Pia JuulReseñas
Autor de The Murder of Halland
Reseñas
Told with a wry humour which works surprising well in (Martin Aitken's) translation, and punctuated with various literary quotes which provide an oblique counterpoint to the plot, this is a novel which, at its end, will leave you unsure whether to applaud it or throw the book against the wall (though this wasn't much of an option in my case since I was reading it on my tablet...)
Told with a wry humour which works surprising well in (Martin Aitken's) translation, and punctuated with various literary quotes which provide an oblique counterpoint to the plot, this is a novel which, at its end, will leave you unsure whether to applaud it or throw the book against the wall (though this wasn't much of an option in my case since I was reading it on my tablet...)
Digte med udgangspunkt i onkler. Fx onkel anders, der siger Oh, skænk mig en grav ved det isgrønne hav, hvor kun bølgerne hører min gråd. Her er også andre uhyggelige ting: Melancholia sætter sig i sindet som en uhyggelig fabel fortalt af en fremmed onkel. -- Lee Marshal
The narrator is a middle aged writer, living with her second husband. There was an acrimonious split from her first, a breach in her relationship with her daughter; there are underlying issues. And then, almost immediately, her husband is shot dead.
When the police barge in, stating they know she did it, we feel a murder mystery coming on. But then there's no more...she's left unhampered to carry on living her rather disturbed life. Is she a totally unreliable narrator? Did she do it?
Secrets seem to come out- Halland was having affairs. (but maybe that's not true either?) Because you don't know what's happening really, the whole thing has zero interest.
I needed a 2009 book for my Century of Books Reading Challenge so continued grimly on to end. Otherwise would have stopped a lot sooner. DIRE!!
Bess is a writer, and we very quickly find out that her long-term partner Halland has been shot dead in the square outside their home. What transpires is less about the 'whodunnit' and more about Bess' unconventional reaction to his death. She's a difficult character to get the measure of, and her unpredictability plus the mystery of Halland's death nicely builds the dramatic tension in this crisp, spare piece of work.
This was the first Peirene published work I've read, and I found the ethos of the publishing house interesting: "Contemporary European Literature. Thought provoking, well designed, short." Described by the TLS as "Two-hour books to be devoured in a single sitting: literary cinema for those fatigued by film", this hits the nail on the head perfectly.
4 stars - an intriguing, literary crime noir.
1 
AlisonY | 17 reseñas más. | Aug 21, 2015 |
AlisonY | 17 reseñas más. | Aug 21, 2015 | 1 Mijk | 17 reseñas más. | Apr 17, 2015 |
Mijk | 17 reseñas más. | Apr 17, 2015 | Whilst most crime thrillers are far better organised and far more real than one's own life, this story is not. And that is what I like about it most. Most of the story takes place in the grieving women's mind and is therefore a great psychoanalytical novel.
Halland has been fatally wounded by a single gun shot in the market square. Unbelievably, the police officer at the door is arresting Bess for his murder, as the last words Halland spoke appear to have been "my wife has shot me." Of course we know she hasn't, has she?. All she wants right now is too see her daughter Abby, but she hasn't seen her for over ten years after an acrimonious divorce from Abby's father. Neither does she speak to her own mother, so who can Bess turn to for help?
So unwinds a wonderfully written novella, complex and intriguing, which is not just a darn good crime story, but a portrait of bereavement, feuding families and the wafer thin relationship between a mothers and daughters. There is also a fascinating insight in to small town life and the petty goings on between close neighbours. Oh and Halland has been leading a double life....all the red herrings line up one by one and the reader is unable to tell if Bess is implicit in some way or whether it was a careless accident.
Written by Denmark's leading literary author Pia Juul and impeccably translated in to English by Martin Aitken, this is another successful publication by the classy Peirene. It is not what you would call a usual crime novel. It is quirky and a joy to read. It takes pride of place on my bookshelf among all of Peirene's other publications to date. Great stuff.
