New Passengers E-Book

Tine Høeg

• Herausgeber: Lolli Editions
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 73

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

A song to new love, to the romp of the daily commute, to teachers and students everywhere, and to those flailing through adulthood like fish out of water On her first day of work as a teacher, a young woman meets a married man on the train. They begin an affair, a ride which proves as jolting as her transition into the new job and the authority that comes along with it. New Passengers is as audacious as it is enthralling, as wry as it is moving. Eliciting the speed of an express train and the immediacy of a text message, every line shimmers with quick-witted insight as Høeg casts a critical eye on the social mores that shape our lives. Winner of the Bogforum's Debutantpris, the prize awarded each year for Denmark's best fiction debut, the novel was adapted for the stage at the Royal Danish Theatre. Praise for New Passengers Høeg takes us on a journey that skilfully analyses the complexities of desire, loneliness, and the struggle to belong; the free verse style, with all of its shifting nuances and flashes of dark humour, is superbly translated by Misha Hoekstra – Lunate A brilliantly original novel in verse, New Passengers tells the story, taut and well-crafted, of a young woman's disorientation and search for her adult self. . . In his masterful translation, Misha Hoekstra has captured the complex shifts and nuances of Tine Høeg's unique poetic style, her sense of timing, and her humor, bringing to English one of Denmark's most compelling new voices – PEN America I'm a firm believer of the axiom 'less is more' and New Passengers is proof of that. A few lines a page and yet these lines convey so much emotion and deep thinking that it is a wonder how so little on a page can contain so much clout. Intelligent, powerful and poignant – The Bobsphere This is a brilliantly accomplished novel, one that could easily be devoured in minimal sittings, but the poetry of the prose is worth relishing it for longer – The Indie Insider TINE HØEG (b. 1985) is a Danish author. Her novel New Passengers won Bogforum's Debutantpris, the prize awarded each year for the best literary debut published in Denmark. Høeg's own adaptation of the novel has been staged at the Royal Danish Theatre. She lives in Copenhagen. MISHA HOEKSTRA has translated numerous Danish authors, including Hans Christian Andersen and Maren Uthaug. In 2017, he received the Danish Translation Prize, and his translation of Dorthe Nors's Mirror, Shoulder, Signal was shortlisted for the Man Booker International Prize.

Leseprobe

New Passengers

“A poised debut brimming with wry humour and tender minimalism... A hybrid between novel and poem.”

– Kizaja Ulrikke Routhe-Mogensen, Politiken

“Tine Høeg writes about the life of the young woman in a distinctly concise form. The text has the look of free verse, but she has used it to elevate everyday realism to something greater and more interesting. It is executed originally and with linguistic precision.”

– Fyens Stiftstidende

“A brilliantly original novel in verse, New Passengers tells the story, taut and well-crafted, of a young woman’s disorientation and search for her adult self... In his masterful translation, Misha Hoekstra has captured the complex shifts and nuances of Tine Høeg’s unique poetic style, her sense of timing, and her humor, bringing to English one of Denmark’s most compelling new voices.”

– PEN America

“A tremendously accomplished and stylistically audacious debut.”

– Melfar Posten

“A highly well-turned and deeply humorous tale of leaving behind life as a student and stepping directly into deep water as an adult with all the uncertainties and embarrassing situations it entails. A subject that most recent graduates can relate to – myself included. It is an interesting phase in contemporary life to illuminate, and a terrain that hasn’t been explored very much at all, but Høeg has now laid a remarkable and successful foundation.”

– Anne Skov Thomsen, Nordjyske Stiftstidende

“I devoured Tine Høeg’s apple-green, bitter-sweet crush of a novel in a single afternoon... A wonderful, sad yet cheerful debut.”

– Linea Maja Ernst, Weekendavisen

“Read it, perhaps on a train, and consider which of your fellow passengers you might just start an affair with.”

– Thomas Rude Andersen, LitteraturNu

“A raw, pertinent, and of-its-time debut novel, written in minimalist prose with a fast metre and wonderfully dry humour.”

– Helle Regitze Boesen, Litteratursiden

“The kinship with self-aware and succinct text forms cultivated on social media is undeniable.”

– Solveig Daugaard, Information

“Elegant and taut.”

