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Is Mother Dead
A cat and mouse game of surveillance and psychological torment develops between a middle-aged artist and her aging mother, as Vigdis Hjorth returns to the themes of her controversial modern classic, Will and Testament
'To mother is to murder, or close enough', thinks Johanna, as she looks at the spelling of the two words in Norwegian. She's recently widowed and back in Oslo after a long absence as she prepares for a retrospective of her art. The subject of her work is motherhood and some of her more controversial paintings have brought about a dramatic rift between parent and child. This new proximity, after decades of acrimonious absence, set both women on edge, and before too long Johanna finds her mother stalking her thoughts, and Johanna starts stalking her mother's house.
'To mother is to murder, or close enough', thinks Johanna, as she looks at the spelling of the two words in Norwegian. She's recently widowed and back in Oslo after a long absence as she prepares for a retrospective of her art. The subject of her work is motherhood and some of her more controversial paintings have brought about a dramatic rift between parent and child. This new proximity, after decades of acrimonious absence, set both women on edge, and before too long Johanna finds her mother stalking her thoughts, and Johanna starts stalking her mother's house.
330 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2020
330 people are currently reading
10876 people want to read
About the author
Vigdis Hjorth
67 books758 followersVigdis Hjorth (born 1959) is a Norwegian novelist. She grew up in Oslo, and has studied philosophy, literature and political science.
In 1983, she published her first novel, the children's book "Pelle-Ragnar i den gule gården" for which she received Norsk kulturråd's debut award. Her first book for an adult audience was "Drama med Hilde" (1987). "Om bare" from 2001 is considered her most important novel, and a roman à clef.
Hjorth has three children and lives in Asker.
In 1983, she published her first novel, the children's book "Pelle-Ragnar i den gule gården" for which she received Norsk kulturråd's debut award. Her first book for an adult audience was "Drama med Hilde" (1987). "Om bare" from 2001 is considered her most important novel, and a roman à clef.
Hjorth has three children and lives in Asker.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 695 reviews
August 4, 2022
"How I love my Mum in the bathroom with the razor blade, the desperate Mum of my past."
This novel is a harrowing and relentless and unforgiving read, and is not on any level a pleasant one, and in these ways it fulfills its purpose perfectly. It remains laser-focused on developing its singular theme. It not only tells the story of an obsessive toxic relationship between a mother and her estranged middle-aged child, but also forces the reader to live inside it as they read forward to the end.
This novel is a harrowing and relentless and unforgiving read, and is not on any level a pleasant one, and in these ways it fulfills its purpose perfectly. It remains laser-focused on developing its singular theme. It not only tells the story of an obsessive toxic relationship between a mother and her estranged middle-aged child, but also forces the reader to live inside it as they read forward to the end.
March 28, 2023
Longlisted for the International Booker Prize 2023
This psychologically acute and intricate text puts readers in the head of a sixty-ish woman who struggles to come to terms with her relationship to her estranged mother: Johanna, our narrator and protagonist, is a successful painter who disappointed her strict and controlling family's expectations when she gave up her studies to become a lawyer and left her conventional husband in order to move to the Utah with a man she fell in love with and become an artist. Two of her popular paintings, "Mother and Child I" and "Mother and Child II", have caused offense to the elderly mother, and the text does not make clear whether they are actually channeling Johanna's resentment - then again, can an artist truly explain of their subconscious decisions? After the death of her beloved husband, Johanna, who at this point didn't have contact to her Norwegian family for decades, moves back to her hometown of Oslo and gets obsessed with her mother, seeking, well ... forgiveness? Closure?
Hjorth does a great job writing about the messiness of familial relationships, about irrational emotional impulses, and the inability to fully grasp one's own emotions. Johanna was treated poorly by her parents, but she is still emotionally attached to her mother. Then, the book ponders what we owe our parents and siblings - and what they owe us. The crazy thing is that this dark and sometimes comedic text becomes a real thriller: The backstory is revealed slowly along the way, while the main plot is moved forward by the protagonist trying to investigate and contact her mother. Trying to figure out her mother, Johanna's actions escalate and she loses control while actually trying to gain control over the very narrative she is telling in the novel.
The book is also a rumination on female roles, showing the mother as a subjugated and the daughter as a loving wife, presenting two varieties of (grand-)motherhood, showing the housewife and the working artist, and pondering the implications of sisterhood as well as being a daughter. Apparently, the author herself wasn't in contact with most of her family for years, and her former semi-autobiographical novel Will and Testament even led to her mother and sister publicly protesting against the content.
The book is full of sharp, smart sentences, and the immersive story remains captivating throughout. This is an excellent entry on a Booker list that has quite some contenders that discuss motherhood.
This psychologically acute and intricate text puts readers in the head of a sixty-ish woman who struggles to come to terms with her relationship to her estranged mother: Johanna, our narrator and protagonist, is a successful painter who disappointed her strict and controlling family's expectations when she gave up her studies to become a lawyer and left her conventional husband in order to move to the Utah with a man she fell in love with and become an artist. Two of her popular paintings, "Mother and Child I" and "Mother and Child II", have caused offense to the elderly mother, and the text does not make clear whether they are actually channeling Johanna's resentment - then again, can an artist truly explain of their subconscious decisions? After the death of her beloved husband, Johanna, who at this point didn't have contact to her Norwegian family for decades, moves back to her hometown of Oslo and gets obsessed with her mother, seeking, well ... forgiveness? Closure?
Hjorth does a great job writing about the messiness of familial relationships, about irrational emotional impulses, and the inability to fully grasp one's own emotions. Johanna was treated poorly by her parents, but she is still emotionally attached to her mother. Then, the book ponders what we owe our parents and siblings - and what they owe us. The crazy thing is that this dark and sometimes comedic text becomes a real thriller: The backstory is revealed slowly along the way, while the main plot is moved forward by the protagonist trying to investigate and contact her mother. Trying to figure out her mother, Johanna's actions escalate and she loses control while actually trying to gain control over the very narrative she is telling in the novel.
The book is also a rumination on female roles, showing the mother as a subjugated and the daughter as a loving wife, presenting two varieties of (grand-)motherhood, showing the housewife and the working artist, and pondering the implications of sisterhood as well as being a daughter. Apparently, the author herself wasn't in contact with most of her family for years, and her former semi-autobiographical novel Will and Testament even led to her mother and sister publicly protesting against the content.
The book is full of sharp, smart sentences, and the immersive story remains captivating throughout. This is an excellent entry on a Booker list that has quite some contenders that discuss motherhood.
April 5, 2023
This is Vigdis Hjorth's latest work to make its way into English, translated again by the excellent Charlotte Barslund. The story follows a woman in late middle age, long estranged from her birth family, returning to Norway after a long absence. Her estranged family is very much on her mind. We see a progression from obsessive thoughts to physical stalking, with plenty of gradations in between. There are some things I liked about this: the prose is excellent, flashbacks are relayed with nuance, and the story is disturbing in all the right ways. Ultimately, though, it left me a bit cold, as I never really bought into the obsession or the resolution. I can understand how 30-year-old wounds may not heal, particularly if one buys into the gaslighting, but I had a hard time understanding how we arrived at both the beginning and end of the book.
January 12, 2025
The Publisher Says: A cat and mouse game of surveillance and psychological torment develops between a middle-aged artist and her aging mother, as Vigdis Hjorth returns to the themes of her controversial modern classic, Will and Testament.
'To mother is to murder, or close enough', thinks Johanna, as she looks at the spelling of the two words in Norwegian. She's recently widowed and back in Oslo after a long absence as she prepares for a retrospective of her art. The subject of her work is motherhood and some of her more controversial paintings have brought about a dramatic rift between parent and child. This new proximity, after decades of acrimonious absence, set both women on edge, and before too long Johanna finds her mother stalking her thoughts, and Johanna starts stalking her mother's house.
I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.
My Review: Twenty-ish books is a damned fine career. Author Hjorth and Translator Barslund are quite a team of creators, bringing this still-expanding storyverse from Norway to the US English-language market. They do it skillfully...and they do it, thankfully, quite often.
"Do I confront my deepest self?" asks Johanna, our narrator, in a passage that honestly sums up the entire experience of reading Author Hjorth's writing. She is in a deep personal crisis, reaching out to her long-estranged mother after decades of ill will that she caused with her art. Paintings Johanna created caused her mother, as well as her sister, to see things that family amnesia demanded be kept silent. Johanna was, and still is, unwilling to be silent. She has reached her sixties, though, a time in life when time itself looks and feels very, very different than it does even five or six years prior. Building bridges between ourselves and those responsible for our present-day being can, in many families, present challenges that feel insurmountable.
Johanna, as a visual person, sees her aging self as partly her mother "...on whose model my body is being shaped, as if I were clay contained in a form." She is facing mortality, and seeing how morality is molded within our relatively short-term bodily accommodation. She is finally reckoning with her mother's and her sister's deep sense of betrayal at her hands...while never believing she was wrong, she recognizes at last that they are hurt. As Johanna thinks through her complicated life, she muses on the natural surroundings her Norwegian home is in; any time she says, in that context, anything about "Mother" I wonder if she's talking about her mother, or OUR Mother-the-Earth...and these moment of being Mothered in nature are so sharply contrasted to her family-mother's unhappiness-making unmotherly ways.
But at such a cost to her own mental health...she obsesses about the family she broke, and did that deliberately, then ran away from the consequences for half her life. The author's formatting, daunting looking as it is, actually serves as a strong support for the story. Johanna is in the throes of a crisis. She doesn't think like a normal person. She is quite simply disintegrating into the pieces she reassembled through her art. The pages are designed to make concrete what could be lost in any other design choice.
But if the daughter sees her future in looking into the mirror of her mother, that mother sees a past that failed her in important ways, and sees herself and her failures writ live and large. Johanna's mother's rancor and rage aren't going to go away, and she (and her other daughter) have had decades to "get their story straight" as it were. The entrenched narratives of hurt on both sides bode ill for a meeting of the minds....
This beautifully written and translated book serves as a reminder to us all that we don't get to be victims all by ourselves. All damage done is reciprocal, and there is no escape from retribution. Self-delivered retribution, most commonly of all.
It's not a perfect book, as none ever can be. I rate it four of five stars because it's not a long book but it is a repetitive one. We hear the entire story in Johanna's internal voice. It's an excellent way to convey the dark night of the soul, the anger and hurt of betrayal...from one side. It takes a bit of work to contextualize the non-standard layout. It is worth the effort, in my never-humble opinion, but be prepared for it.
I recommend this latest salvo from Vigdis Hjorth's seemingly bottomless well of personal fiction to you, all the daughters and all the mothers and all the siblings whose home lives weren't always the happy-clappy-sappy greeting-card kind. Accept Vigdis Hjorth's gift of seeing yourself in her mixed, complicated feelings in this storyverse.
'To mother is to murder, or close enough', thinks Johanna, as she looks at the spelling of the two words in Norwegian. She's recently widowed and back in Oslo after a long absence as she prepares for a retrospective of her art. The subject of her work is motherhood and some of her more controversial paintings have brought about a dramatic rift between parent and child. This new proximity, after decades of acrimonious absence, set both women on edge, and before too long Johanna finds her mother stalking her thoughts, and Johanna starts stalking her mother's house.
I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.
My Review: Twenty-ish books is a damned fine career. Author Hjorth and Translator Barslund are quite a team of creators, bringing this still-expanding storyverse from Norway to the US English-language market. They do it skillfully...and they do it, thankfully, quite often.
"Do I confront my deepest self?" asks Johanna, our narrator, in a passage that honestly sums up the entire experience of reading Author Hjorth's writing. She is in a deep personal crisis, reaching out to her long-estranged mother after decades of ill will that she caused with her art. Paintings Johanna created caused her mother, as well as her sister, to see things that family amnesia demanded be kept silent. Johanna was, and still is, unwilling to be silent. She has reached her sixties, though, a time in life when time itself looks and feels very, very different than it does even five or six years prior. Building bridges between ourselves and those responsible for our present-day being can, in many families, present challenges that feel insurmountable.
Johanna, as a visual person, sees her aging self as partly her mother "...on whose model my body is being shaped, as if I were clay contained in a form." She is facing mortality, and seeing how morality is molded within our relatively short-term bodily accommodation. She is finally reckoning with her mother's and her sister's deep sense of betrayal at her hands...while never believing she was wrong, she recognizes at last that they are hurt. As Johanna thinks through her complicated life, she muses on the natural surroundings her Norwegian home is in; any time she says, in that context, anything about "Mother" I wonder if she's talking about her mother, or OUR Mother-the-Earth...and these moment of being Mothered in nature are so sharply contrasted to her family-mother's unhappiness-making unmotherly ways.
