Kristina Carlson: Herra Darwinin puutarhuri [Mr Darwin’s gardener]

Helsinki: Otava, 2009. 176 p.
ISBN 978-951-1-23881-2
31 €, hardback

“Kristina Carlson’s long-awaited second novel is a wonderfully constructed and narrated history of thought and ideology. Carlson’s depictions sparkle with the beauty to be found in the details of a bygone way of life. The events affecting the villagers linger on in our minds. Perhaps not even British writers could imbue this story with as finely tuned a sense of time, place and humanity as Carlson has.” (Mervi Kantokorpi, Helsingin Sanomat)

“The narrator’s voice travels like a baton from one villager to the next, as the world-weary gardener lopes up and down the length of his English village in the late 1870s. […] Mr Darwin’s Gardener is the first book I have read in years to use the flow-of-consciousness style in such a way that speech and inner realities flow directly on to the paper without using external images to explain the situation in hand. Although the transitions from one character to the next are all but seamless, the chosen narrative style is still very natural. Indeed, the novel makes the specific point that nature, human beings included, is a holistic entity consisting of individual units that constantly merge with and influence one another.” (Putte Wilhelmsson, Turun Sanomat)

“Using repetition, sighs, fragments and onomatopoeia, Carlson succeeds in creating the whole village, a microcosm of the infinite smallness of humanity.” (Teppo Kulmala, Keskisuomalainen)

Read interview: Books from Finland | Read introduction: Otava | Sample translation |  Foreign rights: Otava

Monika Fagerholm: Glitterscenen [The Glitter Stage]

Glitterscenen
Helsingfors: Söderströms, 2009. 407 p.
ISBN 978-951-522-467-5
€29.90
Säihkenäyttämö
Finnish translation by Liisa Ryömä
Helsinki: Teos, 2009. 455 p.
ISBN 978-951-851-127-7
€29.90, hardback

“The Glitter Stage is a rich, multifaceted novel, making it a profoundly intense reading experience. It is a very distinctive book, so much so that, after finishing it, it is hard to pick anything else up for a while.” (Salla Seuri, Uusi Suomi)

“Monika Fagerholm rearranges the world in the way that only a true novelist can. Hers is a world of fleeting spaces, glittering stages, underground rooms, forbidden seas. […] The Glitter Stage is a towering read. It stays with you, its lingering light sparkling in the reader’s mind. It seems as though the very act of reading this book brings us closer to the inexplicable core of life itself.” (Eeva Saesmaa, Savon Sanomat)

“Fagerholm’s world is firmly rooted in the realms of realism – meaning a sensuous reality, that which is everyday, perceptible, or the way in which we talk about our own sense of reality – in almost the same manner as opera. […] The Glitter Stage really worked for me, with all its darkness, its linguistic adventurousness, its unanswered moral questions, its fundamental exultation of humour. The novel lit up the days I spent reading it; it triggered my imagination and challenged my thoughts. And everything it required of me, it gave back twofold in a tainted bliss of sorts.” (Pia Ingström, Hufvudstadsbladet)

Read review: Books from Finland | Read introduction: Salomonssons Agency | Foreign rights: Salomonssons Agency

Rights sold: Finland, Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Germany, Netherlands, France, United States

Kari Hotakainen: Ihmisen osa [The human lot]

Helsinki: Siltala, 2009. 276 p.
ISBN 978-952-23-4021-4
29 €, hardback

“The undoubted pinnacle of Hotakainen’s oeuvre […], a sharp, incisive depiction of the age. Hotakainen, who has a reputation for being something of a funny man, is an angry, clenched moral fist.” (Antti Majander, Helsingin Sanomat)

“Hotakainen is a skilful storyteller, a writer full of inexplicable surprises. His humour is intelligent and takes the reader from laughter to tears and back again. One shouldn’t devour his work, though this novel really has to read in one sitting.” (Ritva Kolehmainen, Savon Sanomat)

“This novel is a stylistically straightforward, dark tale of the delusions of affluence that wash the characters away. […] Aesthetically, The human lot is one of the Hotakainen’s most flawless works. Thoughts and musings on society are constructed piece by piece, chapter after chapter.” (Jari O. Hiltunen, Satakunnan Kansa)

Read review: Books from Finland | Read introduction: WSOY | Bibliography | Foreign rights: WSOY

Rights sold: France, Spain, Denmark, Sweden

Jari Järvelä: Mistä on mustat tytöt tehty? [What are black girls made of?]

