Showing results for "karl ove knausgaard" in Family Life

Karl Ove Knausgaard writes about his childhood and teenage years, his infatuation with rock music, his relationship with his loving yet almost invisible mother and his distant and unpredictable father and his bewilderment and grief on his father’s death. When Karl Ove becomes a father himself, he must balance the demands of caring for a young family with his determination to write great literature. Knausgaard has created a universal story of the struggles, great and small, that we all face in our lives.

Childhood is exhilarating and terrifying. For the young Karl Ove, new houses, classes and friends are met with manic excitement and creeping dread. Adults occupy godlike positions of power, benevolent in the case of his doting mother, tyrannical in the case of his cruel father. Knausgaard describes a time in which victories and defeats are felt keenly and every attempt at self-definition is frustrating. This is an audiobook about family, memory and how we never become quite what we set out to be.

Brought to you by Penguin. The future is no more, and eternity has begun. It's 1986 and a nuclear reactor has exploded in Chernobyl. Syvert Løyning returns home from military service to live with his mother and brother on the outskirts of a town in Southern Norway. One night, he dreams of his...

This book is about fresh starts, about love, about friendship. It is also about the earth-shattering experience of becoming a father, the mundane struggles of family life, ridiculously unsuccessful holidays, the emotional strains of children's birthday parties and pushing a pram around Stockholm when all you really want to do is write. This is a book about one man's life but, somehow, about everyone else's, too.

Wir schreiben das Jahr 1976. Syvert Løyning ist nach einer Geschäftsreise auf dem Heimweg zu seiner Frau und seinen beiden Söhnen, als sein Auto vor Arendal eine Panne hat und er die Nacht in der Stadt verbringen muss. Es ist Winter und bitterkalt, das Eis erstreckt sich bis zum Meer und ist so dick, dass die Autos darauf fahren können. Dort, fast zu Hause und doch gestrandet, ist es, als würde sich ein Raum auftun, mit ganz eigenen Regeln, ein Raum zwischen dem Bekannten und dem Unbekannten.