The Girl Between

by Lisa Strømme

  Andreas and I are the only ones who know it’s there. Tullik never saw the point in taking it back, and Munch painted four more versions of it over the years. Once, when he was very hard up, I offered to dig it out for him so that he could sell it. He joked that no one would want it. Another version had already been ridiculed in Germany. This one was mine, he said, and he always called it The Strawberry Girl’s Scream.

  Now his sister is sidling up beside me. She is holding a painting. She unravels it carefully because it is torn at the edges and the paper is aged and fragile. A crumpled parchment.

  “They found it in the wall of the studio when they were renovating it,” she says.

  I look down, and I see Tullik. Tullik, with her hair windswept and alive about her head. She is standing opposite him, and they are close. Noses touching. In the background are the branches of the pines of Fjugstad forest. The central point of the painting is the bright column of the moon reflected on the water. It splits the trees. His head is in darkness, almost a silhouette, with black, hollow eyes, dark hair and shoulders. Tullik is light. Her face is bathed in the yellow shine of the moon. The strands of her golden hair stretch out to him, reaching like arms, tying their two souls together. Uniting them for all eternity.

  “To think that it must have been hidden for years,” Inger says. “How can that even be possible? A painting hiding like that? I’m so glad we found it.”

  “Yes,” I say. “Paintings are meant to be seen. One way or another, they will find their way out.”

  But I am speaking only half-truth. Not all paintings must be seen. Not mine. Mine is safe beneath the floorboards of my little fisherman’s hut. There, it has found its home. There, it rests. There, it is content. And when Andreas and I die, we will take this secret with us to our graves, for it cannot belong anywhere else. The other Screams will be seen and maybe even heard by some, but not The Strawberry Girl’s Scream. It will never be found.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Living in Norway, it’s impossible to ignore Edvard Munch. He is one of our most significant tourist attractions and a fundamental part of the fabric of Norwegian culture. Incredibly though, I did manage to ignore him, for quite a long time. I lived alongside Munch for over a decade before I really started paying attention to him. I suppose he was such an integral part of Norwegian life that I didn’t find him a mystery. I thought I knew him. My ears pricked up when The Scream and The Madonna were stolen in 2004, but it wasn’t until the record-breaking sale of The Scream at auction in 2012 that I was finally roused from my Munch slumber. By then, I had been in Norway long enough to feel a sense of pride, and perhaps even a little ownership, of this great Norwegian artist. Now I was intrigued. I started asking questions: What makes a painting sell for $120 million? Who was Munch? And why is this disturbing painting so universally appealing? Ironically, it was only then that I began to discover just what an enigma Edvard Munch really was.

  I had an idea to write an epic story about The Scream, spanning time periods, with multiple narratives, and ending with the Sotheby’s auction in 2012. But my research took me in a different direction and kept me much closer to home. It took me to a beautiful little coastal town, under an hour’s drive from where I live: Åsgårdstrand. It was love at first sight, and as soon as I set foot on the beach, I knew my story had to happen there. I would write about Åsgårdstrand, in the summer.

  I read everything I could find about Munch’s life in Åsgårdstrand. I spoke to local people, read the periodicals of local history associations, and went to every Munch event and exhibition in the area. It wasn’t long before I came across an old memoir by a local woman, Inger Alver Gløersen, whose stepfather was a friend of Munch’s.

  In her book, Lykkehuset: Edvard Munch og Åsgårdstrand, Gløersen devotes a few pages to a story about a young girl, Regine, the daughter of an admiral, who lived in Borre and had a summer romance with Edvard Munch. According to Gløersen, the artist gave Regine paintings throughout the summer, which she hid from her disapproving parents, and at the end of the season when the maids cleaned the house, the paintings were discovered and burned.

  The story inspired me, and the seeds of The Girl Between were planted. I was determined to find out who this “Regine” was and if there was any truth to the story.