Helsinki: Tammi, 2009. 321 p.
ISBN 978-951-31-4897-3
28 €, hardback

“I imagine Jari Järvelä probably had a lot of fun writing his latest novel, and this sense of fun really comes across to the reader. Always delving into details at the first opportunity, this sprawling narrative is full of black (and white) humour. Seen from the rooftops, from the chimney sweep’s perspective up among the chimney stacks, the world looks very different indeed.” (Juha Virkki, Kouvolan Sanomat)

“This saga of chimney sweeps in 1950s Helsinki grows out of small recollections and anecdotes. […] Järvelä’s new novel makes extensive use of fabula, narrative in which a sense of real life is constantly present. This trait is familiar from Järvelä’s previous novels and short stories. Wild associations and a vivid imagination are combined in this highly focussed depiction of time and milieu.” (Juhani Ruotsalo, Demari)

“In addition to presenting the young woman’s life story thus far and examining the realities of life as a chimney sweep, the novel incorporates elements of the murder mystery, which serves to the complete incredible twists and turns of the plot.” (Kaisa Kurikka, Turun Sanomat)

Read introduction: Books from Finland | Sample translation | Foreign rights: Tammi

Katja Kallio, Syntikirja [The book of sins]

Helsinki: Otava, 2009. 302 p.
ISBN 978-951-1-23854-6
28 €, hardback

“Katja Kallio has written her best novel to date. The Book of Sins is beautiful, touching, skilfully constructed and well thought through, perceptive and non-judgmental. […] The Book of Sins tells the story of a miserable circle of lovelessness passing from one generation to the next; love appears only tantalisingly close by. […] In addition to having a deep understanding of all the big questions, Kallio has an ability to write in a way that makes the reader want to pick up a pen and jot down her words of wisdom.” (Liisa Kukkola, Etelä-Saimaa)

“Kallio’s feeling for the text is absolutely unquestionable. Here’s the trick: first sketch a very thin outline, then colour in using flashbacks, searing dialogue and sublime moments of utter despair. And look: what you have is a generational novel of devastating proportions.” (Raisa Mattila, Helsingin Sanomat)

Read introduction: Otava | Foreign rights: Otava

Kjell Westö: Gå inte ensam ut i natten [Don’t go out alone at night]

Gå inte ensam ut i natten
Helsingfors: Söderströms, 2009. 604 p.
ISBN 978-951-52-2609-9
25 €, hardback
Finnish translation (by Katriina Savolainen): Älä käy yöhön yksin
Helsinki: Otava, 2009. 604 p.
ISBN 978-951-1-23833-1
25 €, hardback

“Don’t go out alone at night leaves the reader with a palpable sense of dread: can life slip through our fingers this quickly, this literally? […] The level to which the reader can empathise with the characters and events in this novel is astonishing; the scenes, locations and sounds are all depicted in such vivid colours and from such masterful angles that the sense of reality in this novel is one that film directors are unlikely to want to challenge.” (Hannu Marttila, Helsingin Sanomat)

“Westö hooks his readers both with his historical accuracy and with the worldly nature of events. He recounts generational experiences, full of nostalgia and coloured with pop music, vividly depicted locations and people, and historical events. […] Westö’s expansive, original prose, his passionately sentimental evocations of the city, of music, and his idiosyncratic blend of humour and pathos combine to form a highly convincing novel.” (Salla Seuri, Uusi Suomi)

“Don’t go out alone at night revisits several old themes: power and weakness, rise and fall, the place of the individual in time and society. One of Westö’s talents is his incredible ability to balance wider societal upheaval with the development of individual characters, and to make the two sides of the coin influence and contrast with one another. The sense of loss when a society grows apart from its history is the same as that experienced by children leaving their childhood behind them. The question in all of Westö’s novels is: should we harden ourselves or simply learn to live with our vulnerability? (Anna-Lina Brunell, Hufvudstadsbladet)

Read review: Books from Finland | Read introduction: Bonnier | Bibliography | Foreign rights: Bonnier Group Agency

Rights sold: Germany, Norway

Tuomas Kyrö: 700 grammaa [700 grams]

Helsinki: WSOY, 2009. 379 p.
ISBN 978-951-0-35601-2
29,90 €, hardback

“Tuomas Kyrö seems to improve with every new novel. In terms of its subject and its linguistic competence, his latest novel 700 grams is such a staggering achievement that one can do nothing but applaud it. […] Inventive, incisive asides abound at almost every corner. 700 grams is a perceptive examination of every aspect of life in modern Finland, a life in which ‘human movement is determined by the movement of money’ and vice versa.” (Raija Hakala, Pohjolan Sanomat)

