Knut Hamsun's Nobel Prize winning epic "Growth of the Soil" has been republished by Imperium Press. I've been aware of Hamsun for a while now but had never read any of his writing. He's credited with being very influential for his time, inspiring a great many subsequent writers. He of course also is a controversial figure in the wider world due to his racial beliefs, hatred of the Anglo, and support for Hitler. In spite of all this though it seems he remains a popular literary figure in his homeland and whilst any white man is in danger of being swept under the rug he has not been so easily gotten rid of.
All the above was frankly gleaned from passing knowledge before or from Wikipedia, but I knew Hamsun was seen as a member of the right. He appears in Kerry Bolton's "Artists of the Right" in which Dr Bolton profiles a number of exemplary artistic figures who were all on the right. Going into this book though I also only vaguely knew it was meant to be a pean to the rural idyll of life, though with a Norgwegian bent. In truth this epic of a book was not really what I expected at all and at times whilst reading it I wonder if this is really a book about nature or instead a cautionary tale about the longhouse.
Ah the "longhouse: - on a personal level I don't care for the term that much. Longhouses always seemed cool to me in my youth, epic halls of merry making and where court was held. Part of Anglo-Saxon and Viking culture, a style of building. Yet here we are, the term today really symbolizes the oppressive control of small minded perfidious women. These women tend to dominate what Mike Maxwell of Imperium calls 'tyrrhic men'. Growth of the Soil is as much a tale about these insidious women and tyrrhic men as it is about the legacy of a man who built a life in the wilderness.
Men today often idolize the lone man conquering the wilderness. The Alaskan Dick Proenneke is a more modern figure - living 30 years alone in the wilderness of Alaska and building his own cabin and living his own life. He didn't do this as a young man either, he was 51 when he made that decision. Isak our lead protagonist, our reluctant patriarch, of Growth of the Soil clearly begins his journey as a younger man. We aren't exactly told how old he is but we assume somewhere in the mid twenties. He appears to us as a man out of time, no background is given. We are thrust into the world of creation, man as builder and tamer of the wilds. These Norwegian wilds that Hamsun writes so lovingly about. There are many gentle moments of description about the beauty of nature and its harshness. The seasons are not just abstract to the man living off the land, they are tied to his success, his life and death. Isak is a curious protagonist in so much as he is almost comically an archetype of the silent type. This is where the book to me took a curious turn. The narrative element of the book seemed to switch to focus on giving more voice to the female characters.
The first female character we meet is Inger. She has a cleft lip - an unfortunately ugly birth defect. Isak needs a woman to be around the farm for it to grow, and it is implied someone to marry. He effectively settles for this woman. After all he is a lone man, out on the frontier. Not much in the way of wealth yet, proving himself. The best he can do is the cleft lipped woman. This woman at the start proves to be loyal and grateful. She gives him two sons and life seems idyllic. Not for nothing do we need a plot development and we get one. Inger kills her daughter after she is born. Isak - who has been absent for the other births is none the wiser. A bumbling trusting soul. Female wickedness is unchecked when unwatched. The crime comes to light only through the conniving of other old hag, a crone named Oline. She truly is the old matriarch. The awful woman who lurks in the corners and shadows, who drips poison for sport. Of course she helps as well, it is why she just about survives. The crime comes to light and Inger must go away.
In her absence Hamsun continues to warn of the dangers of such woman. Oline helps Isak in the years of absence but she is a danger, a constant irritation. Throughout the story one wishes to grab the male characters and shake them - it isn't just Isak who Hamsun torments in the pages of the book either. Both his son and a neighbor get to feel the evilness of women. Again and again I was struck by the time and energy spent by the author in fleshing out the female characters, their motivations, their inner thoughts only to leave many of the men by the wayside. Not what I expected at all. This surprise aside Hamsun is really weaving many tales of caution in. Infatricide is seemingly not an uncommon female behavior, nor is infidelity. Inger, Isak's wife, returns from prison in the big city a reformed woman. She now has delusions of grandeur. Indeed one of the only satisfying moments is when Isak lifts here, merely lifts here, and puts her in her place. Yet later on in the tale she is once again right on the edge of total infidelity. Infidelity to this man of unshakeable loyalty and stoic silence. Who has carved a life out of the soil, made them wealthy, been loving. We can speculate on what Hamsun meant but in our post red pill landscape this is the lens I read this tale through.
That is something I'd be remiss to mention. We bring out own experiences of life to what we read. To anyone who has experienced women at their more raw and evil edges much of this is unsurprising behavior. Perhaps what surprised me is to read it in this book. These are timeless lessons to share and write about. This is what literature is all about. Today instead of reading a lengthy novel like this young men will instead listen to the likes of Andrew Tate on TikTok. This is the modern day medium of sharing information, certainly taboo information. We forget that in fact such information and ideas have been often communicated to us just in less bite size formats. You needed to read and engage with literature to see what men made of women to read of the story. The ability to blend lessons with narrative is a dying art it feels. Today our youth and people want everything now, immediately and in the most simple way possible. That is bluntly put best for the midwits. For anyone else who genuinely wishes to engage with something deeper such lessons are best discussed as part of a grander narrative. It is why the poignant lessons about power from say Herbet’s Dune resonate more than theoretical books. Stories are the most critical medium to express ideas and in Hamsun’s Growth of the Soil you are treated to a story laced with important ideas and in particular warnings on female behavior at its worst.
What of the writing itself? It is melodic and lyrical. There are moments of great beauty which Hamsun captures as well - this short passage about him sowing ‘corn’ (which I would contend with the translation should actually be termed wheat or grain, as corn is something different in todays day and age. This is a minor quibble but it struck me to comment on this use of ‘corn’ as this passage I did enjoy):
For generations back, into forgotten time, his fathers before him had sowed corn; solemnly, on a still, calm evening, best with a gentle fall of warm and misty rain, soon after the grey goose flight. Potatoes were a new thing, nothing mystic, nothing religious; women and children could plant them - earth-apples that came from foreign parts, like coffee; fine rich food, but much like swedes and mangolds. Corn was nothing less than bread; corn or no corn meant life or death.
I found in general the writing to have a sort of immersive quality. It brought me into this life I know nothing of quite easily. Hamsun seems at ease to write dialog as well again in this rapid fire format that brings you along. In some of the spats between the women the dialog is written with such intensity you feel almost as if you are there seeing them fight with each other. It lends a gravity to those themes I mentioned before, the reticence of the men in their speech at times is frustrating, but it is believable. We have met these men who solidly push on in spite of female longhouse antagonism and control.
The most interesting male character is this kind of Odin like figure: Geissler. He was the lensmann (local noble/Govt official) of where Isak lives before being pushed out. He is a friend to Isak and Inger and forever on their side but he is a mysterious figure. He appears and disappears throughout the story, both generous and cunning. A source of wisdom and wealth though he himself seems to care little for it. The story is written in Christian times but to me Geissler stands out as this oddly Pagan figure - again strongly reminiscent to me of Odin. He is a wanderer, wise, and both Isak and Inger treat him almost reverentially. He plays an important part in the latter half of the story where Hamsun tackles the growth, rise, and fall of a local copper mine.
Growth of the Soil I thought would be something else. I thought more Walden esque. It is better though, it is a true familial epic. An ode to hard working men taming the wilderness and it is full of sensible cautionary moments discussing the problem of the long house. I’d strongly recommend this to anyone looking for a good disconnect from the madness of current yearism - a world in which to delve and explore with an homage to nature ever present.