– Kulturxpressen

you can’t write me

I’ll write you

August

*

I’ve bought a monthly pass

I’ve been assigned a new name

a teacher’s name

comprised of four letters

from my first and last names

I’ve been given the code to the high school network

which is changed every six months according to the principle

summer16 winter16 summer17 winter17

I’ve been briefed

on the systems

it’s by chance

we fall to talking on the train

my first day of teaching

I’m nervous and our legs

graze each other

when we sit down

you’re a graphic designer at a travel agency

you’re a commuter too

you’re ten years older than me

you’re married and father to a girl

*

I look at my reflection in a store window

at Copenhagen Central Station on Tuesday

I buy two cups of coffee

and position myself on the escalator

turns out

you’ve done the same thing

we board with the cups

I donate mine to two teenagers

who sit leaning up against each other

looking tired

they’re happy and surprised

blood in my body

a thrumming in my ears

when the train starts to move

*

the first time I see you naked:

train toilet

someplace between Copenhagen and Næstved

I’ve never wanted

someone this way before

*

feels as if I’ve got a fever

the students resemble each other

have the same names

skinny legs big sneakers

four classes of Danish

one as homeroom teacher

homeroom teacher

the classrooms are hot

a smell of sweat

perfume

pasta and tuna

from the boys’ plastic tubs

they eat during class

I can’t recognize my voice

when I stand at my desk and talk

the students’ eyes

I scratch at my cheek

each group must bring a set of camping cookware

my colleague STAR has interrupted my teaching

to talk about the intro trip

he teaches Danish and history

and walks around in a T-shirt with the legend:

moral beacon

his beard thick and well trimmed

I wonder if he’s ever felt the way

I feel now

it is tough at the start says EMO

she teaches drama and painting

but after three four years it becomes more manageable

hundreds of peacock eyes

stare at me from her skirt

hi Mom

written in marker

winter is coming

written in ballpoint

I’m out on the toilet

every lunch hour with my coffee

I gaze at the graffiti

hearts stars

an alien

where do you go during lunch?

EMO passes me in the coatroom on Friday

and drags me to the cafeteria

high ceiling and hubbub

the teachers sitting together

special of the day on plastic trays

STAR talks loudly and shovels it in

something Asian

also a salad bar for tossing something together

five kinds of dressing in tubes

you grab me a napkin?

I tell you the last period yesterday

are the tomatoes from your greenhouse?

BROM pours crab salad onto a slice of black rye

her husband owns a fish restaurant

LUST teaches math and physics

she taps an egg against the table

EMO asks are they your own?

I say nothing

I glance at their mouths

and out the window:

the parking lot and the vast Bilka

STAR says something funny and everyone laughs

I sit with the stem from a pear

you twist the top off a cola

you unpack a sandwich

from some tinfoil

some three miles from here

my pulse quickens with the thought

your hands around the bread

a small trail of spit from your mouth

when you take a bite

*

the second time I see you naked:

between bushes in a park

we got out in Ringsted

I’m off early

you told them at the agency

that you had a meeting

your body is softer

than the bodies I’m used to but

your cock’s incredibly hard

you draw my finger

down across your face

and take it into your mouth

August begins to glow

you’ve got broad hands

dirty nails

you open your eyes wide when we kiss

as if you’re surprised to see me

you have a tattoo

on the inside of your upper arm

a small wreath with a name inside

what’s it say? I ask

turning your arm

Evy you say

that’s my daughter

I sketched it myself

both of us are startled

to find me bending down

to kiss the tattoo

*

the third time I see you naked

I get a gash on my forehead

from a barbwire fence

when we squeeze into a shed

for storing yard waste

then it rains

semen blood summer drizzle

*

what did you do to your forehead?

get out your readings I say

my homeroom students ask lots of questions:

do you have any kids?

are you married?

where do you live?

you go out on the town?

have you got a boyfriend?

I say:

I live in Amager

the students have clandestine conversations

on Facebook during class

suddenly they all smile at the same time

I don’t know if it’s because of me

something I’ve said

my clothes

a gob of spit flies from my mouth

as I stand by my desk and discuss

the essay genre

I pretend to ignore it

and keep talking

while I replay in my head

the gob in slo-mo

*

students aren’t permitted in here

the janitor stands in the door to the copy room

I’m a teacher I say

and show him my ID

he looks at it for a long time

remember to clean up after yourself he says

*

I distribute welcome leaflets to the parents

they sit at the student desks

the students sit in the windowsills

there’s cake and coffee

if you’re into that sort of thing

STAR makes a sweeping gesture

he’s like a fish in water

he’s thirty-five and wearing a tweed jacket

it gives me authority he laughed

when we were fetching the extra chairs

I explain about the book depot

the smoking policy

Danish class

when the parents ask questions

they only look at STAR

he explains about student counseling

the intro trip

the assignment oasis

or more colloquially:

the homework dungeon

the parents laugh

he moves on to the class trip

we’ll go in November

the Colosseum

the food

the Roman metro

the eyes

the noses

the various ways of sitting

I try to figure out how students

and parents fit together

I try to understand that the students

are somebody’s kids

*

can you grab me those hearts?

my sister futzes with the glue stick

she lives in Valby

she goes to med school

and is a year and a half younger

how far have you got with the names?

we’re getting there I say

the place cards are for November

Thomas is a chef

he put the ring in a pastry shell

do you want mother of the bride and father of the bride