Om vinteren | 
#25Alive! Day 3: #Winter - here‘s hoping I finally get to Norwegian Knausgaard this year as GatheringBooks launched its #ReadTheWorld2025 reading theme inspired by how my travels to eight countries in 2024 shaped my reading journeys: https://wp.me/pDlzr-qUy
pickWhile I liked this pretty well, and there are definitely some eye opening insights, it also sort of feels like more of the same, thinking about it in comparison to the previous book, “Autumn.” It gets a little repetitive. Not all of these meditations, these mini-essays, nail it—and I‘m not quite sure I want to sit with two more books of this material....
pickI can't lie, I love this writer. It's not for everyone but I find myself reading his work obsessively and thinking about it for weeks afterward. This one is a series of short essays really, a familial anecdote might be followed with a detailed description of exactly what a chair is, or an opinion about house guests then a study of owls. It seems to be what he's noticed on any given day, all extremely ordinary but utterly fascinating.
Fifty pages in and I've already been twice moved almost to tears. Simple recollections of ordinary parenting, times when you couldn't help your own child because you just can't and they need to figure some things out themselves, heartbreaking at the time but quickly forgotten. Until this guy comes along.
Winter and Spring came in at the library and they are both illustrated. Winter by #LarsLerin in water color and Spring in oils I think (I'm no artist) by #AnnaBjerger
They're both quite beautiful.
pickI‘m becoming a bit obsessed with the works of Karl Ove Knausgaard. I very much enjoyed this second book in his seasonal quartet. This time, the letters to his unborn and then newborn daughter were among my favorite parts. My favorites of the essays were “Rooster,” “Operation,” “Birthday,” “Sugar,” and “Conversation.” I started Spring last night!
I finished my second book for #24in48. I‘m a bit obsessed with the works of Karl Ove Knausgaard at the moment.
Still plugging away. This is my total from yesterday. Not bad for a crazy Saturday. I‘m almost finished with the tagged book. #24in48
pickAnother interesting book about the author‘s reflections on various topics. (Photo featuring some of my 5yo‘s LEGO creations.)
I have to show you a glimpse of my view of the Upper Midwest and a book suited for today. 😥 If you live somewhere that has a bit of spring, please enjoy it for me! Maybe, someday, a 🌷????
pickKarl Ove continues writing about objects in the world as he waits for his daughter to be born.What an interesting legacy for her to read one day.He describes items in everyday life with a fresh outlook ,owls,chairs,winter sounds,Q-tips,atoms ,bonfires and the 70‘s.I could read him describing almost anything.Can‘t wait for spring,January in this volume ,his daughter is born.
... it probably has to do with the dynamics between the viable and the hidden, between what we know and what we don‘t know. The more we know about the world the greater the pull of what we don‘t know, and ever funnel, every grotto, every subterranean chamber is a confirmation of what we have always felt, that nothing ends with what the eyes can see.
pickAnother philosophical jaunt through worldly thoughts of a father expecting a newborn. It‘s like a laundry list of a what to expect as an adult. Sometimes cynical, oft beautiful, I‘m jealous my own parents didn‘t undertake this.
I think I love Karl Ove because as both a writer and an overt introvert, constantly vying for more time alone, we have similar experiences in seeing the world, analyzing it, and stepping back again to write/read— alone.
Life can be defined as a battle against the forces for equalization, which in the long term it is bound to lose. Thus, life exists out of defiance and is tragic by its very nature.[...] Death and nothingness await us, but we fall towards them so slowly that we don‘t notice it and don‘t stop to consider that it is them we seek to keep away.
White is the absence of color, so the equivalent of whiteness in the world of sound must be silence.
When the snow-covered forest lies motionless beneath the faintly darkening sky, it is completely still. If it then begins to snow and the air fills with snowflakes, it is still completely silent, but the silence is different, grows denser, more concentrated, a kind of intensifying or deepening of it, is the sonic expression of winter‘s essence.
Background is my back yard in SC!
