On Overgrown Paths

"Pan" was the first book by Knut Hamsun I read. Over the years I read a few more, but not all of what he's written. This one - written last - will be in most likelihood the last one that I will have read by this author. Not because of any kind of disappointment but because of a certain emotional logic of the author's narrative logic that parallels my reading experience. "On Overgrown Paths" has in it what "Pan" had in it - the romance of mind-in-nature, that out-of-the-left-field pantheistic tangentiality of a human mind that now and then gets lost in the serenity of nature, and intimate encounters that require no explanation. While Hamsun offers no excuses for his ideology, he does lay out a humanizing rationale for his ideological choices while living under Nazi occupation. Therefore, the book is hardly an apologia but a diary of a mind that is undergoing a Kafkaesque "process/trial" with sage-like nonchalance. It reads as a farewell between a writer and his future (now past and present) readers (among which I am) - a rare kind of closure in the world of literature. Stylistically, Hamsun's previously already muted narrative strings - in my opinion - are by now tattered: the thin red lines that you could always find in his prior works are quickly fading from a page to a page, and the paths of his narration are indeed progressively overgrown by seemingly indecipherable references and vignettes. The effect is that of a rambling old man who is aware of his growing insignificance, a life-turn that he sees as existentially normal and acceptable. And amidst that rambling by a deaf man, we - whose reading ears are still attuned to the voice of a beloved author - we can still hear an occasional pure note of that familiar pagan mysticism. And it feels like enough. Hamsun leaves us to our devices, passing a relay torch of wandering from writer to reader.

On overgrown path is profoundly moving book. Humsun was in police custody due to his expressed Nazi sympathies. While waiting for his postponed trail, he started writing this book in order to tell the truth. He explained why he behaved in this specific way and his patriotism toward Norway.He recorded daily trivial activities and made art from trivial things. Even though this book's main purpose was showing his innocence, he never forgot to describe the beauty of natures and make humors. This book touched my heart profoundly.

This non-fiction work (Hamsun's last) was written while Hamsun was under arrest & on trial for treason. Part of the book deals with his annoyance over the affair, especially his anger at "well meaning" beaurocrats & doctors who seem to be putting off his trial & finally letting him off the hook for having "permanently impaired faculties." Reading the book, you can easily tell that Hamsun is hardly impaired. Proud till the end, Hamsun wanted to stand up like a man & take whatever punishment the court may give him. No excuses. But all they seemed to want to do was excuse him and/or his conduct. But what really sparkles, are the collection of "trifles." Hamsun was at his best, in my opinion, in his simple, straightforward works about life in small Norweigen fishing villages, where life's true meaning & beauty shines through seemingly meaningless trifles. Hamsun's prose is brief & to the point, loaded with brilliant understatement. Another interesting aspect of the book is that in his real-life recollections, you can see the origin of characters like Per of Bua & Benoni as well as the philosophical undertones of Shallow Soil & Growth Of The Soil. I've loved everything I've ever read by Hamsun (& that's everything translated into English!) & this book is no different.

Then, after the second world war, after the harassment, the trial and humilation of the country's great literate hero, after the psycological hospital and the statement that Hamsun was old and senile and could not stand responsible for his thoughts and actions - then in 1949 this fantastic book was published for the first time. Written by a 90 year old Knut Hamsun, it is a document from the time, a diary of what happened to him and which were his thoughts. The book is marvellous. Hamsun still possessed the craft and the capability of telling an accurate and tensely atmosperic story to the full. It is just unbelievable that it is written by a 90 year old man, whom when he died in 1952, with this book left his final footprint, in history and in literature. A book anybody should read and find pleasure from. From his first acknowledged work "Hunger" (1890) to this, his last one, the man and his books were unique. Knut Hamsun left the literary world, as he came, in a storm.

Hamsun returns to the style of his earlier books in this whimsical reminiscence upon his misguided actions during the Nazi occupation. A must for all those who appreciate this great writer.