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Bjørndal-folket #3
Niet inej cesty
Roman iz života u Norveškoj od 1816. - 1830. s prekrasnim opisima prirode
197 pages, Unknown Binding
First published January 1, 1935
About the author
Trygve Gulbranssen
39 books51 followersTrygve Gulbranssen (1894-1962) er i dag mest kjent som mannen bak romanverket «Og bakom synger skogene», «Det blåser fra Dauingfjell» og «Ingen vei går utenom»; senere kalt «Bjørndaltrilogien» Han oppnådde med fortellingene sine å nå ut til mennesker over store deler av verden; uavhengig av alder, nasjonalitet og stand.
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Displaying 1 - 23 of 23 reviews
March 26, 2017
Ik las deze trilogie voor het eerst als prille tiener, en de indruk was blijvend. Ik droomde wekenlang van de Noorse bossen en weende toen de oude Dag stierf. Het is nu niet anders. Alhoewel het geloofsthema serieus gedateerd is, blijft het verhaal nog altijd even sterk overeind. Misschien lees ik het hele werk nóg een keer, als ik echt oud ben.
September 21, 2019
The latter two books of the trilogy that chronicles Dag Bjørndal’s life; a tale about the difficulties associated with the regrets and reparations of a misspent existence.
Det blåser fra Dauingfjell (literal translation: The Wind Blows from Death Mountain; actual translation: The Wind from the Mountains¹) and Ingen vei går utenom (literal translation: No Road Goes Aside²) are both just shy of two hundred pages each, which makes them easy to bundle together in a single binding, and so they often have been.³ These books also belong together as far as the life and times of the protagonist is concerned. Notice for instance what the titles say about what path his life has taken: From the title of the second book, notice the mountain of death and how it blows its cold winds where the forests once sung – the title of the first book, Og bakom synger skogene, translates to And Behind Sing the Forests – which tells the reader that a change has occurred in Dag Bjørndal’s life. Where life, or nature, if you will, once held the primary influence over his life, now he looks towards the end of life in search of guidance. The title of the third book says nothing of songs or winds; the final influence on Dag is one that comes from within, fuelled by the realization that any and all paths a human life may take can only lead to a single beyond; Dag is a devout Lutheran, and his thoughts now centre around the question of how God might see him in light of the life he has lived. In the last two books Dag tries to salvage himself and those around him from the wrongs he has done. But ascertaining what is just and right turns out to be a difficult undertaking, they are foggy truths and it is only by those around him that Dag is finally able to see any contours in the mist.
Norway has become one of the most secular countries in the world, this is true, but this is a recent development. In the latter half of the 18th century and the first quarter of the 19th, which is the span covering the life of the protagonist, Norway was a place where the Lutheran approach to morale and worship was almost absolute. At the time the country was a Danish colony and therefore had no king of its own. Most Danish monarchs had no interest in their northern subjects beyond the taxes they collected from them and there was no Norwegian nobility at the time. Consequently, these neglected citizens had rather deaf ears when it came to the admonitions from Denmark, looking instead to the priests for guidance in their everyday lives. The priests and the land they lived on and by. That nature is a religious experience might be erroneously interpreted as being so at the cost of Christianity, but those who believe them to be separate from each other will neither understand Dag’s mindset nor the typical Norwegian one. Dag Bjørndal himself describes it like this:
There are deeds enough to de done. And then I quicken myself with a trip into the forest now and then, because I liven up in there, and Our Lord can be just as present in forest and weather and in the seasons of the year as in books and words. (Ingen vei går utenom, p. 100; reviewer’s own translation⁴)
Another telling description would be this one, observed by the character Adelheid from atop a horse, standing by Dag in a birch forest:
He stood with his feet so close together and seemed so immense across the shoulders from up there – a giant of figure, but he hunched his head so strangely down and stared away from her into the greenery, where evening shadows dragged themselves up the trunks, and where the gleam of the sun across the leaves began to pale. An old man – in the sunset – in thoughts no one could guess what were – in a church built by Our Lord himself – (Det blåser fra Dauingfjell, p. 169; reviewer’s own translation)
In short, churches built by mankind and books written by them are inferior to the works done directly by the deity of Christianity, namely the world itself, the most valuable part of which is the life that was sown there. Viewed like this the timber buildings adorned with a cross on top do not constitute the primary meeting place between the people and their god, they are merely the places of ceremony where the rituals of the religion are performed. Understanding this mindset is essential to understanding many of the underlying currents of Dag’s story, and much of the story itself will seem unreal to those who do not.
