Karl Knausgaard - Dancing in the Dark

Stian sat down brazenly on the sofa with his legs wide apart. He was the only one not to have taken off his coat. The three girls hung on his every word, I could see, as though ready to obey his every command. If he spoke they watched him with rapt reverence. If he addressed one of them directly they cast down their eyes and squirmed uncomfortably on the sofa.

‘Get anything nice for Christmas?’ I asked.

Vivian giggled.

I went over and sat in the chair opposite them.

‘What about you, Stian?’ I said. ‘Did you get anything nice?’

He blew out his cheeks.

‘I went fishing at Christmas. Earned a fair bit. Gonna buy a moped as soon as the snow’s gone.’

‘He’ll be sixteen in March,’ Andrea said.

Why did she say that?

‘Then you’re only three years younger than me,’ I said. ‘It won’t be long before you can have my job. That’s what you have in mind, isn’t it, to become a teacher?’

He blew out his cheeks again, but a tiny smile crept into the corners of his mouth.

‘No, no,’ he said. ‘The only book I’m going to open after I’ve left school will be a bank book.’

They laughed.

‘What about you, Ivar?’ I said.

‘Goin’ fishin’.’

He was only sixteen but already the tallest person in the village. His height was so conspicuous that he probably never thought about anything else. Seeing him beside the three seventh-year girls was painful, anything that was small and delicate caused him difficulty: letters, numbers, conversation, ball games, girls. In most ways he was a child, he burst into loud guffaws at the most basic, the most stupid things, blushed to the roots when he was corrected and only really felt at ease with Stian, who controlled him as you would a dog. He had lost his father when he was small and on the few occasions he had come to talk to me that had been the topic. It had all happened in the 1970s, a fishing boat sank without trace, the whole of Norway talked about it for some days, but then it faded into oblivion except for Ivar, his mother and the rest of the family. Barely a year after the accident they had moved up to Håfjord, where his mother had relatives. That was his story, his fate, the father who died when he was small.

‘What about you?’ I said, looking at the three girls.

They shrugged. Usually they had a certain confidence when they were here, I teased them, they laughed and answered back, found pleasure in being cheeky. But now they were more reserved. They didn’t want to give anything away in front of Stian, this was a different game, the stakes were higher.

‘Vivian’s got a boyfriend,’ Live announced.

Vivian looked daggers at her. Punched her hard on the shoulder.

‘Ow!’ Live exclaimed.

‘Have you?’ I said.

‘Yes,’ Live said, rubbing her shoulder. ‘She’s going out with Steve.’

‘Steve?’ I said. ‘Who’s he?’

‘A guy who moved here at Christmas,’ Stian said. ‘He’s from Finnsnes and is going to start fishing this spring. He’s a complete prat, they say.’

‘He is not,’ Vivian said. She blushed.

‘He’s twenty,’ Live said.

‘Twenty?’ I said. ‘Is that possible? You’re thirteen, aren’t you?’

‘Yes!’ Vivian said. ‘And?’

‘They’re crazy up north,’ I said and laughed.

I got to my feet.

‘I’m afraid you’ll have to hop it now. I’ve just come in the door. I have to unpack and so on. Prepare some lessons. I’ve got such a terrible class, you know. They don’t know anything.’

‘Ha ha,’ Andrea said, levered herself off the sofa, walked towards the hall, where she had hung her white jacket. The others followed, for a few seconds everything was jackets and arms, hats and gloves, and then they went out into the darkness, laughing and poking each other. I unpacked my clothes, ate some supper, read in bed for a couple of hours before switching off the light and going to sleep. Once I was woken by sounds from the room above, it was Torill and her husband, the floor shook, she shouted and screamed, he groaned, I took the duvet with me to the sofa and slept there for the rest of the night.

Nils Erik and I moved into the house the following weekend. Apart from the bedrooms and the little room leading off the sitting room, where I would do my writing, we shared everything. We took turns to cook and wash up. There was hardly an evening when we didn’t have visitors, either pupils or the other teachers, especially Tor Einar, he dropped by almost every day, but Hege also came a lot. At the weekend Nils Erik went on walks, he always asked me if I wanted to join him, I always answered no, nature was not the place for me, besides more often than not there was a party somewhere, and if I didn’t go I stayed at home writing, no more short stories but a novel called Vann over/Vann under — Water Above/Water Below . I had got the title from a song Yngve and his friend from Arendal, Øyvind, had penned. The novel was about a young man, Gabriel, who went to gymnas in Kristiansand, and would consist of a mysterious frame narrative with short report-like sequences and a present-tense plotline about drinking and girls, punctuated at regular intervals by small episodes from his childhood. It all culminated in him being trussed up at a party in a cabin in Agder province, having a nervous breakdown and being admitted to a psychiatric clinic, where the circle was closed, since this is where the short objective reports that had introduced every chapter stemmed from.

To ensure I had more time to write I completely altered my daily routine, it made no difference when you slept and when you were awake, morning and evening, night and day, in practice everything was the same. I started getting up at eleven at night, I worked through until eight in the morning, had a shower, went to school and had a sleep after I finished at around three in the afternoon.

If I couldn’t write I would sometimes put on my coat and go out, wander around the silent village, listen to the roar of the waves beating against the shore, gaze up at the mountainsides, which at first, because of the snow, seemed to be floating in the darkness and then became totally swallowed up by it. Sometimes I went to school. It might have been three or four in the morning, I saw my reflection in the windows I passed, my vacant expression, my vacant eyes. Occasionally I stayed there, read a book on the sofa in the staffroom or watched a film on the TV or simply slept for a few hours, until the sound of a door being opened suddenly woke me, and Richard came in, he was usually the first to appear in the morning. This was all that was needed for a feeling of chaos to come over me, a feeling of not having anything under control, of finding myself on the edge of. . well, of what?

I did my job. Did it make any difference that I worked at the end of my day rather than the beginning?

But there was something about the darkness. There was something about this small enclosed place. There was something about seeing the same faces every day. My class. My colleagues. The assistant at the shop. The occasional mother, the occasional father. Now and then the young fishermen. But always the same people, always the same atmosphere. The snow, the darkness, the harsh light inside the school.

One night I was out walking, on my way to the school, when a bulldozer drove up behind me. It had a snowplough mounted on the front, the snow flew alongside into mounds by the road, an orange light flashed from the roof, thick black smoke belched from an exhaust pipe at the front. The man driving didn’t look at me as he passed. Some way up the hill he stopped, with the engine still running. As I came alongside he set off again. He drove at the same speed as I walked. I watched him, he was staring straight ahead, and I shivered with unease, the vibrating, roaring, scraping, flashing vehicle shook my soul. I walked faster. He drove faster. I turned right, he turned right. I turned round, he drove straight on, then bugger me if he didn’t turn round as well, and as I reached the hill leading to the school he was right behind me again. I set off at a run, this was scary, because around us everything was lifeless and black, the village was asleep, it was just us two outside, me and some mad snowplough man chasing me. I ran, but I was no match for him, he accelerated and followed me right into the school playground. I unlocked the door, my heart pounding in my chest, would he follow me in here as well?