You may be familiar with that seminal work of English literature, "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies", by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith. This proceeds on the assumption that any work of literature can be improved by adding zombies. I wonder if something similar could be done with Peter Hoeg's "A history of danish dreams", which as it stands is an interminable family saga starting well, with a mad Count who walls himself off from the world around him, but then degenerating into an 'and then ... and then ...' narrative devoid of pictures or conversations. At times it looks like an outline for Tom Robbins's "Jitterbug Perfume" with its theme of longevity via fecundity, but it is so much less interesting than the Robbins which at least has characters. Hoeg has some potentially interesting characters but their lives are described in such an uninteresting way - even the German occupation of Denmark in the 1939-45 war is barely brought alive, though it's likely that it's more realistic that way, for most people occupation just meant the uniforms were different. To be honest it does pick up in places, for example in the section where he is describing a religious sect that arises in a miserable village and goes to 'convert' the stolid middle-class port nearby which it perceives as a den of iniquity; but for the most part the novel eschewes humour and much good description (except when he's describing the world of ships and boats and those who use them, for some reason. Perhaps Hoeg needs to write a sea novel). tNo, we need zombies. tTo add to an uncharacteristically short paragraph: t"Seemingly oblivious to their stares, Anna plces her hand on the shoemaker's forehead. His craving for alcohol is replaced by a sense of comfort he has not known since childhood, and then he dies. t"A week later the shoemaker staggers into Anna's house, the graveclothes already stained and rotting, his face a taut grinning skull mask, his pointy-finger-nailed hands reaching out for her and a single word drooling from his misshapen and bloodstained mouth. t"'I'll give you 'brains'," Anna says, and decapitates him with her sharpened spade." tYou see? Immeasurably better. Hoeg should rewrite this as "The History of Danish Dreams and Zombies." Anna then goes on the lam, armed with an arsenal of barely-legal weaponry obtained from dodgy websites, and slaughters zombies in vast numbers. In certain cases - people who have looked at her funny, and so on - she practices pre-zombie decapitation - cutting their heads off before they are actually dead.
Jeg synes på mange måter at historien ble litt springende og flyktig, men det gjenspeiler på mange andre måter det som vel må kunne kalles tematikken i boka -- tilværelsens tilfeldigheter og skjebnens luner. Likevel blir jeg sittende igjen med en liten usikkerhet vedrørende hva boka vil. Hva sitter jeg igjen med etter å ha lest denne fortellingen? Jo, jeg sitter netttopp igjen med en følelse av at det er viktig å fokusere på det som er viktig i livet, og skille ut det som er uviktig. Dette er jo ikke akkurat revolusjonerende, og mange av oss vil vel hevde, enkelte med en viss rett, andre helt uten rot i virkeligheten, at nettopp vi har skjønt dette og nettopp vi er de fremste til å skille mellom snørr og bart, som det også kan kalles. Og jeg merker, mens jeg skriver dette, at jeg er blitt påvirket av Høegs litterære stil under lesningen, noe dere dermed får en smakebit av, om enn noe indirekte, og nettopp stilen er en annen kvalitet ved boken. Høeg skriver godt, underfundig, humoristisk og litt kokett. Noe som i sum gjør ham lesverdig, hvis man ønsker å ta et dykk ned i det 20. århundre. Nå tar jeg steget ut i det 21. igjen.
Do You like book The History Of Danish Dreams (1997)?
High 2. Hoeg has created some intriguing characters in the Count who builds a wall around his estate to stop time from entering and advancing, and the aristocratic family who so hold sway over their community that they report events in the local newspaper under their control which then come to pass. However, these are wasted in a chronicle of Danish society from the 16th to the 20th centuries which centres on the descendants of one family but which contains no plot development and holds no insights of any real value. Hoeg remains an author of promise but one who has yet failed to produce a work of real note.
—Steve
I know little of Denmark and Danish history, so much of this novel probably went over my head. Here and there, though, the commentary on Denmark is so broad and direct that it can hardly be missed, and it is both funny and bitter. For example, "While her guests discuss the excellent warming qualities of angora and the merits of sulfur powder and how Copenhagen museums have so many lovely plaster figures, what they are in actuality discussing is the big questions of life: love and money and religion and life and death--only it is hard to catch this because they speak so softly. While keeping within the bounds of society and making sure that no one could hold them responsible for anything whatsoever, because they have spoken so obtusely and with such tremendous discretion, they carry on conversations . . . ." (p. 283). Yeah, I get this . . . and I like it. But most of this longish book (see earlier references to the economy of reading!) is a family history of the most bizarre type--a mixture of wild imagination and the very real. Yes, like dreams. Like a "History of Danish Dreams." Hoeg, I admit, has a kind of genius, but I could not stay focused on his rambling, fantastic narrative. I kept calculating the number of pages before I would be done and could start something else. Not a good sign!
—Stephen Durrant