Another worthwhile piece of information is that Gulbranssen first began writing about Dag Bjørndal in 1914, a mere nine years after Norway got its independence from Sweden, and the trilogy is indeed marked by this period of strong patriotism. Perhaps the strongest sentiment of the kind comes as an outburst from Dag, spoken in the winter of 1814 – an important year to the nation: Napoléon Bonaparte lost the Battle of Leipzig in October the year before, and Denmark, which had been an ally of France in the Napoléonic Wars, withdrew from the war as a result of the defeat; Sweden, however, had thrown their lot with the winning side and was awarded Norway as a result from the peace treaty with Denmark; during the short time of upheaval between the union with Denmark and the union with Sweden, a gathering of Norwegian representatives took the opportunity to make a national constitution; it would take until 1905 for Norway to gain the sovereignty claimed in the constitution, but it was in 1814 that the claim was first made – when he first hears of Norway being traded to another country:
And so rose Old Dag – and became threateningly big in the flaming light of the hearth in the parlour where they sat, and there was an authoritative force in his voice when he said: “I further think that we could tend to ourselves, without Danes or Swedes – as in times of old. If there isn’t mettle enough in us for that, then I am equally satisfied, whether we are governed from the south or the east. Here at Bjørndal we govern ourselves for the most part, and... now I think we could bid Maiden Kruse bring some glasses to us. What say you about that?” (Det blåser fra Dauingfjell, pp. 93-94; reviewer’s own translation)
The books would not be published until the 1930’s, but the exhilaration found in the wake of the independence was never abandoned – and neither is it lost on today’s readers, especially since the trilogy were the first books to embrace a national-romantic characteristic which has since become one of the most important ones: Namely the dialects spoken throughout Norway, and thus also the local cultures that intertwine with them. While many later books would be written in “pure dialects” – i.e. written precisely as the dialects are spoken – the prose of Gulbranssen can best be characterised as a missing link, retaining traits from both the official written language of the time (Riksmål) and an unspecified Eastern-Norwegian dialect. The result is both surprisingly poetic and down-to-earth at the same time; both as magical as if this was high fantasy and as common as if it was village gossip. In encapsulating the elated and the downtrodden, the language manages two feats simultaneously: It is able to connect Dag Bjørndal’s ponderous mindset with his farmer’s heart – these two characteristics might have seemed so at odds with each other that they would end up feeling like separate parts of the same person, but the duality of the language rather leaves a gestalt feeling of a single, unified personality. The other feat is to bridge the pastoral world and high culture, successfully elevating the farmer to the noblest of people, and to the representative of the spirit of a nation.
