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The History of Bestiality Trilogy #1–3
Bestialitetens historie: Frihetens øyeblikk / Kruttårnet / Stillheten
Bestialitetens historie regnes av mange som hovedverket til Jens Bjørneboe. Gjennom tre frittstående, men tematisk beslektede romaner gjør Bjørneboe nærgående studier av menneskets ulvenatur.
Denne ukonvensjonelle og sydende sterke romantrilogien er her samlet i ett bind. Vi følger en rettstjener og hans notater fra et oppsiktsvekkende omstreiferliv i Frihetens øyeblikk, videre en historisk gjennomgang av den hvite manns ødeleggelser i Kruttårnet, og til slutt får vi lese nedtegnelsene til "protokollføreren", som registrerer den ondskap som har fulgt menneskeheten inn i vår egen tid i Stillheten.
Denne ukonvensjonelle og sydende sterke romantrilogien er her samlet i ett bind. Vi følger en rettstjener og hans notater fra et oppsiktsvekkende omstreiferliv i Frihetens øyeblikk, videre en historisk gjennomgang av den hvite manns ødeleggelser i Kruttårnet, og til slutt får vi lese nedtegnelsene til "protokollføreren", som registrerer den ondskap som har fulgt menneskeheten inn i vår egen tid i Stillheten.
528 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1966
35 people are currently reading
761 people want to read
About the author
Jens Bjørneboe
63 books184 followersJens Ingvald Bjørneboe was a Norwegian writer whose work spanned a number of literary formats. He was also a painter and a waldorf school teacher. Bjørneboe was a harsh and eloquent critic of Norwegian society and Western civilization on the whole. He led a turbulent life and his uncompromising humanity would cost him both an obscenity conviction as well as long periods of heavy drinking and bouts of depression, which in the end led to his suicide.
Jens Bjørneboe's first published work was Poems (Dikt) in 1951. He is widely considered to be one of Norway's most important post-war authors. Bjørneboe identified himself, among other self-definitions, as an anarcho-nihilist.
During the Norwegian language struggle, Bjørneboe was a notable proponent of the Riksmål language, together with his equally famous cousin André Bjerke.
Jens Bjørneboe was born in 1920, in Kristiansand to Ingvald and Anna Marie Bjørneboe. He grew up in a wealthy family, his father a shipping magnate and a consul for Belgium. The Bjørneboe family originally immigrated from Germany in the 17th century and later adopted their Norwegian name. Coming from a long line of marine officers, Bjørneboe also went to sea as a young man.
Bjørneboe had a troubled childhood with sickness and depressions. He was bedbound for several years following severe pneumonia. At thirteen he attempted suicide by hanging himself. He began drinking when he was twelve, and he would often consume large amounts of wine when his parents were away. It is also rumored that he drank his father's aftershave on several occasions.
In 1943 Bjørneboe fled to Sweden to avoid forced labor under the Nazi occupation. During this exile, he met the German Jewish painter Lisel Funk, who later became his first wife. Lisel Funk introduced him to many aspects of German culture, especially German literature and the arts.
Bjørneboe's early work was poetry, and his first book was Poems (Dikt, 1951), consisting mainly of deeply religious poetry.
Bjørneboe wrote a number of socially critical novels. Among those were Ere the Cock Crows (Før Hanen Galer, 1952), Jonas (1955) and The Evil Shepherd (Den Onde Hyrde, 1960). Ere the Cock Crows is a critique of what Bjørneboe saw as the harsh treatment, after the Second World War, of people suspected of having associated in any way with the Nazis (among them the Norwegian writer and Nobel Prize in Literature winner Knut Hamsun). Jonas deals with injustices and shortcomings of the school system and The Evil Shepherd with the Norwegian prison system.
His most significant work is generally considered to be the trilogy The History of Bestiality, consisting of the novels Moment of Freedom (Frihetens Øyeblikk, 1966), Powderhouse (Kruttårnet, 1969) and The Silence (Stillheten, 1973).
Bjørneboe also wrote a number of plays, among them The Bird Lovers (Fugleelskerne, 1966), Semmelweis (1968) and Amputation (Amputasjon, 1970), a collaboration with Eugenio Barba and the Danish theatre ensemble Odin Teatret.
