Karl Knausgaard - Dancing in the Dark

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Come in, all of you!’

They did what other visitors had done, looked around as they stepped into the sitting room. Huddling close to each other, they pushed and shoved and sniggered and blushed.

‘Come on, take a seat!’ I said, nodding in the direction of the sofa.

They did as they were told.

‘Well?’ I said. ‘What brings you here?’

‘We wanted to see how you were. We were bored, you see,’ Andrea said.

Was she some kind of leader? She hadn’t exactly given that impression at school.

‘There’s nothing to do here,’ Vivian said.

‘Nothing,’ Live said.

‘No, doesn’t seem like there is much,’ I said. ‘But I’m afraid there’s not a lot going on here either.’

‘No, it’s a hole,’ Andrea said.

‘My flat is a hole?’ I said.

She flushed to the roots.

‘No, silly. The village!’ she said.

‘I’m going to move away the second I finish the ninth class,’ Vivian said.

‘Me too,’ Live said.

‘You always copy what I do,’ Vivian said.

‘Oh yes? So?’

‘Oh yes? So?’ Vivian said in a perfect imitation. It even included Live’s little tic: two wrinkles of the nose under her glasses, in rapid succession.

‘Ooohh!’ Live said.

‘You can’t have a monopoly on leaving the village when you’re sixteen,’ I said, looking at Vivian, who smiled and lowered her eyes.

‘You speak so weirdly , Karl Ove,’ Andrea said. ‘What does monopoly mean?’

The use of my name caught me off guard, so much so that, while looking at Andrea, as it was she who was talking, I reddened and bowed my head.

‘Someone who is the only person to do something,’ I said, looking up.

‘Oh, yeees,’ she said, pretending to keel over with boredom. The other two girls laughed. I smiled.

‘I can see that you kids have a lot to learn,’ I said. ‘Good job for you that I came here.’

‘Not me,’ Andrea said. ‘I know all I need to know.’

‘Apart from how to drive a car,’ Vivian said.

‘I can drive a car!’ Andrea said.

‘Yes, but you’re not allowed to drive. That’s what I meant.’

There was a pause. I smiled at them, obviously failing to conceal a patronising air because Andrea narrowed her eyes and said: ‘We’re thirteen years old, by the way. We’re not tiny tots, if that was what you were thinking.’

I laughed.

‘Why should I think that? You’re all in the seventh class, I know that. I can even remember how it felt.’

‘How what felt?’

‘Starting at a new school. It’s your first day at the ungdomskole today.’

‘And don’t we know it,’ Vivian said. ‘It was even more boring than the sixth class, I reckon.’

The bell shrilled. The three girls exchanged glances. I got up to open the door.

It was Nils Erik.

‘Hello there,’ he said. ‘Are you going to offer an old colleague a cup of coffee?’

‘Wouldn’t you rather have a beer?’

He raised his eyebrows and put on a quizzical, or perhaps it was a sceptical, look.

‘No thanks. I’m going for a drive afterwards. Better safe than sorry.’

‘Anyway, come in,’ I said.

The three girls stared at him as he stopped in the middle of the sitting room.

‘So this is where you hang out in the evenings,’ he said.

‘Haven’t they been to yours yet?’ I said.

He shook his head. ‘But some fourth years came over this afternoon. While I was frying fishcakes.’

‘We’re just so bored,’ Live said.

The two others sent her an angry glare. Then they got up.

‘Well,’ said Andrea. ‘We’d better be going.’

‘Bye,’ I said. ‘And feel free to come another day!’

‘Bye!’ Vivian said from the hall, before the door was slammed shut.

Nils Erik smiled. Shortly afterwards we saw them trudging down the hill towards the shop.

‘Poor kids,’ I said. ‘They must be pretty desperate if all they have to do in their free time is visit teachers.’

‘Perhaps to them you’re exciting?’ Nils Erik said.

‘And you’re not, I suppose?’ I said.

‘No, I’m not,’ he snorted. ‘I was thinking of going for a drive, Karl Ove. Fancy coming?’

‘Where to?’

He shrugged.

‘Other side of the fjord perhaps? Or Hellevika?’

‘I wouldn’t mind going to Hellevika,’ I said. ‘After all, we can see the other side of the fjord from here.’

It transpired that Nils Erik was the outdoor type. He had applied for a job up here because of the natural beauty, he said, he had brought a tent and a sleeping bag with him, intending to go on hikes every weekend. Did I want to join him?

‘Not every weekend,’ he added with a smile as we drove at a snail’s pace alongside the fjord in his yellow car.

‘It’s not exactly my style,’ I said. ‘Think I’ll give that a miss.’

He nodded.

‘Thought so,’ he said. ‘But what makes a sophisticated city slicker like you move up here?’

‘I want to write,’ I said.

‘Write?’ he said. ‘What? Fill in forms? Job applications? Quick reminders to yourself? Letters? Limericks for radio shows? Letters to the editor?’

‘I’m working on a collection of short stories,’ I said.

‘Short stories!’ he said. ‘The Formula One of literature!’

‘Is that what they call them?’ I said.

‘No,’ he said with a laugh. ‘Not really. Think that’s what they call poems . The Stunt Poets, you know. One of them said something like that.’

I didn’t know but said nothing.

‘But you can still come with me on walks, can’t you? A couple of weekends anyway. There’s a fantastic nature reserve only an hour away from here.’

‘I don’t think so. If anything’s going to come of my writing I have to work.’

‘But the nature, man! God’s wondrous creation! All the colours! All the plants! That’s what you have to write about!’

I laughed in derision.

‘I don’t believe in nature,’ I said. ‘It’s a cliché.’

‘What do you write about then?’

I shrugged. ‘I’ve just started. But you can read it if you want.’

‘Love to!’

‘I’ll bring it in with me tomorrow.’

We returned to the village at around eight in the evening. It was as light as day. The sky above the sea was so magnificent that I stood by the porch staring for several minutes before going in. It was empty, there was nothing there, yet it seemed gentle and friendly and as if it wished those who lived beneath it well. Perhaps because the mountains for their part were so hard and barren?

I had some supper, lit a cigarette and drank tea as I went through the exercise my pupils had done.

My name’s Vivian an I’m thirteen years old. I live in a village called Håfjord. I’m happy here. I have a sis called Liv. Dad’s a fisherman ‘n’ mam’s a housewife. My best freind is Andrea. We do a lotta things together. School is boring. Sometimes we work at the fish factory. We cut the tungs off cod. With the money I’m gonna buy a stereo.

So Vivian and Liv were sisters!

For some reason this gave me a lift. There was also something about the awkwardness she showed that touched me. Or perhaps it was her openness?

I decided not to correct the words. That would be far too demoralising, so instead I wrote a little comment in red underneath: ‘Well done, Vivian! But remember it’s “and” not “‘n’”, “a lot of” not “lotta” and “going to” not “gonna”.’

Then I leafed through the next exercise book.

My name is Andrea. I’m a thirteen-year-old girl and I live on the far side of an island in northern norway. I have a brother who is ten and a sister who is five. Dad goes fishing and mum is at home with Camilla. I like listening to music and watching films. My favourite is Champ . And I like moochin’ round the village with my friends, Vivian and Hildegunn and Live. It’s a bit boring here, but it will be better when we’re old enough to go to partys!