Growth of the Soil (Penguin Classics)
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The epic novel of man and nature that won its author the Nobel Prize in Literature-the first new English translation since the novel's original publication ninety years ago
When it was first published in 1917, Growth of the Soil was immediately recognized as a masterpiece. Ninety years later it remains a transporting literary experience. In the story of Isak, who leaves his village to clear a homestead and raise a family amid the untilled tracts of the Norwegian back country, Knut Hamsun evokes the elemental bond between humans and the land. Newly translated by the acclaimed Hamsun scholar Sverre Lyngstad, Hamsun's novel is a work of preternatural calm, stern beauty, and biblical power-and the crowning achievement of one of the greatest writers of the twentieth century.
For more than seventy years, Penguin has been the leading publisher of classic literature in the English-speaking world. With more than 1,700 titles, Penguin Classics represents a global bookshelf of the best works throughout history and across genres and disciplines. Readers trust the series to provide authoritative texts enhanced by introductions and notes by distinguished scholars and contemporary authors, as well as up-to-date translations by award-winning translators.
Was it in the expectation that she would need it? He developed this further. The third point was the hasty and suspicious burial, without the death being reported to either the pastor or the sheriff. Here the man on the premises was the main party, and it was of the utmost importance that the jury arrive at the correct decision in regard to this. For it was obvious that, if the man was privy to what had occurred and had therefore undertaken the burial on his own, then his hired girl must have
want to get this stone out.” But Inger does not leave. And, in fact, Isak is pleased to have her watching him at work, it is something he has liked ever since their youthful days. And lo, he gets an excellent hold for the lever and lifts—the stone moves! “He’s moving!” Inger says. “Are you joking?” Isak asks. “Am I joking? He’s moving!” He had gotten this far: it rose, just barely; hang it, he’d won the stone over to the cause and they began to cooperate. Isak hoists and heaves with the lever
came. What a woman! It was as though nothing had happened between her and the married couple, she was even knitting a pair of striped socks for Eleseus, she said. “I wanted to see how you were doing on this side of the mountain,” she said. It turned out that she had left a bag with her clothes and things in the woods and was prepared to stay. In the evening Inger took her husband aside and said, “Didn’t you say you would try to find Geissler? It’s now between the work seasons.”—“Yes,” Isak
ministers preached simultaneously in it and yet couldn’t hear one another. “Then I suppose you haven’t seen St. Olav’s Well either? It lies in the middle of the cathedral, on one side, and it’s bottomless. When we went there we each took along a pebble and dropped it in, but it never touched bottom.” The women whispered, wagging their heads. “And besides, there are a thousand other things in the cathedral,” Inger burst out, carried away, “there is the silver shrine, for example. It’s the shrine
she didn’t leave, nor did she leave the rest of the day, but made herself useful, milked the goats and scrubbed the pots with fine sand and got them clean. She never left. Inger was her name, Isak his. Life changed for the lonely man. There was the hitch, of course, that his wife mumbled and constantly turned away from people because of her harelip, but that was nothing to complain about. Without this disfigured mouth she wasn’t likely to have come to him, the harelip was his good luck. And he