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5.0 out of 5 stars
THE LAST JOY, a Knut Hamsun Jewel, January 13, 2011
This review is from: The Last Joy (Green Integer) (Paperback)
Knut Hamsun was in his prime when he wrote this strange story. He plowed a new field and sowed it with seeds which grew from his deeply penetrating observations of people. Hamsun reports on all things importantly human: human conduct, human emotions, human relations, human society, human culture. Each note he strikes rings true. I never heard a false note in this symphony played under Norwegian skies. But I dare say it would ring as pure and true under the skies of Berlin or Beijing or Moscow Russia or Moscow Idaho. Knut Hamsun was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1920, for his epic "Birth of the Soil." I found this strange book, written twenty years afterwards, in 1940, even more rewarding. But until recent years it has never been distributed or much read outside of Norway.
The protagonist at first lives in solitude, in a peat hut, near the sea. He remains nameless throughout the book.
The story starts out:
"I have gone to the forest. Not because I am offended about anything, or very unhappy about men's evil ways; but since the forest will not come to me, I must go to it. That is all... Really, I could make quite a song and dance about it. For I mean to roam and think and make great irons red-hot."
In the final chapter he writes of his irons: "They were planned so big and so red; yet they are small irons, and they hardly glow." He does not write this out of self-pity. He says simply. "This is the truth."
The protagonist is the narrator throughout. But he is not just a passive reporter. He is fully engaged with all the people and their life situations. He is deeply immersed in their lives. Sometimes others tell him of observations made through their prism eyes. He in turn reports to us what they said through his own prism eyes.
Soon enough, the next character appears.
"One day a man comes to the hut. . . . `I didn't expect to find anybody in the hut,' said the man. His manner was at once forceful and discontented; he flung down the sack without humility."
[Later we learn that the man's name is Solem, and the contents of the bag are stolen goods.]
"Have you lived here long?" he asked. "And are you leaving soon?"
"Is the hut yours, perhaps?" I asked in my turn.
. . .
"Because if the hut is yours, that's another matter," I said. "But I don't intend like a pickpocket to take it with me when I leave." I spoke gently and jestingly to avoid committing a blunder by my speech. But I said quite the right thing; the man at once lost his assurance. Somehow I had made him feel that I knew more about him than he knew about me.
Solem is invited to eat with the narrator, and he accepts. The men have much telling and interesting conversation. Solem winds up staying the night and leaves the next day.
Two law men come to the hut the next day and asked: "Did you see a man pass by here yesterday?"
"No," I said.
Solem is woven into the story and appears throughout the book. After abandoning his hut the narrator walks to a mountain resort. There an odd assortment of characters appear; but Hamsun does not just describe them for us. He uses vivid brush strokes to show them to us, how they bump together and against the world, how they interact, what motivates them, what gets them up in the morning. Hamsun allows us to reach our own conclusions about the kind of person we ourselves are observing.
Arriving at the resort the narrator tells the reader: "Good days, nothing but good days: a suitable transition from solitude. I speak to the young people who own the homestead now, and to the husband's old father and young sister Josephine . . . Josephine, the daughter . . . is young and plays the piano for me. . . her feet are like a breeze under her skirt . . . It is pleasant to watch Josephine crouch down to milk the goat. But she is only doing this now to charm and please the stranger. Josephine received in her gray, young-girl's fingers" [some small change handed to her as a gratuity]
The bustle of spring season had already started. "Now they'll be coming," he [the old father] said. "If only they would leave us in peace." He added.
Mrs. Brede, the young wife of a wealthy business man arrives at the resort with her small children. She meets Solem. All the women are after Solem. "One evening when she went down to the men's hut and asked Solem to do her a service, I saw that her face was strange and covered with blushes. Would Solem come to her room and repair a window-blind that had fallen down?" We learn later that the young Mrs. Brede had deliberately caused the blind to fall down.
Many other men and women gather at the resort. All the women, young and old, are interested in Solem and he is interested in them, all of them. The men seem to be more interested in hiking the mountains then becoming involved in any social entanglements. When summer ends the visitors return to town. Their paths continue to cross in town with surprising and interesting consequences--some good, some not so good. Alliances are made. Relationships are shattered; some take the broken pieces to the grave with them; others knit the pieces back together resulting in a stronger more satisfying union. As the years pile up one on top of another, the lengthening shadows allow us to see the people in differing light. One becomes exultant in old age, and faces death with equanimity. Another sadly tumbles into the grave still holding tight to their bosom their treasure chest filled with bitterness and remorse.
The final chapter is a rant. It curiously starts out "I have written this story for you." . . . "I have written about human beings. But within the speech that is spoken, another lies concealed, like the veins under the skin, like a story within a story."
The closing paragraph is very unusual indeed. It is:
"Why have I written to you, of all people? Why do you think? You refused to be convinced of the truth and integrity of my conclusions; but I shall yet force you to recognize that I am close to the truth. Not until then shall I make allowance for the fool in you."
I've read about ten other Hamsun books, and have viewed the movie HAMSUN. I found this jewel of his to be the most rewarding. I am 81 years of age and what time I have left has become a very precious commodity. I have absolutely no regrets spending the many hours I did reading this book. (I'm a very slow reader). In fact, I think I'll go back and read it again.
Neil Bezaire, Carlsbad, CA, Author of "First Empty Your Cup"
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