But at such a cost to her own mental health...she obsesses about the family she broke, and did that deliberately, then ran away from the consequences for half her life. The author's formatting, daunting looking as it is, actually serves as a strong support for the story. Johanna is in the throes of a crisis. She doesn't think like a normal person. She is quite simply disintegrating into the pieces she reassembled through her art. The pages are designed to make concrete what could be lost in any other design choice.
But if the daughter sees her future in looking into the mirror of her mother, that mother sees a past that failed her in important ways, and sees herself and her failures writ live and large. Johanna's mother's rancor and rage aren't going to go away, and she (and her other daughter) have had decades to "get their story straight" as it were. The entrenched narratives of hurt on both sides bode ill for a meeting of the minds....
This beautifully written and translated book serves as a reminder to us all that we don't get to be victims all by ourselves. All damage done is reciprocal, and there is no escape from retribution. Self-delivered retribution, most commonly of all.
It's not a perfect book, as none ever can be. I rate it four of five stars because it's not a long book but it is a repetitive one. We hear the entire story in Johanna's internal voice. It's an excellent way to convey the dark night of the soul, the anger and hurt of betrayal...from one side. It takes a bit of work to contextualize the non-standard layout. It is worth the effort, in my never-humble opinion, but be prepared for it.
I recommend this latest salvo from Vigdis Hjorth's seemingly bottomless well of personal fiction to you, all the daughters and all the mothers and all the siblings whose home lives weren't always the happy-clappy-sappy greeting-card kind. Accept Vigdis Hjorth's gift of seeing yourself in her mixed, complicated feelings in this storyverse.
June 5, 2025
Va de autoras noruegas la cosa. Tremendo diálogo interior el que nos propone Vigdis Hjorth, de inicio parece más ensayo que novela. Como un eterno lamento cargado de remordimientos. Al principio pensaba para mí: “Veremos si no acaba siendo pesado y reiterativo esto”. Estuve a punto de abandonar en la página 70 y decidí seguir, para ver si la historia evolucionaba y mutaba ese diálogo interior en algo de acción o movimiento o trama, en algo más concreto. Me alegré de persistir, ya que a mitad de novela la escritora nos va desvelando el misterio de lo que hay detrás de una huida de la familia, del marido y del entorno.
A ver si sé explicar lo sorprendente de la narración inicial: la autora narra hechos hipotéticos sobre el pasado familiar que desconoce tras muchas décadas de ausencia, dándolos en muchas ocasiones como seguros, pero novelándolos. En otras ocasiones parece poner todo en duda, un enorme y larguísimo condicional. El recurso es bueno, narra desde la primera persona de la protagonista, con todas las hipótesis sobre la historia familiar. Luego la historia evoluciona, crece, se desvela el misterio.
Creo que sobre la novela se plantea una pregunta básica, con muchos matices, con mucho detalle, con muy buena literatura de fondo, pero la cuestión es la siguiente: ¿se debe renunciar a la familia si ese entorno es tóxico y perjudicial para el desarrollo personal propio? Cuando digo renunciar me refiero a romper de forma abrupta y definitiva, sin matices. Esta es la gran pregunta a la que intenta dar respuesta Hjorth. Importante, visto desde el punto de vista y voz femenina, y esa relación muchas veces tan volcánica y controvertida como es la relación madre-hija.
A ver si sé explicar lo sorprendente de la narración inicial: la autora narra hechos hipotéticos sobre el pasado familiar que desconoce tras muchas décadas de ausencia, dándolos en muchas ocasiones como seguros, pero novelándolos. En otras ocasiones parece poner todo en duda, un enorme y larguísimo condicional. El recurso es bueno, narra desde la primera persona de la protagonista, con todas las hipótesis sobre la historia familiar. Luego la historia evoluciona, crece, se desvela el misterio.
Creo que sobre la novela se plantea una pregunta básica, con muchos matices, con mucho detalle, con muy buena literatura de fondo, pero la cuestión es la siguiente: ¿se debe renunciar a la familia si ese entorno es tóxico y perjudicial para el desarrollo personal propio? Cuando digo renunciar me refiero a romper de forma abrupta y definitiva, sin matices. Esta es la gran pregunta a la que intenta dar respuesta Hjorth. Importante, visto desde el punto de vista y voz femenina, y esa relación muchas veces tan volcánica y controvertida como es la relación madre-hija.
March 14, 2023
Longlisted for the 2023 International Booker Prize
I’ve come to terms with losing my mum, but I can’t come to terms with Mum coming to terms with losing her daughter.
Is Mother Dead is Charlotte Barslund's translation of Vigdis Hjorth's Er mor død
And given it's her words we are reading, it's disappointing that Barslund's name is absent from the dustjacket, and no biographical details are provided, so to rectify that here's the bio from the National Book Award website:
Barslund has previously translated three of Vigdis Hjorth' novel of which I've read two: Long Live the Post Horn and Will and Testament..
When the original, Arv og miljø, of Will and Testament was published in Norway there was considerable debate as to whether the work, which Hjorth claimed as fictional, may actually be factual, or at least hinting at this, since many details of Bergljot's story mirror Hjorth's own. And in a bizarre twist, her real-life sister, Helga, recognising herself in the sister-character, wrote her own counter novel Fri vilje, as explained in The New Yorker In Helga’s novel, a family is torn apart when the narrator’s histrionic writer sibling makes false allegations of incest in one of her books.. And as The Guardian explained Hjorth’s mother, Inger, threatened legal action against a theatre in Bergen, which staged an adaptation of Will and Testament.
Which makes for interesting context to this novel since, while less directly auto-biographical, the novel centres around an artist whose work caused a major rift with her mother and sister.
Our first-person narrator Johanna is approaching 60 and an internationally successful painter living in the US. Thirty years earlier she shocked her family when she left her husband, a lawyer like her father, and moved to the US with her art teacher to live together and to pursue her artistic career (having herself given up on law school). Her parents and sister write to her with an ultimatum to return to Norway and her husband:
They reeled of what it had cost them financially and emotionally to bring me up, I owed them quite a lot … They seriously believed that I would give up my love and my work because they had paid for tennis lessons when I was a teenager.
As her career develops, her most famous paintings 'Child and Mother 1' and 'Child and Mother 2' were to cause further distress as they depicted an estranged relationship, which the family took as autobiographical. And a final rift came when Johanna did not come back to Norway for her father's funeral, leading to a complete stop of any contact between them.
Now Johanna is back in Oslo for a major exhibition of her work and one day decides to call her mother, now in her mid-80s - in part as Johanna realises she may not even have been informed if her mother had died. But her mother declines, or at least doesn't take, the call.
I don’t know what I would have said if she had picked up the phone. Perhaps I had hoped that something would spring to mind if she answered her phone and said, Hello? In her own voice.
The situation was of my own making. I had chosen to leave my marriage, my family and my country almost three decades before, although it hadn’t felt as if I’d had a choice. I had left my marriage and my family for a man they regarded as suspect and a vocation they regarded as offensive, exhibiting paintings they found humiliating, I didn’t come home when Dad fell ill, when Dad died, when he was buried, what were they to make of that? They thought it was awful, that I was awful, for them what was awful was that I left, humiliated them, failed to turn up for Dad’s funeral, but for me things had gone wrong long before that. They didn’t understand or they refused to understand, we didn’t understand one another and yet I had called Mum. I had called Mum as if it was an OK thing to do. No wonder she hadn’t picked up. What was I thinking? What had I expected? That she would pick up the phone as if it was an OK thing to do? Who did I think I was, did I think I mattered in any way, that she would be pleased? Real life isn’t like the Bible where the return of the prodigal son is celebrated with a feast. I was ashamed to have broken my vow and to have revealed to Mum and Ruth, whom Mum would definitely have told about the call, that I was unable to stick to it, while they, my Mum and my sister, kept their vow and wouldn’t dream of calling me. They must have heard that I was back in the country. They probably googled me regularly, they had found out that a retrospective of my work would be taking place, that I had a Norwegian mobile number now, otherwise Mum would have answered the phone.
Johanna finds herself, as this passage starts to suggest, imagining her mother's and her sister Ruth's lives, and hypothesising what they are thinking about her.
And she soon takes this obsession another step further, tracking down where they each now live, and stalking her mother.
Between her forays, her spying missions, into central Oslo she retreats to a log cabin she had hired in the woods outside of the city, where she both contemplates nature but also thinks back on her time up until she left Norway with her mother and her very strict father.
The evenings grow shorter. From my hideaway I watch the last leaves fall, the dwarf birches blush, the moss turn grey, the grass lie down to sleep when darkness falls, insects die or hibernate, everything waiting for winter, for iron nights. A solitary cloudberry quivers in the shadow of the big spruces where memories wait, the hand trembles in November. Branches breathe in the darkness and the moors drink up the vast night there is whistling and creaking and I cling to this exhausted life as if it were a treasure.
The novel is told in a beautiful style in Barslund's translations, with nature writing in contrast to the psychological intensity of Johanna's thoughts, and chapters with detailed recollections or current-day scenes mixed with pithy observations that occupy only a fraction of a page.
And there is a running Ibsen theme with Johanna identify with a character from Vildanden (The Wild Duck): I’m Gregers Werle with his demand for the ideal who also forces a family to confront secrets from their past.
There's a particularly powerful scene in the middle of the novel where Johanna's obsession extends to watching her mother dispose of her rubbish in the communal bins then retrieving the waste bag and taking it back to her cabin to see what she can learn. She finds, in the waste, a broken porcelain cup, the companion of one from a set of 13 that was broken when Johanna was a child. As she recalls the childhood incident she now sees it rather differently - at the time she was blamed for surprising her mother and causing her to drop the cup, but she now believes her mother dropped the cup deliberately as a way of expressing her frustration with her domineering husband, Johanna's father. Johanna reconstructs the recently broken cup as an artwork the style of kintsugi, perhaps representing her desire to repair their relationship.
Only eleven Chinese porcelain cups remain in Mum's cupboard now unless other cups have been broken since I broke the thirteenth, perhaps Mum breaks Chinese porcelain cups on a regular basis, they all belong to her now, I imagine her hurling them onto the floor with great force, a liberating sight, Mum swearing like a sailor, Mum is clearing out the closet, but who is she raging against, me? Mum has done a thorough job with the dustpan and broom, all the pieces are here; with the help of a magnifying visor and a pair of tweezers I glue them back together, I paint the splices with liquid gold leaf.
As Johanna's intrusions become more direct, Ruth and her mother become aware of them, and make it clear that they have no desire to have any contact. But Johanna is building to one final, direct, confrontation with her mother and with her own assumptions about their relationship and family history, one that doesn't necessarily give her the form of closure she had expected.
Impressive and an International Booker contender.
I’ve come to terms with losing my mum, but I can’t come to terms with Mum coming to terms with losing her daughter.
Is Mother Dead is Charlotte Barslund's translation of Vigdis Hjorth's Er mor død
And given it's her words we are reading, it's disappointing that Barslund's name is absent from the dustjacket, and no biographical details are provided, so to rectify that here's the bio from the National Book Award website:
Charlotte Barslund translates Scandinavian novels and plays. Recent novels translated include the Arctic crime novels The Girl Without Skin and Cold Fear by Mads Peder Nordbo, Resin by Ane Riel, which was shortlisted for the 2019 Petrona Award, and A House in Norway by Vigdis Hjorth, which was longlisted for the 2019 International Dublin Literary Award. Her translation of Per Petterson’s I Curse The River of Time was shortlisted for the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize. She has worked with writers such as: Samuel Bjork, Jo Nesbo, Karin Fossum, Thomas Enger, Jonas T. Bengtsson, Carsten Jensen, Lotte and Søren Hammer, Lone Theils, Steffen Jacobsen, Sissel-Jo Gazan, Jakob Melander, Jesper Stein, and Lene Kaaberbøl. She lives in the UK.
Barslund has previously translated three of Vigdis Hjorth' novel of which I've read two: Long Live the Post Horn and Will and Testament..