“Kyrö, who has improved with every successive novel, has filled every sentence with references to culture, music and recent history. The language in this novel is so rich and intense that it seems to achieve the impossible, like asking a hammer thrower to run flat out for 1500 metres.” (Seppo Puttonen and Nadja Nowak, YLE [The  Broadcasting Company])

“The novel’s depictions of Ilmari’s training and of his experiments with various banned substances, which results in his victory at the European Championships in Albania, are the stuff of classic picaresque literature spiced with elements of Jackass humour. The training episodes featuring the man looking after his stout playschool-aged son read like a grotesque variation on the theme of the knight of the sorrowful countenance.” (Mervi Kantokorpi, Helsingin Sanomat)

Read review: Books from Finland | Read introduction: WSOY | Foreign rights: WSOY

Translated by David Hackston

Veijo Baltzar. - Photo: Eva Persson

Veijo Baltzar has constructed a solid, full-blooded tale of Roma beliefs and customs built on a foundation of grim reality

Veijo Baltzar’s eighth novel, Sodassa ja rakkaudessa (’In love and war’, Tammi, 2008), is the story of a Roma community living on the outskirts of a German town from the end of the 1930s, through the concentration camps of the Second World War to the end of the war. Two young Romas emerge as the book’s main characters – Kastalo, an orphan shoe-shine boy and pickpocket who grew up on the streets, and Carinja, a young girl from a respectable Roma family with whom he falls in love. Obstacles to the misalliance arise from Carinja’s parents, her brother Giri, and her arranged bridegroom Bustan, as well as the tumult of world history.

The author’s own Roma background is reflected in descriptive passages and expressive details as well as in the narrative itself. Without a doubt the most important supporting character is… a horse. In his description of the horse, Baltzar (born 1942) goes deep into his own experience. The horse is present everywhere. The horse understands, gives comfort, senses danger before the people do, and rescues the persecuted in their hour of need – in the end with its own flesh.

The central settings for the plot are the familiar communities of Roma culture – nuclear and extended families and gypsy camps – and, perhaps most important, travelling wagon trains. In the words of the narrator:

The caravan was like a ship, commanded by a captain. Numerous family members with various skills were in the crew: caretakers, grease monkeys, wheel tarrers, navigators, drivers, cooks, cleaners, pilots – plus scouts, storytellers, music makers, singers, and dancers. Weepers and complainers. But they were all one big happy family.

In the story, the caravan led by old man Droman treks across the darkest periods of 20th century history, and the traditional values and dreams of the Roma hang in the balance. In the end, in a death camp devoid of all human values, Kastalo is forced to make choices that conflict with his own culture.

From a foundation in grim reality Baltzar constructs a solid, full-blooded story of the beliefs and customs of the Roma that springs from a lifetime faith: ‘A gypsy never quits!’ Their means of survival are extremely diverse: for women they are based on social skills and for men on intuition and life experience. A crackling and quick rhythm in the dialogue teases, flatters and argues with the reader, and the brief sentences bring the tale to life.

The suspenseful narrative brings the story to a surprising conclusion. It is a story of unrequited love that ends at a funeral that includes Carinja, her betrothed Bustan, and her beloved Kastalo, who have survived the concentration camps. But who is being buried in this final scene?

Translated by Lola Rogers

Robert Åsbacka. - Photo: Leif Weckström

Pia Ingström on Robert Åsbacka’s novel Orgelbyggaren (‘The organ-builder’, Schildts 2008)

‘The organ-builder’ leaves me feeling sad, upset and happy, all at the same time. It seems odd that this gentle tale of an old man’s loneliness and sorrow after the death of his wife may be the most vibrant, intense and rousing novel I’ve read in a very long time. I am overjoyed that it is solid and substantial – a good, weight-bearing text, with plenty to unearth. I see now how Robert Åsbacka has been improving his craft as his career has progressed – and that his craft encompasses a great many talents.

He is capable of large-scale and patient construction, so that now, after four novels, we have a whole Åsbacka world to return to. He can write prose that is laconic, precise, and loaded with both humour and pathos. He can describe concrete objects, materials, work processes, different environments – and the emotional and intellectual dimensions contained within them.

Shipwreck

‘The organ-builder’ is a novel about how an old man, Thomasson, makes fragile new connections to the world around him, a world he has long ago turned his back on – precisely as a result of his vulnerability and his fading physical strength. He has been mourning the loss of his wife and avoiding all worldly concerns until a small boy’s cry for help makes him deviate from the path of his habitual walk, with results both good and bad.

