Reviews and Comments

I really like walking.

For me walking is the ultimate freedom. I long for a time in my life when I walked more, when I had time to stroll. In the hustle of bustle of life with a job and family time margins are shorter and I mostly find myself grabbing the bike (which I love, but on other terms). Somehow in the stream of everyday life I find myself forgetting about how to walk, how easy it is and the pleasure of walking without a destination, something to do during the walk or headphones with a podcast or music.

I have read this book before. I liked it very much then, and I liked it a lot this time. It goes through how walking has been looked upon by philosophers, in writing and art; in different parts of the world and at different times. It has a very good chapter on how walking has been (and is) constrained in different ways for men and women. I love that the book ends with a visit to Las Vegas, a pedestrian island in a sea of car culture.

This is really a book about space and time. As Solnit writes in the end of the book: walking is freedom, but a freedom which is dependent on both that space and time is carved out for it.

I read this about twenty years ago, when it was new and I was more interested in comics. I probably read it around the same time as I read Art Spiegelman's Maus (which I should also reread, and which I know was an inspiration for Persepolis). I bought it in a second hand shop a couple of years ago meaning to reread it, but did never get to it. When it was reported that Marjane Satrapi had died a couple of weeks ago I felt that now it is time. With the current protests and war, getting a better grasp of Iranian history and society also felt more urgent.

The book tells the tale of the author from childhood until she leaves permanently for art studies in France in her mid-twenties. A large part of the book plays out in Austria where Satrapi was sent during the Iran-Iraq war at the age of fourteen.

I mostly remembered the book's first part which is centered around the Iranian revolution and how it impacted Satrapi's family. Satrapi's parents was leftists, and the other relatives was active in the struggle against the Shah in different capacities, but was largely powerless when the islamists captured the revolution. A relative who was very dear to Satrapi was executed by the islamic republic in the aftermath of the revolution.

What I had largely forgotten was the other themes of the book. Satrapi's exile in Austria as a very young teenager and her return to an Iran that had changed a lot while she was away with the Islamic republic getting a firmer grasp of Iranian society during the Iran-Iraq war. These two parts is each about a third of the full book (I think the original french was released in three parts). How Persepolis largely is a story of never really fitting in, about growing up and about the difficulty of becoming who you are when society tries to constrain you.

The strength of the book to me as a westerner, as someone who doesn't know much about Iran is that it makes the characters relatable. Not only the main character, but most of the people around her. Even under a dramatic situation (revolution, war, exile) they have many of the same problems that we do, or at least problems that we can understand. During my reading I felt that I got to know the characters. I really like the drawing style and think it contributes to this. The drawings are exactly as detailed as they need to be, but not more.

I haven't seen the animated movie, but should see if it can be viewed somewhere.

I think I really like walking memoirs.

I often find myself longing for long walks, probably as an escape.

I don't know how I stumbled into Craig Mods webpage, probably a link in the fediverse. I read a couple of the updates on his blog and liked what I read. Short insights from a guy my age living in Japan and very much into long walks. He had recently published a walking memoir and I took note to order it the next time I went to the book shop. An expected I will order it, then read it when I get it a couple of months later-situation. To my surprise they had it already. It is a very good bookshop!

As all good walking memoirs Things become other things isn't only about the walk. It is also a book about the places and the people that the author meets during the walk. Mod does this very well. He is an immigrant to Japan, an outside observer; relaying the particularities of the Kii peninsula of Japan; but also has lived in Japan for almost half his life, speaking the language and being very much familiar with the culture.

The book is based an a three-week walk that Craig Mod did in 2021 on the Kii peninsula; a rural part of Japan, where the population is largely older people as young people has moved away and unemployment and poverty is common. That the walk happened during the covid pandemic is mentioned some places, but isn't very important to the book. The Kii peninsula has been important to both Shinto and Buddhist beliefs, and the peninsula has several shrines, temples and holy places, and also pilgrim routes, along which the walk is largely conducted.

