Overall, the best part of The Hurricane Party, was the retelling of the Lokasenna, the banquet of the Norse gods featuring the trickster god, Loki, killing and insulting others. You know, causing trouble as trickster gods do.
This part was interesting and read smoothly, even when tangents were taken to explain the background story of Loki and some other character.
It was the foundation laying that was stilted and somewhat mundane. It’s necessary to meet Hanck and learn his story, and for the scenery to be explained as classist, grey and toxic (literally) for the ordinary worker.
We learn many details about Hanck but it truly felt as though Ostergren had taken bullet points about Hanck’s life and then tried to flesh them out with some details. Most of these details make little sense in the context of the story and add nothing to the plot of Hanck finding, losing, and learning about love.
That the innkeeper’s red-haired daughter was a virgin and her hair was perfect in the calibration of some obsolete gauge still has me wondering.
I often remind myself that I must meet the author where he is, not where I want him to be. This could have been a more interesting story about a man living in 1984 like times who learns about love through the death of his son. Ostergren’s way of telling this story wasn’t how I wanted it to read. This is another case of author and reader being on different pages.
Bora finishes telling Hanck the tale of Toby’s death. There’s a lot of history and side stories to explain the inner workings of The Clan and their feuds, especially Loki’s part in all of it.
The next morning, Hanck departs for home, hoping to come to terms with how Toby died.
Hanck has been told that Loki frequents a bar called The Colonial Club, so Hanck goes there in the hopes of confronting Loki. An older whore joins Hanck at his table and lures him into talking about his sorrows.
She writes a note for Hanck to use to skip the line of supplicants at the Old Man’s residence, and get direct and immediate access. Hanck, understandably, is hesitant about using this letter. Who is this woman to have connections with the highest level of The Clan?
Dubious though he is, Hanck decides to give it a try. To his surprise, he is ushered into the Old Man’s, Odin’s, presence. After reading the letter, he reveals to Hanck that the whore at The Colonial Club was Loki himself. Furthermore, Odin reveals that he knows what happened to Toby, both the time he was delivered to the hospital and the time he died while serving at the banquet.
Hanck tells Odin he wants to see his son, so Odin makes a deal. Having enjoyed Hanck’s reports from the time when he was an insurance adjuster, Odin wants Hanck to write the same type of report about love. Not the drivel that poets and storytellers write, but a sharp report in which love can be codified. Hanck is dubious about his ability to do this task, but agrees if only he is allowed to see his son one more time.
Can you turn love into something sensible, rational and even logical? If you can, then you would also be capable of forgiving.” (p. 280)
Hanck is then taken to the City of the Dead where he has one last conversation with Toby, in which it is revealed that he has met his mother and knows his father lied to him about her. Then, Hanck visits the display of Loki’s torment, tied up under a snake whose venom will kill him should any touch him. Loki’s wife sits next to him, holding a bowl above his head, catching the venom as it drips down. Eventually, the bowl gets full and she must step outside to empty it. Then Loki’s torture can be seen by all.
When he arrives home, Hanck sits at his typewriter and thinks that Odin has handed him an impossible task. How can love be codified?
Then an invitation to the meeting of the Affect Commission to participate in a forum about love and how to codify it. Hanck sits uncomfortably warm in the turtleneck he bought Toby years ago and listens to experts speak about love and its fluidity.
At the interval he leaves because he’s realized that these experts have it all wrong. “Love is unfathomable!” (p. 311) He returns home and sits at his typewriter and finds he knows how to write about love, by writing about his love for Toby and their life together.
Pages 98 – 198, this section really picks up steam and gets to the heart of the story.
Earlier in the book, when Hanck’s mother dies, her last words are “He will be a chef!” She utters this before Hanck even met Toby’s mother.
Toby is described as sensitive and builds imaginary worlds, happily playing alone. As he grows, he begins to show talent in the kitchen and takes over the cooking duties. As he approaches adulthood, his skills become honed enough that he begins to work as a chef in higher end restaurants, from which he brings left over food and wine to share with his father.