  It is common knowledge that Edvard Munch had a romantic relationship with Milly Ihlen, the daughter of an admiral, who spent her summers in Borre. So for a while, I presumed Milly Ihlen must have been the girl named “Regine” in Gløersen’s memoir. But I wasn’t satisfied. Eventually, I came across an old photograph of a child called Tullik Ihlen. Coupled with census records and a local account of Prince Carl’s visit to Borre, it finally dawned on me that “Tullik” was a nickname. Tullik’s real name was Regine Ihlen. The records confirmed it; Regine was Milly’s younger sister. Suddenly, the plot became juicier: two sisters having an affair with the same artist.

  Whether there is any truth to Gløersen’s story remains unclear, but it is unlikely. Munch makes no reference to anyone named Tullik in his journals (although he often used code names for the people in his personal life), and none of the experts I have spoken to, or whose work I have read, can corroborate the story. In fact, Tullik Ihlen seems to have vanished into history. Her name appears only in her father’s obituary in 1905 and a couple of obscure letters and articles, nothing of any substance. However, it was enough to spark my imagination, and I fabricated my own tale out of these wisps.

  I decided to set the novel in 1893, as this was the year Munch painted the first version of The Scream. For this reason, I have altered the dates of his paintings to suit the story. Some of them would not yet have been painted in 1893—for example, Mermaid (1896) and Fertility (1898)—while some would have been painted earlier. Also, Munch did not rent the cabin in Åsgårdstrand before he bought it. His family rented a house (“Thorine’s house”), farther along the same road, but he didn’t buy the cabin until 1897.

  The members of the Ihlen family were all real. Admiral Ihlen; his wife, Julie; and their three daughters occupied Solbakken, the house in Borre, during the summer. The house had been gifted to the Ihlens as a wedding present by Julie’s parents. Later, when the admiral died and the two older girls were married, Julie and Tullik came to live at the house permanently. The census records state that Tullik (a housebound “sick” daughter), Julie, and a housemaid called Ragna were living there in 1910.

  Although they were real, I have completely invented their personalities. Some fragments do provide an insight into the kind of people they were—old newspaper archives report Julie Ihlen’s work with the animal protection lobby, and the obituary in Aftenposten of Admiral Nils Ihlen (admiral, director, and founder of the Norwegian marine insurance company Det Norske Veritas) portrays a highly esteemed and extremely well-respected man. Milly was a part-time actress in Oslo (Kristiania), and it is clear from Munch’s journals and paintings that, for a while at least, he was rather obsessed with her, and eventually, she broke his heart.

  The artist Hans Heyerdahl was from the city of Drammen. He was an incredibly talented artist, popular for his portrait paintings. Although older than Munch, the two artists knew each other, and both spent summers in Åsgårdstrand. Over the years, Heyerdahl has been somewhat eclipsed by the likes of Munch and Krohg, and although his paintings may not have been as innovative as Munch’s, they are nevertheless beautiful and give a rich insight into nineteenth-century Norwegian life.

  There is some speculation as to who Heyerdahl’s Strawberry Girl (Jordbærpiken) actually was. One theory claims she was Karen Gjerdmundsen, one of the local Åsgårdstrand children, whose sisters, Henriette and Marthe, also feature in Munch and Heyerdahl paintings. However, records from the Lillehammer Art Museum suggest that the Strawberry Girl was Albertine Sofie Olsson—known as “Albertine with the eyes.” She was the daughter of an Oslo mechanic, who tragically died at the age of seventeen, having predicted her own d
emise.

  Regardless of who the girl in the painting really was, the character of Johanne is entirely fictitious. I needed a voice to narrate the story and was fascinated by what this girl might be able to tell us—a very ordinary, poor girl, finding herself living among these extraordinary painters and befriending a rich young woman. I enjoyed exploring that contrast and the possibility that the Strawberry Girl may have been artistic herself.