In 1967, he was convicted for publishing a novel deemed pornographic, Without a Stitch (Uten en tråd, 1966), which was confiscated and banned in Norway. The trial, however, made the book a huge success in foreign editions, and Bjørneboe's financial problems were (for a period) solved.
His last major work was the novel The Sharks (Haiene, 1974).
After having struggled with depression and alcoholism for a long time, he committed suicide by hanging on May 9, 1976.[2]
In his obituary in Aftenposten, Bjørneboe's life and legacy were described as follows:
"For 25 years Jens Bjørneboe was a center of unrest in Norwegian cultural life: Passionately concerned with contemporary problems in nearly all their aspects, controversial and with the courage to be so, with a conscious will to carry things to extremes. He was not to be pigeonholed. "
Jens Bjørneboe's first published work was Poems (Dikt) in 1951. He is widely considered to be one of Norway's most important post-war authors. Bjørneboe identified himself, among other self-definitions, as an anarcho-nihilist.
During the Norwegian language struggle, Bjørneboe was a notable proponent of the Riksmål language, together with his equally famous cousin André Bjerke.
Jens Bjørneboe was born in 1920, in Kristiansand to Ingvald and Anna Marie Bjørneboe. He grew up in a wealthy family, his father a shipping magnate and a consul for Belgium. The Bjørneboe family originally immigrated from Germany in the 17th century and later adopted their Norwegian name. Coming from a long line of marine officers, Bjørneboe also went to sea as a young man.
Bjørneboe had a troubled childhood with sickness and depressions. He was bedbound for several years following severe pneumonia. At thirteen he attempted suicide by hanging himself. He began drinking when he was twelve, and he would often consume large amounts of wine when his parents were away. It is also rumored that he drank his father's aftershave on several occasions.
In 1943 Bjørneboe fled to Sweden to avoid forced labor under the Nazi occupation. During this exile, he met the German Jewish painter Lisel Funk, who later became his first wife. Lisel Funk introduced him to many aspects of German culture, especially German literature and the arts.
Bjørneboe's early work was poetry, and his first book was Poems (Dikt, 1951), consisting mainly of deeply religious poetry.
Bjørneboe wrote a number of socially critical novels. Among those were Ere the Cock Crows (Før Hanen Galer, 1952), Jonas (1955) and The Evil Shepherd (Den Onde Hyrde, 1960). Ere the Cock Crows is a critique of what Bjørneboe saw as the harsh treatment, after the Second World War, of people suspected of having associated in any way with the Nazis (among them the Norwegian writer and Nobel Prize in Literature winner Knut Hamsun). Jonas deals with injustices and shortcomings of the school system and The Evil Shepherd with the Norwegian prison system.
His most significant work is generally considered to be the trilogy The History of Bestiality, consisting of the novels Moment of Freedom (Frihetens Øyeblikk, 1966), Powderhouse (Kruttårnet, 1969) and The Silence (Stillheten, 1973).
Bjørneboe also wrote a number of plays, among them The Bird Lovers (Fugleelskerne, 1966), Semmelweis (1968) and Amputation (Amputasjon, 1970), a collaboration with Eugenio Barba and the Danish theatre ensemble Odin Teatret.
In 1967, he was convicted for publishing a novel deemed pornographic, Without a Stitch (Uten en tråd, 1966), which was confiscated and banned in Norway. The trial, however, made the book a huge success in foreign editions, and Bjørneboe's financial problems were (for a period) solved.
His last major work was the novel The Sharks (Haiene, 1974).
After having struggled with depression and alcoholism for a long time, he committed suicide by hanging on May 9, 1976.[2]
In his obituary in Aftenposten, Bjørneboe's life and legacy were described as follows:
"For 25 years Jens Bjørneboe was a center of unrest in Norwegian cultural life: Passionately concerned with contemporary problems in nearly all their aspects, controversial and with the courage to be so, with a conscious will to carry things to extremes. He was not to be pigeonholed. "
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Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews
December 11, 2014
This book is not a novel, and it is not an autobiography, and it is certainly not a responsible work of history, sociology or anthropology. It is, more than anything else, a meeting with the author, a Norwegian who has spent his life wandering the world collecting information for his masterpiece, the History of Bestiality. He sometimes calls himself Johannes, and sometimes Jean, or Giovanni, or Ivan; he is evidently very far from sane, and he usually has a glass of wine in his hand. After a while, I began to imagine the surroundings. We are sitting in a large room in an establishment which might be a psychiatric hospital, but is more likely a rather downmarket brothel. As we talk, people wander in and out. Sometimes, they join in the conversation for a while; my host asks them to read passages in their native languages, while he nods encouragingly. Many of them are attractive young women, who look at him (never at me) with melting eyes.
