In contemporary Norwegian fiction, Tomas Espedalesquo;s work stands out as uniquely bound up with the authorrsquo;s personal experiences. His first book, Tramp, introduced us to the wanderer Tomas; Against Art told us how a boy approaches art and eventually becomes a writer; Against Nature examined love squo;s laboridash;the job of writing; and in Bergerners, he is torn between his love for his home town and what lies beyond. Now, in The Year, we encounter the authordsquo;s struggle to reconcile his inner life with the external world, and the myriad forms of love, hate, loss, and deathsdash;both personal and literarysdash;with the immutable pattern of time and the seasons. It is the journal of a year, a diary like no other. And suffusing it all are questions Petrarch asked: How do you live when the one you love is gone? And when your life force shifts from spring to autumn, how do you find the good death?
Written as a long poem, The Year is Espedalesquo;s riveting stream of consciousnessadash;profound, edgy, sometimes manic, but always intensely intimate.
