Hunger (27 page)

But the woman still didn't understand.

I tried another tack, spoke sharply and refused to listen to any nonsense. Hadn't it ever happened to her to be paid in advance in the same way? I asked. Of course, I meant by people who were well off, some of the consuls, for example? Never? Well, it wasn't fair that I should suffer because she was unfamiliar with that social custom. It was accepted practice in foreign countries. But maybe she had never been abroad? Ah, there you are! Then she didn't have a word to say in this matter. . . . And I made a grab for several cakes on the table.

She gave an angry growl, doggedly refusing to hand over anything from her table, she even snatched a piece of cake out of my hand and put it back in its place. I got mighty sore, banged the table and threatened her with the police. I would be easy on her, I said; if I took everything that belonged to me, her entire business would be ruined, because it was an awful lot of money I had given her that time. But I wouldn't take that much—in fact, I was asking only for half my money's worth. And as an extra I promised never to be back again. God forbid, seeing that she was that sort of person.

Finally she put out some cakes, at an outrageous price, four or five pieces which she appraised at the highest rate she could think of, told me to take them and get lost. I still bickered with her, insisting that she was cheating me out of at least one krone of the money and, what's more, was bleeding me white with her gouging prices. “Don't you know you can go to jail for such dirty tricks?” I said. “May God help you. You could get hard labor for life, you old fool!” She threw me yet another cake and, all but grinding her teeth, told me to be off.

I left.

Huh, who ever saw such a dishonest cake vendor! As I walked through the marketplace munching my cakes, I talked aloud without stopping about the woman and her insolence, repeating to myself what we had said to each other and thinking I'd had a big edge over her. I ate the cakes in front of everybody, talking about this.

The cakes disappeared one after another, but however much I put away it didn't help, my hunger was just as bottomless. Good God, why didn't it help? I was so greedy that I nearly laid hands on the last cake, which I had decided at the very outset to save for that little fellow down in Vognmand Street, the boy that the man with the red beard had spit in the head. I kept thinking of him all the time—I couldn't make myself forget his expression as he leaped up, crying and cursing. He had turned around to my window when the man spit at him, and he had plainly checked whether I, too, would laugh at him. God only knew if I would find him when I got down there! I went all out to get to Vognmand Street in a hurry, passed the spot where I had torn up my play and where some bits of paper were still floating around, evaded the police officer whom I had so astonished by my behavior recently, and stood at last at the steps where the boy had been sitting.

He wasn't there. The street was almost empty. It was beginning to get dark and I couldn't spot the boy; maybe he had gone in. I put the cake down carefully, leaning it up against the door, knocked hard and ran off at once. He is sure to find it! I said to myself. He'll find it first thing when he comes out! And my eyes grew moist with foolish glee at the thought that the little fellow would find the cake.

I came down to the Jærnbane Pier again.

I wasn't hungry anymore, but the sweet food I had eaten was beginning to make me sick. My head was again awhirl with the wildest fancies: What if I secretly cut the hawser of one of those ships? What if I suddenly started yelling fire? I walk further out on the pier, find myself a crate to sit on and fold my hands, feeling my head getting more and more confused. I am quite motionless, not lifting a finger to tough it out any longer.

I sit there staring at
Copégoro
, the barque with the Russian flag. I make out a man at the rail; the red lantern on the port side shines down on his head, and I stand up and call out to him. I didn't have any purpose in acting as I did, nor did I expect to get an answer. I said, “Do you sail tonight, Captain?”

“Yes, in a little while,” the man answers. He spoke Swedish. Then he was probably a Finn, I thought.
⁷

“Hmm. You aren't a man short, are you?” I didn't care at that moment whether I was refused or not, it was all the same to me what answer the man would give me. I waited, looking at him.

“No,” he said. “Well, I could use a deck hand, maybe.”

A deck hand! I gave myself a shake, slipped my glasses off on the sly and put them in my pocket, stepped onto the gangway and strode on board.