Once a year, The Clan holds an enormous dinner party on one of the islands of the archipelago. Toby leaves home and begins working at the inn which hosts this party and becomes a chef of great acclaim.
Hanck is again visited by two men dressed in lavender. These communicators tell him that his son has died, at the age of 20. As he progresses through the stages of grieving, Hanck wanders the pleasure district in search of something to dull his ache.
Finally, Hanck decides to confront the people who killed his son, and gets a ticket on the ferry which takes him to the inn on the farthest island in the archipelago.
One of the nine sisters who manage the inn arranges to meet Hanck in the library and tells him the story of Toby’s (known as Fimafeng to those he worked with) death. Bora tells Hanck that Loki killed Toby because he sneezed. That Toby didn’t have the sense to cover his face, or excuse himself after he sneezed. He stood with a beatific grin on his face and Loki took offense and killed Toby.
Remember Toby’s mother was from the sect called The Sneezers, which explains the beatific look. As Bora continues the tale, it becomes clear Loki was spoiling for a fight, his ego couldn’t handle all the other gods heaping praise on Fimafeng.
Now comes the retelling of the Norse story of Lokasenna. The Clan is the clan of Norse gods who meet once a year for an all out bacchanalia (to mix mythic metaphors). In the tale of Lokasenna, Loki is banned from the banquet by the gods after having killed Fimafeng. But he returns and begins insulting everyone present. Many respond in kind, and tensions escalate. Odin strains to keep the peace as Loki tells tales of outlandish sexual situations, stories that should have remained unspoken.
Hanck has checked in for some unimaginable excitement as he learns of how Toby died, and the political wrangling going on between the members of The Clan. Infuriated grief-stricken father, meet narcissistic trickster god who has angered all the other gods of The Clan.
In pages 1 through 98, 1984 has reared its ugly head in Sweden. The cities are bleak, the administrative bureaucracy is being run by a fearsome organization called The Clan.
The book opens with a description of listening to organ music on the radio. It took a while to understand it’s just the notes. A note could be broadcast for days or weeks with no change. An entire cottage industry has grown around gambling on when the note will change and to what.
Hanck Örn used to work for an insurance company run by The Clan. His job was to investigate claims made to this company, a flimsy cover for The Clan’s protection racket.
In these first pages, the reader learns that Hanck was fired from his job and, returning to the scene of his last investigation, invests his money in typewriters. Setting up a workshop in his apartment, Hanck teaches himself to repair and customize them, having found a market which sells obsolete technology to collectors.
On one of his visits, Hanck meets a young woman who tracks him down in his city apartment and spends the night. Here we learn about the many splintered factions of Christian sects, especially The Sneezers who believe that God can be found in the space of the sneeze where the least amount of control and the largest void intersect.
Months after this encounter, men dressed in lavender arrive to take Hanck to an undisclosed location, which turns out to be a hospital. His son, three-day old Toby, had been dumped with Hanck’s business card pinned to his swaddling clothes. On the back of the card is the note, “Mother dead.” Hanck was taken to the hospital to be informed of his son’s existence, and to decide Toby’s fate.
Perhaps needless to say, Hanck instantly falls in love with Toby and prepares his home for this new entry in his life.
This is a bleak book so far and the writing feels stilted. I’m willing to admit this could be a cultural miscue on my part. The translator for this book, Tiina Nunnally, has won awards for her work, so it probably isn’t. Be that as it may, The Hurricane Party doesn’t read as well as George Orwell.
A little research reveals the myth being retold makes itself obvious later in the book and has to do with Loki as related in the Prose Edda of Norse mythology.
Karen Armstrong is one of my favorite writers on religion. She’s also the inspiration for the founding of Charter for Compassion, an organization which works to put the call for compassion into concrete action.
