A House in Norway tells the story of Alma, a divorced textile artist who makes a living from weaving standards for trade unions and marching bands. She lives alone in an old villa, and rents out an apartment in her house to supplement her income. She is overjoyed to be given a more creative assignment, to design a tapestry for an exhibition to celebrate the centenary of women’s suffrage in Norway, but soon finds that it is a much more daunting task than she had anticipated. Meanwhile, a Polish family moves into her apartment, and their activities become a challenge to her unconscious assumptions and her self-image as a good feminist and an open-minded liberal. Is it possible to reconcile the desire to be tolerant and altruistic with the imperative need for creative and personal space?
Author
Vigdis Hjorth
Vigdis Hjorth (born 19 July 1959) is a Norwegian novelist. She grew up in Oslo, and studied philosophy, literature and political science. In 1983, she published her first novel, the children’s book Pelle-Ragnar i den gule gården, for which she received Norsk kulturråd’s debut award. Her first book for an adult audience was Drama med Hilde (1987). Om bare from 2001 is considered her most important novel, and a roman à clef.[1]
Translator
Charlotte Barslund
Charlotte Barslund has translated several Norwegian and Danish writers, including Jo Nesbø and Karin Fossum. Her translation of Per Petterson’s I Curse The River of Time was shortlisted for the Independent 2011 Foreign Fiction award, and that of Carsten Jensen’s We, the Drowned was nominated for the 2016 International Dublin Literary Award.
Published by
Norvik Press, 2017
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A House in Norway tells the story of Alma, a divorced textile artist who makes a living from weaving standards for trade unions and marching bands. She lives alone in an old villa, and rents out an apartment in her house to supplement her income. She is overjoyed to be given a more creative assignment, to design a tapestry for an exhibition to celebrate the centenary of women’s suffrage in Norway, but soon finds that it is a much more daunting task than she had anticipated. Meanwhile, a Polish family moves into her apartment, and their activities become a challenge to her unconscious assumptions and her self-image as a good feminist and an open-minded liberal. Is it possible to reconcile the desire to be tolerant and altruistic with the imperative need for creative and personal space?