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A Brief Hello With Karl Ove Knausgård

Photo credit: WaterstonesTCR

Photo credit: WaterstonesTCR

By Conor White-Andrews

It’s late August, almost September, and over London the sky is a silently shifting collage of whites and grey. It’s still the summer, technically, but the weather outside his window—heavy grey, gentle rain, harsh yellow lights of offices and red tips of cranes burning against the gloom—suggests a changing of the seasons, perhaps a damp fading back into the autumn dark.

Buttoning up his plain white shirt, the man watches the rain. The hotel he’s staying in is in a nice part of town. He could see that when he arrived, having lived in the city before—in neighbourhoods bearing little resemblance to the one he’s in now—but the room is still dingy, basic nonetheless. There’s still a need for both the lamp beside the bed and lamp on the desk, where a plastic white kettle sits alongside red sachets of instant coffee and tea with two white mugs, to be constantly switched on in order to sufficiently light the room.

Adjoining the suite is a small balcony, shielded from the rain by the small identical balcony above, and now he collects the blue carton of cigarettes from the bedside table, the table with the lamp, and lets himself outside. On the balcony it’s warmer than he’d expected—the air thick, humid, heavy—and the man is reminded, again, of the strange turning of the seasons, the gradual then sudden retreat to darkness. But it doesn’t bother him, this fading, as he smokes a cigarette on the small balcony adjoining the room. That’s because it’s merely part of the cycle—an essential element; something he has addressed in his latest book, which he will be discussing later, in a bookshop somewhere in the city. He observes the rain as he would the dust, the grass, and the sun on a dry summer's day.

On the street directly below, a line of traffic—black cabs, red buses, everyday vehicles functioning as Ubers—shuffles forward at a pace too slow to properly distinguish, a series of red brake lights stretching on out of sight. Exhaling, the man drops the cigarette butt from his fingers. Inside, he makes another coffee, his third already that morning, and then checks his phone; his wife, Linda, has not called back. He will call her again soon. His watch shows 9:45, not even 10 o’clock, and he has hours to kill.

In a dingy hotel room lit by two yellow lamps, he has hours to kill. He fingers the metal lighter in his pocket, thinks about smoking another cigarette. He doesn’t though, and instead sits down at the desk. He drinks the last of his coffee—soon, he will want another—before pushing back the screen of his laptop and turning it on. He yawns as the machine blinks into life. His latest project—what it is, precisely, he isn’t quite sure—is saved as a folder on his desktop. He taps at it quickly, twice. The words that appear before him, black against white, form sentences, might even make sense, but the man doesn’t yet know what they mean. That will come later. But in his hotel room, the one in the nice part of town, he has hours to kill, and now it’s important to work. He clicks at the white plastic kettle, and in seconds it begins to scream.

I don’t know Karl Ove Knausgård, and it alarms me that I think I might. As anybody who has even partially read his epic series My Struggle will appreciate, the idea—the mental image—one forms of Knausgård is uncomfortably strong, and arrives in unflinchingly graphic detail. What makes it all the more interesting, however, is that, despite the project being almost directly autobiographical—and heavily marketed as such—as the confession of the century, its autobiographical nature is perhaps its least interesting facet.

Because of a misguided attempt at marginally cutting costs, I was late to the conversation Knausgård was having at the Waterstones on Tottenham Court Road, London, with an American literary agent. The event started at 7 p.m., and I didn’t arrive until 7:40. I took a seat at the very back, sweating and struggling to control my breathing after sprinting wildly from the station. I looked around and there was Knausgård, sitting on a stool at the front. He was smaller than I’d imagined, maybe, but still fundamentally the man I had watched in YouTube videos and speaking in the same thoughtful, considered voice. He was talking about Madame Bovary, gesturing with his hands. He said that Madame Bovary is the definitive novel, that in it Flaubert had captured the very essence of our reality, its textures, and offered it back in the form of words. He said that he had read Flaubert’s letters, and that what fascinated him was how Flaubert engaged equally in every aspect of his existence, how he did not discriminate. Knausgård spoke a little more about eating, shitting, shaving, and the multitudes of everyday life. He did not discriminate.

The talk ended 10 minutes after I arrived. At that point, there were to be questions from the audience, and I was able to ask the second question. There was a pause as the microphone was brought over. Stuttering, I asked Knausgård about structure. I asked him about how he deals with structure, when the books feel so much like an outpouring of strong, visceral emotion. I felt my skin burn as he grappled with my words, possibly wondering how to deal with a stupid question. Then Knausgård, looking at me from his stool at the front, said, hesitantly, that it’s not something he particularly worries about. He said that, as younger writer, he was crushingly aware of writing as a type of performance. He said that for years he wrote with painstaking intent, with a pose, until, one day, it became something else. He likened to it to rehearsing, and told me to keep writing, furiously, until the transition from the internal to the external becomes second nature. In A Death in the Family, he writes, “Writing is about drawing the essence of what we know out of the shadows. That is what writing is about.”