“I'm not an able seaman,” I said, “but I can do whatever you bid me to. Where are you bound for?”

“We sail with ballast to Leeds, to take in coal for Cádiz.”

“Fine!” I said, forcing myself on the man. “It's all one to me where we're going. I'll do my job.”

He stood awhile eyeing me, thinking it over.

“You haven't gone to sea before, have you?” he asked.

“No. But as I'm telling you, give me a job and I'll do it. I'm used to a little of everything.”

He thought it over again. I had already set my mind on going along, and I began to fear getting chased ashore again.

“So what do you say, Captain?” I asked at last. “I can really do anything, whatever you wish. What am I saying? I would have to be a poor fellow if I didn't do more than just what I was set to do. I can take two watches in a row if necessary. It'll do me a world of good, and I believe I can take it.”

“All right, we can give it a try,” he said, smiling faintly at my last words.
⁸
“If it doesn't pan out, we can always part company in England.”

“Of course!” I answered, overjoyed. And I repeated that we could part company in England if it didn't pan out.

Then he put me to work.

Once out in the fjord I straightened up, wet with fever and fatigue, looked in toward the shore and said goodbye for now to the city, to Kristiania, where the windows shone so brightly in every home.

EXPLANATORY NOTES

11
problem of time and space:
In his
Critique of Pure Reason
(1781), Immanuel Kant (1724-1804) developed a view of time and space as “perceptual forms” rather than objective realities. Everything we perceive and know is, according to Kant, limited to phenomena; we cannot know “things in themselves.”

11
that old reverend:
The narrator mistakenly calls Renan
sognepræst
(parish priest). Ernest Renan (1823-92) soon abandoned the study of theology and did his major scholarly work as a historian of Christianity. His
Vie de Jésus
(1863), in which he portrayed Jesus as a human being, with deep understanding and warm sympathy, cost him his chair at the Collège de France. He was reinstated in 1871.

13
Students' Promenade:
The Studenterlunden, which I have translated as “Students' Promenade,” is a park-like area along Karl Johan Street extending between the Storting (Norway's parliament) and the National Theater. Karl Johan Street, which runs from the Central Station to the Palace Park, is Oslo's most popular mall.

25
“his name is Johan Arendt Happolati:
The name Johan Arendt conceals a private joke of the author. Johann Arndt (1555-1621), the German Lutheran pastor, was widely known for his edifying religious writings. His books were translated into many languages and had a decisive influence on pietism. Hans Olsen, Hamsun's tyrannical uncle and a strict pietist, must have had some of these books in his library.

26
wrote mechanically the date 1848:
It is impossible to know why the hero of
Hunger
is obsessed by the year 1848. It could be related to the political revolutions that broke out in several European countries, including France, Germany, and Austria, during that year.

37
The editor is sitting:
This figure may have been modeled on 199 Lars Holst (1848-1915), editor-in-chief of
Dagbladet
(The Daily Paper), Norway's principal liberal newspaper at the time. In November 1886, the paper had published a two-part description of Hamsun's second voyage to America.

38
newsboy holds out a copy of
Vikingen
: Vikingen
(1862-1932) was a comic paper.

38
the water and the Fortress:
The beginnings of Akershus Castle and Fortress, situated on a promontory by the Oslo Fjord, go back to mediaeval times. It is an important Oslo landmark.

39
At the Storting:
For the Storting, see note to p. 13.

46
“My name is Wedel-Jarlsberg”:
The pretensions of the hero are vastly magnified if one knows that the Wedel-Jarlsberg family possessed one of the most aristocratic pedigrees of the nation, with titles of Count and Baron.

47
corner of the Arcades:
This old brick building near the Oslo Cathedral is still extant, with vaulted market stalls and boutiques.

62
been moved out to Aker township:
Since 1948, Aker has been a part of Oslo. Formerly it was a separate township.

