Dorthe Nors’ Stories Are Short, Concise, and Mysterious. Why Do They Also Feel so Weirdly Intimate?
Graywolf Press, 2021 Wild Swims, a new collection by the Danish writer, showcases her ability to use narrative blank spots and unresolved situations as devices to lure readers into her work.
One of the great joys of oral storytelling is the intimacy often forged between a talented speaker and an audience, which can transform any room into a two-person confessional, a late-night phone call, or a conversation with the stranger at the nearest barstool. I’ve been thinking about this kind of intimacy while reading and rereading
, translated by Misha Hoekstra. Nors is the author of seven novels, including Mirror, Shoulder, Signal
, which was a finalist for the Man Booker International Prize. She lives in Denmark. Misha Hoekstra is an award-winning translator. He lives in Aarhus, where he writes and performs songs under the name Minka Hoist.
This heat, no peace. Seen from the hotel room window, the palm trees tilt. Down in Pershing Square is a tower that someone’s erected, with a bright Christmas ornament at the top. At first she thought it was a bell tower, but the ornament can’t ring. The first evening, when the heat eased off, she walked guardedly down Grand Avenue. When she came to a cross street, someone yelled, “Hey girl, are you European?” and then she turned and went back to the hotel. She’s no girl any more, that’s obvious. But she is European, though how would he know? It might be her pale skin, but then she could just as easily be Canadian. Which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the w