Woven into the story of how he changes are his thoughts about his wife’s life and her death on the ferry Estonia, on its way from Tallinn to Stockholm through a September storm in 1994, in the worst maritime disaster in Europe since the Second World War, involving the loss of 850 lives.

Åsbacka, who himself worked on the ferry after it had just been launched, takes us inside the body of the ship, acquaints us with the cycles of food, drink, garbage, dirty linen, and with the sounds of steel and engines. As a result, we are able to participate in Thomasson’s fruitless brooding about what happened that night in September 1994 to his beloved Siri, a retired choir-mistress on her way to visit their grandchildren in Stockholm from Latvia, where she had been looking at church-organs.

He hadn’t gone with her, although he could well have done so. And now he is angry that she didn’t survive. She was ‘unusually fit, unusually energetic’, a woman who ‘walked, danced, exercised (…), always the one who took the initiative, first in line, the one with the best solutions.’

And yet she still died, on a ship that she ought to have known inside out – she had spent enough time on it with him, in the same corridors and the same stairwells, when the ship was still the Viking Sally and he had been its supplies manager.

Music

At home in his apartment in a coastal town in western Finland, Thomasson has spent the years after the disaster constructing a baroque organ for Siri, whom he genuinely loved yet betrayed during their long marriage.

With a sprained ankle and a broken arm – the rewards of his unpractised interaction with the outside world – he lies on his sofa listening to a recording of the seventeenth-century composer Dietrich Buxtehude’s organ composition ‘Mensch, willst du leben seliglich’. He thinks about how Siri played and pressed the pedals, her foot gliding from one pedal to another:

‘Beneath the music was the constant faint noise of all the moving parts of the organ. It brought the music to life, in the same way as a congregation’s coughing and foot-scraping on the stone floor contributed to a priest’s Sunday sermon. The word and everyday life united.’

Art

In much the same way, art and the everyday are united in Åsbacka’s novels. In Fallstudie (‘Case study’, 2004) we learn about the materiality of art by following two men who are constructing an installation out of scrap metal and magnets according to an artist’s plans. In Kring torget i Skoghall (‘On Skoghall Square’, 2006) we see a grimy fast-food kiosk transformed into a gourmet restaurant, and appreciate that food preparation can be conceptual, poetic art. The organ-builder, grumpy old Thomasson, fixed in his ways, shows us the point of Buxtehude’s music, Samuel Beckett’s drama, Sophie Calle’s conceptual art – Calle a figure familiar from earlier novels. They are there to help us to put up with ourselves in our misery and our striving for decency, to give shape to our bovine existence. So ‘The organ-builder’ is not just a novel about the Estonia, about physical frailty and the constancy of sorrow – it is also a novel of ideas about the place of art in our lives.

Sublime

I am delighted that the place of art is described as grand and important, yet fully accessible – Åsbacka has no embarrassed need to be ironic or profane about its importance, because he sees our contact with it as self-evident and unavoidable.

If only one dares, thinking can be as astonishing as this: Thomasson is listening to Membra Jesu Nostri, Buxtehude’s work about Christ’s suffering on the cross: ‘When death comes, O Jesus, let my breath flow into your side,’ the choir sings, and Thomasson thinks about the hole in the side of the ship: ‘He thought of Doubting Thomas, who wanted to put his finger into Jesus’ wounds in order to believe truly. For him, other people’s testimony was not enough. Thomasson felt for him. He too could no longer simply believe and accept things as before. He had to see the hole in the side. If it was there, or if it wasn’t there.’

I can’t discern any demand for religious sentiment here, but rather an invitation to a beautiful mutability of the sublime and our everyday sensory perceptions. Åsbacka presupposes with authoritative self-assurance that we can encompass both with our intellect and our emotions.

Humanity

I haven’t mentioned Thomasson’s human failings, or the other characters in the book and their merits. Or the pleasure of renewing acquaintance with characters from Skoghall or Döbelns grand (‘Döbelns Alley’, 2000). Or about how art can kill. Or how art nourishes and consumes other art (such as when Åsbacka niftily borrows from Buxtehude to arrange his material into chapters). Or about the overweight, thin-haired amateur actor, renowned for not knowing the script, who gets to play Winnie in Beckett’s Happy Days. And obviously I haven’t mentioned all the things I still haven’t discovered in this rich, multifaceted novel. But you can find that out for yourselves – read this book!

Translated by Neil Smith