Reviews for Boyhood

The average rating for Boyhood based on 2 reviews is 4 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2016-12-08 00:00:00 Raave J. I went into the café and sat down in the corner. I prefer to sit there. I took out my book and opened it. After a while, I looked up and saw that one of the waitresses was standing behind me. I realised she had been there for some time. She was a pretty brunette who looked about twenty. - Excuse me, I said. I didn't notice you. - That's okay, she replied and laughed. I didn't want to disturb you. What's that you've got there? - Pan, I said. By Knut Hamsun. - And you can read it? she said. What language is it in? - I suppose Norwegian, I said. Or maybe Danish. - You can't tell the difference? she said and raised her eyebrows. - I expressed myself badly, I said. They were almost the same language in 1894. At least in novels. - But you can read it? she asked again. - Quite easily, I said. If I guess a few words. It's very beautiful. He has a unique way of writing. I wanted to tell her more about Hamsun's style, but she interrupted me. - So what are you doing later today? she asked. - Finishing this book, I said. I like to read a lot. She was standing too close to me. I shifted my position and stretched out my hand, knocking over a glass of water. - I'm terribly sorry, I said. I was so embarrassed by my clumsiness that tears almost came into my eyes. - It doesn't matter, she told me. She fetched a rag and mopped up the mess I'd made. - Now what can I get you, she asked. A coffee? And I'll leave you alone with your book. - A latte, I said. A few minutes later, she came back. She put down the coffee on the table with exaggerated care. - You see, I'm not disturbing you, she said, and she patted my hand. I sat and tried to read Pan, but I was unable to concentrate. I drank my coffee slowly and tried to think how to explain the charm of the writing. I realised that I didn't even know the waitress's name. After a while, I walked over to the counter. She was talking with an older man who looked like her boss. - Coffee okay? she said. That's $4.10. I handed her a five. She gave back me the change. There was a little jar of coins in front of me with a sign saying BEER MONEY. I put my ninety cents in it. - Thanks, she smiled. - You know, I said, speaking a bit too quickly, I believe I can tell you what's special about Hamsun. - Who? she said. - The Norwegian who wrote the book I'm reading, I said. - Oh, right, she said. - It's the way he has of describing people, I explained. What they feel and what they see. You see, he can kind of-- - Sorry, she said. I'm in the middle of doing something with Mac here. Why don't you come back and tell me tomorrow? I suddenly hated her. She had only pretended to be interested. I reached into the jar and took back my ninety cents. Her face crumpled as though I'd just slapped her. I immediately regretted what I had done. - Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I said. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Can you forgive me? - It's okay, she said after a few seconds. She tried to laugh, but I could see her boss staring at me. I left without saying goodbye.

Review # 2 was written on 2019-01-25 00:00:00 JEANETTE Robinson First published in 1894, Pan is an early example of the influence of psychology upon literature - certainly early for Scandinavian writers. The book is translated from the Norwegian. For the author this emphasis on psychology is very deliberate. Hamsun wrote to a friend and critic about his best-known book, Hunger (1890), "If we add it up, I don't think you'd find more psychical emotions in Raskolnikov than in my book." In Hamsun's case psychology shows up primarily as impulsiveness for reasons unknown to the actor. First, shortly after she has met the main character, the girl kisses him full on the lips in front of all the church ladies at a picnic - that raises eyebrows in a small village in mid-1800's Norway. (Although a 28-year old man having an interest in a 15-year-old girl was apparently ok back then, even to her father, who encouraged the relationship. Later in the book we learn she lies about her age and may be older.) At another community event, two boats full of people are rowing back from another picnic on an island and he impulsively grabs her shoe and throws it into the water. He has no idea why he did this. Later, alone in his cabin, he impulsively shoots himself in the foot. She, in a fury for no obvious reason, tramples on a brooch another suitor had given her. Later he detonates an explosion that dislodges a huge rock, overturning a boat that results in someone's death. (There are two murders in the book disguised as accidents.) The other way psychology shows up is in the mutual stand-off-ishness of the young woman and the man who obviously love each other but seem to think that showing disinterest and even distain for the other will somehow 'bring them around.' So they avoid each other, insult each other, flirt with other people, and never get their act together. At one point he thinks "It occurred to me, moreover, that I had perhaps got closer to her precisely by treating her with scorn and indifference." The main character is a military officer living for a year in a rural hut in far northern Norway near the Arctic Circle. He must be on leave since he has no duties. He leads a primitive life, hunts with his dog every day, and communes with nature - a very Waldenesque existence: "The monotonous sighing of the wind and the familiar trees and stones mean much to me; I feel a strange sense of gratitude, everything reached out toward me, blends with me, I love all things." Pan of the title is the half-goat Greek god of the wild, of nature, shepherds, flocks, mountains and the companion of nymphs. The story is structured a bit like Russian dolls. It starts out as a memoir written by the main character "for his own amusement" a couple of years after the events. Why you would write about killing someone with an explosion is a psychological study in itself. And there is an epilogue, telling of the main character's tragic death, written by a 'friend' who found the manuscript, and who says of the now-deceased main character: "[He] was in many ways an unusual and likeable man. In justice to him I must admit this, in spite of the fact that in my soul I still feel hostility toward [him] and the memory of him rouses my hatred." Hamsun won the Noble Prize in 1920. He's best known for his work Hunger, about a poverty-stricken writer wandering through Oslo looking for his next meal. But Hamsun is not honored very much in Norway due to his collaboration with the Nazis during their occupation of the country in WW II. He actually met with Hitler, who thought of Hamsun as a 'genius.' Although the meeting turned into a shouting match, the author's reputation never recovered in his home country and some Norwegians still consider him a traitor. (There's a good article about Hamsun in the Dec. 26, 2005 Atlantic: "In From the Cold" by Jeffrey Frank from which I have taken some of the thoughts in this review.) Actually a pretty good read for something written in 1894. Perhaps it's the translation but it didn't seem stilted or old-fashioned in writing style. A good but strange story. Photo of Skudeneshavn, Norway from blog.routeperfect.com Painting of the author by Alfredo Andersen from Wikipedia