known Monsters of the 21st Century by Kim Fu

The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet by Becky Chambers

July

Kid Youtuber 9: Everything is Fine by Marcus Emerson, Noah Child

Bored Gay Werewolf by Tony Santorella

Hit Parade Of Tears by Izumi Suzuki

When Death Takes Something from You Give It Back: Carl's Book by Naja Marie Aidt

Pandora's Jar by Natalie Haynes

The Decagon House Murders by Yukito Ayatsuji

The Summer Book by Tove Jansson

Mapping the Interior by Stephan Graham Jones

August

Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle

Small Game by Blair Braverman

Free: Coming of Age at the End of History by Lea Ypi

September

Hag-Seed by Margaret Atwood

The Employees: A workplace novel of the 22nd century by Olga Ravn

Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk

October

Linghun by Ai Jiang

Eyes Guts Throat Bones by Moira Fowley-Doyle

The City of Dreaming Books by Walter Moers

The Half Life of Valery K by Natasha Pulley

Catch the Rabbit by Lana Bastašić

Kindred by Octavia Butler

November

Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut

Life For Sale by Yukio Mishima

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson

Liberation Day by George Saunders

Ripe by Sarah Rose Etter

Eugene Onegin by Alexander Pushkin

Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin

December

Arsène Lupin versus Herlock Sholmes by Maurice Leblanc

The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien

Minor Detail by Adania Shibli

Prophet Song by Paul Lynch

Migrations by Charlotte McConaghy

[xxxjarchiexxx]

chimamanda adichie // bigger than the whole sky by taylor swift // when death takes something from you give it back by naja marie aidt // right where you left me by taylor swift // i carry you in my heart by me // beach read by emily henry // ocean vuong

[cmacaulays]

Naja Marie Aidt, from “Everything Shimmers”

[christineforevigt]

jeg passer jo lige ind i en naja marie aidt novelle 🤪

[killer-catchy]

en anden note om dansk populærmusik

åh hvor er det der helmig album dog egentlig fint og rørende

det har samme tyngde som naja marie aidts 'carls bog',

ønsket om at komme tilbage til en sø, et sted man har haft sammen sat mod ønsket om at komme tilbage til tiden før, momentet, hvor man stadig var glad og ikke havde taget telefonen endnu

[tallergroovie]

{Abril en el Taller Groovie: La Pérdida}

Imagen: UNICEF

Abril se viene movido por estos lares. Vaya que sí. Mucha actividad, aparte de los talleres que ya cuentan con sus participantes. Lo lindo es que estamos orientando las actividades escritoras en torno a tópicos o temas. Si en marzo fue "La descripción: cómo me hago entender", en abril todo se reunirá en torno al tema de "La pérdida".

La pérdida parece ser un tópico regular en la Literatura, pero siempre hay algo que agregar a Didion, Forn, Léger, Ernaux, de Vignan y Barnes (entre miles de otros autores). Es un lugar al que acudimos en busca de compañía, pero también con una buena cuota de morbo. Y eso no está mal.

El taller de lectura se reunirá en torno a dos libros que someten al lector a la carencia y privación desde la maternidad. Acciones que parecen inverosímiles sustraen a los hijos de estas narradoras, convocando las emociones más eufóricas por parte de quien lee (e interpela) estas novelas.

El libro cardinal de abril será "Casas vacías" de Brenda Navarro. (Si quieres saber cómo conseguirlo, haz click AQUÍ)

Haremos una tercera clase de profundización del tema con "Si la muerte te quita algo, devuélvelo" de Naja Marie Aidt (libro que no es necesario adquirir para el taller de abril, porque la profesora hará una selección de instantes de la novela-carta-poema para el taller).

Este taller se realizará los días miércoles 3, 10 y 17 de abril de 2024.

El horario es de 19:00 a 21:00, vía Meet.

El valor del taller es de 45.000 CLP por las tres clases.

Para más información, datos y reserva de cupos, escríbeme a inagroovie@gmail.com

[thesefevereddays]

from “Everything Shimmers”

By Naja Marie Aidt

translated from the Danish by Susanna Nied

Then suddenly beech woods, all green behind the dozing eyes

a deer leaps across the forest road

scents of acid and moss and cheek against bark, sunrain

between trunks, I’m home and hear the Baltic Sea

crash against big rocks far away and I rest like a

fairy or a witch in the sweet smells of the forest floor

we can so easily forget what we are who we are

that we are, but it takes only a little call

to waken the sleepers, as now, in the forest, for

LISTEN, isn’t that song and the chiming of goblets

sounding in the green chambers? YES by golly, a celebration

for the child in his seventeenth year, who never has

been happier and never will be happier; the world shimmers

everything unimaginably possible while a handspring

and a new but not disturbing sensitivity have settled

in the middle of his irresistibly marzipanescent

body.

[foxandcatlibrary]

22nd Book I Read in 2022

Title: Omina

Authors: Naja Marie Aidt & Mette Moestrup

Notes: Helt storkär i den här lilla boken <3

[secretnameofeverydeath]

"I wasn't looking for someone who sees sorrow as a project to complete. I didn't want to take it on as a project. I didn't want to partake in treating sorrow as a project. The idea of sorrow as a project to complete disgusts me. The idea of sorrow as a project to complete in order to be well again makes me furious. I had no energy to work. I wanted someone to stroke my cheek and soothe me. I wanted care, not work. I wanted someone to lift the sorrow off my chest, if just for a moment."

-When Death Takes Something from You, You Give It Back - Naja Marie Aidt, translated from Danish by Denise Newman

[rabbitt1]

The unfinished and imperfect is the nature of grief.

When Death Takes Something from You Give It Back, Naja Marie Aidt (tr. Denise Newman)

[zahut]

“One day I stopped working. One day I stayed in bed. I stopped answering the phone, I just stopped. I let myself be dismissed from the high school where I was teaching, received unemployment, sick days, and later, social security. And later, much later, the earth, the trees, the rain. Especially the trees. Their certain endurance in this world, standing, in the same spot, moving and under the influence of everything around them, but they don’t move, they never move until someone cuts them down. And even then, it doesn’t necessarily end their lives—it’s not easy to get rid of a tree. The stump sprouts and soon it’s tall and dense again, growing wildly.”

― Naja Marie Aidt, Baboon (trans. Denise Newman)

[heartsbreath]

“Il dolore è

una

fottuta prigione.”

Naja Marie Aidt - Se la morte ti ha tolto qualcosa, tu restituiscilo

[xxxjarchiexxx]

when death takes something from you give it back by naja marie aidt // i carry your heart with me by e.e. cummings // dear rose by ocean vuong // the profound grief and terrible puns of harrow the ninth by constance grady and emily st james // marjorie by taylor swift