  As for Edvard Munch, I have attempted to portray him as sympathetically as possible, while at the same time showing his flaws and eccentricities. He was a deeply complex and intense man, but on the whole, a person I have come to genuinely like and admire. He was something of a paradox, representing different things to different people, and accounts of him vary widely. Even if he were alive today and we were able to ask him about his life and his art, I don’t think we would ever truly know him. I have discovered that an investigation into Munch is an unraveling, a peeling away of layers that go deep into the human psyche. Unafraid to explore his so-called “madness,” Edvard Munch made painting an emotional experience. This fearlessness pioneered the Expressionist movement and left a legacy that continues to engage and inspire us today. Indeed, it inspired me to write a book whereby I would take my reader by the hand and together we would walk through the gallery of emotions that is Munch’s art.

  LIST OF ARTWORKS

  List of artworks by Munch that feature in the novel, either as pictures, or as scenes, in order of appearance:

  The Insane (lithograph, 1908/09)

  Fertility (1898)

  Evening on Karl Johan Street (1892)

  Primitive Man (woodcut, 1905)

  Clothes on a Line in Åsgårdstrand (1902)

  Arrival of the Mail Boat (1890)

  Despair (1892)

  Toward the Forest (woodcut, 1897)

  Summer Night. The Voice (copperplate, 1894, and painting, 1896)

  Red and White (1899)

  Inger on the Beach (1889)

  Mermaid (1896)

  The Dance of Life (1899)

  Encounter on the Beach: Mermaid (1896)

  The Scream (1893)

  The Storm (1893)

  The Day After (1894–95)

  Vampire (1893)

  Moonlight (1895)

  Attraction II (lithograph, 1895)

  READING GROUP GUIDE

  1. Some people in Åsgårdstrand, including Johanne’s mother, view Edvard Munch with suspicion because of the nature of his paintings. How does this attitude compare to modern society’s reaction to some media, including books, movies, and video games?

  2. At this time in history, Norway was a very poor country with most of its population living in rural locations. Discuss how this social climate may have influenced parts of the story, particularly Tullik’s fascination with Munch and Johanne’s feelings for Thomas.

  3. Johanne dreams of being an artist but has to sneak around to practice her craft. How does the society she is living in limit her choices in life?

  4. Discuss Johanne and Tullik’s relationship. Why were they drawn to each other? Have you ever experienced a friendship that was similar to theirs, with extreme ups and downs?

  5. In The Girl Between, Munch had a relationship with Tullik’s older sister, Milly, before becoming involved with Tullik. How do you think Tullik’s knowledge that Munch had loved Milly first affected her feelings for him?

  6. Munch’s paintings inspire powerful feelings, both positive and negative, in Johanne and many others in Åsgårdstrand. Can you remember being affected in such a way by a piece of art or by a book or a movie?

  7. Tullik asks Johanne to lie for her to allow her to be with Munch. Why do you think Johanne does what she asks? Have you ever had to lie to protect a friend or loved one, even when you thought what they were doing was wrong?

  8. Tullik’s parents burn the paintings they find in her room, believing that destroying the art and keeping Tullik away from Munch was for her own good. Do you think they did the right thing? Why or why not?

  9. Near the end of the book, Johanne says that even though Tullik and Munch never spoke after that summer, she married him and “she was married to him all her life.” What do you think she means? Is there anyone in your life that you feel very strongly connected to, even if you haven’t seen them for years or even decades?

  10. Johanne leaves her copy of The Scream underneath the floorboards in her house, never revealing it to the world. Why do you think she does that? What might happen if she were to uncover it?

  A CONVERSATION WITH THE AUTHOR

  What was your inspiration for The Girl Between?

  Munch had been in the background of my life for many years, but I had never really paid close attention to him until The Scream sold at auction for a record-breaking figure. I suddenly woke up and needed to know what made this painter’s work so enduring and so popular. That was the trigger. I had also admired Heyerdahl’s work for years and always loved The Strawberry Girl so I thought it would be interesting to create a story that combined both of these painters and their work.

  How did living in Norway affect your writing process?

  The actual writing process is something very personal and internal, so in that sense, it doesn’t really matter where you are geographically; you still face the same challenges. However, living in Norway does influence what I choose to write about. I doubt I would have thought to write about Munch had I not lived in Norway, so it obviously brought me much closer to the subject matter and dictated things like the setting and the landscape.