When the original, Arv og miljø, of Will and Testament was published in Norway there was considerable debate as to whether the work, which Hjorth claimed as fictional, may actually be factual, or at least hinting at this, since many details of Bergljot's story mirror Hjorth's own. And in a bizarre twist, her real-life sister, Helga, recognising herself in the sister-character, wrote her own counter novel Fri vilje, as explained in The New Yorker In Helga’s novel, a family is torn apart when the narrator’s histrionic writer sibling makes false allegations of incest in one of her books.. And as The Guardian explained Hjorth’s mother, Inger, threatened legal action against a theatre in Bergen, which staged an adaptation of Will and Testament.
Which makes for interesting context to this novel since, while less directly auto-biographical, the novel centres around an artist whose work caused a major rift with her mother and sister.
Our first-person narrator Johanna is approaching 60 and an internationally successful painter living in the US. Thirty years earlier she shocked her family when she left her husband, a lawyer like her father, and moved to the US with her art teacher to live together and to pursue her artistic career (having herself given up on law school). Her parents and sister write to her with an ultimatum to return to Norway and her husband:
They reeled of what it had cost them financially and emotionally to bring me up, I owed them quite a lot … They seriously believed that I would give up my love and my work because they had paid for tennis lessons when I was a teenager.
As her career develops, her most famous paintings 'Child and Mother 1' and 'Child and Mother 2' were to cause further distress as they depicted an estranged relationship, which the family took as autobiographical. And a final rift came when Johanna did not come back to Norway for her father's funeral, leading to a complete stop of any contact between them.
Now Johanna is back in Oslo for a major exhibition of her work and one day decides to call her mother, now in her mid-80s - in part as Johanna realises she may not even have been informed if her mother had died. But her mother declines, or at least doesn't take, the call.
I don’t know what I would have said if she had picked up the phone. Perhaps I had hoped that something would spring to mind if she answered her phone and said, Hello? In her own voice.
The situation was of my own making. I had chosen to leave my marriage, my family and my country almost three decades before, although it hadn’t felt as if I’d had a choice. I had left my marriage and my family for a man they regarded as suspect and a vocation they regarded as offensive, exhibiting paintings they found humiliating, I didn’t come home when Dad fell ill, when Dad died, when he was buried, what were they to make of that? They thought it was awful, that I was awful, for them what was awful was that I left, humiliated them, failed to turn up for Dad’s funeral, but for me things had gone wrong long before that. They didn’t understand or they refused to understand, we didn’t understand one another and yet I had called Mum. I had called Mum as if it was an OK thing to do. No wonder she hadn’t picked up. What was I thinking? What had I expected? That she would pick up the phone as if it was an OK thing to do? Who did I think I was, did I think I mattered in any way, that she would be pleased? Real life isn’t like the Bible where the return of the prodigal son is celebrated with a feast. I was ashamed to have broken my vow and to have revealed to Mum and Ruth, whom Mum would definitely have told about the call, that I was unable to stick to it, while they, my Mum and my sister, kept their vow and wouldn’t dream of calling me. They must have heard that I was back in the country. They probably googled me regularly, they had found out that a retrospective of my work would be taking place, that I had a Norwegian mobile number now, otherwise Mum would have answered the phone.
Johanna finds herself, as this passage starts to suggest, imagining her mother's and her sister Ruth's lives, and hypothesising what they are thinking about her.
And she soon takes this obsession another step further, tracking down where they each now live, and stalking her mother.
Between her forays, her spying missions, into central Oslo she retreats to a log cabin she had hired in the woods outside of the city, where she both contemplates nature but also thinks back on her time up until she left Norway with her mother and her very strict father.
The evenings grow shorter. From my hideaway I watch the last leaves fall, the dwarf birches blush, the moss turn grey, the grass lie down to sleep when darkness falls, insects die or hibernate, everything waiting for winter, for iron nights. A solitary cloudberry quivers in the shadow of the big spruces where memories wait, the hand trembles in November. Branches breathe in the darkness and the moors drink up the vast night there is whistling and creaking and I cling to this exhausted life as if it were a treasure.
The novel is told in a beautiful style in Barslund's translations, with nature writing in contrast to the psychological intensity of Johanna's thoughts, and chapters with detailed recollections or current-day scenes mixed with pithy observations that occupy only a fraction of a page.
And there is a running Ibsen theme with Johanna identify with a character from Vildanden (The Wild Duck): I’m Gregers Werle with his demand for the ideal who also forces a family to confront secrets from their past.
There's a particularly powerful scene in the middle of the novel where Johanna's obsession extends to watching her mother dispose of her rubbish in the communal bins then retrieving the waste bag and taking it back to her cabin to see what she can learn. She finds, in the waste, a broken porcelain cup, the companion of one from a set of 13 that was broken when Johanna was a child. As she recalls the childhood incident she now sees it rather differently - at the time she was blamed for surprising her mother and causing her to drop the cup, but she now believes her mother dropped the cup deliberately as a way of expressing her frustration with her domineering husband, Johanna's father. Johanna reconstructs the recently broken cup as an artwork the style of kintsugi, perhaps representing her desire to repair their relationship.
Only eleven Chinese porcelain cups remain in Mum's cupboard now unless other cups have been broken since I broke the thirteenth, perhaps Mum breaks Chinese porcelain cups on a regular basis, they all belong to her now, I imagine her hurling them onto the floor with great force, a liberating sight, Mum swearing like a sailor, Mum is clearing out the closet, but who is she raging against, me? Mum has done a thorough job with the dustpan and broom, all the pieces are here; with the help of a magnifying visor and a pair of tweezers I glue them back together, I paint the splices with liquid gold leaf.
As Johanna's intrusions become more direct, Ruth and her mother become aware of them, and make it clear that they have no desire to have any contact. But Johanna is building to one final, direct, confrontation with her mother and with her own assumptions about their relationship and family history, one that doesn't necessarily give her the form of closure she had expected.
Impressive and an International Booker contender.
October 16, 2021
È il racconto di una frattura tra madre e figlia, che il tempo non riesce a sanare.
Passano trent’anni senza che si parlino. Poche righe formali, prima, poi il silenzio.
Tornata in Norvegia, Johanna pensa di poter ricucire il rapporto e, soprattutto vuole capire. Vuole che la madre ammetta i propri errori e il dolore segreto che l’ha portata a cancellare la figlia.
La protagonista ripercorre la propria infanzia, in cerca di indizi che non aveva colto. Ne emerge soltanto una sensazione di paura, la ricerca di un rifugio che la madre, non avendo nulla a cui aggrapparsi, non può darle.
È un romanzo pieno di odio e di rancore, un lungo rimuginare su ricordi e desiderio di colmare il vuoto, scritto in uno stile ben diverso dal precedente (Eredità). Prolisso, poco scorrevole, cupo, angosciante.
Passano trent’anni senza che si parlino. Poche righe formali, prima, poi il silenzio.
Tornata in Norvegia, Johanna pensa di poter ricucire il rapporto e, soprattutto vuole capire. Vuole che la madre ammetta i propri errori e il dolore segreto che l’ha portata a cancellare la figlia.
La protagonista ripercorre la propria infanzia, in cerca di indizi che non aveva colto. Ne emerge soltanto una sensazione di paura, la ricerca di un rifugio che la madre, non avendo nulla a cui aggrapparsi, non può darle.
È un romanzo pieno di odio e di rancore, un lungo rimuginare su ricordi e desiderio di colmare il vuoto, scritto in uno stile ben diverso dal precedente (Eredità). Prolisso, poco scorrevole, cupo, angosciante.
May 14, 2025
"Annemin hatasını kabul etmesini istemiyorum, sadece açık açık konuşmak istiyorum, ayrıca anneyle oğul ve anneyle kız arasındaki ilişki farklı çünkü anne, kız çocuğunun gelecekteki kendini, kız çocuğuysa annenin kaybettiği benliğini gördüğü bir aynadır - annem, beni, neler kaybettiğini bilmek istemediği için mi görmüyor acaba?"
Miras ile hepimizi paramparça eden Vigdis Hjorth'ün Annem Öldü Mü'sü dilimize çevrilir çevrilmez başladım okumaya. Genelde yeni çıkanlarla arama biraz mesafe koymayı, kendilerini azıcık demlendirmeyi seviyorum, bir tür "ilk ben okudum" yarışı var gibi dünyada, hiç sevmiyorum bunu ve parçası olmak istemiyorum ama bu kitabı bekletemezdim. Çünkü hem Miras'ı, hem Postane Günlükleri'ni de çok sevmiştim, Hjorth ile yüz yüze tanışıp sohbet edebilmiş ve kendisinden müthiş etkilenmiş biri olarak bu kitabı epeydir bekliyordum.
Miras her ne kadar odağına baba meselesini alıyor gibi gözükse de, o kitabın da temel meselesi annenin yarattığı hayal kırıklığıydı bence. Suçlu babadan yana taraf tutarak kızını belki suçludan daha çok yaralayan anne... Bu kitapta ise 30 yıldır annesini görmeyen bir anlatıcımız var, Johanna. Miras'taki gibi devasa bir mesele yok burada, irili ufaklı onarılamamış şeyler, merhem sürülmemiş yaralar, birikmiş ve kangren olmuş meseleler. Aslında bazı küçük şeyler okuduklarımız ama o küçük şeyler bazen büyük travmalara yol açabiliyor şüphesiz.
Miras'ın en çok eleştirilen yönü anlatıcının sık sık kendini tekrarlamasıydı, ben büyük travmaların böyle yaşandığını, insanın kafasında aynı sesin sürekli aynı şeyleri söylediğini bildiğim için bunu kitabın zayıflığı değil gücü olarak görmüştüm, ama burada aynısını söyleyemeyeceğim. Bu kitapta da çok tekrar var ve bence metne katkı sunmuyorlar. Merakla okudum kitabı ama Hjorth'ün 328 sayfada söylediklerinin hepsini ve daha fazlasını Annie Ernaux Bir Kadın'da 64 sayfada söylüyor mesela - azıcık kelimeyle. Duyguları ve sorgulamaları çok benzer iki metin ama biri çok güçlü, Annem Öldü Mü ise o kadar güçlü değil bence maalesef.
Kitabı sevdim, sevmedim diyemem, çok iyi yazılmış yerleri var ama beklentim bundan çok daha fazlasıydı. Azıcık üzdü.
Miras ile hepimizi paramparça eden Vigdis Hjorth'ün Annem Öldü Mü'sü dilimize çevrilir çevrilmez başladım okumaya. Genelde yeni çıkanlarla arama biraz mesafe koymayı, kendilerini azıcık demlendirmeyi seviyorum, bir tür "ilk ben okudum" yarışı var gibi dünyada, hiç sevmiyorum bunu ve parçası olmak istemiyorum ama bu kitabı bekletemezdim. Çünkü hem Miras'ı, hem Postane Günlükleri'ni de çok sevmiştim, Hjorth ile yüz yüze tanışıp sohbet edebilmiş ve kendisinden müthiş etkilenmiş biri olarak bu kitabı epeydir bekliyordum.
Miras her ne kadar odağına baba meselesini alıyor gibi gözükse de, o kitabın da temel meselesi annenin yarattığı hayal kırıklığıydı bence. Suçlu babadan yana taraf tutarak kızını belki suçludan daha çok yaralayan anne... Bu kitapta ise 30 yıldır annesini görmeyen bir anlatıcımız var, Johanna. Miras'taki gibi devasa bir mesele yok burada, irili ufaklı onarılamamış şeyler, merhem sürülmemiş yaralar, birikmiş ve kangren olmuş meseleler. Aslında bazı küçük şeyler okuduklarımız ama o küçük şeyler bazen büyük travmalara yol açabiliyor şüphesiz.
Miras'ın en çok eleştirilen yönü anlatıcının sık sık kendini tekrarlamasıydı, ben büyük travmaların böyle yaşandığını, insanın kafasında aynı sesin sürekli aynı şeyleri söylediğini bildiğim için bunu kitabın zayıflığı değil gücü olarak görmüştüm, ama burada aynısını söyleyemeyeceğim. Bu kitapta da çok tekrar var ve bence metne katkı sunmuyorlar. Merakla okudum kitabı ama Hjorth'ün 328 sayfada söylediklerinin hepsini ve daha fazlasını Annie Ernaux Bir Kadın'da 64 sayfada söylüyor mesela - azıcık kelimeyle. Duyguları ve sorgulamaları çok benzer iki metin ama biri çok güçlü, Annem Öldü Mü ise o kadar güçlü değil bence maalesef.
Kitabı sevdim, sevmedim diyemem, çok iyi yazılmış yerleri var ama beklentim bundan çok daha fazlasıydı. Azıcık üzdü.