After the event had finished, Knausgård was signing copies of his latest book, translated into English, Autumn. I bought a beer, a Brooklyn Lager, and waited in line. Standing there, I watched as the various people went up and had their books signed. A number of them took photos and selfies with Knausgård, and I thought that he looked uncomfortable; though I am not sure whether this is because I have read his books and feel like I might know him, or because he actually looked uncomfortable. We chatted briefly when my turn came. He was friendly, and wrote, “Keep going!” at the front of my copy. It was surreal, standing before a stranger about whom you know intimate, personal details. I wondered about Linda, his wife, and about how the kids are. I wanted to ask about life on the farm.

But, again, I don’t know Knausgård, and to approach it in this way, I think, is to fundamentally miss the point. He’s a writer’s writer, and his is an oeuvre that engages constantly with the idea, the notion of literature, of writing itself. It’s imperative, it suggests, to look not at the artist, but at the art; at that which cannot be expressed in words being expressed in words. It’s adding form to something amorphous in the shape of sentences, capturing an essence, something magnified by the fact that most of us read his work as translation. His books, through their very creation, subvert our notions of what the form is, and how we engage with it. They are a testament to the power of literature—to its perpetual evolution—and to language as a whole. As Knausgård says, we must keep going.

The Writer’s Bone Essays Archive

5 Tips For Conquering Your Summer Reading List

A few books on Writer's Bone's summer reading list.

A few books on Writer's Bone's summer reading list.

By Rob Hilferty

Summer is right around the corner and that means most people have a lot more time on their hands. School is out, the days get longer. Most people use the summer as an excuse to travel, go outside, or work on some long forgotten projects. You know, like that book you've been meaning to get around to since Christmas. Or that stack of books you bought last year that you've totally been meaning to get around to once things finally settled down at the new apartment.

Yeah, assuming that you're not just skimming the bolded text like with all numbered lists, you know you're here because you probably need help with the whole reading list thing. I mean, really, what else are you going to for the summer, go outside? Do you know how fucking hot is it out there?

1. Break Your List Into Chunks to Make it Seem Less Daunting

First things first. You want to sit down and actually compile a list of all the things you want to read. Now this may seem fairly straightforward, but you can't just go balls deep on the first thrust. You've got to find and develop a rhythm that's sustainable for at least three months. Look at the list of books you have already. Even with all that Vitamin D from the summer sun, do you really think you're going to be able to read Infinite JestGravity's Rainbow,  and Finnegan's Wake all in a row without wanting to slit your wrists?

Be realistic and spread your books out. Toss in some light fantasy or pulp novels in between the heavier literature to keep you reading consistently. Depending on how ambitious your stack is, separating it into four to six book chunks with good mix of light and heavy reading will drastically reduce your chances of burning out within the first few weeks. And speaking of burn out...

2. Don't Be Afraid to Put a Book Down

Sometimes you really think you're going to like a book only to discover it sucks. Maybe the author pulled a bait and switch on you when you picked up a book about salt only to discover it's actually about cod, maybe reading Mysterious Skin when you're going through a personal crisis wasn't the best idea, or maybe you just really hate this fucking book you're reading right now for no reason.

Hey, it's cool. Put the book down and try something else. You can always go back and revisit that book but for the time being that book, for whatever reason just wasn't the book for you. Put the book down, walk away, and move on.

Cormac McCarthy. This guy.This fucking guy.

Cormac McCarthy. 

This guy.

This fucking guy.

What you don't want to do is grit your teeth and push through a shitty book just because it's on your list. Now that's not to say that you shouldn't push through a challenging book that you like, but sometimes those types of books can kill your reading habit. It took me three tries to get through Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian before I finally cracked it. Was it an excellent read? Absolutely. Was it worth my time and intellectual pursuit? Hell yes. Would I recommend it to everyone? Fuck no. The first two times I tried reading Blood Meridian were so demoralizing I actually stopped reading for a month or two afterwards because I felt so guilty about not finishing a book I was really interested in. Admittedly, the book is designed to be arduous for a reason, but not having anything to follow up with just killed my spirit. Had I just dropped the book and come back later I probably would've been able to read it a lot sooner than I ended up doing. However, the guilt was too strong to let me enjoy anything else. If we all followed Kenny Roger's sage advice about knowing when to fold ‘em, it would truly be a better world.

3. Read a Book You Wouldn't Normally Read

Now you're probably questioning this one because you're skeptical about finishing books you're actually interested in but seriously this one works. If you're really into a story driven fantasy novels, maybe try a historically accurate biography. Reading the same types of books can start to feel stale after a while, even when you really like them.

Part of the magic of reading is in discovering something wondrous about something you'd never thought to care about before. Books should inspire and educate people about how the world is, was, and can be. Good books should get you interested in something through compelling story telling and prose. Anyone whose ever read an Erik Larson book knows that he's a storyteller just as much as he's an historian. The point is, go read something different. Go learn something highly technical or read something bafflingly fantastic. Worse comes to worst you can always drop it and go back to your safety zone.

