0420 | Growth of the Soil | Knut Hamsun

The 1001 books list does it again and throws something superb my way. This one just crept into Arukiyomi’s Hall of Fame, a brooding saga of a novel with symbolism written into every page.

Isak is man. No, that’s not a typo: Isak represents us as a race. As the book opens, he is nameless, faceless – a wanderer in a primeval landscape. Gradually he begins to adapt to his environment, he builds himself a shelter and finds food. And before you know it, he’s mastered his environment in ways he could never have dreamed of.

This is the story of how we have all come together to be, how we negotiate the paths open to us in life. Not only does it depict the best of our mastery, it also shows the worst of our conniving. The range of characters gathered around Isak provide a counterbalance of caprice to his unflinching focus.

Through it all Isak stands as a kind of monumental figure. Many a Scandinavian will recognise his inscrutable personality, his lack of expression, his need for time to consider a change. And while he plods on in life, prospering by the virtues of hard, unceasing labour, those gathered around him demonstrate every other variation of humanity. There’s the flighty and the money-grabbing, the gossip and the fearful… all stand in contrast to his unerring purpose.

The translation I read (by W. W. Worster) was superb, written in a lilting prose that perfectly reflects the culture it has come from. Even the conversations between characters are laden with undertone and imagery. It’s a novel that could be read many, many times.

So, if you have space on your tbr list, squeeze this one in somewhere near the top. You’ll thank me for it.

OPENING LINE	The long, long road over the moors and up into the forest—who trod it into being first of all?
99TH PAGE QUOTE	This far into the book, some of the plot might be revealed. If you want to see the quote, click show “Ay, you’ve no lack up at Sellanraa,” said the other; and her poor, sallow-faced children listened with eyes and ears to this talk of rich things to eat. “And where will they be staying?” asked the mother. “At the blacksmith’s,” said Inger. “Ho!” said the other. “Ay, mine’ll be going to school again soon. They’ll stay with the Lensmand.” “Ho!” said Inger. “Ay, or at the doctor’s, maybe, or at the parsonage. Brede he’s in with the great folks there, of course.” Inger fumbled with her cloak, and managed to turn it so that a bit of black silk fringe appeared to advantage. “Where did you get the cloak?” asked, the woman. “One you had with you, maybe?” “I made it myself.” “Ay, ay, ’tis as I said: wealth and riches full and running over….” Inger drove on, feeling all set up and pleased with herself, and, coming into the village, she may have been a trifle overproud in her bearing. Lensmand Heyerdahl’s lady was not pleased at the sight of that cloak; the Sellanraa woman was forgetting her place—forgetting where it was she had come from after five years’ absence. But Inger had at least a chance of showing off her cloak, and the storekeeper’s wife and the blacksmith’s wife and the schoolmaster’s wife all thought of getting one like it for themselves—but it could wait a bit.
QUOTES	quote
CLOSING LINE	This might reveal the ending. If you want to see the quote, click show Then comes the evening.

RATING

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