Read These Books!!!!
On the Calculation of Volume I & II
My dear, dear, dear reader! It’s been a while since I’ve started a review by claiming that I have no idea how I’m going to write about the book I’m going to be writing about, but I’m back with that claim and that vibe today. AND it’s not one book it’s two—On the Calculation of Volume by Solvej Balle (books I & II (out of SEVEN!)). The books were originally published in Danish and translated to English by Barbara J. Haveland last year, and you’re really not going to believe this, but book III comes out on TUESDAY! Don’t for a second think that I planned this because I don’t have the foresight for that, but I’ll take the serendipitous topicality.
And I will take the sweet relief of knowing I don’t have to wait too long to find out what happens after the INSANE cliffhanger at the end of the second book. I have arranged to pick up my copy of book III from my local bookseller on Tuesday without delay. But I’m getting ahead of myself. What is On the Calculation of Volume other than long? As my coworker reasonably wondered when I offered it up as my current rec, “is that like a science book?” No! it’s a novel.
Book I, which I brought with me to Italy on a whim introduces us to Tara Selter. She wakes up on what should be the 19th of November, but instead it is the 18th of November again. Then again and again and again. When this strange rip in time occurs, she is in Paris on business. She and her husband Thomas are antiquarian booksellers; their company is called T & T Selter. On the 19th of November she is meant to have dinner with some old friends in Paris, and then on the 20th of November, return to Clarion-sous-Bois with the books she purchased on her trip. But the 19th is the 18th and the 20th is the 18th. But Tara is the only one who seems to know that.
Over the course of the first book, Tara explores the pocket of time she seems to have fallen into. In her first repeated days she remains in Paris, but fairly quickly decides she might as well go home. She surprises Thomas with, what is to him, her early return. She explains what has happened. She does this for many mornings in a row, since every morning he has forgotten again. Together they try to understand what’s happening and come to understand the rules of this new space—though they are curious and at times inconsistent.
Anything that Thomas buys or acquires or moves over the course of the day generally returns to its original place overnight. Tara can hold onto the things she collects, though it requires some work, and certain items are seem more likely to stay with her than others. If she keeps them on her body or at least at the foot of her bed while she sleeps, she can usually train them to stay with her. Food she eats stays gone from the world, grocery store shelves don’t automatically restock. Money, though, is unlimited—whatever she withdraws from the bank is back by the morning.
So slowly, over the course of repeated days, Tara gets her footing, holds onto, loses and finds hope. The books are her own account of the days, which she begins writing to count the days and create some record of her existence in this single day. She never has much trouble holding onto the pages once they’re filled with her words. Tara never really despairs, which keeps the books from becoming depressing, but there’s also an underlying sadness—deep and terrifying. The reader gets the sense that Tara is trying to keep it out, or tamp it down, both for her own sanity and in an effort to create a certain type of account. As she says to Thomas every morning, no one is hurt, no one has died.
At first it’s unclear how Balle is going to fill seven books. At the hotel in Paris, a man drops a piece of bread at the breakfast buffet every morning. At home, Thomas goes to the post office, gets caught in the rain, goes out to the garden to get a leek for his soup. Two cars go by throwing light at the house at the same time of night everyday. Well, it’s just one day. Tara watches, listens and memorizes. She can tell time by the creak on the stairs. It sounds like the least compelling thing of all time, but somehow in Balle’s hands it becomes addicting.
Aside from the philosophical quandaries that naturally accompany a groundhogs day plot—what happens when we change and the people in our lives stay the same? what is permanence? what kind of mark do we leave on the world as we move through it? how do we make meaning of the mundane? what is solitude? what is not solitude? etc.—which are thought provoking and expertly woven into the novel, Balle’s writing is beautiful, her storytelling surprising and delightful.
You never know what she’ll make Tara do next. The possibilities are endless—a day to live over, over and over again—but the overarching stagnation makes you forget that motion is possible. Balle makes things move to remind you and always just at the right moment. Whether she actually sends Tara off to buy a notebook one town over, or just shifts Tara’s perspective, the next mechanism of movement always comes as a surprise at first, before it immediately feels like the next and only logical progression in this progression-less story.
Book I covers 365 November 18ths, and like Book II, it ends with a cliffhanger: will Tara be able to jump back on the carousel of time now that she’s made it back around to the day that she fell off it? Since I finished the book in Florence where the English language bookstore that sells mostly used books didn’t have a copy of Book II, I was left hanging. I could have bought Book II in London, but then my covers wouldn’t have matched, so I waited. Then I started reading a 600 page book1, and then it was Murdoch-tober,2 and anyway I was pretty sure that Tara would wake up on the 18th of November again anyway.
I mention all that only to say that when I started Book II earlier this week, I was not carried by momentum. When Tara [spoiler alert] wakes up on the 18th of November, alone in Paris, and reasonably, not just a little bit forlorn, I thought, oh dear, how is Solvej going to do this again for another book? Well I needn’t have worried. Being the goddess and genius that she is Balle delivered a masterpiece. There was not a word out of place.
That’s all you’ll get out of me, other than a heartfelt plea that you go get yourself these strange and wonderful books! I & II (which you can probably finish this weekend if you start now!!) and III (on Tuesday).
love you, bye!
Iris is so fantastic.