3 teresa1953 | 17 reseñas más. | Feb 12, 2013 |
teresa1953 | 17 reseñas más. | Feb 12, 2013 | Juul is somewhat of a cultural phenomenon in her native country of Denmark, but she is new to a U.S. audience through this adept translation published through Peirene Press. The Murder of Halland appears, at first, to be a whodunnit. But Juul turns the genre of crime fiction on its head by taking us on a journey through loss instead.
Bess is a writer, an intellectual, who mourns her shattered relationship with her daughter and has a strained, if not disconnected, relationship with both her mother and grandfather. When Halland dies, she seems to go off the deep end – stealing money, drinking excessively, flirting with her neighbor, rekindling a sexual relationship with her ex-husband, and abandoning her work. Tantalizing clues emerge about Halland – a secret room, shuffling of financial accounts and a pregnant niece who apparently was getting all of Halland’s mail forwarded to her. None of it makes sense to Bess or to the reader. As Bess moves through her life now absent of Halland, she begins to re-examine her past and contemplate her future.
Juul’s writing is surreal at times. There are seemingly unconnected events which never get fully explained, such as the disappearance of a neighbor. Juul painstakingly develops the character of Bess while keeping the reader guessing about the real motivations of the secondary characters. It becomes clear, eventually, that Bess is an unreliable narrator who may be hiding her own secrets.
The Murder of Halland packs a lot of punch in a short number of pages. It is a sometimes bizarre, always twisting journey down a path of grief and dark secrets. The ending startled me and was somewhat baffling. Indeed, I paged back to the beginning and began to read again wondering if I had missed an important clue earlier in the story.
This is not a traditional piece of crime fiction. It is a sharply observed, intellectually stimulating piece of literary fiction. Readers who enjoy translated works which challenge established genres will find this little gem worth the read.
Recommended.
Although there’s a murder, a gun and a dour seeming inspector, this book focuses on Bess and how the bereavement acts as a catalyst causing her to reassess her friends, family and ultimately her life. We follow Bess as she careens from pillar to post, sometimes drunk, sometimes bemused, whilst attempting to understand, to come to terms with Halland’s death and all that has come to light because of it.
Last year I read a book by Shuichi Yoshida and this reminds me of that, although both tales differ considerably, in both there’s a murder at it’s centre, a black hole around which everything turns and yet it is the effect of this crime on the individual that becomes the focus of the story, the crime is merely the matrix that allows this focus. As with the other book The murder of Halland is the type of thriller that gives the genre a great name, it’s intelligent, thought provoking, it asks questions, whilst doing so in a manner that doesn’t give you a list of pat, generic answers, leaving you to ponder any answers for yourself.
Why Peirene chose to publish this book:http://parrishlantern.blogspot.co.uk/2012/08/a-scandinavian-whydunit.html
But this is not your average detective novel. For one thing, The Murder of Halland is narrated in the first person by Halland’s widow, Bess. This makes a difference, because what we see is a very skewed view of the investigation. She discovers some things about Halland, like an apartment in Copenhagen he’d been renting, and a niece who’s pregnant with a child she suspects may be his. She withholds this, and other things, from the police, and is quite detached from the investigation in general. So we don’t get the usual examination of suspects and accumulation of evidence. We don’t get much of the police procedure at all, and we don’t get much sense of progress.
There’s a dreaminess to the narrative throughout. Bess is asleep when her husband is murdered and never seems to fully wake up. The first time a policeman arrives, he seems like a character from a dream, someone she’s seen before, parking his car opposite the house. He arrives, breathless, and shouting that he’s arresting her “in the name of the law”, before disappearing, never to be seen again. When the real police come later, they know nothing about him. The brief episode is slightly surreal and absurd.
Bess also doesn’t behave as a widow is supposed to behave. She worries about the fact that people don’t see her crying, and indeed some other characters comment that she doesn’t seem to be grieving properly. She goes out to a dance and gets drunk on aquavit. She kisses her neighbour on the lips. She examines the history of her relationship with her dead husband in a detached way, completely free of sentimentality. She throws Halland’s niece out of the house for grieving more than she is, and then fantasises about her being hit by a car.