March 30, 2023
CW: A scarily personal overshare– Years ago, I was stalked by someone, a complete stranger. It lasted for a few long weeks. It started with random phone calls (!!!!) first heavy breathing then speech. This person showed up at random places and always claimed they were coincidences: parties, restaurants, bars, outside a friend’s apartment, the bus stop near my house, even tried to push themselves into my taxi. And this person did something even more sinister that I’m not gonna talk about. They eventually pleaded for the two of us to become friends and “lovers,” and if I didn’t comply, they’d never leave me alone: “I’ll always be there.” I will never forget these words for as long as I live: “Why are you making this so difficult? We’re compatible.” It was a very scary time in my life. Surreal. And it’s part of the reason I sometimes feel the need to keep personal details hidden from public life, even from friends.
I’m saying all of this because reading IS MOTHER DEAD drudged up bad memories for me. It made me feel very uneasy being stuck in this particular character’s head; the claustrophobic vibe of this daughter spying on her estranged mother; keeping her under constant surveillance, making note of her every move, and imagining/inventing narratives for her mother’s actions. It was a lot.
Don’t get me wrong, Johanna’s reasons for doing this aren’t for nefarious reasons. They’re nuanced and perhaps understandable; and are steeped in fragile and potent history. This novel is brilliant at keeping the reader on edge. You know the careful crafting of the story, with all its intricate pieces, is all going to implode on itself by the end. You’re waiting for that release. And it is satisfying when it does happen. It’s quite effective. A fiery and cathartic finish. A huge standout.
Although I would love to just analyze the book for the delicious themes it had to offer, I couldn’t help applying my own history into it. Couldn’t help seeing myself through my own stalker’s surveillance. And that sent shivers. Sometimes it’s impossible to separate your personal experiences from what you’re reading. Nonetheless, a great read.
https://www.instagram.com/p/Cqav9TPrL...
I’m saying all of this because reading IS MOTHER DEAD drudged up bad memories for me. It made me feel very uneasy being stuck in this particular character’s head; the claustrophobic vibe of this daughter spying on her estranged mother; keeping her under constant surveillance, making note of her every move, and imagining/inventing narratives for her mother’s actions. It was a lot.
Don’t get me wrong, Johanna’s reasons for doing this aren’t for nefarious reasons. They’re nuanced and perhaps understandable; and are steeped in fragile and potent history. This novel is brilliant at keeping the reader on edge. You know the careful crafting of the story, with all its intricate pieces, is all going to implode on itself by the end. You’re waiting for that release. And it is satisfying when it does happen. It’s quite effective. A fiery and cathartic finish. A huge standout.
Although I would love to just analyze the book for the delicious themes it had to offer, I couldn’t help applying my own history into it. Couldn’t help seeing myself through my own stalker’s surveillance. And that sent shivers. Sometimes it’s impossible to separate your personal experiences from what you’re reading. Nonetheless, a great read.
https://www.instagram.com/p/Cqav9TPrL...
November 7, 2022
“The lie some people need to live can be the undoing of others.”
“I’m the prodigal daughter who has come home, but there is no one to welcome me, it’s my own fault. I came back to seek and she who seeks shall find, but not what she is looking for.”
“We all carry our mothers like a hole in our souls, small or big, living or dead, and . . . we try to fill these voids so that we can live . . .”
Hjorth’s novel is not long; the prose is accessible, natural-sounding, and evidently well translated. But, oh my, is it intense and claustrophobic. The reader is confined to the head of the main character and her obsessive ruminations on the subject of her estrangement from her mother. Thirty years ago, Norwegian-born visual artist Johanna Hauk fled her young marriage, her upright family, and her life as a law student for an American man who tutored her during a spring watercolour class. The reader is told early on that her family has never forgiven Johanna for rejecting them and for defying the rules and code of respectability they adhere to. Even more than that, Johanna has produced art, some of it controversial, focusing on the mother-and-child bond. The mother depicted in these works has the trademark flame-red hair of Johanna’s own mother. How could it not be a comment on her? The artist’s younger sister, the dutiful Ruth—who has never deviated from the script handed to her by Mum and Dad—has made it clear to Johanna that their mother was humiliated and appalled by these paintings. The daughter’s failure to return to Norway some years before for the funeral of her esteemed lawyer-father only rubbed more salt into the wound.
But, now . . . now Johanna is back in Norway. Her American partner, Mark, died a few years back, and the intensity of extreme grief has abated. Her son John, a musician in his late twenties, married with a son of his own, has relocated to Denmark where he performs in a Copenhagen orchestra. A large prestigious Norwegian gallery will soon be presenting a retrospective of Johanna’s work. All of these are reasons why she is back in her homeland, but they aren’t the main one. For her, the real issue is to finally make contact with her mother, whom she believes is being controlled and kept from her by Ruth. Is this a fact or a manifestation of paranoia? The reader cannot be sure. The early pages of the novel focus on Johanna’s efforts to reach her mother by text, phone, and email. Initially, she does not know why she’s driven to do so and feels ashamed of making these impulsive phone calls. “On an existential level,” she thinks, “I do have something to tell her although I can’t find the words and don’t know what it is yet. It doesn’t belong in the rational sphere.” A friend has told Johanna that her family is aware that she’s back in Oslo, but “Mum” responds to none of her estranged daughter’s attempts at communication. Ruth, however, sends terse messages to her sister that their mother wants nothing to do with her.
Being rebuffed only spurs Johanna on. “Information we can’t access is tantalizing,” she observes. She regularly stakes out her mother’s flat, she stalks her mother and sister, she even sorts through her mother’s trash for clues about her life, and at one point she enters her parent’s apartment building, pleading with her mother to remove the safety chain to allow her in. The reader can’t help but wonder if Johanna isn’t completely deranged. If her actions are pathologically repetitious, however, her thoughts range more widely. Personal details about the artist’s and her mother’s lives—memories—well up. Johanna’s goals as an artist and her understanding of what her work means also emerge. In time, she recovers a repressed memory of having (literally) buried an object which may offer the answer to what has fuelled the estrangement between the two women. Retrieving that object and confirming a detail about her mother’s physical appearance becomes the goal.
I found Is Mother Dead to be a compelling work of psychological fiction. It put me in mind of Jessica Au’s Cold Enough for Snow, a quite different novel which also considers the mother-daughter relationship. In that book, the daughter-narrator, who is ambivalent about having children, reflects: “if I had a daughter, she would live partly because of the way I had lived, and her memories would be my memories, and she would have no choice in that matter.” Hjorth takes this idea and runs with it. “If we knew, if we understood when we were young how crucial childhood is, no one would dare have children,” pronounces her protagonist. This novel is an exploration of the way in which a mother’s life, psychology, and pain cannot help but impact the daughter and ripple down the generations.
“I’m the prodigal daughter who has come home, but there is no one to welcome me, it’s my own fault. I came back to seek and she who seeks shall find, but not what she is looking for.”
“We all carry our mothers like a hole in our souls, small or big, living or dead, and . . . we try to fill these voids so that we can live . . .”
Hjorth’s novel is not long; the prose is accessible, natural-sounding, and evidently well translated. But, oh my, is it intense and claustrophobic. The reader is confined to the head of the main character and her obsessive ruminations on the subject of her estrangement from her mother. Thirty years ago, Norwegian-born visual artist Johanna Hauk fled her young marriage, her upright family, and her life as a law student for an American man who tutored her during a spring watercolour class. The reader is told early on that her family has never forgiven Johanna for rejecting them and for defying the rules and code of respectability they adhere to. Even more than that, Johanna has produced art, some of it controversial, focusing on the mother-and-child bond. The mother depicted in these works has the trademark flame-red hair of Johanna’s own mother. How could it not be a comment on her? The artist’s younger sister, the dutiful Ruth—who has never deviated from the script handed to her by Mum and Dad—has made it clear to Johanna that their mother was humiliated and appalled by these paintings. The daughter’s failure to return to Norway some years before for the funeral of her esteemed lawyer-father only rubbed more salt into the wound.
But, now . . . now Johanna is back in Norway. Her American partner, Mark, died a few years back, and the intensity of extreme grief has abated. Her son John, a musician in his late twenties, married with a son of his own, has relocated to Denmark where he performs in a Copenhagen orchestra. A large prestigious Norwegian gallery will soon be presenting a retrospective of Johanna’s work. All of these are reasons why she is back in her homeland, but they aren’t the main one. For her, the real issue is to finally make contact with her mother, whom she believes is being controlled and kept from her by Ruth. Is this a fact or a manifestation of paranoia? The reader cannot be sure. The early pages of the novel focus on Johanna’s efforts to reach her mother by text, phone, and email. Initially, she does not know why she’s driven to do so and feels ashamed of making these impulsive phone calls. “On an existential level,” she thinks, “I do have something to tell her although I can’t find the words and don’t know what it is yet. It doesn’t belong in the rational sphere.” A friend has told Johanna that her family is aware that she’s back in Oslo, but “Mum” responds to none of her estranged daughter’s attempts at communication. Ruth, however, sends terse messages to her sister that their mother wants nothing to do with her.
Being rebuffed only spurs Johanna on. “Information we can’t access is tantalizing,” she observes. She regularly stakes out her mother’s flat, she stalks her mother and sister, she even sorts through her mother’s trash for clues about her life, and at one point she enters her parent’s apartment building, pleading with her mother to remove the safety chain to allow her in. The reader can’t help but wonder if Johanna isn’t completely deranged. If her actions are pathologically repetitious, however, her thoughts range more widely. Personal details about the artist’s and her mother’s lives—memories—well up. Johanna’s goals as an artist and her understanding of what her work means also emerge. In time, she recovers a repressed memory of having (literally) buried an object which may offer the answer to what has fuelled the estrangement between the two women. Retrieving that object and confirming a detail about her mother’s physical appearance becomes the goal.
I found Is Mother Dead to be a compelling work of psychological fiction. It put me in mind of Jessica Au’s Cold Enough for Snow, a quite different novel which also considers the mother-daughter relationship. In that book, the daughter-narrator, who is ambivalent about having children, reflects: “if I had a daughter, she would live partly because of the way I had lived, and her memories would be my memories, and she would have no choice in that matter.” Hjorth takes this idea and runs with it. “If we knew, if we understood when we were young how crucial childhood is, no one would dare have children,” pronounces her protagonist. This novel is an exploration of the way in which a mother’s life, psychology, and pain cannot help but impact the daughter and ripple down the generations.
April 18, 2024
Bu kitabı okuduktan sonra kitaba dair düşüncelerimin netleşmesi için biraz zaman geçmesi gerekti. Çünkü büyük puntosuna ve zaman zaman tek cümleyle geçilmiş sayfalarına rağmen duygusal olarak sizi bombardıman altında bırakan, zaman zaman manipüle edildiğinizi düşündüren, bir nevi ebeveyn kavgası ortasında almış çocuk gibi sıkışmış hissetmenize sebep olan duygusal açıdan çok yoğun bir kitap.
