Isolation in a land of unbelonging.
An unusual coming-of-age story in the desolate plains of America.
I was introduced to this dusty treasure of a novel through ‘booktuber’ Sunbeamsjess (see below). What intrigued me most about was that it focuses less on building a driving plot and more on exploring the idea of what it means to be lonely, whether by oneself or with others, and to feel out of place in the very home you have created for yourself.
Our protagonist, Håkan Söderström, loses his elder brother, Linus, during their voyage from Sweden to America. The novel sees Håkan traverse the American flat land in search of his brother, barely able to understand English let alone navigate his way to the territory in which he mentally insists his brother now resides.
Håkan’s adventure through the harsh and dull landscape is futile, almost cruel.
Diaz’s use of imagery is important, given that Håkan spends a large portion of his journey in silence, in isolation, immersed in an ever-changing — but also never-changing — environment, described as having an “oppressive monotony”.
Diaz also paints Håkan’s gigantic stature with care, making us aware of his vast and open presence, a mirror of his surroundings. But his big build is balanced alongside his almost timid and resolute nature, the exact opposite of his new home.
The book also explores the idea of not feeling like you belong, no matter how much time you spend in a place and how much care you dedicate to cultivate a life there.
Håkan’s ill-fitting clothes, that make him feel like he “is finally in America”, are a play on the very real immigrant experience of entering a new land and the efforts devoted to adopting mannerisms and even dress of the existing inhabitants but never truly feeling as though they fit into the jigsaw of the territory.
A final, but certainly not exhaustive, intriguing aspect of this book is the analysis of the human tendency towards habitualness — how habits and routine create a sense of belonging. It is through the trapping of wild animals, the tedious tanning of leather, the sterilising of his tools, the daily tending of his horse, that Håkan is provided with a sense of purpose and thus safety.
Routine gives him a sense of being exactly where he is supposed to be.
A powerful look at the comforts and tortures brought about by companionship and isolation, this book is a quiet masterpiece and one I’d recommend devouring very, very slowly.
Perhaps while in self-isolation.