  You write so beautifully about art and the way it affects people. How did you decide which paintings would be important in the book, and how did they help you shape the story?

  Thank you. I had most of the plot and story mapped out and the paintings slotted themselves into the scenes I was writing. Thankfully, Munch was a prolific artist and there were a lot of paintings, particularly those from Åsgårdstrand, which worked well. Sometimes paintings found their way in and inspired certain scenes, so the process wasn’t clear-cut. I spent a long time with Munch’s work, and writing the book became a strange osmosis that I can’t really describe. He encouraged me to be very experimental, and studying his paintings close-up gave me lots of ideas as to how I could reflect them in my writing.

  Are there any of Munch’s paintings that you love but that had to be left out of the book?

  Yes! In fact, my favorite Munch painting, The Girls on the Bridge (1901), is not in the book. It was just too modern for it, in terms of the clothing the girls are wearing. It is included in the setting—the Kiøsterud house, and the pier and the water—but it’s not as specific as some of the other paintings that feature in the story.

  Real historical figures, including Edvard Munch, Hans Heyerdahl, and the Ihlen family, appear in the novel, while other characters are fictional. How did you approach the process of balancing the historical facts and taking creative liberties?

  A novel is always a piece of fiction, even if elements of it are based on real people or events. As a writer, you still have to get inside the heads of your characters and use your imagination, regardless of whether anyone actually existed in real life. However, I wanted to make the story as authentic as I possibly could within the boundaries of fiction and tried to make the real people as close to their actual characters as they would have been, based on accounts I read of them (with the exception of Tullik and Caroline, whose personalities were almost purely fictional). Munch was the only character for whom there was a substantial amount of material to work from, but even then, he was such a complex person that the more I read, the more of a mystery he became. I took creative liberties with the characters where I thought it would enhance the story and balance out the range of personality types in the book.

  Which character do you feel most closely connected to?

  Tullik. I have al
ways been a bit of a rebel, interested in art and artistic people, people who are quirky and a bit different. I never follow the crowd; I get bored easily, I’m emotional and very sensitive. I think if I had been stuck in her situation, I would probably have acted similarly.

  Who are some of your favorite authors?

  It’s a question that’s almost impossible to answer succinctly. Classically speaking, I’ve always been a fan of the Brontë sisters, Jane Austen, and Hemingway. But there are many modern authors whom I admire. Some of those are Sue Monk Kidd, Tracy Chevalier, Hilary Mantel, Margaret Atwood, Norwegian author Per Petterson, and one of my own teachers, the Irish novelist Niall Williams, is a beautiful writer.

  Did you always know you wanted to be an author, or did you start off in a different career?

  Both. I was always a keen storyteller for as long as I can remember. I loved art and English at school. I was very creative and had no difficulty at all imagining my own worlds, adventures, and characters. However, I fell into the trap of believing that it would never be a “real job.” I got caught up in doing what my peers were doing and ended up going to university, studying business, and working in the corporate world. It didn’t fulfill me, and I found myself being drawn again and again to my true vocation. I started writing seriously after I moved to Norway in 2000 and then just kept at it, throwing myself wholeheartedly into a much more creative life. We have to honor our authentic selves on our life path because the alternatives will never satisfy us.

  What is the most challenging part of being a writer?

  For me, it’s the discipline and the self-belief. Creative people tend to be rebellious, so making up rules and committing to a writing schedule every day can be very difficult to stick to. It’s also quite common to be madly enthusiastic about an idea, only to turn on yourself and question it endlessly afterward. Ironically, there aren’t many writers who actually enjoy writing. We like having ideas and imagining characters and stories, but it pains us to get the story to live up to the image in our heads. I am a certified creativity coach and help people deal with issues such as procrastination, fear, writer’s block, etc., and even knowing all the tricks and tools I know, I still find it difficult to work through these things myself. That’s why I also have my own coach.