Unfortunately, in the wake of the second world war the works of Gulbranssen was reinterpreted through the lens of hatred. Once Norway was liberated from Nazi Germany the hunt began for more or less hidden supporters of said occupants, often turning into mobs hunting witches rather than genuine seekers of justice. Some of the frothing seekers of vengeance against whoever-is-closest-at-hand were literates and they lifted their pens against this trilogy and its author, making many claims on how it contains proof of his sympathies with Hitler, often bolstered with a blatant lie or two. Apparently the most damning of accusations were that Gulbransson let the books be published in German translations – which he did, but this is a rather meaningless accusation considering that by then he had also consented to translations in Swedish, Danish, Dutch, Finnish, and British – and for answering the (then) occupants when they wanted him to tour Germany and promote their view of the story – he answered ‘no’ – and for not criticizing Nazi-Germany in his journalism – he didn’t mention it because he was a sports journalist.⁵ In short, they grasped at straws to vilify him. But it worked. The venom broke Gulbranssen and he never wrote again. When his works are mentioned people still think of him as a fascist. They are no longer published the world over, even the rare Norwegian edition is published only in small numbers. This is why one of the most essential works of Norwegian literature is not taught in the schools of its home country. This is why it went from being the fourth best selling works worldwide of the 1930’s to complete obscurity. And it is why today’s reader is better off searching the second hand book stores to find a copy than to pray for the off chance that a new edition comes out. In fact, most countries hasn’t seen a new edition for decades – for instance, the most recent English one is from 1937 – and the few available second hand fetch prices only an enthusiast would be willing to pay. The hundred-year anniversary is not until 2033, which is still many years away when this review is written (i.e. 2019), but hopefully by then we will have seen a renewed interest in these books, perhaps even a new English edition, this time with all three books included – never before or after has a Norwegian book sold so well across the globe, never before or after has one been such an international success, and only a few have been as important as far as the Norwegian national-romantic movement is concerned – surely it deserves such a renaissance and more.
1. The actual translation of the title of the second book misses something essential, namely that the wind that blows does so from a specific mountain: Death Mountain. Thus this reviewer saw it prudent to translate it in a manner which preserves its original intent.
2. The third book was never translated to English – it is not even included in the misleadingly titled The Bjorndal Cycle, published by G. P. Putnam’s Sons – and so there exist no official English translation of its title. However there exists editions in German, Swedish, Danish, Dutch, Czech, Slovakian, Bulgarian, Estonian, and Croatian, and perhaps others which I am not aware of.
3. The volume being reviewed is one such instance where the two books are combined. More specifically it is the edition published by Den norske bokklubben in 1973 (ISBN: 82-525-0158-3) – a version which, it might be added, shares the artwork of the corresponding edition of the first book, Og bakom synger skogene , and as I observed in my review of it, it is terribly misrepresentative as far as the story is concerned. The recommendation to the potential reader would therefore be to ignore it and to place their focus on the synopsis instead when deciding whether or not to read these books.
4. The English editions are all from the 1930’s and fetch rather high prices on the second hand market, hence I never bought them. Also, if their titles are anything to go by then the translations do not preserve the original intent very well. For both of these reasons I choose to make my own translations of anything quoted in this review. (Of course, regarding No Road Goes Aside I would have had to do my own anyway since there are no existing ones.)
5. The author’s Norwegian Wikipedia page goes into more depth on this. Unfortunately for those who do not read Norwegian, the English page does not.
Det blåser fra Dauingfjell (literal translation: The Wind Blows from Death Mountain; actual translation: The Wind from the Mountains¹) and Ingen vei går utenom (literal translation: No Road Goes Aside²) are both just shy of two hundred pages each, which makes them easy to bundle together in a single binding, and so they often have been.³ These books also belong together as far as the life and times of the protagonist is concerned. Notice for instance what the titles say about what path his life has taken: From the title of the second book, notice the mountain of death and how it blows its cold winds where the forests once sung – the title of the first book, Og bakom synger skogene, translates to And Behind Sing the Forests – which tells the reader that a change has occurred in Dag Bjørndal’s life. Where life, or nature, if you will, once held the primary influence over his life, now he looks towards the end of life in search of guidance. The title of the third book says nothing of songs or winds; the final influence on Dag is one that comes from within, fuelled by the realization that any and all paths a human life may take can only lead to a single beyond; Dag is a devout Lutheran, and his thoughts now centre around the question of how God might see him in light of the life he has lived. In the last two books Dag tries to salvage himself and those around him from the wrongs he has done. But ascertaining what is just and right turns out to be a difficult undertaking, they are foggy truths and it is only by those around him that Dag is finally able to see any contours in the mist.