Is Mother Dead benim Vigdis Hjorth’ten okuduğum ikinci kitap. Büyük bir çoğunluk gibi benim de yazarla tanışmam Miras kitabıyla olmuştu. Bu kitapta da bir kez daha ailesinden kopuk bir kadın; babayla asla kurulamamış güvenli ebeveyn ilişkisi, anneyle gelişen “aşk-nefret” arasında sıkışmış bir savaş ve yine aşırı mesafeli ve dışlayıcı bir kız kardeş üzerinden kurulan; sayfalar ilerledikçe geçmişin girift yapısının gün yüzüne çıktığı bir aile hikayesi. Johanna genç bir kadınken terk ettiği ailesine ve ülkesine 30 yıl sonra yetişkin bir kadın, bir büyükanne ve ressam olarak geri dönüyor. İlk başlarda “sadece Amerika’ya gitti diye bu kadar uzun soluklu bir aile küslüğü biraz abartı değil mi?” diye düşünmeye başlasanız da Johanna’nın hayatının ilk yarısını geçirdiği topraklara dönüşüyle geçmişin karanlık köşelerinde kalmış çocukluk anıları yetişkin zihniyle daha bir anlam kazanarak aydınlanmaya başlıyor. Bu noktadan sonra artık sona kadar duygudan duyguya sürüklenmeye başlıyorsunuz. Bir noktada filmlerle kavga eden insanlara dönüşmeye başladığımı hissettim. Zira bir yandan anneyi anlamaya başlıyorsunuz, diğer yandan Johanna’nın hayatının kontrolünü eline alma ve istediğini gibi yaşama cesaretine hayran olup arada da dönüp soğuk ve dışlayıcı kız kardeş Ruth ile dahi empati kurabiliyorsunuz. Hiçbir bağ kuramadığınız, anlayışla yaklaşamadığınız tek karakter baba. Her ne kadar Miras’tan çok farklı bir konu ve akışa sahip olsa da kötü bir “baba” figürünün ailenin genel yapısı ve kadınların hayatı üzerindeki yıkıcı etkisini bu kitapta muazzam bir şekilde anlatıyor. Ama bunların ötesinde kitabın adından da anlaşıldığı üzere odak anne. Kutsal görülen annelik, anne-kız ilişkileri ve aile kavramına dair anlatacak çok şeyi var Vigdis Hjorth’un. Evet kitabı okurken zaman zaman düşülen tekrardan belki de bir saplantı gibi görünen düşüncelerden yorulup sıkılabiliyorsunuz. Ancak en başta “bu kitaba dair hislerimin netleşmesi için zamana ihtiyacım vardı” dememin sebeplerinden birisi de bu tekrarlar aslında. Çünkü bir süre sonra özellikle de tekrar tekrar karşılaştığınız o cümlelerin aslında zihninde işlendiğini, kitabın tam da bu şekilde sizi sarıp sarmaladığını zira gerçek hayatta da bu sürecin tam da bu boğucu ve saplantılı düşünce yığınıyla geçeceğini fark ediyorsunuz. Anne-kız ilişkisi açısından bir bağ kuramayacak durumda olmama rağmen Johanna’nın dışlanmışlığı, sıkışmışlığı ve toplumda bilinen affedici-her şeye rağmen seven kutsal anne kalıbının ne kadar sahte olduğuyla yüzleşmesinin şoku hala zihnimde bütün canlılığıyla yaşıyor. Belki de bu yüzden Miras’taki gibi bütün toplumlarda tabu olan ve herkesin aynı karşıt cephede toplanacağı bir suç ile ayrışmış aile hikayesi değil de her ailenin başına gelebilecek ya da kendi çocukluğunuzdan küçük detayları hatırlayıp düşündürecek ekmek kırıntıları bırakan Is Mother Dead’i daha çok sevdim. Genel olarak -farklı bir akışla da olsa- anneyle yüzleşme ve defteri kapatma özelliğiyle Miras’ın devamı niteliğinde görülse de bence Miras’ın önüne geçen bir kitap olmuş. Kitabın bütün akışını kendi temposuyla takip etmeniz için çok fazla bir detaydan bahsetmeyeceğim ama özellikle kitabın sonuna doğru ilerledikçe yükselen gerilim ve sonucu benim için çok sarsıcıydı. Sanki bir gerilim filmi izler gibi bir yandan merakla devam etmek isterken bir yandan da korka korka; sayfa ortasında kitabı kapatıp bir iki dakika sonra geri dönerek ilerledim o sayfalarda.
Benzer bir aile ilişkiniz olmasa da okuması duygusal açıdan biraz yorucu, insanı boğan bir kitap. Ara ara durup soluklanma ihtiyacı ya da tekrar tekrar aynı düşüncenin dönmesinden sıkılıp bu döngüden uzaklaşma ihtiyacı duyuyorsunuz. Lakin bütün olarak aile ilişkileri ve iletişimsizliği üzerine çok güzel bir kitap. Özellikle de Miras’ı okuduysanız bu kitabı da mutlaka okuyun. Bu arada yazardan iki kitap okumuş olmama rağmen hala aklımdaki “acaba kişisel yaralarından dolayı sorunlu aile hikayelerinde mi bu kadar güçlü yoksa her alanda böyle” sorusunun cevabı yok. O yüzden en kısa zamanda aileden bağımsız bir kitabını daha okumayı planlıyorum.
Is Mother Dead benim Vigdis Hjorth’ten okuduğum ikinci kitap. Büyük bir çoğunluk gibi benim de yazarla tanışmam Miras kitabıyla olmuştu. Bu kitapta da bir kez daha ailesinden kopuk bir kadın; babayla asla kurulamamış güvenli ebeveyn ilişkisi, anneyle gelişen “aşk-nefret” arasında sıkışmış bir savaş ve yine aşırı mesafeli ve dışlayıcı bir kız kardeş üzerinden kurulan; sayfalar ilerledikçe geçmişin girift yapısının gün yüzüne çıktığı bir aile hikayesi. Johanna genç bir kadınken terk ettiği ailesine ve ülkesine 30 yıl sonra yetişkin bir kadın, bir büyükanne ve ressam olarak geri dönüyor. İlk başlarda “sadece Amerika’ya gitti diye bu kadar uzun soluklu bir aile küslüğü biraz abartı değil mi?” diye düşünmeye başlasanız da Johanna’nın hayatının ilk yarısını geçirdiği topraklara dönüşüyle geçmişin karanlık köşelerinde kalmış çocukluk anıları yetişkin zihniyle daha bir anlam kazanarak aydınlanmaya başlıyor. Bu noktadan sonra artık sona kadar duygudan duyguya sürüklenmeye başlıyorsunuz. Bir noktada filmlerle kavga eden insanlara dönüşmeye başladığımı hissettim. Zira bir yandan anneyi anlamaya başlıyorsunuz, diğer yandan Johanna’nın hayatının kontrolünü eline alma ve istediğini gibi yaşama cesaretine hayran olup arada da dönüp soğuk ve dışlayıcı kız kardeş Ruth ile dahi empati kurabiliyorsunuz. Hiçbir bağ kuramadığınız, anlayışla yaklaşamadığınız tek karakter baba. Her ne kadar Miras’tan çok farklı bir konu ve akışa sahip olsa da kötü bir “baba” figürünün ailenin genel yapısı ve kadınların hayatı üzerindeki yıkıcı etkisini bu kitapta muazzam bir şekilde anlatıyor. Ama bunların ötesinde kitabın adından da anlaşıldığı üzere odak anne. Kutsal görülen annelik, anne-kız ilişkileri ve aile kavramına dair anlatacak çok şeyi var Vigdis Hjorth’un. Evet kitabı okurken zaman zaman düşülen tekrardan belki de bir saplantı gibi görünen düşüncelerden yorulup sıkılabiliyorsunuz. Ancak en başta “bu kitaba dair hislerimin netleşmesi için zamana ihtiyacım vardı” dememin sebeplerinden birisi de bu tekrarlar aslında. Çünkü bir süre sonra özellikle de tekrar tekrar karşılaştığınız o cümlelerin aslında zihninde işlendiğini, kitabın tam da bu şekilde sizi sarıp sarmaladığını zira gerçek hayatta da bu sürecin tam da bu boğucu ve saplantılı düşünce yığınıyla geçeceğini fark ediyorsunuz. Anne-kız ilişkisi açısından bir bağ kuramayacak durumda olmama rağmen Johanna’nın dışlanmışlığı, sıkışmışlığı ve toplumda bilinen affedici-her şeye rağmen seven kutsal anne kalıbının ne kadar sahte olduğuyla yüzleşmesinin şoku hala zihnimde bütün canlılığıyla yaşıyor. Belki de bu yüzden Miras’taki gibi bütün toplumlarda tabu olan ve herkesin aynı karşıt cephede toplanacağı bir suç ile ayrışmış aile hikayesi değil de her ailenin başına gelebilecek ya da kendi çocukluğunuzdan küçük detayları hatırlayıp düşündürecek ekmek kırıntıları bırakan Is Mother Dead’i daha çok sevdim. Genel olarak -farklı bir akışla da olsa- anneyle yüzleşme ve defteri kapatma özelliğiyle Miras’ın devamı niteliğinde görülse de bence Miras’ın önüne geçen bir kitap olmuş. Kitabın bütün akışını kendi temposuyla takip etmeniz için çok fazla bir detaydan bahsetmeyeceğim ama özellikle kitabın sonuna doğru ilerledikçe yükselen gerilim ve sonucu benim için çok sarsıcıydı. Sanki bir gerilim filmi izler gibi bir yandan merakla devam etmek isterken bir yandan da korka korka; sayfa ortasında kitabı kapatıp bir iki dakika sonra geri dönerek ilerledim o sayfalarda.
Benzer bir aile ilişkiniz olmasa da okuması duygusal açıdan biraz yorucu, insanı boğan bir kitap. Ara ara durup soluklanma ihtiyacı ya da tekrar tekrar aynı düşüncenin dönmesinden sıkılıp bu döngüden uzaklaşma ihtiyacı duyuyorsunuz. Lakin bütün olarak aile ilişkileri ve iletişimsizliği üzerine çok güzel bir kitap. Özellikle de Miras’ı okuduysanız bu kitabı da mutlaka okuyun. Bu arada yazardan iki kitap okumuş olmama rağmen hala aklımdaki “acaba kişisel yaralarından dolayı sorunlu aile hikayelerinde mi bu kadar güçlü yoksa her alanda böyle” sorusunun cevabı yok. O yüzden en kısa zamanda aileden bağımsız bir kitabını daha okumayı planlıyorum.
March 20, 2023
“We all carry our mothers like a hole in our souls, small or big, living or dead.”
“Is Mother Dead” is an intense, interior, somewhat claustrophobic novel on the mythology of mother, particularly the mother-daughter dynamic.
When the narrator, Johanna, abandons a promising career in law to pursue a vocation as a painter in a new country with a new love interest, it causes a major rift with her family. The situation is exacerbated when her paintings “Child and Mother 1” and “Child and Mother 2” are later exhibited in Oslo with extensive media coverage. Her mother, feeling portrayed and humiliated, cuts her off completely. (The story is loosely autobiographical as Hjorth’s own family did not appreciate the way they were depicted in her writings.)
The rift goes on for decades.
Now, approaching the age of sixty, the narrator returns to her hometown Oslo for a retrospective of her work. Her mother’s physical proximity starts to haunt her:
“In between the foliage, the sky is as blue to her as it is to me and it’s mindboggling that we are both looking at it.”
Johanna develops a keen interest in the elderly women in the city. In the absence of further information on her mother, she starts to “invent” her. She imagines her daily routines, her meals, her movements:
“Mum, I use words to create my image of you.”
When multiple attempts to re-establish contact with her mother fail, the narrator, seeking closure, resorts to increasingly desperate measures – locating her mother’s address, stalking her whereabouts, following her on errands, even rummaging through her trash.
“All children depend on their mother for their survival and will, as a result, be forever vulnerable to her, body and soul.”
The prose has an obsessive, unrelenting, febrile quality to it. It is structurally knotty, looping back over the same territory, grinding and chafing until it bleeds. There is very little in the form of contrast, of respite. For readers with complicated mother-daughter relationships, the text is likely to pick at old wounds: feeling unseen by your parents, feeling misunderstood, failing to live up to the “script” set out for you.
I would describe this novel as an exorcism – painful and cathartic for the writer, not always enjoyable for the reader, but a worthwhile journey for the power of its themes.
Mood: Stifling
Rating: 7/10
Awards: Longlisted for the Booker International Prize 2023
Also on Instagram.
“Is Mother Dead” is an intense, interior, somewhat claustrophobic novel on the mythology of mother, particularly the mother-daughter dynamic.
When the narrator, Johanna, abandons a promising career in law to pursue a vocation as a painter in a new country with a new love interest, it causes a major rift with her family. The situation is exacerbated when her paintings “Child and Mother 1” and “Child and Mother 2” are later exhibited in Oslo with extensive media coverage. Her mother, feeling portrayed and humiliated, cuts her off completely. (The story is loosely autobiographical as Hjorth’s own family did not appreciate the way they were depicted in her writings.)
The rift goes on for decades.
Now, approaching the age of sixty, the narrator returns to her hometown Oslo for a retrospective of her work. Her mother’s physical proximity starts to haunt her:
“In between the foliage, the sky is as blue to her as it is to me and it’s mindboggling that we are both looking at it.”
Johanna develops a keen interest in the elderly women in the city. In the absence of further information on her mother, she starts to “invent” her. She imagines her daily routines, her meals, her movements:
“Mum, I use words to create my image of you.”
When multiple attempts to re-establish contact with her mother fail, the narrator, seeking closure, resorts to increasingly desperate measures – locating her mother’s address, stalking her whereabouts, following her on errands, even rummaging through her trash.
“All children depend on their mother for their survival and will, as a result, be forever vulnerable to her, body and soul.”
