A book of exquisite lyric beauty, of masterly
psychology, and finished artistic form, it is so rich in idea and life
that one must refrain from touching on the contents in order to keep
within the narrow limits of this essay. A most superbly delicate
delineation of the feminine soul is here given in the drawing of Hanka and
Aagot; nowhere else is woman's love in its dawn and growth described with
such mastery, with a deftness and sureness of touch which reminds one of
the very greatest passages in that Danish classic, 'Niels Lyhne.'"
Hamsun is now in his fifty-fourth year. The expectations aroused by his
first book have been more than fulfilled; the star that was born overnight
still shines with undimmed brilliance--nay, with a purer, warmer, steadier
flame. The volcanic violence of earlier days has been mellowed and
subdued; the "red eruptions of flame-tongued, primeval power" have all but
ceased. In one of his latest works Hamsun himself notes this change in
saying: "When a wanderer reaches fifty years he plays with muted strings."
But with or without the sordine Hamsun's production is equally seductive,
equally entrancing and compelling.
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