My Struggle: Book 1

Knausgaard manages to turn the everyday experiences into a fascinating read. It is one book in a 6-volume collection of his life. The end is a bit slow and somewhat difficult to get through but I'd read this book over again and again.

Yes. lots of beautiful descriptions of landscapes, views and people as well as states of mind, moods and thought.
Nothing happens and still it feels like on the next page something is going to happen. There is an emotional suspense that makes you want to go on reading. Nothing is hidden.
A master piece.

... sorry to say, but after much anticipation (to finally get a chance read this author), I was disappointed; though flashes of brilliance (the two pages on Rembrandt's self portrait in the National Gallery in London, puts that at the top of my travel wish list -- which is short), and the vivid scene where his sister-in-law prepares a simple fried egg breakfast (I could hear the spatter in the pan!) inspired me to jump up and prepare a similar frokost. But I could do without the baby-shaking (his own toddler), the teenage drinking, and the endless narcissism. Even the references to Kristiansand South (where I once lived as a teen-ager) didn't cheer me on or up. And, as far as his portrayal of his grandmother -- don't they have social services (or Depends) in Norge?

To confess, I think I read it too soon after a death in my own family.

Knausgaard is an extraordinary writer. A genius. And yes, he's changed the novel. There is no doubt about that. And although he's been compared to Proust, I think the comparison is lazy. In Search of Lost time is a novel (if a hybrid) in the conventional sense of the word. There are vividly drawn characters whose stories are engaging. And although Marcel is the protagonist, there are many other characters--like Swan and Odette, for example--who are three dimensional. Not so in My Struggle. There are no characters in Knausgaard's books other than Knausgaard. Everything is always and entirely from his point of view. He's the only character in his world; and as he would have it, he's not really a character in the novelistic sense at all. But what a fascinating, discursive, philosophical, solipsistic, and yes, at times, boring, world it is. There is a question as to whether My Struggle is a novel or a memoir. In this sense, it is like Proust's classic: It's a hybrid. Book 1 and Book 2 of My Struggle are Twenty first century masterpieces. You may hate his books, but you should read them anyway.

First, the picture on the cover is scarier than Karl Ove's feelings about death and his dad. Besides that, I thoroughly enjoyed the book. His use of language, or maybe just the translator's, was such that I wanted to keep reading. It was like taking a seat in his brain and watching the activities of his early life go by, but not just "go by." We are immersed in his thoughts...thinking about thinking. I don't believe his life was any more exciting than many, but he let the reader into it in intimate ways. I saw it called a novel in some reviews, but I believe it's a loose use of the word. It is definitely autobiographical unless I was fooled. I loved the book and probably will go on to the next. I am wondering if it will have the same hold on me.

The subject of this painstakingly detailed autobiography is Knsusgsard's life, his childhood, adolescence and young adulthood, and his relationships with his family and friends, most importantly with the father he loathes, on the occasion of his death and funeral preparations.

While the author writes beautifully, the painful minutiae of his entire life is a slog. Even his insights into the uneventful happenings lack value. It is a dull read though well written. I don't understand the accolades.

