It's a stunning start; probably more so for anyone who has had children and taken them to stay with childless friends. Perhaps a slightly guilty, but soon shrugged off, sense of recognition from just those same childless recipients of families coming to stay. And maybe a sense of disbelief from those who are childless and don't have families to stay, or have children but don't stay with the childless. And a sense of sadness from those childless who do have children to stay and love every minute (despite the tiredness), and their visitors who absolutely love going to stay with them and are eternally, and I mean eternally, grateful for their reception. Karl Ove Knausgaard maybe a bit of a selfish cunt at times, but he's an honest selfish cunt, and there aren't that many of them around, particularly those that can write so well and so accurately. I love reading this book, I have to ration myself so i don't read it all in one sitting.
I can't say the same for Candide , which I've always meant to read and am 1/3 way through. It's of its time I guess, and I'm just speed reading knowing what will come next. It must have shocked deeply at the time - and rightly so, meaningfully so. It does make me reflect on writing that will endure and writing that is of it's time only - both are important. Maybe the latter are even more important because they pave the way, they split apart the mindsets of the moment and allow something else in.
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