17. mai-tale i Balestrand, 1983

The following is the “17 May speech” my father gave in 1983. In Norwegian again, I’m afraid. * Her følger min fars 17.-mai-tale fra 1983. Det var  årets hovedtale ved 17. mai-feiringen i Balestrand ved Sognefjorden, holdt fra toppen av en gravhaug fra vikingetida, foran alle bygdas gode menn og kvinner, bunadkledde og feststemte, nøyaktig […]

Sommersamtale med Knausgård

Lyssna: Sommar i P1 med Karl Ove Knausgård   Karl Ove Knausgård har vært sommergjest i svensk radio. Det var tenkt som halvannen times uforpliktende småprat om løst og fast, men sånn kunne det selvfølgelig ikke bli. I stedet kom det til å handle om: «hva betyr det å være norsk? Hva vil det si […]

Why ABB Shouldn’t Be Roasted Over a Slow-Burning Fire

I’m outraged — by my own wish that Anders Behring Breivik be treated as a human being. My basest instincts would love to see him fry in a very earthly hell. But although the though of him living on and perhaps even coming out into society 21 years from now, in principle cleared of his […]

Cultural Boycott — some reflections

A week ago, I started my cultural boycott of Israel, in direct response to, but not caused only by, the events surrounding the murders (or war crimes) on the Freedom Flotilla. These are some reflections on the boycott itself and on the reactions it has caused. What is a cultural boycott, and is it fair? […]


A sign outside a cellphone shop that offers certain services at prices from 50 Danish kroner.

“Say Only That Which You Have Figured Out Yourself”

These are the words of Thomas Blachman, the guy who has divided more water in Denmark than anyone since Moses (not that Moses was active in Denmark, but you know what I mean), the judge in Danish X Factor who according to some is a sadist who takes delight in sending aspiring stars home to […]

A Writer’s Wishlist

I wish I could write as quickly as I think. I wish I could think as quickly as you read. I wish you would read as slowly as I write.

Confessions of a Class Traitor

“While I was sitting there, drink in hand, separated from the plebs by a heavy curtain, and with servile maidens swirling around me at my slightest wink, every nerve in my body politic was screaming: ‘It wasn’t my fault! It’s a mistake! I’m not like this!’ But what could I do…?”

Identity, sortof

I’ve been living abroad since I was 20 — the very term ‘abroad’ doesn’t even make much sense anymore; I consider myself a Swede from Norway, being truly at home in Denmark (and spending most of my days in an international world of the Internet, TV, and music). Without going into detail, there may be […]