Sometimes I think Johannes hates humanity, and sometimes I think he loves it too much. He refers to his fellow human beings by a variety of pet names; he calls them his small bears, or his lemurs, or his wolves. He launches into long, fantastically detailed stories about the Nazi doctors, the witch-hunts of the early 17th century, the conquests of the Aztec and Inca empires, the Vietnam war. He has a ferocious and unforgiving hatred of the Americans, the Russians, the Germans, the Spaniards, the Portuguese, the Italians and the Catholic and Protestant churches. He cannot mention Lenin or Saint Paul without spitting, but he loves Marx and Jesus. He keeps changing his mind about Robespierre.
He says that Hitler might have been a good thing for the Europeans; they finally had a chance to learn what it was like to be on the receiving end. But then he shakes his head and says it’s probably too difficult for them to understand.
He describes how men have raped and tortured women in the name of religious and political ideals. He is extremely specific, and presents long lists of the dreadful things that they have done; after a while, he is so agitated that he can hardly speak. When this happens, the girl nearest him touches his hand for a moment, or smooths his thinning hair, and after a while he can go on.
He complains bitterly that the universe has no meaning. He makes frequent reference to the burning heat at the center of the Earth and the absolute cold of space. He says there is life only here, in this tiny zone precariously wedged between the two extremes, and that we have turned our fragile little abode into a torture chamber.
He talks for several hours. In the end, he is too exhausted and overwrought to continue. He collapses on to his bed and lies there, half reclining, momentarily unable to speak. One of the girls, the one who appears to be his favorite, brings him a jar of pills. He helps himself to a handful and washes them down with more wine.
“I have done what I could,” he says, in an unexpectedly clear voice. “Now it is up to you. Nunc dimittis; suffer thy servant to depart in peace.”
I leave. No one looks at me; they can only see him.
Sometimes I think Johannes hates humanity, and sometimes I think he loves it too much. He refers to his fellow human beings by a variety of pet names; he calls them his small bears, or his lemurs, or his wolves. He launches into long, fantastically detailed stories about the Nazi doctors, the witch-hunts of the early 17th century, the conquests of the Aztec and Inca empires, the Vietnam war. He has a ferocious and unforgiving hatred of the Americans, the Russians, the Germans, the Spaniards, the Portuguese, the Italians and the Catholic and Protestant churches. He cannot mention Lenin or Saint Paul without spitting, but he loves Marx and Jesus. He keeps changing his mind about Robespierre.
He says that Hitler might have been a good thing for the Europeans; they finally had a chance to learn what it was like to be on the receiving end. But then he shakes his head and says it’s probably too difficult for them to understand.
He describes how men have raped and tortured women in the name of religious and political ideals. He is extremely specific, and presents long lists of the dreadful things that they have done; after a while, he is so agitated that he can hardly speak. When this happens, the girl nearest him touches his hand for a moment, or smooths his thinning hair, and after a while he can go on.
He complains bitterly that the universe has no meaning. He makes frequent reference to the burning heat at the center of the Earth and the absolute cold of space. He says there is life only here, in this tiny zone precariously wedged between the two extremes, and that we have turned our fragile little abode into a torture chamber.
He talks for several hours. In the end, he is too exhausted and overwrought to continue. He collapses on to his bed and lies there, half reclining, momentarily unable to speak. One of the girls, the one who appears to be his favorite, brings him a jar of pills. He helps himself to a handful and washes them down with more wine.
“I have done what I could,” he says, in an unexpectedly clear voice. “Now it is up to you. Nunc dimittis; suffer thy servant to depart in peace.”
I leave. No one looks at me; they can only see him.
February 3, 2013
Visste ikke hva jeg gikk til. Har aldri sett verden på samme måte siden.