The prose has an obsessive, unrelenting, febrile quality to it. It is structurally knotty, looping back over the same territory, grinding and chafing until it bleeds. There is very little in the form of contrast, of respite. For readers with complicated mother-daughter relationships, the text is likely to pick at old wounds: feeling unseen by your parents, feeling misunderstood, failing to live up to the “script” set out for you.
I would describe this novel as an exorcism – painful and cathartic for the writer, not always enjoyable for the reader, but a worthwhile journey for the power of its themes.
Mood: Stifling
Rating: 7/10
Awards: Longlisted for the Booker International Prize 2023
Also on Instagram.
June 24, 2025
Norveçli yazar Vigdis Hjorth bu kitabında da toplumsal bir konuyu, sorunlu bir ailedeki anne-kız ilşkisindeki uyumsuzluğun yarattığı psikolojik tepkileri ve sonuçlarını anlatıyor. Daha önce okuduğum kitaplarından alışık olduğum ve çok hoşuma giden, “küçük küçük adımlarla hızlı yürüme” tarzındaki cümlelerini ve tempolu kurgusunu yine çok beğendim. Kitabın iç düzenlemesi de kitaba hoşluk katmış. Aslında yazarın kısa cümlelerinin ağırlığı, vermek istediği mesajı fazlasıyla veriyor. Öneririm.
March 29, 2025
Volela bih da mogu da tvrdim da iskustvo upoznavanja i razgovora s autorkom nije uticalo na moj utisak o knjizi, ali ne mogu. Ipak verujem da bi utisak i bez tog iskustva bio sličan, iako možda ne tako intenzivan.
Da li je majka mrtva je duboko potresan, uznemirujuć, bolan roman, knjiga koja povređuje, ali i oslobađa tereta sramote i samoće izazvane izolacijom od najbližih i njihovim nerazumevanjem i neprihvatanjem, ma ko ti najbliži bili. Roman je psihološki složen, izuzetno promišljen, čini se intimniji od prethodne autorkine knjige prevedene na srpski. I zato se nadam da se oni kojima se svidelo Nasleđe neće zadržati na tom romanu.
Ne gajim iluziju da poslednje rečenice mojih utisaka o knjizi mogu biti makar približno efektne i savršene kao kraj ovog romana, ali ipak moram da kažem: ako je ovoliko hrabrosti bilo potrebno da se ova knjiga privede kraju, koliko li je samo hrabrosti moralo biti potrebno da se napiše.
Da li je majka mrtva je duboko potresan, uznemirujuć, bolan roman, knjiga koja povređuje, ali i oslobađa tereta sramote i samoće izazvane izolacijom od najbližih i njihovim nerazumevanjem i neprihvatanjem, ma ko ti najbliži bili. Roman je psihološki složen, izuzetno promišljen, čini se intimniji od prethodne autorkine knjige prevedene na srpski. I zato se nadam da se oni kojima se svidelo Nasleđe neće zadržati na tom romanu.
Ne gajim iluziju da poslednje rečenice mojih utisaka o knjizi mogu biti makar približno efektne i savršene kao kraj ovog romana, ali ipak moram da kažem: ako je ovoliko hrabrosti bilo potrebno da se ova knjiga privede kraju, koliko li je samo hrabrosti moralo biti potrebno da se napiše.
November 21, 2020
En unikt selvopptatt karakter forteller i det uendelige om sin egen families manglende opptattheten av henne.
May 24, 2023
Estrangement and toxic family relationships form the core here, as they did in an earlier Hjorth novel Will & Testament. As in Will & Testament, we are inside the mind of a middle-aged woman, there a well-known writer, here a well-known painter. Decades ago, Johanna, as a newly married young woman in law school, left her first marriage and law school, wanting art and in love with another, decisions her parents would not agree with, and with nary a word, she leaves mother, father and sister Ruth. With very little communication since then, Johanna, having lived a life unknown to her family, with love, a husband, a son, art, etc., has now returned to Oslo where a retrospective of her work is to be exhibited in a prominent museum. Johanna's questions, her need for answers, her constant wondering how she has been so shunted aside by mother, by sister, is conveyed in circuitous sentences, psychological warfare metaphors abounding, the stabs of family pain, the betrayals, searching for truths amid the lies. Childhood, always, the source of the everlasting wound. The estrangement that Johanna has suffered and continues to suffer, certainly there are strands of narcissism within it, but also much truth, and it seems most often suffered by women with their families when they make decisions about their own lives and the lengths that will be traveled to try to gain some clarity, some connection. Disturbing and compelling.
December 17, 2022
És fort perquè el ritme és lent, la narradora obsessiva, i a la novel·la hi passa ben poca cosa. Però les reflexions sobre les relacions maternofilials (i familiars, en general) em semblen tan genials que jo d'aquesta dona ho llegiré tot.
May 26, 2024
I do like reading translated fiction. This book is translated from the Norwegian by Charlotte Barslund and the audio is read by Kim Bretton.
I listened to the audio of the book and am not sure if it might have been better in print. I found it a rather disturbing read and very redundant but none the less striking.
It is about a mother/daughter relationship and at times obsession. The obsession is on the part of the daughter, the prime narrator and point of view of this novel. She left her home, family and marriage in pursuit of another man and her own art career. Now a successful artist she has returned home to Oslo for an exhibition and perhaps to take up residence. She has been estranged from her family since the time she left, now over 30 years ago. She never came home for her father's funeral and thinks that may have added insult to the original injury to her mother and sister. Her mother now lives alone and the book's narrator starts to observe her and make assumptions about her mother's life based on what she sees. Are those assumptions correct is at the root of this novel. Also can she repair the damage, rejection done by her leaving? Is there anything to salvage and is it what she thinks it is.
The story unfolds very slowly and is largely just a stream of the thoughts of the narrator. I found it redundant and too harsh and mostly depressing. Yet I did find it interesting and hard hitting but I searched mostly for something uplifting and found very little. Even the finally resolution did not lift the mood it put me in. 3 stars
I listened to the audio of the book and am not sure if it might have been better in print. I found it a rather disturbing read and very redundant but none the less striking.
It is about a mother/daughter relationship and at times obsession. The obsession is on the part of the daughter, the prime narrator and point of view of this novel. She left her home, family and marriage in pursuit of another man and her own art career. Now a successful artist she has returned home to Oslo for an exhibition and perhaps to take up residence. She has been estranged from her family since the time she left, now over 30 years ago. She never came home for her father's funeral and thinks that may have added insult to the original injury to her mother and sister. Her mother now lives alone and the book's narrator starts to observe her and make assumptions about her mother's life based on what she sees. Are those assumptions correct is at the root of this novel. Also can she repair the damage, rejection done by her leaving? Is there anything to salvage and is it what she thinks it is.
The story unfolds very slowly and is largely just a stream of the thoughts of the narrator. I found it redundant and too harsh and mostly depressing. Yet I did find it interesting and hard hitting but I searched mostly for something uplifting and found very little. Even the finally resolution did not lift the mood it put me in. 3 stars
March 29, 2021
Jag är en stor beundrare av Vigdis Hjorth. Jag älskade Arv och miljö och kan med glädje meddela att den här är ganska lik både stilistiskt och tematiskt. Det var omöjligt att läsa Är mor död utan att relatera till Arv och miljö och dess efterkommande debatt kring konstnärens ansvar och om en konstutövare får hänga ut sina anhöriga. Den här romanen avhandlar en målare, Johanna, som behandlar barndomen i sina verk, till familjens stora förtret.
Det är alltså modersrelationen som är temat här. Släkten är värst, sägs det. Och det stämmer nog, av den anledningen att man blir inte av med dem. Även om man slutar träffa varandra finns man i varandras medvetande. Som att gå med en sten i skon. Den förälder som matat, tvättat och nattat en – oftast en mamma – betyder mycket kanske i resten av livet, vare sig man vill det eller inte. Det tycks innebära ett stort lidande att ha en icke-relation med sin mamma. Kan en mamma ens dö, eller kommer hon för alltid att vara kvar i ens tankar?
Berättarperspektivet är Johannas och hon gissar sig till vad hennes mor och syster gör, tänker, tycker. Hon har inte träffat sin mamma på 30 år men nu vill Johanna prata med sin mor, till sin systers förtret. Johanna vill ta reda på om hennes minne stämmer med verkligheten. Romanen är en mycket lämplig introduktion till den opålitliga berättaren, lättbegriplig men alls icke banal. Vi följer Johannas tankar, göranden, minnen medan hon försöker komma i kontrakt med sin mor . Det är en långsam berättelse men väldigt spännande, enligt mig. Bilden klarnar sakta och sympatierna böljar fram och tillbaka mellan att vara med mamman och dottern.
Diskussionen om relationen mellan barn och förälder är oerhört intressant tycker jag. En livslång och sund relation mellan förälder och barn kräver ett avancerat samspel, lyhördhet, mycket tålamod, icke-dömande förhållningssätt och förändringsbenägenhet. Mamman kommer från en tidigare generation, har mer erfarenhet och har inledningsvis makt i egenskap av förmyndare. Sen sker en maktförskjutning när barnet blir vuxet. Det vuxna barnet är yngre, starkare och en del av nutidens diskurs. Mamman blir gammal vilket ofta väcker medlidande. Det vuxna barnets frontallob utvecklas vilket ofta ger en bredare förståelse för varför mamman har handlat si eller så. Föräldrar har en livslång förpliktelse mot sina barn, säger man. Men när barnet blir vuxet har väl även det förpliktelser?
”Och om hon [systern] verkligen menar att det är skadligt för mammas psykiska hälsa att jag skriver eller ringer kunde hon ha skrivit att mamma blir helt utom sig så hade det varit ett medgivande om delaktighet och ansvar. Men hon skriver som om mamma bara alltid gjort vad hon kunnat och när allt inte gått bra beror det på tillfälligheter och andras, särskilt mitt, fel.”
Relationen mellan förälder och barn ska också uthärda tonåren och frigörelsen. Hjorth för fram att det är viktigt att brista och bli arg som ett sätt att visa att man bryr sig. Att i stridens hetta visa sig sårbara och nakna inför varandra gör att man kan gå vidare och få en mer jämlik relation.
Ett annat tema som återkommer i Hjorths romaner och som jag älskar är hur konstverk och sanningsanspråk förhåller sig till varandra.
”Verkligheten är ointressant. Sanningen är intressant men svår att greppa och nå. Verkets förhållande till verkligheten är ointressant. Verkets förhållande till sanningen avgörande. Verkets sanningsvärde ligger inte i dess förhållande till den så kallade verkligheten utan i den verkan det har på åskådaren.”
Det är alltså modersrelationen som är temat här. Släkten är värst, sägs det. Och det stämmer nog, av den anledningen att man blir inte av med dem. Även om man slutar träffa varandra finns man i varandras medvetande. Som att gå med en sten i skon. Den förälder som matat, tvättat och nattat en – oftast en mamma – betyder mycket kanske i resten av livet, vare sig man vill det eller inte. Det tycks innebära ett stort lidande att ha en icke-relation med sin mamma. Kan en mamma ens dö, eller kommer hon för alltid att vara kvar i ens tankar?
Berättarperspektivet är Johannas och hon gissar sig till vad hennes mor och syster gör, tänker, tycker. Hon har inte träffat sin mamma på 30 år men nu vill Johanna prata med sin mor, till sin systers förtret. Johanna vill ta reda på om hennes minne stämmer med verkligheten. Romanen är en mycket lämplig introduktion till den opålitliga berättaren, lättbegriplig men alls icke banal. Vi följer Johannas tankar, göranden, minnen medan hon försöker komma i kontrakt med sin mor . Det är en långsam berättelse men väldigt spännande, enligt mig. Bilden klarnar sakta och sympatierna böljar fram och tillbaka mellan att vara med mamman och dottern.
Diskussionen om relationen mellan barn och förälder är oerhört intressant tycker jag. En livslång och sund relation mellan förälder och barn kräver ett avancerat samspel, lyhördhet, mycket tålamod, icke-dömande förhållningssätt och förändringsbenägenhet. Mamman kommer från en tidigare generation, har mer erfarenhet och har inledningsvis makt i egenskap av förmyndare. Sen sker en maktförskjutning när barnet blir vuxet. Det vuxna barnet är yngre, starkare och en del av nutidens diskurs. Mamman blir gammal vilket ofta väcker medlidande. Det vuxna barnets frontallob utvecklas vilket ofta ger en bredare förståelse för varför mamman har handlat si eller så. Föräldrar har en livslång förpliktelse mot sina barn, säger man. Men när barnet blir vuxet har väl även det förpliktelser?
