Sunday again! I will be at the cabin until this afternoon, but I wanted to write my post on Out Stealing Horses by Per Petterson early, while it was fresh in my mind (I finished it Wednesday). If I finish The Secret History this weekend, I’ll try to include a review of that, too, when I return home!
Out Stealing Horses by Per Petterson
Release date: 2003 (in Norwegian) / 2005 (in English — translated by Anne Born) / 258 pp.
First line: “Early November.” (I’ll include a few more lines 
). “It’s nine o’clock. The titmice are banging against the window. Sometimes they fly dizzily off after the impact, other times they fall and lie struggling in the new snow until they can take off again. I don’t know what they want that I have. I look out the window at the forest. there is a reddish light over the trees by the lake. It is starting to blow. I can see the shape of the wind on the water.”
Synopsis: After surviving a tragedy, 67 year old Trond Sander escapes to the Norwegian woods to reflect on his past and present life.
Review: I so hope I can do this novel justice — I just loved it — both times! I first read this novel last fall and was moved by Petterson’s sense of place (Norway) and his beautiful imagery. I didn’t even realize it was in translation until nearly the end, when I noticed Anne Born’s name on the front. I chose to read this again once I noticed the traffic my site received from Google searches for “Out Stealing Horses discussion questions.” So, I opened it for the second time with a little trepidation, fearing that I may not enjoy it as much the second time.
Fortunately, it did not disappoint. This time I was struck by how much his writing reminded me of Hemingway — only Petterson is a bit like “Hemingway 2.0.” I first discovered Hemingway in high school and spent much of one summer devouring his writing. I loved (and still do) Hemingway’s spare, spare style. As someone prone to hyperbole, I appreciated how he was able to recreate Paris or the north woods of Michigan with few adverbs or superlatives. I enjoyed the challenge of his “iceberg” and was fortunate that my travels through Europe helped me fill in the gaps Hemingway intentionally leaves. Unfortunately, few of my students seemed to love Hemingway as much as I did — but it is another time and place…
Which is why I give Petterson the mantle of “Hemingway 2.o.” His prose is reminiscent of Hemingway, yet Petterson is more generous and does not leave his meaning to our imagination as much. His love of the Norwegian woods is palpable and they embrace the reader with their quiet stillness:
Outside, the blue hour has arrived. Everything draws closer; the shed, the edge of the wood, the lake beyond the trees, it is as if the tinted air binds the world together and there is nothing disconnected out there. That’s a good thing to think about, but whether it is true or not is a different matter. To me it is better to stand alone, but for the moment the blue world gives a consolation I am not sure I want, and do not need, and still I take it. I sit down at the table feeling well and start eating. (99)
Throughout the novel, the narration switches from his present life — self-imposed isolation deep in the woods with his dog Lyra — to a formative summer he spent with his father when he was fifteen, also in the woods. His transitions between the time periods is masterful — similar to how a mind naturally moves from a present association to a memory from the past.
Another example of his quiet wisdom:
People like it when you tell them things, in suitable portions, in a modest, intimate tone, and they think they know you, but they do not, they know about you, for what they are let in on are facts, not feelings, not what your opinion is about anything at all, not how what has happened to you and how all the decisions you have made have turned you into who you are. What they do is they fill in with their own feelings and opinions and assumptions, and they compose a new life which has precious little to do with yours, and that lets you off the hook. (73)
At 67, Trond is trying to make sense of his life and his quiet revelations are poignant, moving, and generous. He has experienced a few painful, formative experiences in his life — one with his father when he was fifteen and then another even more painful event three years ago. So, the above quote reflects how our private selves can be so changed in an instant and not wholly — or even partially — accessible to others. This may also explain Trond’s great affinity for animals — from the titmice in the first paragraph, to his loyal Lyra, to the horses of the title.
My one reservation — the ending unnecessarily lacks closure. Some novels should end without resolution, but this one left me unsatisfied in its abruptness. However, this really did not diminish my love for this novel, and I strongly recommend it. If you think your book club might be interested, I did create a kit and separate discussion questions for novel. It was also chosen as a Good Sense book club pick, so free questions should soon be readily available, too!
I’ve commented myself today that I didn’t quite know where my reading was going this week, but you’ve reminded me that i have the Petterson on my shelves. Having just read Rachel Seiffert’s wonderful ‘The Dark Room’ which has those same spare, direct qualities that you talk of here, I could do with another dose of a writer who knows that more is not necessarily better. Thanks for helping me to make my mind up.
I’m glad to see you review this book, and loving it, as it is on my TBR pile, somewhere, down below a lot of other books. Anyway, I liked reading your thoughts about it, and look forward to reading it for myself.
Thank you for the comments — and for the recommendation! I will add The Dark Room to my TBR list… I just love getting ideas from Sunday Salon-ers
I hope you both (continue) to enjoy Horses, too — I would be interested in your impressions of the ending, too.
Thank you! I am going to use some of your questions in my book club tonight. I loved this book.
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I liked reading your thoughts about it, and look forward to reading it for myself. I could do with another dose of a writer who knows that more is not necessarily better. I look forward to reading it for myself.