September 13, 2018
Den type bok en får lyst å lese om igjen...
En følelse av fullstendig skyld for å være en tilskuer av grusomme elendigheter som skjer rundt om i verden. Tårer av latter som er laget av skyld og skam. Helt utrolig.
Romanen starter med at vi får høre om en jeg-person, som har glemt navnet sitt noe han ikke husker igjennom hele romanen. Han er 46 år og mørkhudet. Han jobber som rettstjener og grunnen til det er at han ville prøve å venne seg til urett for slik og takle den bedre. Som han selv sier har han utviklet en egen evne til å tåle ikke bare egen, men også andres urett. Jeg-personen skriver til seg selv i romanen og vi blir sendt fra en hard onsdkapsfull virkelighet til en annen.
Et øyeblikk av frihet oppstår i det siste stadium av fremmedgjørelse, det å bli seg selv uvedkommende: å vurdere ''all'' ting når du kjenner til ''alle'' sannheter. Friheten er ikke noe man får, det er noe man tar uten å spørre seg selv om det er riktig, moralsk, godt eller skadelig. Jeg tar meg friheten.
En følelse av fullstendig skyld for å være en tilskuer av grusomme elendigheter som skjer rundt om i verden. Tårer av latter som er laget av skyld og skam. Helt utrolig.
Romanen starter med at vi får høre om en jeg-person, som har glemt navnet sitt noe han ikke husker igjennom hele romanen. Han er 46 år og mørkhudet. Han jobber som rettstjener og grunnen til det er at han ville prøve å venne seg til urett for slik og takle den bedre. Som han selv sier har han utviklet en egen evne til å tåle ikke bare egen, men også andres urett. Jeg-personen skriver til seg selv i romanen og vi blir sendt fra en hard onsdkapsfull virkelighet til en annen.
Et øyeblikk av frihet oppstår i det siste stadium av fremmedgjørelse, det å bli seg selv uvedkommende: å vurdere ''all'' ting når du kjenner til ''alle'' sannheter. Friheten er ikke noe man får, det er noe man tar uten å spørre seg selv om det er riktig, moralsk, godt eller skadelig. Jeg tar meg friheten.
September 21, 2012
Få forfattere tar ett så grundig oppgjør med ekstreme ideologier, og det mørke i menneskesinnet som Bjørneboe, og enda færre gjør det like gjennomført.
January 23, 2024
Bare i etterpåklokskap ser man det åpenbare.
«Jeg skriver dette under den store stillhet, stillheten før orkanen»
«Jeg skriver dette under den store stillhet, stillheten før orkanen»
April 19, 2025
En ren skam at dette verket ikke er mer kjent og lest i dag. Hadde aldri hørt om det, før min far anbefalte det til meg. Dette blir og vil være min favoritt bok, aldri har et kunstverk endret synet mitt på menneskeheten mer drastisk enn dette.
December 3, 2019
Sikkert bra i de gode gamle dager. Men det blir litt mye digresjoner, lange og dype dykk som ender i ingenting... Men for all del, mye bra også.
December 20, 2019
Very dark stuff
June 17, 2023
Some of my favorite books – especially the second, Powderhouse. Bjørneboe is like Dostoevsky but in a godless world; or like Sebald but with humor and the occasional touch of lightness.
August 26, 2023
Altså! Så grusomt at det er morsomt. Whoopsie
July 28, 2025
noen veldig bra deler, men litt repetitiv
June 19, 2013
misantropiens testamente
March 27, 2017
Strong recommendation to everyone with some reading stamina.
These books document all the evil doings of the mankind through the history of time, from several different angles. This could be a tough read were it not for the humor attributed to the language - a sarcastic or ironic distance to the described happenings is kept through all the stories presented.
Writing the book took its toll on the author. He successfully managed to commit suicide after several failed attempts, not too long after finishing the masterpiece.
These books document all the evil doings of the mankind through the history of time, from several different angles. This could be a tough read were it not for the humor attributed to the language - a sarcastic or ironic distance to the described happenings is kept through all the stories presented.
Writing the book took its toll on the author. He successfully managed to commit suicide after several failed attempts, not too long after finishing the masterpiece.
Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews