Winter

October 23, 2017
This second installment in a season-inspired quartet finds Knausgaard (Autumn) in a less autobiographical, more philosophical mood than in his six-volume fictionalized memoir, My Struggle. The short meditations collected here primarily take two forms: studies of the mundane—snow, manhole covers, Q-tips—and reveries on an idea—“the social realm,” “the conscious self,” “mess.” Whatever the subject, his pieces typically distill into a final reverberating, breath-catching image, such as of his elderly father with “winter in his soul, winter in his mind, winter in his heart.” There are also several profiles of acquaintances, including a photographer, Thomas, and a famous poet, Georg, but these fall rather flat. More poignant are the two letters addressed to an unborn daughter, and a third addressed to her as a newborn, in which the author is unusually direct and, one senses, sincere. Other essays can feel as though they are technical exercises, but invariably imaginative ones, whether he is comparing a cup full of toothbrushes to an “inverted, negated... vase of flowers” or describing a train as the “embodiment of longing.” Knausgaard’s prose performs the real work of literature as he describes it: “If the true task of poetry is revelation, this is what it should reveal, that reality is what it is.”

November 1, 2017
The Norwegian author continues his series of seasonal meditations with some appropriately austere thoughts on nature and life in a cold climate.This is the second book in a planned quartet that Knausgaard (My Struggle: Book Five, 2016, etc.) conceived as a kind of welcoming present for his newborn daughter, collecting brief musings on a variety of quotidian subjects, written as if one were seeing the world anew. Its predecessor, Autumn (2017), balanced riffs on philosophical themes (forgiveness, illness) with more overtly offbeat takes on everyday stuff (tin cans, vomit). Here, the author sticks to more elemental matters, drawing heavily on nature and Scandinavian folklore, while also writing more personally about friends and the messiness of family life. (One piece is literally titled "Mess.") Pipes evoke "a vast physical network which lies coiled, serpent-like around the globe"; stuffed animals externalize what children's "souls look like, small, soft, good, and faithful"; a train is "an embodiment of longing"; sugar is a "cheap and simple pleasure" undermined by good-health hard-liners. Where the prevailing mood in Knausgaard's My Struggle novels is anxiety, these seasonal books are propelled by his sense of wonder. Whether he's contemplating a deer struck by a car on the highway or a beloved pair of "old, tattered, almost Chaplin-esque boots," the author casts the world in a holy glow of surprise and compassion, whether it involves science or myth. The fact that he follows a piece on atoms with one on the prankster god Loki seems no accident. Trying to see the world anew, though, also means seeing the world weirdly at times, and he delivers peculiar takes on Q-tips and half-seriously proposes "sex stations along major roads" to satisfy carnal cravings. Such moments, however, read more like fresh perspectives than hollow provocations.A winningly interior journey into the most interior of seasons.

COPYRIGHT(2017) Kirkus Reviews, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

November 15, 2017
As with Autumn (2017), this second entry in Knausgaard's sequential exploration of the seasons dives into the three months of Norway's long winter. And while certain entries reflect the season's tidings, such as The First Snow, Father Christmas, and Winter Boots, many chapters again meditate on everyday objects as quotidian as Q-tips and Toothbrushes. Throughout the book, a seemingly limitless range of topics pop up, swirl about in Knausgaard's characteristically precise cycle of thought, and subside into the background hum of this contemporary master's autobiographical breviary. Amid nods to Hegel, Roman mythology, and Viking poetry, one of many striking chapters takes on Aquatic Apes, which at first may evoke images of steaming macaques bathing in the snowbound hot springs of Japan but for Knausgaard presents a chance to expound upon German pathologist Max Westenhofer, who posited that humans descended from apes that first learned to swim before arising to walk. Although this volume is boundless in scope and possessed of limitless intellectual energy, readers with a preference for conventional plot devices will perhaps better enjoy Knausgaard's world-famous My Struggle (2014).(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2017, American Library Association.)

December 1, 2017

Knausgaard continues describing the world for his unborn daughter in this second of four titles based around the seasons. Like its predecessor, Autumn, this book is composed of short passages, each focused on a single item either material (e.g., snow, ears, otters) or abstract (e.g., the social realm, sexual desire, habits). There is a passage concerning stuffed animals in which Knausgaard reflects on the way these toys don't represent the reality of the animal kingdom, but instead, when his kids are playing with them, are an extension of the children's personalities. By observing the stuffed animals as well as his children playing with them, Knausgaard is learning about who his children are. What he says on any given topic is interesting, but here the reader learns more about the author than the item about which he writes. VERDICT This is a more accessible entry point to Knausgaard than his series of autobiographical novels (My Struggle), which is a boon for newcomers. For those familiar with his earlier work, by focusing on the world outside himself, he remains fresh and oftentimes surprising. [See Prepub Alert, 7/31/17.]--Timothy Berge, SUNY Oswego Lib.

Copyright 2017 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

September 1, 2017

"It is strange that you exist, but that you don't know anything about what the world looks like," muses Knausgaard in the second in an autobiographical quartet grounded in the four seasons and exploring the close relationship between parent and child. So he looks for her, surveying the moon and owls and birthdays as the earth lies dormant, paying close attention to the quotidian in his inimitable style. A compact follow-up to the monumental "My Struggle" series.

Copyright 2017 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.