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    My Struggle, Book 3
    My Struggle, Book 3
    My Struggle, Book 3
    Audiobook14 hours

    My Struggle, Book 3

    Written by Karl Ove Knausgaard

    Narrated by Edoardo Ballerini

    4/5

    ()

    About this audiobook

    A family of four-mother, father, and two boys-move to the south coast of Norway, to a new house on a newly developed site. It is the early 1970s and the family's trajectory is upwardly mobile: the future seems limitless. In painstaking, sometimes self-lacerating detail, Karl Ove Knausgaard paints a world familiar to anyone who can recall the intensity and novelty of childhood experience, one in which children and adults lead parallel lives that never meet. Perhaps the most Proustian in the series, My Struggle: Book 3 gives us Knausgaard's vivid, technicolor recollections of childhood, his emerging self-understanding, and the multilayered nature of time's passing, memory, and existence.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRecorded Books, Inc.
    Release dateApr 28, 2015
    ISBN9781490650029
    My Struggle, Book 3
    Author

    Karl Ove Knausgaard

    Karl Ove Knausgaard was born in Norway in 1968. My Struggle has won countless international literary awards and has been translated into at least fifteen languages. Knausgaard lives in Sweden with his wife and four children.

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    Reviews for My Struggle, Book 3

    4/5

    220 ratings11 reviews

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    • 3/5
      This book had some spectacular musings on death, and explorations of the ambivalent feelings of a son for his father, but I found nearly half the book a struggle to read. Too many scenes with little significance were described in excruciating detail. It didn't help that I found the author as a teenager rather unlikeable.
    • 2/5
      I had hoped to get in ahead of the backlash with a backlash to the backlash kind of thing, where I defend KOK against people who are tired of hearing about him. Well, too bad. Not only are the reviews of this volume uniformly positive (hence, no backlash yet), but I found it overwhelmingly boring. So, I am doubly stymied.

      At the start of the book, KOK calls his childhood a ghetto-like state of incompleteness. He suggests that childhood is meaningfullish, but not really meaningful, because (yawn) memory distorts the past and anyway, the child is a developing self, not a self intact (well said). This is followed by 400 pages of anecdotes about being a pre-pubescent and pubescent boy who suffers greatly at home (his father, whom we already know to be a monster, is a monster here too) and at school (where his sufferings seem to be more of the 'everyone feels like they were unpopular in middle school' kind). He plays with his anus. He plays with his penis. He reads books. Dad gets angry. Repeat.

      Only around page 250 do we get a glimpse of the narrator rather than the character. He laments the absence of his mother from his memories and, by extension, from this book. I lament it too. This lasts for a page and a half before we're back to reportage.

      The key to this volume comes around a hundred pages later. A teacher neglects to read KOK's essay aloud, because you have to give the other young children time to exhibit. He decides to get his revenge. "Next time I would write as badly as I could." That is precisely what we have here. A book written about an 8-13 year old, in the head of an 8-13 year old, with the syntactical, linguistic and philosophical sophistication of an 8-13 year old. I know KOK's better than that; I know he's choosing to do this. He is choosing to write as badly as he can. It's pretty bad.

      And then at the very end there's *one* moment of adult level art. After a hundred pages of young men playing with their willies and looking at porn (not judging, just describing), [spoiler alert], young KOK comes across a picture of a naked woman--a holocaust victim. Suddenly sex is thrown into question. Then he sees a teacher ogling a 13 year old girl just as young KOK, too, is ogling her. Again, sex is thrown into question. It's a reminder of what he can do when he's not busy pretending to be very young.
    • 5/5
      Loved this, Knausgaard's early years up to about 13 and probably a good place to start the series for newcomers. It lacks some of the more philosophical introspection that is peppered throughout the preceding volumes owing to being from his perspective as a child, but it's extremely readable and for me at least, very relatable at points to my own childhood (although I was nowhere near as successful with girls as him sadly). Still nothing much happens but I found it every bit as compelling as the previous novels, albeit lacking anything matching the sustained brilliance of the 2nd half of the first novel.

      I love how important the layout of the house is to the young Karl Ove, especially in relation to avoiding his tyrannical father e.g. knowing that if he leaves a room within a certain time from hearing a door close downstairs he can remain unseen. I can remember all that kind of stuff vividly from my own youth; being able to differentiate parent's from the heaviness of their steps - even if they were in a good or bad mood. There's stuff like that throughout, I was completely transported back.

