A Man in Love (My Struggle, Book 2)

A Man in Love (My Struggle, Book 2)

Karl Ove Knausgaard

Language: English

Pages: 336

ISBN: 2:00154519

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Translated by Don Bartlett

Karl Ove Knausgaard leaves his wife and everything he knows in Oslo for a fresh start in Stockholm. There he strikes up a deep and competitive friendship with Geir and pursues Linda, a beautiful poet who captivated him years ago.

A Man in Love, the second book of six in the My Struggle cycle, sees Knausgaard write of tempestuous relationships, the trials of parenthood and an urge to create great art. His singular insight and exhilarating honesty must be read to be believed.

"This deserves to be called perhaps the most significant literary enterprise of our times"
-- Rachel Cusk, Guardian

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by comparison. I drank twenty beers that night, and all I can remember from the last hours is an old drunk with whom Thure Erik had struck up a conversation, who sat down at our table and kept saying I was so good-looking, such a good-looking lad. Thure Erik laughed and nudged me in the shoulder between his attempts to draw the man out about his life. And then I remember us standing outside the flat and him clambering into the back of his car to sleep as light snowflakes swirled around beneath

knew that, I had experienced it myself and hated it with every fibre in my body, so why did I instinctively want to persist at all costs? I cut some slices of bread, put them in a basket with the rolls, filled the kettle and sat down to have breakfast with them. The butter was a little hard, and as I tried to spread it with the knife the bread tore. Vanja was staring at me. I spun my head round and fixed my eyes on her. She gave a start in her chair. Then, fortunately, she began to laugh. I did

said. ‘Three seagulls!’ One child was absolutely out of the question for me, two was too few and too close together, but three, I reckoned, was perfect. Then the children outnumbered the parents, there were lots of permutations possible, then we were a gang. I had nothing but contempt for precise plans to pinpoint the most suitable time, both as far as our own lives were concerned and which ages went best together. After all this was not a business we were running. I wanted to let chance decide,

I believed it? Yes, I had. But it was my mother’s ideas I was expressing, she was the one who was preoccupied by human relationships, who thought that was where value lay, not me. That is, at the time I was, at the time I believed it. But not from any personal experience, it was just one of the things that were as they were. Ibsen had been right. Everything I saw around me confirmed it. Relationships were there to eradicate individuality, to fetter freedom and suppress that which was pushing

anything else in therapy. Haven’t thought about anything else all day. It’s fantastic.’ ‘Did you tell your therapist before you told me?’ ‘Yes, and?’ ‘What have you got between your ears? Do you imagine it’s only your child? You can’t tell other people before you tell me! Is there something wrong with you or what?’ ‘Oh, Karl Ove, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. I was just overwhelmed. I didn’t mean to. Please, don’t let this come between us.’ I looked at her. ‘OK,’ I said. ‘I don’t suppose it

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