Things become other things is a book that is very much a book about the place where the author grew up. The whole book is written to a childhood friend: stories and memories are retold as things on the walk reminds the author of things from his past. In this way the book becomes a book about more than just walking and the people that he runs into, but also a vehicle for reflection. As the author reflects on his origin, we as readers can also reflect on where we come from.

Reflecting on the title of the book: Things become other things. It is referenced only once in the book when an elderly inn keeper admits that his daughter really isn't his daughter, but a young woman that needed a place to stay and new connections. What was becomes something different. In many ways this is the theme of the book. Mod largely tells about how he has changed during the years since his childhood in the US midwest, the changes that his home town has gone throgh since then and the changes that his surroundings on the walk has experienced (this isn't his first time walking in this area).

I can imagine myself rereading this book in a couple of years, and guess I will see new things then. Also I should really reread Rebecca Solnits Wanderlust.

And get out walking.

Det er ikke vanskelig å sette fingeren på hva som gjør Morten Strøksnes' Havboka så bra. Den har et intressant anslag: To venner som på mange måter er ganske ulike, men som trives i hverandres selskap, bestemmer seg for at de skal fange en håkjerring, en av de største og uhyggeligste haiene som lever i havet. For den ene er dette noe han alltid har drømt om, inspirert av historier han har hørt fra eldre slektninger. Den andre haker på, kanskje utifra vennskapet, men også utifra en fascinasjon med havet.

Slik handler deler av boken om vennskapet og det felles Prosjektet, og man følger oppturer og nedturer. Prosjektet å fange en håkjerring er bokens røde tråd.

Det som bærer boken og som løfter den opp fra andre bøker som handler om (menns) vennskap og felles Prosjekter er den store fascinasjonen den formidler for havet og vår relasjon til den. Jeg er oppvokst ved kysten med forfedre som var sjøfolk eller fiskere (min morfar er oppvokst i området rundt Vesthavet der boka utspiller seg), men har egentlig ikke hatt noe forhold til det bortsett fra noe som er der. Jeg har ikke fisket, ikke levd av det og sjelden reist over det. Det er lett å glemme at det finns en hel verden der under og at den er minst like fascinerende som den over vannflata, men kanskje vanskeligere for oss å forstå.

Fordi at det finnes en hinne mellom oss og livet i havet har vi vanskelig for å ta inn over oss verdien av livet og hvordan vi på mange måter er avhengige av det, også vi som ikke spiser fisk. Som Strøksnes understreker så er størstedelen av jordoverflata hav, store deler av det biologiske mangfoldet og arter vi ikke kjenner til finnes i havet, og landskapet under vann speiler i stor grad den som ligger over med daler, fjeller og sletter.

Det er kanskje det at vi ikke kan se mye av den verdenen som ligger under havskorpa som gjør at vi holder på med slikt som tråling, dyphavsborring etter olje og storskala fiskeoppdrett. At gruvedrift på havbunnen nå har blitt ett hett tema gjør at behovet for å forstå og fascineres for havet er stort. Det er mye å fascineres av i verdenen under vann. Havboka handler ikke bare om håkjerringa, som er intressant, men ikke virker som en trivelig figur, men Strøksnes forteller også om hvaler, blekkspruter, maneter, fisk og andre dyr.

Jeg opplever at det finnes en økende interesse for havet og Havboka tar på mange måter plass blant populærvitenskaplige bøker om havet som har kommet de siste ti årene. Her i Sverige er Patrik Svenssons Ålevangeliet et annet eksempel, som også vant Augustprisen for beste faglitterære bok. Jeg vet også at det har kommet liknende verk som tar utgangspunktet i maneter og blekkspruter (to livsformer som er så annerledes fra oss at det er vanskelig å til og med forstå det).

Havboka er godt skrevet. Den er intressant og ofte morsom. På mange måter er det jeg tar med meg fra den en følelse av at dette er en verden jeg må vite mer om, der mine kunskaper er mangelfulle. Jeg vil vite mer om blekkspruter spesielt, men kanskje maneter og ål også.