”Och om hon [systern] verkligen menar att det är skadligt för mammas psykiska hälsa att jag skriver eller ringer kunde hon ha skrivit att mamma blir helt utom sig så hade det varit ett medgivande om delaktighet och ansvar. Men hon skriver som om mamma bara alltid gjort vad hon kunnat och när allt inte gått bra beror det på tillfälligheter och andras, särskilt mitt, fel.”
Relationen mellan förälder och barn ska också uthärda tonåren och frigörelsen. Hjorth för fram att det är viktigt att brista och bli arg som ett sätt att visa att man bryr sig. Att i stridens hetta visa sig sårbara och nakna inför varandra gör att man kan gå vidare och få en mer jämlik relation.
Ett annat tema som återkommer i Hjorths romaner och som jag älskar är hur konstverk och sanningsanspråk förhåller sig till varandra.
”Verkligheten är ointressant. Sanningen är intressant men svår att greppa och nå. Verkets förhållande till verkligheten är ointressant. Verkets förhållande till sanningen avgörande. Verkets sanningsvärde ligger inte i dess förhållande till den så kallade verkligheten utan i den verkan det har på åskådaren.”
May 21, 2025
ülkemizde Miras kitabıyla tanınan yazarın Annem Öldü mü ? kitabına daha ilk sayfalarından yükseldiğimi ve beklentilerimi karşıladığını söylemekten büyük keyif alıyorum.
aile içi ilişkiler özellikle baba-kız, baba-oğul ve anne-kız ilişkilerine dair yazılan kitapları özellikle seçerek okuyorum yazar Vigdis Hjorth'da bunlardan biri. İlk romanı Miras ile beni derinden sarsan kalemi bu sefer bir anne-kız ilişkisini sarsıcı ve bir o kadar da yaralayıcı bir şekilde anlatmış.
çocukluğu aşma ve annesiyle yeniden bağ kurma çabaları ile eşinin ölümünden sonra evine dönen bir kadının annesi ile çaprazlamada kalan kırık,dökük hikayesi bu kitap.
aile çatışmalarını çok başka yönlenlerden izleyip, anlatan yazar Vigdis Hjorth yepyeni bir aile travması ile okuyucunun karşısına çıkmaktan korkmuyor ve kaleminden binlerce soru çıkıyor aile ilişkilerine karşı. Peki ama yara açmayan bir annelik, öldürmeyen bir sevgi mümkün mü? ya da gençken çocukluğun ne kadar belirleyici olduğunu bilseydik çocuk sahibi olmak ister miydik ?
aile içi ilişkiler özellikle baba-kız, baba-oğul ve anne-kız ilişkilerine dair yazılan kitapları özellikle seçerek okuyorum yazar Vigdis Hjorth'da bunlardan biri. İlk romanı Miras ile beni derinden sarsan kalemi bu sefer bir anne-kız ilişkisini sarsıcı ve bir o kadar da yaralayıcı bir şekilde anlatmış.
çocukluğu aşma ve annesiyle yeniden bağ kurma çabaları ile eşinin ölümünden sonra evine dönen bir kadının annesi ile çaprazlamada kalan kırık,dökük hikayesi bu kitap.
aile çatışmalarını çok başka yönlenlerden izleyip, anlatan yazar Vigdis Hjorth yepyeni bir aile travması ile okuyucunun karşısına çıkmaktan korkmuyor ve kaleminden binlerce soru çıkıyor aile ilişkilerine karşı. Peki ama yara açmayan bir annelik, öldürmeyen bir sevgi mümkün mü? ya da gençken çocukluğun ne kadar belirleyici olduğunu bilseydik çocuk sahibi olmak ister miydik ?
April 5, 2023
48th book of 2023.
More motherhood from the Booker International. Theme of the year, it seems. Hjorth has written a very suffocating read, an almost Bernhardian torrent from a woman who is estranged from her mother and begins stalking her. An exploration of motherhood, family, art, self-harm, the self. Interestingly enough, like when reading Bernhard, reading this in small bites didn't work. I had some time today (not just today, I've had the whole week off work), to read great chunks of it and the repetitive rambling of the narrator is far more concentrated and powerful when taken in big gulps. It isn't necessarily pleasant to read, but it did impress me. I didn't like the final page, and usually books that have lots of white space like this one don't work because I find them a little gratuitous but I didn't mind Hjorth's usage here. I'm intrigued to see what happens regarding the shortlist as this, Still Born, and Boulder, particularly, are all similar in theme.
Longlist for me so far, best to worse again:
Time Shelter
Is Mother Dead / Still Born
Boulder
Whale
Pyre
A System So Magnificent It Is Blinding
Standing Heavy
More motherhood from the Booker International. Theme of the year, it seems. Hjorth has written a very suffocating read, an almost Bernhardian torrent from a woman who is estranged from her mother and begins stalking her. An exploration of motherhood, family, art, self-harm, the self. Interestingly enough, like when reading Bernhard, reading this in small bites didn't work. I had some time today (not just today, I've had the whole week off work), to read great chunks of it and the repetitive rambling of the narrator is far more concentrated and powerful when taken in big gulps. It isn't necessarily pleasant to read, but it did impress me. I didn't like the final page, and usually books that have lots of white space like this one don't work because I find them a little gratuitous but I didn't mind Hjorth's usage here. I'm intrigued to see what happens regarding the shortlist as this, Still Born, and Boulder, particularly, are all similar in theme.
Longlist for me so far, best to worse again:
Time Shelter
Is Mother Dead / Still Born
Boulder
Whale
Pyre
A System So Magnificent It Is Blinding
Standing Heavy
January 25, 2022
“Se il compito è riconciliarsi con l’irrisolto.”
Lontananza è un romanzo frenetico e intenso che riunisce molti dei temi cari alla Hjorth (l’auto realizzazione, i conflitti nelle relazioni personali, chi ha torto chi ragione, l’impellente bisogno di far sentire la propria voce).
Il romanzo racconta la storia di Johanna, un'artista, una pittrice.
Trent'anni prima dell'inizio della storia, Johanna ha fatto una scelta: si è trasferita negli Stati Uniti per dedicarsi alla sua arte, si è sposata, ha avuto un figlio ed è rimasta vedova
Non parla con sua madre e con il resto della sua famiglia in Norvegia da allora e quella che inizialmente sembrava essere una banale interruzione della continuità dei rapporti, nel tempo si è trasformata in una ferita profonda
Johanna ha fatto delle scelte che l'hanno allontanata dalla famiglia.
Non è diventata moglie di un avvocato come sua madre, e non è diventata una figlia obbediente come la sorella.
Ora che è tornata a Oslo in occasione di una mostra personale, i ricordi ei bisogni dell'infanzia vengono a galla.
La prima cosa che fa è chiamare la madre, pensando che forse il loro rapporto complicato possa essere riparato se lei è disposta a fare il primo passo.
Sua madre però si rifiuta di parlarle, e più resiste, più la curiosità di Johanna si trasforma in un'ossessione che la vede nascondersi tra i cespugli fuori dalla casa materna per spiarla e seguirla.
“passo davanti alla casa che a suo tempo chiamavo mia, nostra. La finestra che un tempo era la nostra finestra ”
Johanna non affronta i problemi in modo razionale, spia, esige, si prefigge obiettivi, fa continui auto esami
E si convince che sua madre non voglia più essere sua madre, o meglio che non abbia mai voluto esserlo
In brevi capitoli mozzafiato raccontati in prima persona, l'intensità emotiva del romanzo aumenta mentre esplora ciò che ci accade quando le relazioni vanno in frantumi, quando si fatica a riconoscere la propria immagine che nel frattempo prende vita propria, diventando quasi più reale nell’ immaginazione.
E Johanne lo riconosce: “Mamma, ti invento a parole”
Sebbene la madre non sia morta, il romanzo è una rappresentazione di come le persone che una volta erano molto vicine, possono diventare fantasmi viventi l'una per l'altra, molto prima della loro morte fisica.
L’amore crea dipendenza e quando il legame più antico e complicato al mondo sperimenta il rifiuto, arrivano il dolore e quella rabbia accecante che porta a un percorso di Infinito e reciproco abbandono
Lontananza è un romanzo frenetico e intenso che riunisce molti dei temi cari alla Hjorth (l’auto realizzazione, i conflitti nelle relazioni personali, chi ha torto chi ragione, l’impellente bisogno di far sentire la propria voce).
Il romanzo racconta la storia di Johanna, un'artista, una pittrice.
Trent'anni prima dell'inizio della storia, Johanna ha fatto una scelta: si è trasferita negli Stati Uniti per dedicarsi alla sua arte, si è sposata, ha avuto un figlio ed è rimasta vedova
Non parla con sua madre e con il resto della sua famiglia in Norvegia da allora e quella che inizialmente sembrava essere una banale interruzione della continuità dei rapporti, nel tempo si è trasformata in una ferita profonda
Johanna ha fatto delle scelte che l'hanno allontanata dalla famiglia.
Non è diventata moglie di un avvocato come sua madre, e non è diventata una figlia obbediente come la sorella.
Ora che è tornata a Oslo in occasione di una mostra personale, i ricordi ei bisogni dell'infanzia vengono a galla.
La prima cosa che fa è chiamare la madre, pensando che forse il loro rapporto complicato possa essere riparato se lei è disposta a fare il primo passo.
Sua madre però si rifiuta di parlarle, e più resiste, più la curiosità di Johanna si trasforma in un'ossessione che la vede nascondersi tra i cespugli fuori dalla casa materna per spiarla e seguirla.
“passo davanti alla casa che a suo tempo chiamavo mia, nostra. La finestra che un tempo era la nostra finestra ”
Johanna non affronta i problemi in modo razionale, spia, esige, si prefigge obiettivi, fa continui auto esami
E si convince che sua madre non voglia più essere sua madre, o meglio che non abbia mai voluto esserlo
In brevi capitoli mozzafiato raccontati in prima persona, l'intensità emotiva del romanzo aumenta mentre esplora ciò che ci accade quando le relazioni vanno in frantumi, quando si fatica a riconoscere la propria immagine che nel frattempo prende vita propria, diventando quasi più reale nell’ immaginazione.
E Johanne lo riconosce: “Mamma, ti invento a parole”
Sebbene la madre non sia morta, il romanzo è una rappresentazione di come le persone che una volta erano molto vicine, possono diventare fantasmi viventi l'una per l'altra, molto prima della loro morte fisica.
L’amore crea dipendenza e quando il legame più antico e complicato al mondo sperimenta il rifiuto, arrivano il dolore e quella rabbia accecante che porta a un percorso di Infinito e reciproco abbandono
May 13, 2025
Vigdis Hjorth'un Miras romanından aşina olduğumuz sorunlu anne-kız ilişkisine Annem Öldü Mü? romanında bir kez daha bakıyoruz. Bu kez hukuk fakültesinde okurken, evliliğini ve her şeyi geride bırakıp tutkularının izinden giden bir kadın anlatıcımız var. Babasının cenazesine gitmemesiyle birlikte, kopan anne kız, kız kardeş bağlarını onun bakış açısından dinliyoruz. Sık sık geçmişe, çocukluğuna gidiyor, bu ilişkinin dinamiklerini, kırık ve zayıf köklerini yazarla birlikte fark ediyoruz.
Kadın okurlar yaşadıkları empati sebebiyle biraz zorlanacaktır diye düşünüyorum. Çünkü az çok hepimizin aşina olduğu sular bence bunlar. Aklıma hep Autumn Sonata filmindeki şu replik geldi: Kızının felaketi annenin zaferi midir? Benim kederim senin saklı zevkin mi?
Anlatıcı Johanna da tıpkı o filmdeki Eva gibi bunu sorguluyor. Annesini aramak, onunla konuşmak ve yüzleşmek istiyor ama nafile...Gerçek hayatta da Miras romanından sonra anne ve kız kardeşiyle küs olan Hjort'un birazcık tekrara düştüğünü düşünüyor muyum, evet. Ama bu kitabı hüzünle okumama engel olmadı diyebilirim.
Şu alıntıları da ekleyerek bitireyim:
''Anneyle oğul ve anneyle kız arasındaki ilişki farklı çünkü, anne, kız çocuğunun gelecekteki kendini, kız çocuğuysa annenin kaybettiği benliğini gördüğü bir aynadır.''
