Pan |
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Author:
| Hamsun, Knut |
Translator:
| Worster, W. |
Introduction by:
| Björkman, Edwin |
ISBN: | 978-1-4912-9326-3 |
Publication Date: | Aug 2013 |
Publisher: | CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
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Book Format: | Paperback |
List Price: | USD $7.99 |
Book Description:
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In the "Introduction" to "Pan" (which makes no mention of "Pan"), Edwin Björkman alludes to "Shallow Soil" and "Editor Lynge" as merely novels "dealing sarcastically with the literary Bohemia of the Norwegian capital. They were, on the whole, failures-artistically rather than commercially. They are among his poorest books." Lieutenant Glahn in "Pan" is a sort of devastating male. Blind Nature moves him, not greed or pride. He is ingenuous, uncouth, through the endless day...
More DescriptionIn the "Introduction" to "Pan" (which makes no mention of "Pan"), Edwin Björkman alludes to "Shallow Soil" and "Editor Lynge" as merely novels "dealing sarcastically with the literary Bohemia of the Norwegian capital. They were, on the whole, failures-artistically rather than commercially. They are among his poorest books."
Lieutenant Glahn in "Pan" is a sort of devastating male. Blind Nature moves him, not greed or pride. He is ingenuous, uncouth, through the endless day of the Nordland he passes like a blundering shadow. He has taken his hut by the sea for a long summer holiday. There with his dog he for a time lives innocently and happily, loving sea and wood and solitude. But Pan, his master, is no solitary: ice melts, days lengthen, greenery appears: "The spring was urging, and the forest listened." It is mating time, the peace of winter is gone, and what can the servant of Pan do but obey the wild summons? Two women are at hand, as they are bound to be when the hour is ripe. Eva the blacksmith''s wife is a child of Pan purely. Her gift is without stint or remorse. Edwarda''s need is subtler. She could mate only with a prince, a man of princely soul; and as soon as she perceives poor Glahn''s spiritual limitations she is done with him. Glahn is responsible for Eva''s death and for Edwarda''s final disillusioning. If he were purely Pan''s child his Nordland summer would end without anguish if not without chagrin. But there is a torturing angel in him which will not let him forget the hapless Eva, or ignore his irremediable loss in losing Edwarda. Therefore he methodically goes to the dogs, hoping for release, and in the end contrives to be shot by a hunting companion whom he has deliberately goaded to the act.
The final episode, the account of Glahn''s last days given by the man who has killed him, is a finished story in itself. Here, one might say, was no need of fresh characterization, our concern being simply with the circumstances of Glahn''s death. But Hamsun in summing up one character creates a totally new one. One can feel his enjoyment of this self-portrait of the feeble and conceited person who is the ironic instrument of Glahn''s release.
The Hamsun of Pan combines within himself the excesses and unrestraint of the decadents and the extreme individualism of Nietzsche. And, indeed, Pan was published as early as 1894, when the decadents and Nietzsche were in blossom.
The novelist should give us characters that are typical as well as individual. Unless there is something universal in the character presented, he cannot have much significance for us. We demand that he be a comprehensible human being,- that he be in some measure akin to ourselves. The characters of extreme realists like Flaubert or of extreme romanticists like Loti, are liable to be too individual. Of course the naturalism of Zola sins in this matter, but the characters of Pan are also individual, and amazingly individual at that. Naturally the subjectivity of Strindberg makes him sin grossly in this direction. And Bernard Shaw, in his field, is a splendid example of the same tendency. W. H. Hudson, on the other hand, makes his bird-girl the embodiment of "poetic truth," and as such she is of course an idealized type; but she is also remarkably individual. Are we so thoroughly steeped in the tendencies of naturalism that we are losing sight of the human, as opposed to the animal, part of our being?
Years ago Huxley, a rigorous scientist, told us that we must in many ways "oppose the cosmic process." And Tennyson, a very wise poet in his time, said something to the effect that we should arise and fly the reeling Faun, the sensual feast; and that we should move upward. Being mere "Victorians," these men did not know any better. In the enlightened year of 1920, the Nobel prize went to Knut Hamsun, the apostle of unrestraint and impulse; and the critical world applauds. The world was moving then!