Norway has become one of the most secular countries in the world, this is true, but this is a recent development. In the latter half of the 18th century and the first quarter of the 19th, which is the span covering the life of the protagonist, Norway was a place where the Lutheran approach to morale and worship was almost absolute. At the time the country was a Danish colony and therefore had no king of its own. Most Danish monarchs had no interest in their northern subjects beyond the taxes they collected from them and there was no Norwegian nobility at the time. Consequently, these neglected citizens had rather deaf ears when it came to the admonitions from Denmark, looking instead to the priests for guidance in their everyday lives. The priests and the land they lived on and by. That nature is a religious experience might be erroneously interpreted as being so at the cost of Christianity, but those who believe them to be separate from each other will neither understand Dag’s mindset nor the typical Norwegian one. Dag Bjørndal himself describes it like this:
There are deeds enough to de done. And then I quicken myself with a trip into the forest now and then, because I liven up in there, and Our Lord can be just as present in forest and weather and in the seasons of the year as in books and words. (Ingen vei går utenom, p. 100; reviewer’s own translation⁴)
Another telling description would be this one, observed by the character Adelheid from atop a horse, standing by Dag in a birch forest:
He stood with his feet so close together and seemed so immense across the shoulders from up there – a giant of figure, but he hunched his head so strangely down and stared away from her into the greenery, where evening shadows dragged themselves up the trunks, and where the gleam of the sun across the leaves began to pale. An old man – in the sunset – in thoughts no one could guess what were – in a church built by Our Lord himself – (Det blåser fra Dauingfjell, p. 169; reviewer’s own translation)
In short, churches built by mankind and books written by them are inferior to the works done directly by the deity of Christianity, namely the world itself, the most valuable part of which is the life that was sown there. Viewed like this the timber buildings adorned with a cross on top do not constitute the primary meeting place between the people and their god, they are merely the places of ceremony where the rituals of the religion are performed. Understanding this mindset is essential to understanding many of the underlying currents of Dag’s story, and much of the story itself will seem unreal to those who do not.
Another worthwhile piece of information is that Gulbranssen first began writing about Dag Bjørndal in 1914, a mere nine years after Norway got its independence from Sweden, and the trilogy is indeed marked by this period of strong patriotism. Perhaps the strongest sentiment of the kind comes as an outburst from Dag, spoken in the winter of 1814 – an important year to the nation: Napoléon Bonaparte lost the Battle of Leipzig in October the year before, and Denmark, which had been an ally of France in the Napoléonic Wars, withdrew from the war as a result of the defeat; Sweden, however, had thrown their lot with the winning side and was awarded Norway as a result from the peace treaty with Denmark; during the short time of upheaval between the union with Denmark and the union with Sweden, a gathering of Norwegian representatives took the opportunity to make a national constitution; it would take until 1905 for Norway to gain the sovereignty claimed in the constitution, but it was in 1814 that the claim was first made – when he first hears of Norway being traded to another country:
And so rose Old Dag – and became threateningly big in the flaming light of the hearth in the parlour where they sat, and there was an authoritative force in his voice when he said: “I further think that we could tend to ourselves, without Danes or Swedes – as in times of old. If there isn’t mettle enough in us for that, then I am equally satisfied, whether we are governed from the south or the east. Here at Bjørndal we govern ourselves for the most part, and... now I think we could bid Maiden Kruse bring some glasses to us. What say you about that?” (Det blåser fra Dauingfjell, pp. 93-94; reviewer’s own translation)
The books would not be published until the 1930’s, but the exhilaration found in the wake of the independence was never abandoned – and neither is it lost on today’s readers, especially since the trilogy were the first books to embrace a national-romantic characteristic which has since become one of the most important ones: Namely the dialects spoken throughout Norway, and thus also the local cultures that intertwine with them. While many later books would be written in “pure dialects” – i.e. written precisely as the dialects are spoken – the prose of Gulbranssen can best be characterised as a missing link, retaining traits from both the official written language of the time (Riksmål) and an unspecified Eastern-Norwegian dialect. The result is both surprisingly poetic and down-to-earth at the same time; both as magical as if this was high fantasy and as common as if it was village gossip. In encapsulating the elated and the downtrodden, the language manages two feats simultaneously: It is able to connect Dag Bjørndal’s ponderous mindset with his farmer’s heart – these two characteristics might have seemed so at odds with each other that they would end up feeling like separate parts of the same person, but the duality of the language rather leaves a gestalt feeling of a single, unified personality. The other feat is to bridge the pastoral world and high culture, successfully elevating the farmer to the noblest of people, and to the representative of the spirit of a nation.