Jeg er nok egentlig ti år for ung for å være sånn omtrent jevngammel med hovedpersonen, men jeg kjente meg likevel veldig godt igjen i boka. Den er satt till 1990, et år da det var store omvelvinger i verden. Om ikke annet kjenner jeg denne tiden godt fra bøker, filmer og andre fortellinger. Jeg kan også skimte meg selv som tenåring i Jarle og Helge, av behovet av å bryte med og finne seg en egen plass i omverdenen.

Mannen som elsket Yngve er på overflaten en historie om søttenåringen Jarle som oppdager at han er forelsket i Yngve. Ikke bare er Yngve en gutt, og Jarle hetero med kjæreste, men Yngve er helt annerledes enn de Jarle bruker å ty seg til — Yngve er vanlig, en slik som Jarle tar avstand til.

Det som likevel ga gjenklang hos meg er hvordan dette er en roman om de sene tenårene, og hvordan den man tenker at man er, den man er, raskt kan kastes opp og at man oppdager at man er annerledes enn hva man selv har gått ut fra.

Det er en situasjon som er gjennomgående for Jarle. Ikke bare oppdager han at han er en annen enn den han trodde, men han slites mellom å glede seg over å oppdage at han sammen med Yngve blir en annen og forventningene han fortsatt har til hvem han burde være og den han har vært.

I den beste av verdener hadde Jarle kunne vært begge disse to (og flere til), men Jarles verden og tenårenes verden, i hvert fall ikke den gang og heller ikke ti år senere, tillot det.

Dette var en bok som på alvor fikk meg til å tenke tilbake på min egen ungdomstid, ikke fordi jeg opplevde noe lignende, men fordi jeg kjente igjen meg i figurene og fordi jeg som de fleste i samme alder gjennomgikk en omdefinering av den jeg var (om enn ikke så dramatisk).

Boka er også både lettlest, velskrevet og tidvis ganske morsom.

Thomas Müntzer is a person that stuck around in my memory after reading the historical thriller Q by the Luther Blisset Collective some fiftheen years ago.

Why does a fanatic preacher from the 16th century that led a failed peasant rebellion in Southern Germany interest me?

I think it is something like this: I grew up in a not very strict, but religious and chuch-going family. When we moved my parents got to know many of their friends in church. We probably never learnt anything about the reformation there, but when I did in school and during my Confirmation we only learned about Luther.

I was an adult when I learned that the reformation included a multitude of movements and thinkers, many which were in opposition to Luther in many ways, but which has largely been forgotten in the official retelling of the event. This also opened up the reformation as an historical period and I discovered that it was way more interesting than I first thought and that is worth looking into for all who are interested in historical change.

Getting to know Thomas Müntzer (and many of the other movements) also showed me that Luther maybe wasn't as amiable of a thinker as I first thought and that there has been movements earlier in history that has in some form or another strived for a more equal society (the English Levellers and Diggers piques my interest in the same way, even should I trust Drummond there may be a loose links from the German Anabaptists).

The story of Thomas Müntzer is also the story of those who lost and thus didn't get to write the history. The loosers of history is almost always interesting.

So what entices me is an image of a priest in his robes and one of these flat-top hats that goes over the ears, standing on a hill, swinging a sword while he slanders the princes for ruining the life of the common people in his best German while the peasants of Thuringia stands behind him and the paid mercenaries of the German nobility stands on the other?

Yes. I think so.

And probably the image isn't entirely true. What is clear from Drummonds book is that we know some things about Thomas Müntzer, but because not much has been saved of his books and letters (and that the DDR government managed to gift some of his letters to Stalin on his seventieeth birthday) there is so much we simply can't know.

Maybe this is one of the reasons that many have been interested in Müntzer, including Friedriech Engels which wrote a book on the German Peasants War, that beyond what is solid facts we can project a little bit of what we like onto him?