This book surely offers a different reading experience. In this first in a series of 6 books the author focuses mainly on his teens and the death of his father that happens in his early twenties. Told in a first person narrative, he displays his experiences through ordinary daily events, building something close to a memoir. By remembering his past life and telling his story, he depicts some situations he lived and outlines his feelings, insights, and sufferings in a way that provides us with some beautiful and moving moments. The most touching and beautiful part for me is when he has to deal with his estranged alcoholic father’s death, struggling with his bad memories and feelings towards him, while having to see his dead body and clear up all the mess he left behind. It touched me to see how he started rescuing himself amidst this sad and heartbreaking moment.
However, for me, that is almost all that is interesting and worth reading in this book. It lacks something that would make it gripping and this has to do with the writing that, despite being of high quality and very well done, often times is a little too flat and banal. It is full of long and meaningless descriptions of detailed actions such as mopping the floors, going from one place to another, with all the steps of the way being unnecessarily described. The author spends too much time on dialogues that lead to nowhere which, at the beginning, managed to create an atmosphere of expectation that something was going to happen, but in the end repeatedly fell short and left us with actions closed in upon themselves. I think this feature is so intense that even some of his insights get lost amid so many uneventful situations or meaningless ordinary descriptions. Besides that, I failed to see, at least in this first book, any major experience worth telling for being extraordinary, apart from the apparently original beginning, when he talks about his teens, and the period of his father’s death.
I could appreciate the good writer he seems to be, the originality of his book and his bravery at exposing himself, talking so openly about all his raw and ugly reactions. However, in my opinion, his story could have been written in a more interesting and gripping way, less tedious in such significant part of it. I have read many books about mundane ordinary life that ended up being interesting and involving.
I think that, in spite of being an honest and direct account of part of the author’s life, this book lacks the necessary spark and intensity to make me avid to keep on reading it. I do not think the author was able to create the (vital) bond with me, as a reader, because his mainly descriptive style and approach did not convey the dynamics that would really tell the story, and turn it into something more engaging to me. If you like the style it is a good book to read, but I do not think I will read the following volumes.

Fascinating writing style, addictive--like no other writing I have ever read. If you want a unique and detailed take on one man's life, this is the book for you. Loved it! I'm onto Book 2 now and it is just as good!

Detailed, exquisitely written, this book reveals a great deal about the act of writing itself, and also the act of reading. The detailed, measured observations seem to almost be happening in real time. And my reading is equally involved in what is nearly a real-time account. The total impression is as if you yourself are having this experience. What a fantastic read!
Oh Karl Ove! Is that really you, or your fiction-self?

This book arrived in great condition. It didn't look like it had ever been used and the price was pretty affordable.

I personally enjoyed the book. Some chapters were kind of boring, but others grabbed my attention and would not let go. My professor gave us about a few weeks or so to read this book, but I finished it within two days. I was captivated. The writing style is addictive and the narrative is both entertaining and raw. I don't know if I will be reading the other books (2-4), but I definitely enjoyed this one. It was an emotional rollercoaster to say the least!

Extremely well written and very enjoyable if you like to have a deep dive into Karl Ove psyche. Would I want to learn the rest of his trilogy to learn more about the way he sees life and his thoughts about the people and places that he has lived? Definitely not. For all his beautifully prose, he is too depressing to bear for more than one book.

This is deeply beautiful work, the authors attention to detail and ability to recall sounds, colors, feelings from distant and nearer past is amazing. Great stories and observations about what it is to be alive as a human being.

Karl Ove Knausgaard remembers in great detail the parts of everyday life of himself for many years of adolescence and thereafter. He tells in detail what he, his parents, his siblings, and other common folk do. Remarkably, he tells it all without scorn. Few other authors can tell so much about their personal lives without being sarcastic and unforgiving.

I enjoyed this book of simple life in Sweden. However, I think all the praise heaped on it by reviews made me expect more. It's a story of a simple life, simply told. I have no desire to read the next two continuing books he has written.

I loved the writing style of Knausgaard, and have downloaded the second part of this trilogy. I have never been to Scandinavia, but now I feel that I have. Although the book deals with death, it is also about growing up and rites of passage

A friend of mine's brother described this book as oddly compelling and strangely impossible to put down, with which I would agree. Don't know if I'll get through all of them, but highly enjoyed this one.

In general, I thought this was very well-written with a story-line that kept my attention. I did get a little lost a couple of times when the time-line jumped around and I found some parts of the time-line (mostly more present-day) exceedingly boring. I was especially drawn in, however, to the part about Knausgaard's life as a teen and the part about the death of his father. I am drawn in enough to continue with Book 2.

If the unexamined life is not worth living, Karl Ove Knausgaard need not worry. He looks at all the minute details of his with the eye of a scientist and tells us about it with the pen of a master. Angst appears to be his faithful companion, as the photograph on the cover of his book suggests, but -- and I found this surprising -- his is not a depressing book. He comes across as an endearing fellow human being. Critics have compared him to Proust, but he does not delve into the mind nearly as deeply, which, along with his brilliant style, makes him easier to read.