4. Find Someone You Can Talk to About Books

Whether it's a book club, a good friend, or an online forum, finding someone to talk about the totally awesome book you just read is exciting. When you're able to discuss books, especially particularly difficult and layered books, everything just feels better. Maybe you missed some big key piece in the novel that's been making you hate it, or perhaps you can just share in the thrill of talking about something brilliant.

Didn't have a book buddy.

Didn't have a book buddy.

Writing is an art, and despite what some people would say, it's an extremely social activity. I can't tell you how many times I've been gushing about a book when someone else completely unexpected joins in and we get to share a moment. Books are shared experiences, on a personal and societal level. It is our shared language and experiences that truly connects us as a people and books are merely an extension of that connection. Find someone who shares the same enthusiasm or loathing for a particular book and you'll not only want to read more but you may end up hating the human race a little less too.

5. Fucking Relax, They're Just Books

Let's be real here guys. I love books and reading. I mean enough that I'd like to involve them into a future career, but in all honesty some people take this shit way too seriously. Now I know I just spent a couple paragraphs waxing rhapsodic about universal connectivity of a good book, but not every book is like that. Sometimes a book is just a book. Sometimes a good story doesn't go beyond the boundaries of the page, but that doesn't mean they're worthless for not attempting to achieve more.

Just don't tell this guy.

Just don't tell this guy.

Certainly books have near infinite potential for how they can evoke, and invoke emotions but that's not the goal of every author. Sometimes books educate and illuminate, often times they merely entertain and that's more than okay. Don't be afraid or intimidated of something you're reading. Go at your own pace and forget about the number of books read and instead focus on the quality of the experience. If you rush through your list just to do it then you're missing out on a major part of the reading experience.

Overall, reading should be an enjoyable experience (or uncomfortable depending on what you're reading) and if you're not enjoying yourself then maybe it's time to take a long hard look at yourself and figure out why. Maybe try reading in the sun or some shit? I don't know.

Rob Hilferty's Summer Reading List 
Group A: 
  • This Is How You Lose Her by Junot Diaz
  • The Redemption Engine by James Sutter
  • The Piano Teacher by Elfriede Jelinek
  • King of Chaos by Dave Gross 
Group B: 
  • An Untamed State by Roxane Gay
  • The Gunslinger by Stephen King
  • Beloved by Toni Morrison
  • The Tipping Point: How Little Things Can Make A Big Difference by Malcolm Gladwell 
Group C: 
  • The Road by Cormac McCarthy
  • How the Irish Became White by Noel Ignatiev
  • No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai
  • American Pastoral by Phillip Roth 

For more essays, check out our full archive

Why Aren’t There More Brainy Heroines In Sci-Fi?

Guest post by sci-fi author Mary Fan

That’s a question that’s been bugging me since I was the nerdy girl with the giant chemistry textbook and the Science Olympiad trophy. Oh, there are tech-y girls in sci-fi, but they’re either quirky sidekicks, impossibly sexy love interests, or blink-and-you-miss-them cameo figures.

Meanwhile, in the real world, women comprise only 26 percent of workers in the STEM fields (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math). With the overall workforce split pretty much 50/50 between men and women, that percentage should be a lot higher.

Lingering gender stereotypes mean that girls don’t have many tech-savvy role models in fiction to look up to. The only one I can think of at the moment is Cinder, a fearless 16-year-old mechanic, from the Lunar Chronicles. And even she is insecure about her job and only took it because the wicked stepmother figure in this Cinderella retelling made her. I guess we have Kaylee from the television show “Firefly” and Skye from “Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” but even they’re relegated to sidekick roles next to the shows’ central heroes.

While I’m sure there are examples out there of young women in the STEM fields starring in sci-fi tales, the fact remains that many more are still shunted to the side. Which is why I’m partnering with fellow sci-fi author Paige Daniels (of the Non-Compliance cyberpunk trilogy) to help change that. We’re putting together an anthology of YA sci-fi tales starring girls with a knack for the STEM subjects—programmers, mechanics, scientists, and more—called Brave New Girls. All revenues from this anthology will be donated to a Society of Women Engineers scholarship fund, which helps girls seeking to go into the STEM fields get the education they need.

Paige and I, in addition to contributing stories of our own, will be indie publishing the anthology, with the goal of getting it out in summer 2015. We’re running a Kickstarter this summer to raise money for professional editing, formatting, and artwork. And we’re currently looking for submissions, so if this sounds like something you or someone you know have written or are interested in writing about, check out our website: http://bravenewgirls.weebly.com. Submissions are open until November 15.

Since we’re donating the money from sales, we can’t offer payment, but we will be sending each author whose story is selected a paperback copy. And, of course, our gratitude. The two of us will be contributing stories of our own, and mine will feature the titular heroine from my Jane Colt space opera/cyberpunk series as a teenager.

Though the world has come a long way since the days when women were told math would harm their mental health, we’ve still got a ways to go. This one little anthology won’t change the world, but it’s a start.

To learn more about Brave New Girls, check out the official website.

To find out more about Mary Fan and her work,check out her official website, like her Facebook page, or follow her on Twitter @AstralColt.

For more essays, check out our full archive