64
really struck home with
Morgenbladet: The reason why the hero thinks his pretended affiliation with
Morgenbladet
(The Morning Paper) is such a good joke has to do with the extreme conservatism of this venerable paper, both politically and cul turally. Its editor at the time, Christian Friele (1821-99)—mentioned by name in the first edition of
Hunger
—was both feared and hated for his sharp, sometimes malicious pen.

64
Sat at the Prime Minister's:
StiftsgÃ¥rden, where the “I” fantasizes he had been delayed, was the name of the building where the Norwegian Prime Minister resided at the time. The building no longer exists.

100
and went up to the “Commander's”:
The “Commander” was modeled on Olav Thommessen (1851-1942), editor of the daily
Verdens Gang
(The Way of the World). He was a person of independent, liberal views and wielded a powerful influence through his paper. After Thommessen wrote a devastating review of Hamsun's literary lectures in the capital in October 1891, the young author turned against his one-time benefactor and created a maliciously satiric portrait of him through the title character of
Editor Lynge
(1893).

103
into the Red Room:
“Röda Rummet” (in Swedish) may be an allusion to August Strindberg's famous satiric novel
The Red Room
(1879), which signified the breakthrough of naturalism in Sweden.

127
I ask for Kierulf, Joachim Kierulf:
Again Hamsun uses a distinguished name for his imaginary character. One may mention Halfdan Kjerulf (1815-1866), who was a well-known Norwegian composer, and his brother, Theodor Kjerulf (1825- 88), a university professor.

139
how far it might be to Holmestrand:
Holmestrand is a town in Vestfold County, some thirty-five miles southwest of Oslo.

139
“Or to Veblungsnæs”:
Veblungsnæs is a seaside village at the mouth of the river Rauma in Møre and Romsdal County, about 250 miles northwest of the capital.

155
“at Ingebret's and Gravesen's”:
Cafés in downtown Oslo popular among intellectuals in Hamsun's day. The name of the former, which still exists, is also spelled “Engebrets.”

173
called himself Waldemar Atterdag:
Valdemar Atterdag, the Danish king (ca 1320-1375), was given his cognomen (Atterdag) because of his habitual saying, “des dages!”—a Low German expression meaning “What times!”

175
outside the Grand Hotel:
A ritzy hotel in downtown Oslo, known for its rather exclusive café with a long history as a gathering place for artists and other intellectuals.

196
Then he was probably a Finn:
Sweden's political domination of Finland was initiated in the twelfth century. With varying degrees of control, it lasted until 1809, when Finland was ceded to Russia. However, the Swedish language maintained its importance alongside Finnish.

TEXTUAL NOTES

Hamsun revised the text of
Hunger
three times, in 1899, 1907, and 1916, Norwegianizing the Danish spelling, grammar, and vocabulary, and making a considerable number of substantive changes. Only the most extensive of these changes—all in all there were several hundred—are given below, for the most part deletions and additions that are deemed significant. Their general effect is to reduce repetition and bizarre expressions and thus temper the emotional stridency of the narrative, while strengthening the impression that the hero is able to view his predicament with a touch of irony. The first edition, published by P.G. Philipsen (Køben havn, 1890) and in facsimile by Gyldendal (Oslo, 1990), will in these notes be indicated by “P,” the collected edition (Knut Hamsun,
Samlede verker
, vol. 1 [Oslo: Gyldendal, 1992]) by “CW.” The page references to P are listed first.

1
36/21. Here follows in P, after semicolon:
if I had found a name like Barabbas Rosebud, it wouldn't have aroused his suspicion.

2
71/36. The P text continues:
to brand your soul with your first little trick, stain your honor with the first black mark,

1
104/48. In P the paragraph continues:
If only I hadn't mixed
Morgenbladet
up in it! I knew that Friele
[the editor—S.L.]
was capable of grinding his teeth, and the sound of the key grating in the lock reminded me of it.

2
110/51. Deleted in CW:
Now I really had to laugh! If I might ask:

3
113/52. Deleted in CW:
I felt it was the daylight, felt it with every pore in my body.