Aliss at the fire, Edition: First edition by Fosse, Jon; Searls, Damion

By Fosse, Jon; Searls, Damion

In her previous condo via the fjord, Signe lies on a bench and sees a imaginative and prescient of herself as she used to be greater than two decades previous: status via the window anticipating her husband Asle, on that poor overdue November day while he took his rowboat out onto the water and not again. Her stories widen out to incorporate their complete existence jointly, and past: the bonds of kinfolk and the battles with implacable nature stretching again over 5 generations, to Asle's great-great-grandmother Aliss. In Jon Fosse's vibrant, hallucinatory prose, a majority of these moments in time inhabit an analogous house, and the ghosts of the previous collide with those that nonetheless survive. "Aliss on the fireplace" is a visionary masterpiece, a haunting exploration of affection and loss that ranks one of the maximum meditations on marriage and human destiny

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Sample text

She thinks, yes well it must be Thursday, and it’s March, and the year is 2002, yes, she knows that much, but what the date is and so on, no, she doesn’t get that far, and anyway why should she bother? what does it matter anyway? she thinks, no matter what she can still be safe and solid in herself, the way she was before he disappeared, but then it comes back to her, how he disappeared, that Tuesday, in late November, in 1979, and all at once she is back in the emptiness, she thinks, and she looks at the hall door and then it opens and then she sees herself come in and shut the door behind her and then she sees herself walk into the room, stop and stand there and look at the window and then she sees herself see him standing in front of the window and she sees, standing there in the room, that he is standing and looking out into the darkness, with his long black hair, and in his black sweater, the sweater she knit herself and that he almost always wears when it’s cold, he is standing there, she thinks, and he is almost at one with the darkness outside, she thinks, yes he is so at one with the darkness that when she opened the door and looked in she didn’t notice at first that he was standing there, even though she knew, without thinking it, without saying it to herself, she knew in a way that he’d be standing there like that, she thinks, and that his black sweater and the darkness outside the window would be almost one, he is the darkness, the darkness is him, but still that’s how it is, she thinks, it’s almost as though when she came in and saw him standing there she saw something unexpected, and that’s what’s really strange, because he stands there like that all the time, there in front of the window, it’s just that she usually doesn’t see it, she thinks, or that she sees it but doesn’t notice it somehow, because it’s also that his standing there has become a kind of habit, like most anything else, it has become something that just is, around her, but now, this time, when she came into the room she saw him standing there, she saw his black hair, and then the black sweater, and now he just stands there and looks out into the darkness and why is he doing that?

And it must be the darkness, and the fact that he’s so cold, that makes him unable to tell exactly where the fire is burning, he thinks, but he sees it, he does see it, there in the darkness, those yellow and red flames. And it looks warm, it looks good, because it’s cold, yes, he thinks, it has gotten so cold that he has to keep walking, he can’t stay standing in one place, it’s too cold for that, he thinks and he starts to walk and he’s freezing and it is so cold that he tries to walk as fast as he can and he can barely remember the last time it was so cold in the fall, he thinks, it must have been back when he was young, because back then, or that’s how he remembers it at least, it was almost always cold and there was ice on the fjord and so much snow on the hills, on the streets, ice and snow and cold, but now, in recent years, fall has always been pretty mild, and then this year the cold set in again, he thinks, and he doesn’t have a cap to wear anymore, those old red knit caps with tassels from when he was a boy, you can’t find them anywhere anymore of course, and where did they go, and where do they come from anyway, caps like that?

Or at least tied her to him, and he, well yes he was tied to her, him too, but maybe not quite as much as she was tied to him, but still, yes, yes, tied together, they were, of course they were, he to her, she to him, but maybe she was more tied to him than he was to her, that may well be, but does that mean anything? no why think something like that?

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