Ah, how to describe this book. Knausgaard is a joyless Norwegian who writes with piercing honesty (no filter!) and excruciating detail about his life. For example, he gives you every detailed step of how he makes a cup of coffee. But amongst all the tedium there is some beautiful, insightful writing – like his feelings as a teenager, and his observation about time and place. When I finished the book, I had a lot of unanswered questions. Also, I felt like I had helped cleaned his deceased father’s house. I can’t say that about any other book I’ve ever read.
Gwenamon says: My friend summed it up best – it’s strangely compelling