Oliver Lovrenski’s Back in the Day topped the bestseller lists in Norway for months, winning the country’s prestigious Bookseller Prize when Lovrenski was just nineteen. Set in Oslo, his episodic, fragmented novel follows four boys through their school days onto the streets into a life that will likely lead to an early death.
argan was like, you stress so much about money, just smoke a jay and chill innit, marco said, fuck that hippy shit, I grew up with toast for dinner and pyjamas on ski days wallah, ima die before I go broke again
The novel begins with Marco’s call to Ivor telling him one of the four has died. Ivor knows who it is without being told. His friendship with Marco goes back to their earliest school days when Marco had just arrived from Somalia. They’re bright boys whose grades begin to slip when they outstrip their classmates, leaving them unchallenged. Ivor thinks he might become a lawyer, encouraged by his teachers, but by fifteen he’s carrying a knife for protection, dealing drugs with Marco and sampling the merchandise, a habit he began at ten. Marco introduces Ivor to Jonas, regularly beaten by his violent father but determined to protect his little brother, while Arjan has ended up in institutional care, his drug binges frequently landing him in hospital. By the time Marco delivers his shocking but unsurprising news, the four of them have become increasingly enmeshed in crime, caught up in clashes with other dealers, carrying machetes then guns. Four months later, grief and remorse have led to a turning point.
Im losing myself, every day that passes im disappearing like sand through fingers
Lovrenski tells the boys’ stories through Ivor, whose Croatian background he shares, delivering his narrative in brief vibrant fragments, sometimes just a sentence, written in lower case with little punctuation and in a slang that takes some getting used to. It’s an arresting style and not an easy one but if, like me, you persevered with HBO’s The Wire, you’ll know that patience pays dividends. Ivor and Marco are like brothers, often tender with each other and protective of Jonas’s vulnerability. Ivor is twice poleaxed by grief, the death of his grandmother marking a change which leads him from misbehaviour into trouble. They’re persistently failed by a system that doesn’t understand them, repeating tired old adages and threats until, finally, delivering some plain speaking. It’s a tough but rewarding read, an intensely moving novel made more so by Lovrenski’s declaration: ‘I’ve seen them die, I’ve seen them live, but I’ve never seen their story told’. Kudos to Nichola Smalley for a fine translation which can’t have been easy.
Hamish Hamilton: London 9780241705834 256 pages Hardback (Read via NetGalley)
This sounds really powerful Susan.
It’s extraordinarily good, Cathy. All the more powerful for knowing Lovrenski’s background.
Wow, this does sound good but I’m trying to wrap my head around how this got translated given the quotes you mention! Translator must basically have been a co-author.
I can’t imagine how she set about it. No sign of her name on the cover which always annoys me but in this case is outrageous.
Oh no, that is awful.
I loved the Wire, watched it when it was new and, then, again a few years ago which was actually even better. So your comparison definitely piques my interest.
It was a magnificent piece of drama, wasn’t it. I think you’d like this one.
This does sound like a very realistic story. Sounds like the extreme end of the recent Adolescence drama. I am wondering if it is bleak?
It is, I’m afraid, although there is hope. There are similarities to Adolescence but without the misogyny and there’s a tenderness between the characters which is very touching. I thought it was extraordinarily good.
This sounds so impressive anyway, but at 19 it’s extraordinary!
I know! How much of it is based on his own experience isn’t clear but he does share the narrator’s background.
This sounds bleak, but powerful. But how on earth did that translator do it? It seems a real achievement.
Absolutely! I’m always annoyed when a translator’s name doesn’t appear on the cover and in this case doubly so. I read somewhere that they are considered coauthors in France and consequently given the credit they deserve which seems fair to me.
Absolutely! Some translators leave me in awe: especially when you compare their work with some who are – well – clunky and make you aware at every stage that the work is a translation.
Without them, we’d have a much narrower reading choice.
Exactly!
This sounds powerful but bleak and much as I wish I could read more books like this, it isn’t the moment. But as ever your review is so well judged, Susan – concise and yet comprehensive and giving us a real taste of the book’s themes and content. Kudos indeed to the translator – what a task she undertook!
Thank you, Victoria. Best left for happier times, I think. I’m sure they must have worked even more closely than most author/translator partnerships.