Jon Fosse's latest novel, Vaim, is a bewildering yet strangely beautiful tale of love, identity, and the blurring of reality. At just under 120 pages, this slender volume is a stark contrast to Fosse's earlier septology, Septology (2019-2021), which clocked in at over 800 pages and told a single story spanning three volumes.
Vaim follows Jatgeir, a quiet and introspective man living alone in his deceased parents' house. His life is marked by solitude and longing, as he recalls his "secret love" from his youth, Eline, who has now called upon him to rescue her from her fisher husband. However, this could be the start of a romance were it not for Fosse's signature ambiguity.
As Jatgeir navigates the complexities of his relationships with Eline and his friend Elias, the narrative veers wildly between moments of tenderness and scenes of eerie uncertainty. The lines between reality and fantasy are constantly blurred, leaving the reader to ponder the nature of truth. Even time becomes fluid, as scenes are juxtaposed without clear chronology.
Fosse's prose is disarmingly simple yet palpably powerful. His descriptions of everyday life – a plate of meatballs, a suitcase comparison between American and European styles – serve as a counterpoint to the fantastical elements of his story. It is in these quiet moments that Fosse reveals the depth of human emotion.
The result is a novel that feels both profoundly personal and unsettlingly mystical. As Jatgeir himself hopes will be inscribed on his tombstone, "All was strange," so too does this reader's experience of finishing Vaim. How can prose so straightforward and ordinary pulse with such feeling? How can it evoke the vast, elemental landscapes of Norway with such precision?
Ultimately, Fosse's Vaim is a strange miracle – a work of fiction that is both bewilderingly opaque and profoundly affecting. It invites readers to surrender to its mysteries and immerse themselves in its hypnotic rhythms.
Vaim follows Jatgeir, a quiet and introspective man living alone in his deceased parents' house. His life is marked by solitude and longing, as he recalls his "secret love" from his youth, Eline, who has now called upon him to rescue her from her fisher husband. However, this could be the start of a romance were it not for Fosse's signature ambiguity.
As Jatgeir navigates the complexities of his relationships with Eline and his friend Elias, the narrative veers wildly between moments of tenderness and scenes of eerie uncertainty. The lines between reality and fantasy are constantly blurred, leaving the reader to ponder the nature of truth. Even time becomes fluid, as scenes are juxtaposed without clear chronology.
Fosse's prose is disarmingly simple yet palpably powerful. His descriptions of everyday life – a plate of meatballs, a suitcase comparison between American and European styles – serve as a counterpoint to the fantastical elements of his story. It is in these quiet moments that Fosse reveals the depth of human emotion.
The result is a novel that feels both profoundly personal and unsettlingly mystical. As Jatgeir himself hopes will be inscribed on his tombstone, "All was strange," so too does this reader's experience of finishing Vaim. How can prose so straightforward and ordinary pulse with such feeling? How can it evoke the vast, elemental landscapes of Norway with such precision?
Ultimately, Fosse's Vaim is a strange miracle – a work of fiction that is both bewilderingly opaque and profoundly affecting. It invites readers to surrender to its mysteries and immerse themselves in its hypnotic rhythms.