A book about the kind of lives one never sees in the movies, created in an elegant, concise prose by the author and her English translator Emma Rose. These are the lives of the well-off lonely; minutely organized and with all their time (and their emotions) settled, divided up and pre-empted. In this way they keep the affectionless, unpeopled void at bay.


This is a world, existing inside a small but prosperous Norwegian town, of gated houses and trams where a great but serene passion is daily consummated — that of a mature person for her garden. This person, a stern old lady, also loves her son Haakon who, perhaps wisely, has gone to live far away. Somehow, on a visit to Mother, and because of that garden, Haakon, who is a middle-aged virgin, gets a faint but fatal inkling of another kind of life that has passed him by utterly.


The story is told beautifully and delivers that mysterious satisfaction beauty always promises us.

‘Felice’s envy kept him company throughout his long walk on Bergen mountain. So aware was Haakon of her presence that he rediscovered a childhood habit of his: that of holding detailed imaginary conversations with a non-existent companion. In this way he talked to her for a long while, even embarking on a complex discussion, divided into sections and geometrically precise. Questions and answers interwove in perfect alternation with meaningful silences...’ p59