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Similarly, you may raise an eyebrow over Jane's being a writer – or at least, having been both a writer and a tutor for novelists. I'm not alone in seeing that as a trap, but one that is suitably avoided – partly because the deeply dark event has drummed a lot of that out of Jane's spirit.
If anything you may quibble over the choppy narrative – sudden jump-cut after sudden jump-cut takes us from way back when in one chapter to a week ago, to now, to next week and back again, all the while circling round the darkly deep event. I found the pages flowed without even with that, partly as this is not a long novel, and partly due to them settling into longer blocks, allowing the actual gradual disappearance of the title.
That disappearance is conveyed exceedingly well, in the finish – this is a book with some sterling writing (and, presumably, sterling translation) that might possibly be found in want of something fresh by the avid reader, but really can spread emotion very effectively and easily. Jane is clearly a woman in young middle age and realistically flawed, without that which I've circled round. That nasty event has sort of greyed out her life, and you would think from the opening setting – inside a cloud sitting on a Norwegian plateau – the book was a bleak, grey thing. But it's not, it's full of interest, life and vigour. This read can be gallingly cutting at times, although I laughed at one black moment and elsewhen. Norwegian bloggers seem to have collectively given this their Best Novel prize, and to repeat it translates globally, into a small piece of much power.

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