by Dag Solstad
98B. “Nature was quiet except for its own sounds.” That’s what it says, and I have to accept it, though not without this footnote. Nature is, of course, a neuter noun, but not in Norwegian. So out of respect for the structures of Norwegian grammar, and given Armand’s low sense of national identity, I have to submit.
* * *
99. After this short visit to the mountains, Armand arrived in Oslo and turned in his rental car. Then he took public transportation to a station near his son’s rented room and headed for the apartment building. He had sublet his own apartment after the Misfortune occurred, when he realized he needed all the money he could scrape together in order to give his son the best opportunities. He did this so he wouldn’t have to fight with foot-dragging bureaucrats in the defense and social services ministries or comparable functionaries in the private and public insurance companies for his son to receive the compensation to which he was entitled; instead, he could take his time getting help and calmly await the payments in the future. Yet he had continued to pay his son’s rent to the malicious widow in the confused hope that his son might still fully recover and regain his eyesight, even though he’d been told explicitly this would never happen. He had gone to see the old widow and paid the rent for a year, assuring her that his son would still need the room, a room of his own, whether he stayed in the military or began to study; and now he was on his way over there to stay the night before he caught the plane back to London the next morning. Of course he could have stayed somewhere else, in a hotel or with someone he knew, he could have even stayed at the twin sister’s place, as she was still at the B and B up in the mountains about to close up for the season — her spacious apartment was empty and he could have easily borrowed it — but he preferred to go to his son’s room, which he had paid for after all. He walked up Kirkeveien, heading for his son’s locked and unused room. He was wearing his vacation attire, his mountain clothes, and he carried a suitcase that contained, among other things, suits, pressed shirts, ties, etc. It was late in the evening, because he’d gone to a simple restaurant, where he’d sat for a long time eating dinner and drinking wine before he took the subway to the Majorstua station. He used the key to let himself in, first the front door of the building, then the door to the dark apartment, and then he unlocked the door to his son’s room. He switched on the light and found himself standing in the middle of the room, which had remained untouched until now. He opened the window, found some linens in the cupboard, and made up the bed. Then he went straight to sleep. He had set the alarm clock for seven because the plane left early in the morning. He woke up when it rang, got out of bed, and washed in the small sink in the room. Then he crept out to the toilet and took care of business as quietly as he could, though he couldn’t avoid flushing when he was done. Back to the room. He got dressed. Put on a shirt, tie, and one of the suits he’d brought along. Then he looked at himself in the mirror. He packed his suitcase, putting in his mountain clothing, which was a tight fit, but the clothes didn’t make it too heavy. He made the bed. He heard sounds coming from the kitchen. He put on his coat and his elegant cashmere scarf. He stood still for a moment because he dreaded making an appearance in the doorway now that sounds were coming from the kitchen. But he opened the door and stepped into the kitchen. The young student was sitting at the table drinking coffee. Armand told him that he’d spent the night in Are’s room.
“So how is Are doing?” asked the student.
“Good,” replied the father, “really good.”
“Is he coming back?” asked the student.
“I think he’ll be studying in England,” said the father.
“So he won’t be coming here anymore?”
“Probably not, but the room is paid for until April of next year. So, we’ll have to wait and see.”
At that moment the widow came into the kitchen. She gave Armand a suspicious look but sat down at the table across from the young student. She poured herself some coffee. She took a slice of bread that the student evidently had cut from the loaf and smeared on a thick layer of butter as she stared with her ancient and intense eyes at Norway’s ambassador to London. She was about to say something, but the young student spoke first, asking: “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“No,” replied Armand, “I’ve got to go. I have to catch a plane.” He headed for the door. He was waiting for the widow to call after him. To say he owed her more money. That his son hadn’t paid for something or other. But that didn’t happen.
“Goodbye,” he said and opened the apartment door.
They nodded in reply.
“Well, you’re entitled to it,” said the widow. “I can’t deny you that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Spending the night here. But I’m going to send you a letter canceling the rental agreement when the time you’ve paid for is up.”
Copyright © 2006 by Forlaget Oktober A/S
Translation copyright © 2018 by Steven T. Murray
All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in a newspaper, magazine, radio, television, or website review, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Publisher.
This translation has been published with the financial support of NORLA, Norwegian Literature Abroad.
Manufactured in the United States of America
New Directions Books are printed on acid-free paper
First published in 2018 as New Directions Paperbook 1418
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Solstad, Dag, 1941– author. | Murray, Steven T., translator.
Title: Armand V. : footnotes to an unexcavated novel / by Dag Solstad ; translated by Steven T. Murray.
Description: First edition. | New York : New Directions Publishing Corporation, 2018. | “A New Directions Book.” | First published in Norwegian as Armand V. : fotnoter til en uutgravd roman.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018002147 (print) | LCCN 2018013556 (ebook) | ISBN 9780811226295 () | ISBN 9780811226288 (alk. paper)
Subjects: LCSH: Diplomats—Fiction. | Fathers and sons—Fiction. | Choice (Psychology)—Fiction. | Life change events—Fiction. | Norway—Fiction. | Middle East—Fiction. | Psychological fiction.
Classification: LCC PT8951.29.O5 (ebook) | LCC PT8951.29.O5 A7613 2018 (print) | DDC 839.823/74—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018002147
eISBN: 9780811226295
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