Having the previous 4 novels in this series, they are becoming a bit repetitive, but fascinating none the less. Can't wait for the last to come out to see how he wraps things up. ( )

Ein weiterer hervorragender Band aus Knausgårds autobiographischem Projekt.
Diesmal befinden wir uns im jungen Erwachsenenalter. Es geht um seine Zeit in Bergen, zu Beginn belegt er voller Hoffnungen die Autoren-Akademie. Zunächst geht es immer mehr bergab, Knausgård bekommt keine tauglichen Texte zustande, verliert sich in regelmäßigen Vollräuschen und wird seinen Freundinnen nicht gerecht.
Auch, als er endlich den ersehnten Erfolg als Schriftsteller findet, wird es nicht wesentlich besser, und zum Schluss flieht er vor der eigentlich als wundervoll beschriebenen Beziehung zu seiner Frau nach Stockholm.
Knausgård gelingt es, eine ungeheure Nähe zum Ich-Erzähler aufzubauen. Er kann das so gut, dass bei mir sogar eine Illusion von mehr Überschneidungen zu meinem eigenen Charakter entstand, als tatsächlich vorhanden sind: Der erste Eindruck, als ich das Buch beendet hatte, war, er hätte, zumindest grob, eigentlich mein Leben beschrieben. Bei näherer Betrachtung wurde klar, dass das kompletter Unsinn ist; auch wenn es Schnittmengen gibt, sind sie doch eigentlich nicht besonders groß.
Das zeigt, wie sehr es Knausgård (und Berf) gelungen ist, mich mitzureißen, mich dazu zu bringen, all das auf mich zu beziehen, einzutauchen in die Welt des Autors.
Ein ungeheures Talent. Karl Ove Knausgård ist für mich ganz klar einer der besten Autoren unserer Zeit. ( )

4 ( )

This volume focuses on Knausgaard's student years and his years trying to become established as a writer. We read of his time at university, his various love affairs, meeting and marrying his first wife, all in the midst of mammoth drinking bouts and occasional violent outbreaks. As a detailed exposition of a young man acting out, it frequently did not interest me, I will admit, although as in the other volumes the writing is excellent. It took me ages to read, and I frequently set it aside for long periods of time (which I don't often do with books I read), so it may have suffered due to period neglect. It ends where volume one started, with the death of his father. I'll be interested to see what he tackles in volume 6.

3 stars ( )

Airport literature for high-brows, and sometimes that's what you want. I enjoyed this one more than the first four, which is not to say it's better, but on the other hand, it's airport literature, so perhaps that is precisely to say it's better, but better for me. Four stars for how much I enjoyed it then, and two for quality. Basically, I'd much rather read about young KOK's days at university, hanging out with Jon Fosse and talking about Tor Ulven than another 80000000 pages about how his father wasn't the nicest guy, and the father's absence from this volume made that possible.

Is there any literary merit to this volume? Not really. Some striking scenes, but it's mostly kitsch. It's also impressive that he can remember any of this stuff, given how much booze and drugs he claims to have been taking. Which is a snide way of saying he must be making some of it up, or have written it down, or something.

But KOK is as good as anyone I've ever read on the bizarre experience of becoming an intellectual. On the one hand, you're pumped up with your own self-importance, because you're reading (e.g.,) Foucault while listening to Cecil Taylor and those around you aren't, but you're also terrified, because that's your first real jazz album and your first book of philosophy and what happens if that's not really the cool thing anymore, the cool thing now is to read Deleuze while listening to John Zorn? This volume lays out that to-and-fro between overwhelming self-importance and overwhelming self-doubt with almost Tolstoyan brilliance. ( )