      This is the first of the series I've experienced as an audiobook and it's fantastic, the narrator Edoardo Ballerini enlivens the text and works perfectly with the heightened language Knausgaard uses. Looking forward to listening to the rest of the series.
    • 4/5
      In my view, this is the best and most compelling of the series so far. Karl Ove pushes relentlessly into a detailed account of childhood memories of a small community in the rural coastal region of southwest Norway. There are many bucolic scenes of the rugged shoreline and the idyllic forests which surround him and his family. He occasionally indulges in spirited pranks and acts of rebellion against the tight reins of social conformity. At the same time, his repressive and controlling father looms over him and sours his familial relationships. The young Karl Ove turns into an intelligent, articulate, extremely sensitive boy who creates some of his own problems with a number of poor decisions -- for which he often (but not always) suffers the consequences.Some readers will no doubt be repelled by Karl Ove's character as it emerges here. Yes, there are clear signs of an incipient narcissism and a manipulative tendency which seeks to control those who surround him. (Young Knausgaard sure does cry a lot.) But this is an unsentimental, un-magical view of the way that many of us experience the formative years of life. It's not Wordsworthian. Most people do not have an Atticus Finch as our father. If the child is father to the man, it is important to avoid the temptation to romanticize childhood, necessary to avoid the impulse to soften the contours of the real pain and anguish that are experienced. And it should not surprise us that children who are abused psychologically often emerge scarred for the rest of their lives. I commend the author's honesty in presenting an encompassing view of the torments, tragedies, and turmoils of an unhappy boyhood.
    • 5/5
      Just wonderful. Knausgaard is almost exactly my age. His 1979 was my 1979 and his early snogs were... well not quite, but he evokes a forgotten time and charges it with lost meaning. Heartbreaking, glorious and vital.
    • 4/5
      This is likely where many hopeful readers abandon the Min Kamp quest. The terrain is challenging enough, the sorting of childhood and all that baggage. This particular trek is slick with tears: Karl Ove cries on almost every page. There's a measure of Bernhard in this prevailing condition, this lachrymose loop.

      This young protagonist is stuck in a longing, acceptance and materialism can be the devil to many a poor soul. The upward possibility of the time derails tradition, the encounters with the grandparents illustrate this estrangement. An ambivalence reigns, one matched by nature.

      My own thoughts were leaning to three stars but the final quarter presents a writhing spasm of contradictory impulses about sexuality. Such demanded pause. My thoughts drifted up from the page. K Pop was playing in the bistro and I considered the teenage heartache of a three minute music video. The kids even modify their features on their selfies. At least the pain remains genuine.
    • 4/5
      Karl Ove describes childhood so well, especially at a time (the 1970s) when many children were often left to roam free and fend for themselves. He and I are approximately the same age. However,this particular volume would be especially trigger-inducing regarding his frequent descriptions of his abusive father. I'm fortunate that I had great parents, but definitely was on my own a lot as far as navigating social relationships as was Karl Ove.
    • 4/5
      Another winner by Mr. Knausgaard. Like with Books 1 and 2, I found myself continually wondering why I was so hooked reading about the mundane ins and outs of a regular person's life (in this book, his childhood years), and the only answer I can come up with is that he tells it with such clarity and insight you are totally propelled into the story, to the extent where you feel the emotions of being that child.This was an uncomfortable read in places - as a child he had a total abject fear of his father, and seemed to exist in a permanent state of heightened anxiety waiting for him to receive his wrath. I had to remind myself at times that this is not an autobiography in its purest sense - no one has this level of detail about their childhood, and clearly there are more gaps filled in with fictional accounts than real memories. But still - to achieve this sense of reality of being back in his own head as a child is nothing short of astounding.Probably not my favourite of the 3 books I've read so far, but a winner nonetheless.4 stars - can this man do no writing wrong?
    • 4/5
      For once, I think the blurb on the back gets it right. This a great book about being a boy. Many of the themes are also there is Petterson's books, and others, and I'm wondering why all this retrospctive introspectiveness seems to be the thing of the moment. At least there is at least an acknowledgement that being male doesnt equate to repressed emotions, though Kanusgaard's character's father makes it clear why we would. I haven't finished it yet, but I'll get back to this.
    • 4/5
      It may seem strange to start with Book 3 of an autobiographical series but it didn't seem a problem as this volume apparently goes back in time from his previous ones and covers the time from his early childhood to his adolescence.
      I'm still trying to figure out why I enjoyed it so much. My normal reaction would be to complain about a 500 page book about a fairly mundane middle class childhood in a not very interesting part of provincial Norway in which very little of note happens and which is overloaded with minute, often irrelevant detail and unnecessary descriptive passages. And yet, I found it quite compelling. Some of the reasons I really liked it are:
      - It reminded me of my own childhood in a way that no previous evocation of childhood has done. The excitement of discovering new things. The meandering purposeless boredom. The frequent examples of self-consciousness and embarrassment. The discovery of the opposite sex and the desperate need to be liked by them.
      - Central to the narrative is Karl Ove's relationship with, and fear of, his tyrannical father. However, although this fear is always present, it doesn't dominate the narrative and therefore is far more powerful and shocking when it is suddenly fore grounded. He could easily have shortened the book by concentrating on his father and turning into yet another 'misery memoir' but instead I felt that, by the end of the book, I had a far more complete picture, not just of Knausgard's childhood, but of childhood experience in general.
      - It is a terrific evocation of the 1970s (particularly the music) and if you grew up then (I didn't), I'm sure you will identify with it.
      - It recalls a time, now long gone, in which childhood was largely about an outdoor life (playing out with friends) whether it was in rural surroundings or on busy city streets.
    • 5/5
      Now I can't wait for the fourth volume to be translated; and I dread the day when there are no more! I still can't put into words what I find so fascinating about these books. He is so open, so self-aware, with such an attention to detail, down to the colors of people's clothes when he was a little boy (I guess maybe that's why they are technically called autobiographical novels). And yet so dense when it comes to other people's feelings. I began to wonder, actually, if he has some form of Asperger's.But the writing is hypnotic, never boring, even though the self he is so honestly describing is at times so obnoxious!