The plot also frustrates the normal conventions, which are actually described within the book, as Bess sits down to make herself happy by watching a detective series:
"First a murder, nothing too bestial. Then a police inspector. Insights into his or her personal problems, perhaps. Details about the victim. Puzzles and anomalies. Lines of investigation. Clues. Detours. Breakthrough. Case solved. Nothing like real life."
She tries to make a list of the facts and lines of inquiry in her own husband’s case, but it means nothing to her, and she replaces it with a list beginning “Laundry. Groceries. Dry cleaning.”
This is a book in which the puzzles are not solved, the anomalies are not explained, and the lines of investigation are not pursued (at least within what we see from Bess’s viewpoint). There’s no breakthrough, and the ending is ambiguous, with the police selecting one probable suspect but the last few lines suggesting another possibility altogether.
Nobody behaves quite how you’d expect: the estranged daughter is surprisingly conciliatory, while the bitter ex-husband wants to sleep with her. The neighbour doesn’t react with surprise at being kissed, or really react in any way at all. The more hostile Bess is towards Halland’s niece, the more friendly she is in return. It’s all weird, and yet it all rings true, because in real life people are weird and they do behave in unexpected ways.
Which brings me back to what makes this book “literary”. Bess does not behave in ways that are looked at approvingly. She doesn’t do the things that grieving widows are supposed to do. Similarly, the other characters defy convention. They behave in ways that surprise us, challenging our expectations rather than reinforcing them.
The effect on the plot is to make it unsatisfying by normal standards. There’s no rising tension, no breakthrough, no neat resolution. Strands appear to be going somewhere, and then break off. The neighbour is abducted, but then turns up again. Bess finds that Halland transferred a huge amount of money to her account shortly before his death, but this is never explained. The daughter turns up after years of separation, but there’s no big confrontation or reconciliation, and then she goes away again. Everything seems like an anticlimax.
And yet, it works. I think it works because it feels true. I’m reminded of something E.M. Forster wrote in Aspects of the Novel, about the tussle between character and plot – does the author want to give a satisfying plot and corral the characters into doing what he/she wants, or be true to who the characters really are and what they would really do, which may be less satisfying plot-wise? In genre fiction I think the plot often wins out, but in literary fiction it’s about character.
In The Murder of Halland, it’s definitely about character, and the result is something odd, sometimes frustrating, but ultimately successful.
2 AndrewBlackman | 17 reseñas más. | Jun 8, 2012 |
AndrewBlackman | 17 reseñas más. | Jun 8, 2012 | Sitatet oppsummerer i grunnen boka. Listen lød for øvrig; Vaske klede / Gjere innkjøp / Gjere reint / Kikke på (overstrøket / Breva / Rommet hos P . Boka er et humørfylt oppgjør med all krim (TV, film, bøker) hvor de som blir berørt av mordet oppfører seg som om de har et like nært forhold til den avdøde, som de har til tante Agathe i Cluedo.
Bess mister sin mann og er i sorgfasens første del; Hun er forvirret, har ikke tatt realitetene inn over seg og gjør derfor en rekke merkelige ting (tragikomiske) som inviterer leseren til å le-grine. Og så er der en morder løs også.... så det er en krim.... og den er slett ikke ueffen....
En finner verken siste nytt i teknologiske fremskritt eller rettsmedisinske forelesninger i denne boken; Disseksjonen er på et langt mer forfriskende plan.
Det er netop den fornemmelse de 22 korte historier giver. Af tabt lykke og en tilværelse, der nu bevæger sig på kanten, og hvor fastholdelsen af erindringer og stemninger er personernes sidste mulighed for ikke at styrte i dybet.
