Autumn

Like so many others, I am a huge fan of the "My Struggle" series, and recommend it to almost everyone I know who likes books. However, quite a few of my reading friends don't get what is so great about a middle-aged man writing about his life for thousands of pages in extraordinary detail. I guess either you feel the hypnotic pull of those thousands of pages, or you don't, but it is really difficult to explain why the pull is there.In "Autumn", you can feel what is so hypnotic about Knausgaard in just a few pages. This book, written to his unborn daughter, is a series of Knausgaard's thoughts on several dozen topics, ranging from badgers to pain to tin cans to toilet bowls (and many other things). Each one is only a few pages, and ever single one of them will make you think "Ahhh, that's so true! I know exactly what he is saying, but I never thought about saying it that way!". It really is quite remarkable.This may be a good book for someone who is thinking about tackling the "My Struggle" series, but just wants to get a little taste of what makes Knausgaard's writing so great. If you don't have a few "ahhh" moments, I will personally come to your house and prepare for you a cheese sandwich.

This is an extraordinary book about extraordinarily ordinary things. In a series of letters written to his unborn daughter this talented Norwegian author, Karl Ove Knausgaard, insightfully chronicles an inventory of life’s most ordinary events and things, from buttons and chewing gum, to vomit and oil slicks.He writes, “That is why I am writing this book for you. I want to show you the world, as it is, all around us, all the time. Only by doing so will I myself be able to glimpse it.” He notes, “These astounding things, which you will soon encounter and see for yourself, are so easy to lose sight of, and there are almost as many ways of doing that as there are people.”One typically astounding but ordinary thing is the common housefly. He notes that it has compound eyes and its taste cells are distributed over its entire body. “Taken together, these two faculties must fragment their world immensely, for if the reflection of a room is picked up by their whole head, then their attention must be directed outwards to such a degree that to flies there can hardly be any difference between themselves and the room they are in…”What is perhaps most extraordinary is that he describes it all with only the tools of the ordinary. The language is simple and functional, carefully avoiding the typical jargon and buzzwords of contemporary philosophy, spirituality, and introspection.The introspection, in fact, is highly extrospective. The words are not mere descriptions. They are launching pads for greater examination. Which is why the book demands not to be read, but savored. And why, I suspect, it is a book that will never quite close despite having arrived at the last paragraph.The content is, in a way, minimalistic, but in its minimalism there is the suggestion of so much more. He paints a delightful gallery of pictures without frames, where one picture moves freely on to the next, creating a total impression so much greater than the sum of the parts.I don’t mean to make the book sound poetic. It isn’t. It provides the reader, however, with the same sense I suspect the most ardent fan of poetry must feel after discovering an unimagined and unanticipated treasure.This book, I feel, will impact me for a long time to come because it is that rare work of artistic interpretation that connects you with the people you’ve never noticed, the things you see ever day but never really considered, and the ordinary self that seeks to find meaning in life but which itself is often taken for granted.

There's sweetness, innocence, and a measure of deep thought all wrapped into one in this book. Knowing that it is in many ways written for his unborn daughter, Knausgaard is able to match a level of revelation a child would understand or need about everyday items (a bed, a toothbrush) with more mature revelations. Sometimes these stories conflict (like contradicting in separate essays the colors of the body) yet still permitting the reader to see so many things anew. I saw him speak about the book and one particular comment resonated quite strongly. Knausgaard said that simply talking about the items in this book would never uncover such keen observations; only writing about them can do that. He's right. And we benefit from this reality in his book.

I really enjoyed these bite-sized essays, reading a couple every night before bed. Subjects really run the gamut. Knausgaard makes observations of everyday life, then makes an association with deep insight. "Autumn Leaves" was a particular favorite.After enjoying the NYT magazine story about Knausgaard searching for Vikings in North America, I bought this book immediately. Knausgaard's style may not suit everyone, but I find it poetic. Kudos to the translator.

That Rascal KnausgaardIt amazes methat even critics rush to denythe power of your wordswhen clearly there is no escapethey try, they dive off the page butwith eyes tight shutyou are raw, the world is rawin your mouthI don't have to bite downhard to find itmy heart is bitten in twoyet I rejoice!Reading you reminds meof trying to writea poem about a wild animalafter The Tygerthere has never been a good poemabout a wild animalthat isn't merely thefeeling of being trapped in our human obsessionsthere is an ecstasyin say a wild hawk that our languagemissesas there is ecstasy in your visionsthat we have to tear out our ordinary eyesto see.

There is something hypnotic about Knausgaard's writing, even when he is musing on material that is less than savory. In this, the first of a seasonal quartet framed as a letter to his unborn daughter, his thoughts range from the mundane nature of buttons (thus elevating them) to creatures of the natural world and their significance. There doesn't seem to be a pattern here, just some lovely snips.

Knausgaard manages to convey the torment, pleasure, confidences and insecurities of a lot of the above referenced demographic in an artful and truthful way. I can’t explain it but I found this comfort reading him even when he makes me uncomfortable.

I'm a big fan of the My Struggle novels and had very high expectations for this. The book is composed of 60 separate 2 to 3 page sections of thoughts about everyday things like Wasps, The Sun, Badgers, Toilet Bowls. On the plus side I read it at one sitting and found it entertaining. It left me feeling there was something a bit lacking though. It felt to me like a series of notes about subjects that you could weave into a novel, but published uncompleted without the compelling narrativeOne small correction for his daughters understanding of the world - flies are not able to react quicker than humans because they have compound eyes. Humans have a large calculating brain that takes a fraction of a second to construct the conscious reality that we perceive. Flies and other insects do not have this and are therefore able to react more quickly

I enjoyed this but didn’t love it. Felt a bit tiresome after getting half way through. Nothing like all his “My Struggles” books.

just fantastic. He has something new to say about the most banal of everyday objects -Plastic Bags, jellyfish- and about more interesting ones -vaginas, daguerrotypes. Just great.

great book

Excellent