''...hepimiz annelerimizi içimizde bir delik gibi taşırız, büyük ya da küçük, ölü ya da diri, işte bu yüzden yaşayabilmek için bu delikleri doldurmaya çalışırız ya da annelerimizi reddederiz ama o zaman da-becerebildiğimizi düşündüğümüzde-özgürleşmenin suçluluğuyla yaşamak zorunda kalırız.''
Kadın okurlar yaşadıkları empati sebebiyle biraz zorlanacaktır diye düşünüyorum. Çünkü az çok hepimizin aşina olduğu sular bence bunlar. Aklıma hep Autumn Sonata filmindeki şu replik geldi: Kızının felaketi annenin zaferi midir? Benim kederim senin saklı zevkin mi?
Anlatıcı Johanna da tıpkı o filmdeki Eva gibi bunu sorguluyor. Annesini aramak, onunla konuşmak ve yüzleşmek istiyor ama nafile...Gerçek hayatta da Miras romanından sonra anne ve kız kardeşiyle küs olan Hjort'un birazcık tekrara düştüğünü düşünüyor muyum, evet. Ama bu kitabı hüzünle okumama engel olmadı diyebilirim.
Şu alıntıları da ekleyerek bitireyim:
''Anneyle oğul ve anneyle kız arasındaki ilişki farklı çünkü, anne, kız çocuğunun gelecekteki kendini, kız çocuğuysa annenin kaybettiği benliğini gördüğü bir aynadır.''
''...hepimiz annelerimizi içimizde bir delik gibi taşırız, büyük ya da küçük, ölü ya da diri, işte bu yüzden yaşayabilmek için bu delikleri doldurmaya çalışırız ya da annelerimizi reddederiz ama o zaman da-becerebildiğimizi düşündüğümüzde-özgürleşmenin suçluluğuyla yaşamak zorunda kalırız.''
May 19, 2025
Hani aşı olursunuz da evvelâ hiçbir acı hissetmezsiniz, sonra: arkadaşlarınızla dalga geçersiniz acıya dayanıklı olmakla övünürsünüz gövde gösterisi yaparsınız kasıla kasıla yürürsünüz kolunuzun acımadığını kanıtlamak istercesine bir şeyler taşırsınız vb vb - işte bu roman bana bunu yaptı. Okudum, bitti. Hiç acımadı. sonra durdu durdu ve vurdu. sonradan vuran aşı ağrısı ve şişen kol gibi hissettirdi. Vigdis Hjorth'un yazını böyle, önce bir şey olmamış gibi basit cümle ve pasajları okursunuz, amaan bu da ne dersiniz, sonra BAAAAM! - beklemediğiniz anda sol kroşe!
Anne mevzuu içimde kapanmayan bir dert,, hayır yara değil. Bu sebeple Johanna'yı çok iyi anlıyorum. Kolundaki jilet izini, doğurduğunun kalbine işleyen anneler var yeryüzünde ve çocuğun onu sevme zorunluluğunu gölgeleyen bir iz bu. siyah kan akıyor böyle yaraların irininden. Miras'taki Bergldot'un annesi gibi burada da başka bir anne var. Bu başka anneler, kötü insanlar anlamına gelmiyor, salt başka'lar. Olabilir. Ne fark eder ki? spagetti yemek özgün bir şey değil nihayetinde.
çok beğendim. damağımda kuru bir is lekesi bıraktı. bir süre daha taşırım gibi. hayırlısı.
Anne mevzuu içimde kapanmayan bir dert,, hayır yara değil. Bu sebeple Johanna'yı çok iyi anlıyorum. Kolundaki jilet izini, doğurduğunun kalbine işleyen anneler var yeryüzünde ve çocuğun onu sevme zorunluluğunu gölgeleyen bir iz bu. siyah kan akıyor böyle yaraların irininden. Miras'taki Bergldot'un annesi gibi burada da başka bir anne var. Bu başka anneler, kötü insanlar anlamına gelmiyor, salt başka'lar. Olabilir. Ne fark eder ki? spagetti yemek özgün bir şey değil nihayetinde.
çok beğendim. damağımda kuru bir is lekesi bıraktı. bir süre daha taşırım gibi. hayırlısı.
May 20, 2025
Miras romanını okuduktan sonra radarıma giren bir yazar Vigdis Hjorth. O kitabında da durağan bir metnin nasıl ilgi çekici yazılacağını göstermişti yazar bize. Daha sonra yayınlanan Postane Günlükleri beklediğimi, daha doğrusu yazardan alıştığımı bana veremedi ama Annem Öldü mü yine çok güzel yazılmış bir kitap. Anne ve kızı arasındaki hesaplaşmalar, mutsuzluklar, çocukluk travmaları yine bana biraz Miras'ı hatırlattı. Okuması gayet rahat, elinize alınca da kendini okutuyor. Vakit bulamadığım için bir süre elimde kaldı ama güzel bir okumaydı.
January 4, 2024
Henkilökohtainen, puistattava, mykistävä ja murheellinen. Sellainen oli lukuvuoteni 2024 ensimmäinen kirja.
Kun taidemaalari Johanna alkoi tulkita maalaustensa universaaleja ilmiöitä, aloin tajuta, että myös Onko äiti kuollut on tulkinta äitiydestä - ei vain autiofiktion oloista tekstiä yhden naisen äitisuhteesta. Siinä kohti ymmärsin tekstin uudella tavalla ja todenteolla se kosketti.
Meillä jokaisella on kokemusta hänestä. Äidistä. Vaikka kirjallisuudessa äidit ovat usein näkymättömiä, he ovat aina läsnä, koska ketään meistä ei ole olemassa ilman äitejä.
Jotkut meistä ovat äitejä itsekin. Heidän pitäisi tietää jotain ylisukupolvisista teoista ja omista valinnan mahdollisuuksista. Heidän pitäisi osata valita paremmin.
Kun luet kirjan ymmärrät, miten rankka tämä aihevalinta on.
Hjort kirjoittaa kuin kuningatar. Samaan voi joku yltää, mutta siitä on vaikea parantaa.
Rakastin kehäkerrontaa ja tekstin hiottua lyyrisyyttä. Rakastin toistuvia teemoja ja rytminvaihdoksia. Arvostin kykyä asettua myös muiden asemaan ja sitä rehellisyyttä, jolla tytär raportoi omat virheensä ja myötähäpeän hetket.
KUN PIIRSIN, PÄÄSIN POIS siitä mikä olin, vai miten sen sanoisi, äidistä ehkä.
Onko äiti kuollut ei ole kirja, jonka voi lukea kevein mielin. Se on raskas ja merkityksiä täynnä. Se on kirja, jonka varmasti muistaa lukeneensa.
Kun taidemaalari Johanna alkoi tulkita maalaustensa universaaleja ilmiöitä, aloin tajuta, että myös Onko äiti kuollut on tulkinta äitiydestä - ei vain autiofiktion oloista tekstiä yhden naisen äitisuhteesta. Siinä kohti ymmärsin tekstin uudella tavalla ja todenteolla se kosketti.
Meillä jokaisella on kokemusta hänestä. Äidistä. Vaikka kirjallisuudessa äidit ovat usein näkymättömiä, he ovat aina läsnä, koska ketään meistä ei ole olemassa ilman äitejä.
Jotkut meistä ovat äitejä itsekin. Heidän pitäisi tietää jotain ylisukupolvisista teoista ja omista valinnan mahdollisuuksista. Heidän pitäisi osata valita paremmin.
Kun luet kirjan ymmärrät, miten rankka tämä aihevalinta on.
Hjort kirjoittaa kuin kuningatar. Samaan voi joku yltää, mutta siitä on vaikea parantaa.
Rakastin kehäkerrontaa ja tekstin hiottua lyyrisyyttä. Rakastin toistuvia teemoja ja rytminvaihdoksia. Arvostin kykyä asettua myös muiden asemaan ja sitä rehellisyyttä, jolla tytär raportoi omat virheensä ja myötähäpeän hetket.
KUN PIIRSIN, PÄÄSIN POIS siitä mikä olin, vai miten sen sanoisi, äidistä ehkä.
Onko äiti kuollut ei ole kirja, jonka voi lukea kevein mielin. Se on raskas ja merkityksiä täynnä. Se on kirja, jonka varmasti muistaa lukeneensa.
February 2, 2022
iako se i njen prijašnji roman "nasljedstvo" bazira na poremećenim obiteljskim odnosima, u "je li majka umrla?" bavi se isključivo odnosom s majkom, i, preko majke, sa sestrom. s obzirom da je "nasljedstvo" polu autobiografski roman, nema razloga da ne vjerujem da i ovim djelom pokušava zacijeliti bolan, tragičan odnos s majkom.
ukoliko voliš romane s jakom psihološkom studijom i tokom svijesti, koji su koncentrirani na dva-tri lika, bez celofana i ružica od marcipana -a pogotovo ako imaš neriješene odnose s vlastitom mater- onda bi ti se ovo moglo dopasti.
mimo svega, vigdis hjorth ima jak, osebujan stil: piše jednostavnim, ali udarnim rečenicama, gotovo kao da snažnim zamasima baca šakom boju na papir. tek povremeno si dopusti koju poetičnu, nježnu sliku, direktna je u iskazivanju emocija i jasna u tijeku svojih misli, vrlo svjesna i promišljena u onome što proživljava. teme kojih se prima nisu lake, možda na prvi pogled djeluju kao "iznošenje prljavog rublja", ali s obzirom na proživljene traume, nije neobično da su zamasi njenog pera poput britve - njen način pomirbe sa svijetom i sa sobom.
ukoliko voliš romane s jakom psihološkom studijom i tokom svijesti, koji su koncentrirani na dva-tri lika, bez celofana i ružica od marcipana -a pogotovo ako imaš neriješene odnose s vlastitom mater- onda bi ti se ovo moglo dopasti.
mimo svega, vigdis hjorth ima jak, osebujan stil: piše jednostavnim, ali udarnim rečenicama, gotovo kao da snažnim zamasima baca šakom boju na papir. tek povremeno si dopusti koju poetičnu, nježnu sliku, direktna je u iskazivanju emocija i jasna u tijeku svojih misli, vrlo svjesna i promišljena u onome što proživljava. teme kojih se prima nisu lake, možda na prvi pogled djeluju kao "iznošenje prljavog rublja", ali s obzirom na proživljene traume, nije neobično da su zamasi njenog pera poput britve - njen način pomirbe sa svijetom i sa sobom.
May 9, 2025
Çoğunluk gibi ben de yazarı çok severek okuduğum "Miras" ile tanıdım, ikinci kitabı "Postane Günlükleri"ni de bu hevesle aldım ama o biraz hayal kırıklığı oldu. Yılmadım "Annem Öldü Mü?"yü ön siparişle temin ettim ve bingo, çok iyiydi. Anneler ve kızları, hiç bitmeyen bir hesaplaşma, en sevilen anneyle bile. Kitapta Johanna da yeni evli bir hukuk öğrencisiyken tanıştığı Mark'ın ardından hem ailesini, hem ülkesini terk ederek Amerika'ya gider, hatta kaçar. Aileyle ilişkileri yazışmalar yoluyla birkaç yıl kırık dökük sürse de babasının cenazesine katılmaması kopuşu kesinleştirir. Yıllar sonra terk ettiği ülkesine eşi ölmüş, torun sahibi bir ressam olarak döndüğünde ise annesi ile iç hesaplaşmaları başlar. Bu kitabı okuyan, bilhassa kadınlar kendilerinden çok şey bulacaklar eminim.
December 27, 2023
Die von ihrer Familie entfremdete Protagonistin versucht, wieder Anschluss zu finden und wirbelt lange Vergessenes (bzw. Verschwiegenes) wieder auf - das gefällt nicht allen Beteiligten: Eine mitreißende und psychologisch sehr anspruchsvoll konstruierte Aufarbeitung einer Mutter-Tochter- bzw. Familiengeschichte, die (aufgrund starker autofiktionaler Züge) bei der Veröffentlichung für ordentlich Wirbel in Norwegen gesorgt hat.
Mehr zum Buch in unserer ausführlichen Besprechung @ Papierstau Podcast: Folge 256: International Booker Prize 2023
Mehr zum Buch in unserer ausführlichen Besprechung @ Papierstau Podcast: Folge 256: International Booker Prize 2023
January 6, 2021
Much too long-winded, the book primarily consists of the main character's speculations, it becomes tedious in the long run
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