Netop derfor rammer det så hårdt, når de anfægtes. Som i ”Elly Byde” hvor fortællerens charmerende studiekammerat mange år efter afsløres som psykisk syg eller i ”Tidsmaskine” hvor gensynet med barndommens hjem ikke bare viser, at tiden er gået og meget forandret. Virkeligheden underminerer faktisk erindringen, så fortælleren ikke engang har den at holde sig til:
”Ville jeg have husket det bedre, hvis jeg var stået ud af bilen? Jeg ved det ikke, jeg blev i bilen. Jeg huskede jo ingenting. Det jeg husker findes ikke, det der findes, genkender jeg ikke. Det, jeg huskede, er nu udraderet, og jeg kan ikke engang vise det til dig.” (186)
Novellerne er korte og velskrevne, og i de fleste historier er de få sider tilstrækkeligt til at få personerne til at træde frem i al deres skrøbelighed. Enkelte historier står tydeligere end andre efter endt læsning, men det er stemningen i hele samlingen, der er bogens virkelige styrke.
Vi møder jeg-fortælleren Thomas midt i en ikke-specificeret borgerkrig, hvor han bliver stukket med bajonet, men alligevel overlever. På lazarettet møder han den ældre men erotisk interessante sygeplejerske Cecilie og den fatalistiske Klement, der lægger kabaler og overbeviser ham om, at der kun er knap et år til solen slukker og livet rinder ud.
For Thomas bliver der ikke rigtig noget ud af det, og han glider videre i krigsfangenskab hos fjenden. Her møder han Benedikte og en næsten død soldat. Thomas opdager snart, at soldaten og Benedikte har kendt hinanden tidligere, men han siger ikke noget om det.
Romanen er en eksistentiel undersøgelse – men det drejer sig mere om kærlighed end om krig. Gruen er i virkeligheden ikke stor, og karakteristisk nok føler Thomas mere slægtskab med den fremmede soldat end had til ham. Krigen viser sig mest i kvindernes kærlighedshistorier. De er præget af den opløsning af normer, der altid finder sted, når mændene isoleres i kaserner og på slagmarker.
Juuls sprog er klart og smukt, men historien fangede mig først til slut, og så irriterer det mig lidt, at nedtællingen til dommedag ikke rigtig bliver fulgt til dørs.
Bogens hovedperson er den midaldrende forfatter Bess. Hun vågner op en morgen, hendes mand Halland er gået og – viser det sig – blevet skudt med en jagtriffel på torvet. Bess’ verden bryder sammen, og en af bogens store styrker er den indfølte skildring af en sorg, som ikke altid lever op til konventionerne.
Det viser sig dog, at Bess og Halland ikke bare var et lykkeligt par. Hun forlod sin daværende mand Troels og datteren Abby ti år tidligere. Siden har Abby nægtet at se hende, og hendes forhold til resten af familien er også noget distanceret. Omvendt viser det sig også, at Halland har haft et parallelt liv. Bess støder ind i flere kvinder, som han tilsyneladende har kendt, og det viser sig også, at han har et værelse i København.
Hvad skal det alt sammen betyde? Har han levet et dobbeltliv, og er det i det skjulte liv, at forklaringen på hans død skal findes? Interessent er brugen af Martin Guerre som et centralt symbol på Halland. Guerre forlod i 1500-tallets franske provins sin kone, og da han ti år senere vendte tilbage, var det slet ikke ham, men en bekendt, der udgav sig for at være ham. Pointen er, at det var et ”lykkeligt bedrag” som Bess / Juul betegner det, og at den falske Guerre bliver tolereret i landsbyen og accepteret af konen, fordi han udfylder en vigtig social funktion. Men da den rigtige Guerre vender tilbage går det selvfølgelig ikke mere – så er det bare bedrag.
Spørgsmålet er også, hvor meget man kan stole på fortælleren Bess. Sorgen er ægte nok, men som hun selv erkender på et tidspunkt, så er fortællingen præget af selektiv hukommelse:
”Der er noget jeg ikke har fortalt.