But most important, we can change our culture. We can work together to build a culture that is less complicated and more nurturing, less violent and sexualized and more growth-producing. Our daughters [children] deserve a society in which all their gifts can be developed and appreciated. (p. 13)
In early adolescence girls learn how important appearance is in defining social acceptability. Attractiveness is both a necessary and sufficient condition for girls’ success. This is an old, old problem. Helen of Troy didn’t launch a thousand ships because she was a hard worker. Juliet wasn’t loved for her math ability. (p. 40)
Girls are trained to be less than who they really are. They are trained to be what the culture wants of its young women, not what they themselves want to become. (p. 44)
I first read Reviving Ophelia by Mary Pipher, Ph. D. when it came out in 1994. Even then I was searching for me. I was very confused about being female and looking for answers that would make me worthy in the eyes of society. I missed what Dr. Pipher was saying. Society is not the place to turn to for answers, it will only confuse you and set standards which are impossible to meet. I wasn’t ready to hear that I was good enough on my own, and screw society.
Twenty years later, I returned to this book in search of answers on how to be a good auntie to the children in my life who have been raised in a society which is more pornified and sexualized than when Reviving Ophelia was first published.
I didn’t find those answers either. Not because Pipher doesn’t offer a good explanation of what happens when puberty hits and many of the ways parenting and society can stack the deck against young women without meaning to.
I have to take it on intellectual faith that the maelstrom that is puberty and adolescence really is as described. There was so much other dysfunction going on in my family that I truly cannot relate on an emotional level and do not have physical memories of what it was like to be a teenaged girl.
Hormones rampaging? Didn’t notice. Black and white thinking? Don’t remember. It’s hard for me because my memories involve a father who came into my bedroom at night and a mother who undermined my development at every turn.
Watching my six nieces grow has been quite the education for me. I can see the things Pipher describes happening in them and I have learned it’s okay because it’s normal. I’ve watched them go through these stages and come out the other end to be strong women who can face society on their own terms. In no small part due to the parenting they received, from family prepared to teach them the pitfalls of living in a pornified society filled with highly sexualized standards for girls and women.
Reviving Ophelia is well-written and easy to read. Dr. Pipher’s case studies are still relevant, as are her explanations about what goes on when a girl hits puberty. That I didn’t get what I wanted from it is not Dr. Pipher’s fault, I was looking for a book she didn’t write.
I give gratitude to Don. For the memories he gave me, the stories I have to tell. The challenges he presented me as well as the ones he helped me solve. His unswerving support, even in those things that were just a bad idea. For his snark and sarcasm, which often surpassed mine. For the way he made me laugh, and made me cry. For the lessons I learned.
As I go through my apartment sorting through the stacks I’ve brought from his home to mine, I remember the klutzy grace he had with people and that amazing wellspring of knowledge he kept buried in that head.
Most of all I give gratitude for the 32 years of friendship, and for discovering just how strong my stuff really is. His death leaves a hole in my life which no one will ever be able to fill. But the person I am now is due in large part to his patience and love for me as I grew.
It’s hard to believe we were only in our early 20s when we met. He’s left an indelible mark on so many hearts.
There’s so much more to this comic by Razzy, but this is the part which resonates with me. This is changing the conversation. Let’s respect each other and practice listening to what we say to each other. There’s no shame in that.
I found this guy, Rob Brezsny, on the internet, and signed up for his newsletter. Brezsny’s a subversive, trickster character. I’m ambivalent about both astrology and tricksters. Less so the latter because while I don’t like being screwed with (who does?), I can see value in what a trickster brings to the cosmic table.
Brezsny’s weekly newsletter has more than just horoscopes. Sometimes the thoughts in it just seem random, on the edge of making sense. It’s like looking for something out of the corner of my eye and not quite getting it.
But this week reinforced the idea that I’m where I’m supposed to be, doing what I’m supposed to do. The universe hasn’t let me down yet, I don’t give up that easily.
Many people sincerely think that they will be called before God to account for themselves on Judgment Day. If you yourself have held that belief, you can stop worrying about it. The fact is, according to a survey of over 800 dissident bodhisattvas, urban witch doctors, sacred agents, and undercover geniuses, that you are called before “God” on “Judgment Day” on a regular basis.
Since you still exist, you have apparently passed every test so far. “God” obviously keeps finding you worthy. You shouldn’t get overconfident, of course. But maybe from now on you can assume that although there may be a world of pressure on you, that pressure is natural, merciful, and exactly what you need.