Unfortunately, in the wake of the second world war the works of Gulbranssen was reinterpreted through the lens of hatred. Once Norway was liberated from Nazi Germany the hunt began for more or less hidden supporters of said occupants, often turning into mobs hunting witches rather than genuine seekers of justice. Some of the frothing seekers of vengeance against whoever-is-closest-at-hand were literates and they lifted their pens against this trilogy and its author, making many claims on how it contains proof of his sympathies with Hitler, often bolstered with a blatant lie or two. Apparently the most damning of accusations were that Gulbransson let the books be published in German translations – which he did, but this is a rather meaningless accusation considering that by then he had also consented to translations in Swedish, Danish, Dutch, Finnish, and British – and for answering the (then) occupants when they wanted him to tour Germany and promote their view of the story – he answered ‘no’ – and for not criticizing Nazi-Germany in his journalism – he didn’t mention it because he was a sports journalist.⁵ In short, they grasped at straws to vilify him. But it worked. The venom broke Gulbranssen and he never wrote again. When his works are mentioned people still think of him as a fascist. They are no longer published the world over, even the rare Norwegian edition is published only in small numbers. This is why one of the most essential works of Norwegian literature is not taught in the schools of its home country. This is why it went from being the fourth best selling works worldwide of the 1930’s to complete obscurity. And it is why today’s reader is better off searching the second hand book stores to find a copy than to pray for the off chance that a new edition comes out. In fact, most countries hasn’t seen a new edition for decades – for instance, the most recent English one is from 1937 – and the few available second hand fetch prices only an enthusiast would be willing to pay. The hundred-year anniversary is not until 2033, which is still many years away when this review is written (i.e. 2019), but hopefully by then we will have seen a renewed interest in these books, perhaps even a new English edition, this time with all three books included – never before or after has a Norwegian book sold so well across the globe, never before or after has one been such an international success, and only a few have been as important as far as the Norwegian national-romantic movement is concerned – surely it deserves such a renaissance and more.
1. The actual translation of the title of the second book misses something essential, namely that the wind that blows does so from a specific mountain: Death Mountain. Thus this reviewer saw it prudent to translate it in a manner which preserves its original intent.
2. The third book was never translated to English – it is not even included in the misleadingly titled The Bjorndal Cycle, published by G. P. Putnam’s Sons – and so there exist no official English translation of its title. However there exists editions in German, Swedish, Danish, Dutch, Czech, Slovakian, Bulgarian, Estonian, and Croatian, and perhaps others which I am not aware of.
3. The volume being reviewed is one such instance where the two books are combined. More specifically it is the edition published by Den norske bokklubben in 1973 (ISBN: 82-525-0158-3) – a version which, it might be added, shares the artwork of the corresponding edition of the first book, Og bakom synger skogene , and as I observed in my review of it, it is terribly misrepresentative as far as the story is concerned. The recommendation to the potential reader would therefore be to ignore it and to place their focus on the synopsis instead when deciding whether or not to read these books.
4. The English editions are all from the 1930’s and fetch rather high prices on the second hand market, hence I never bought them. Also, if their titles are anything to go by then the translations do not preserve the original intent very well. For both of these reasons I choose to make my own translations of anything quoted in this review. (Of course, regarding No Road Goes Aside I would have had to do my own anyway since there are no existing ones.)
