Yesterday I read To Siberia by Per Petterson. This book was written in 1996, translated in 1998, and has now been published by Graywolf Press. How wonderful that Graywolf brought out this edition because In Siberia is truly beautiful.
Petterson’s words flow like a lyrical poem, creating the world of Jutland in all its harsh beauty; within that world live a girl and her brother. Their story is almost mythical. Together they can face all sorts of hardship and heartbreak and, because they are together, they will survive. They dream of worlds very different from what they know (the brother wants to go to Marrakesh and the girl, to Siberia); the dreams float always before them, enticing them forward.
The story builds slowly, layer on layer of truth, until you realize the entire story is just the fact of these two, and their love for each other. When brother and sister are forced to separate, the girl’s life becomes aimless; she seeks and seeks but cannot find what she wants. She has nothing left: “Only the rest.”
What does “only the rest” mean? It could mean the rest of her life, to be lived without her brother. It is so strange — and painful and horrible — to lose a sibling, one who has shared your whole life with you, and then suddenly you are not sharing it any longer. The life ahead will not be one shared with one you love so much. Will it still be a full life? Or will it be half a life? Can someone else make up for the person who has gone or is that space to be always empty, shadowed with memories but never full of light? To Siberia makes many references to light and dark, to seeing clearly and to being in obscurity or hidden in darkness. For the girl her brother brings thoughts and actions and desires to light; “only the rest” could be darkness. But Petterson has created such a strong and vibrant character in the sister that we do believe light comes to her again. And so she can narrate for us this story, years later, and a myth comes to life (light).
Or is “only the rest” a reference to Pound and his line that what we love best “remains, and the rest is dross.” The occupying Germans, the suicide of the grandfather, the unhappiness of the father, the religious haughtiness of the mother, chance and chosen encounters, none of that matters against the connection held between brother and sister. What remains for the girl is her brother whom she loved best. Read this beautiful book.
I was happily surprised by part in the novel when the girl reads “a book a day”. She is seeking answers in literature (looking for solace), and I can understand that, for what else am I doing this year, but looking? So far the ride has been fantastic, more than I ever imagined it would be: I have seen the world, as it has appeared to others, I’ve followed their observations and conclusions, I’ve been there for the moments of beauty and pain and sorrow and for the eureka! the moments of understanding. I am grateful to all these genuine and true writers, because great good has come to me through reading these great books.