Selvfølgelig er der rigtig meget, jeg ikke har fortalt, hvordan skulle jeg få alting med. Men der er alligevel noget jeg ikke har fortalt, og jeg må jo nok have sprunget det over med vilje, det er forskellen. Eller er der alligevel ingen forskel. Det jeg ikke ved jeg springer over, springer jeg måske også over med vilje.” (s. 128)
Læseren får stadig ikke at vide, hvad det er hun ikke har fortalt – men at NOGET er udeladt, og at Bess’ historie skal tages med et gran salt, det bliver klart.
Selvom Mordet på Halland ikke er en krimi i traditionel forstand, så er den fundamentalt spændende, og Pia Juuls sprog og karaktertegning er fremragende. Uden at forfalde til billige dramaturgiske tricks er jeg efter læsning stadig usikker på, hvem Bess egentlig er. Det kalder på en genlæsning og en god diskussion i læsekredsen!
Handlingen: Dansk kvinde, forfatter, lever med sin mand på polsk på Sjælland. Manden hedder Halland, han er 59 et halvt år, da bogen begynder, og når kun at blive et par minutter ældre. Så er han DØD. Myrdet. Deraf titlen. Nogen har skudt Halland med en kugle fra en riffel. Den danske version af The Grassy Knoll er på en kirkegård. Kvinden kastes ud i sorg, druk, forvirring og genforening med sin voksne datter af første ægteskab. Hvilket så også er eneste ægteskab, da Troels (en skurk), som hun var gift med, blev den eneste hun blev gift med. Halland og fortæller-jeget levede sammen. På polsk. Nåmen det har jeg nævnt. Nådada det ringer på døren. Nu skal jeg åbne. Kvinden hedder Bess.
Det er ikke en bog, der har givet mig lyst til at læse mere Pia Juul - og derfor tror jeg, at jeg vil gøre det! Hun må være bedre end det her.
Jeg synes det er herlige digte - jeg har hørt Pia Juul læse op fra denne digtsamling og det gør hun godt. Det er let at gå til - læser man ikke digte - kan man nemt begynde her. lri
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Although The Murder of Halland begins with a murder—and a rather Kafkaesque scene of public proclamation of guilt thrown on to the narrator, his common-law wife, Bess—those who read this novel to find out the whos, the whats, the wheres, the whys, and the hows will be gravely disappointed. (I hesitate to even add this title to my crime/mystery shelf here.) Instead, as I said above, Juul allows the initial murder to be the impetus for what flows forth, privileging texture over anything else.
Complete with a cast of bizarre characters, and with a humor so typically Scandinavian in its dark, sardonic way, this novel slowly builds to a consideration of how well we know others (“I knew everything about Halland. He was the love of my life. Did I hate him?”), and also how well we can know ourselves in a world that makes no sense whatsoever. An example of the strange juxtapositions that take place here that make this such a phenomenal work due to how it bends across genres so seamlessly: Bess picks up a notebook to write the usual whodunit suspect list, with motives and clues pointing to them. Immediately, however, she turns the page over and begins to write a to-do list so as not to forget to go grocery shopping or to clean her house. Juul is able to place similar types of discordant juxtapositions in both stream-of-consciousness as well as more dialogic passages, so the mood—which is hard to pinpoint or signify, existing both at the level of pathos and humor, grief and giddiness—stays wonderfully fluid throughout.
Epigraphs begin each chapter and indicate both Juul’s authorial debt as well as her thematic similarity to figures as wide ranging as Christa Wolf, Robert Walser, Raymond Chandler, Agatha Christie, Anne Carson, and Eugène Ionesco. At the same time, though, her prose is so cinematic in its registers that one can’t help but think of the surreal work of directors like David Lynch, where the uncanny side of everyday life is brought to the forefront and dreams and reality are indeterminable from one another. (Although I personally think the cinematic register in The Murder of Halland owes more to feminist surreal filmmakers like Lucrecia Martel whose work also came to mind while I was reading Juul’s novel.)
A remarkable and wholly original work: here’s to assembling a team of talented translators eager to begin translating more of Juul’s work into English soon so that we can enjoy the insights and the bewildering logic upholding the world as she presents it to us—and as it quite often is in reality as well.