5. The author’s Norwegian Wikipedia page goes into more depth on this. Unfortunately for those who do not read Norwegian, the English page does not.
December 5, 2025
Nejako sa to skončil muselo, a ako záver trilógie kniha funguje. Uzatvára osobné dejové linky aj témy, ktoré postupne otvorila - viera v seba i v to, čo nás presahuje, pokora, dôvera, vzájomnosť.
Zároveň však pre mňa tieto línie nie sú dostatočne nosné a v porovnaní s prvými dvomi dielmi sa mi táto zdala akási slabšia, také doháranie pahreby. Ale tak je to asi tiež v poriadku.
Zároveň však pre mňa tieto línie nie sú dostatočne nosné a v porovnaní s prvými dvomi dielmi sa mi táto zdala akási slabšia, také doháranie pahreby. Ale tak je to asi tiež v poriadku.
February 4, 2024
Nydelige bøker som skildrer kompleksiteten i menneskesinnet, diskuterer de store eksistensielle spørsmålene og relasjonene mellom oss, alt innenfor rammen av skogs- og gårdsdrift for veldig lenge siden. Språket er vakkert gammelmodig og poetisk (i hvert fall i min utgave fra 1940). Litt snodig at barn kommer til verden nesten uten et at et eneste kyss tilsynelatende utveksles, og at gårdsdriften går sin gang i bakgrunnen, mens hovedpersonene mest sysler med sitt. Handlingen skjer definitivt mest på det psykologiske planet.
Likte best de to siste bøkene, der jeg virkelig fikk komme under huden på karakterene. Den siste kunne gjerne vært dobbelt så lang, for det gikk litt fort på slutten.
Denne skatten av noen bøker har stått i bokhylla mi i tjue år, nå først var jeg visst klar.
Likte best de to siste bøkene, der jeg virkelig fikk komme under huden på karakterene. Den siste kunne gjerne vært dobbelt så lang, for det gikk litt fort på slutten.
Denne skatten av noen bøker har stått i bokhylla mi i tjue år, nå først var jeg visst klar.
March 1, 2019
Tretí diel trilógie sa nesie v podobnom duchu ako druhý a do rovnakej miery ma aj zaujal. Musím povedať, že pre mňa bol prvý diel veľmi sľubným začiatkom a potom sa nasledujúce diely niesli v duchu "nenadchne, ale ani neurazí." Pekný koniec, celkovo zakončenie i vyústenie celého príbehu, no a na záver by som hromadne hodnotila celú trilógiu 3,5* Určite to nepovažujem za stratu času, no oslovila ma menej ako väčšinu čitateľov.
October 1, 2024
En herlig avslutning på Bjørndaltrilogien. Gulbranssen leverer velflettede tanker og unike skildringer av folk og natur. En verdig slutt som gjør at en må drøvtygge hele bokseriens materiale om igjen.
Trygve Gulbranssen holder tittelen som den dyktigste forfatteren jeg har lest av.
Trygve Gulbranssen holder tittelen som den dyktigste forfatteren jeg har lest av.
January 26, 2011
I loved this book. This Trilogy was written in the 1930's. Beautifully written about family life and love and God and the hardships they face on a farmstead deep in the mountains in Norway.
December 19, 2021
najtazsie sa mi citala zo vsetkych 3 casti, ale na konci su klenoty :)
February 15, 2017
Svi koji vole prirodu, starinjski način života, borbe čovjeka s prirodom i samim sobom uživat će u ovom trećem nastavku dag Bjorndal trilogije. Ovo djelo je prepuno mudrosti i zaslužilo je čak i puno više čitatelja.
March 3, 2013
Siste del i Bjønndal'n-trilogien.
April 14, 2021
The last part of the trilogy was a very nice reading, it was as good as the other ones for me. I was wondering the whole time how this story can end as there was always a connection to the next generation and I was worried that it could be just an open end, until the last minute. The ending is a great closing to the trilogy though!
