The only approach I ever had to modern Scandinavian writing was through Stieg Larsson’s Millennium Trilogy. But this is my first time reading Norwegian literature through a short tale of Kjell Askildsen.

Askildsen’s Elisabeth is a sample of his anti-doctrinal spirit told through subtle and icy irony. Something is appealing from his narrative as it’s not snobbily garnished, but simple and straight, taking the reader to a plane where the words depict a vivid scenery.

This short tale is a story about a reciprocal abhorrence between Frank and his brother Daniel, fueled by a sudden and swelling attraction for Daniel’s wife as Frank cannot stop thinking about her moved by the thought of Frau Hentjen from Broch’s The Anarchist. As Frank, somehow, looks to avoid the uncomfortable situation, he ends up visiting his mother just to find that dealing with her is far more annoying than dealing with Daniel.

This short story is, in some way, a reminder that, sometimes, the family is nothing but a primal Tartarus where the wicked souls are condemned to endure a pathetic sentimentalism, and through Frank’s eyes, having, not only the chance to choose escaping from it, but the right to do so.