"Holding on to all the happiness, all the beauty, all the future that resides in everything."
Even the adventurous reader can be justly intimated by the Norwegian author Karl Ove Knausgaard's 6-volume autobiographical novel "My Struggle." It runs thousands of pages, for one thing. It's called "My Struggle" (the more Hilterian sounding "Min Kamp" in Norwegian), it's basically just the life of this one guy, and, also, how do I pronounce his name? I started Proust about a year ago and asked myself, "Do I really need another incredibly long, multi-volume novel in my life?" "My Struggle," like Ferante's Neapolitan Novels, are an immersive reading experience for the digital age. Both demand concentration and attention, which is a valuable service. You might find him narcissistic and self-absorbed (The whole series is about his life.), but somehow he transforms the mundane details and common experiences of life into something lyrical, compelling, and poignant. The material, from coming of age experiences to sex to the death of his father, is not new at all, but that seems to be part of his point: you don't have to look outside of your own life to find stories and experiences that others will find meaningful.