The whole trilogy would get 4 stars from me.
The whole trilogy would get 4 stars from me.
December 20, 2020
Eine unglaublich schöne geschriebene Geschichte über Mekkal, der dein ganzes Leben lang schwer, als Holzfäller arbeitete. Zuletzt findet er dann Frieden, an einem Ort und von einem Menschen, von dem er es sich nie hätte träumen lassen.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 14, 2018
The finale of the saga, with plenty of climaxes to the story in rapid succession and a clear ethical message to complete the series.
December 8, 2020
A sad, yet uplifting finale to an excellent saga.
April 29, 2021
A heartwarming reminder of the importance of kindness. Whole trilogy.
September 3, 2021
"Getting rid of greed is the hardest art in life."
December 23, 2022
Jeg likte de to andre bedre, men en fin avrunding av triologien!
Read
January 24, 2023No English translation available.
June 9, 2023
Dej plynul pomalsie, ale moralne posolstvo, ktore je aktualne aj dnes, pridalo v mojich ociach knihe na cene.
September 2, 2023
Gulbranssen has a beautiful way of portraying the inner conflicts of the human mind. I greatly enjoyed this triology.
February 21, 2026
Budem sa opakovať, ale nesmierne sa mi páčila. Celá trilógia bola majstrovsky napísaná a aj do tretice autor zvládol priniesť niečo nové. Tie isté postavy, ale dej sa posúva a oni sú prinútení čeliť zmenám. Nádhera.
“Ale porážky musí člověk umět snášet, ne se s nimi trpně smiřovat otřepat se a bojovat dál. Je k tomu zapotřebí stejně velké odvahy jako k tomu být smělým bojovníkem v nejprudším bitevním ohni. Jedině chvíle boje jsou světlými místy v našem životě, když se člověk ohlédne zpátky, všechno ostatní je jenom tma mrtvý život.”
“Ale porážky musí člověk umět snášet, ne se s nimi trpně smiřovat otřepat se a bojovat dál. Je k tomu zapotřebí stejně velké odvahy jako k tomu být smělým bojovníkem v nejprudším bitevním ohni. Jedině chvíle boje jsou světlými místy v našem životě, když se člověk ohlédne zpátky, všechno ostatní je jenom tma mrtvý život.”
July 1, 2013
uzivala sam citajuci cijelu trilogiju, mozda je malo naivna i prostodusna, ali bas zato lijepa, povratak nekim temeljnim vrijednostima, pomalo arhaicni stil uz puno onomatopeja i personifikacija, od 5.tog osnovne ih nisam vidjela toliko :-) ... rijeci su grgoljile kao svjezi potocic u mojim mislima :-) i Gulbranssen mi se cini iznimno zanimljiv: »Kad sam ovdje bio konfiniran za vrijeme rata i kad u Norveškoj nije bilo igre ni sporta
—
veli Gulbranssen
—
prešao sam
na krave. I tu se mogu brojati bodovi baš kao u sportu. Valjalo mi
startati na drugom području i početi sasvim iznova. Poslije se
polako išlo naprijed, došlo je do izjednačenja, bilo je pretrčavanja i
za
ostajanja. A zaželim li se zabave, odem svojoj teladi i razmišljam.
Toliko toga može čovjek naučiti kad gleda telad...«
—
veli Gulbranssen
—
prešao sam
na krave. I tu se mogu brojati bodovi baš kao u sportu. Valjalo mi
startati na drugom području i početi sasvim iznova. Poslije se
polako išlo naprijed, došlo je do izjednačenja, bilo je pretrčavanja i
za
ostajanja. A zaželim li se zabave, odem svojoj teladi i razmišljam.
Toliko toga može čovjek naučiti kad gleda telad...«
June 18, 2026
Read in Czech as there is no English translation. More philosophical and definitely something worth re-visiting.
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