“The Umbrella”
by Tove Ditlevsen
translated from the Dutch by Michael Favala Goldman
from the October 25, 2021 issue of The New Yorker
I first heard of Tove Ditlevsen in 2019, when her Copenhagen Trilogy (Childhood, Youth, and Dependency) were published. So many trusted readers have raved about the books — including Paul on an episode of our podcast — yet I still have not ventured in. But can I read the first paragraph of “The Umbrella,” The New Yorker story of the week, without wanting to read anything I can get my hands on by Ditlevsen?
Helga had always — unreasonably — expected more from life than it could deliver. People like her live among us, not differing conspicuously from those who instinctively settle their affairs and figure out precisely how, given their looks, their abilities, and their environment, they can do what they need to do in the world. With respect to these three factors, Helga was only averagely equipped. When she was put on the marriage market, she was a slightly too small and slightly too drab young woman, with narrow lips, a turned-up nose, and — her only promising feature — a pair of large, questioning eyes, which an attentive observer might have called “dreamy.” But Helga would have been embarrassed if anyone had asked her what she was dreaming about.
That’s some great writing, I think, and great work by her translator, Michael Favala Goldman, as well! I’m definitely in and also feel more keenly the need to go read her books. As I looked to see what “The Umbrella” might be from, I spied a few more of her books coming next year: The Trouble with Happiness: And Other Stories and The Faces. I believe “The Umbrella” is a story in The Trouble with Happiness, but I could be wrong. Either way, clearly I have been missing the boat. I intend to fix that.
Please let me know what you thought of “The Umbrella” or Ditlevsen’s other work below!
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I found this to be a painful story, in the end, I disliked all of the characters and was surprised this story made it into the New Yorker. I wish I had some positive feedback, but I can’t push myself to find one.
Very potent feminist story. Reminds me of early feminist stories like “The Yellow Wallpaper” and Kate Chopin stories like “Desiree’s Baby” and of course many Alice Munro stories. Really a very well described emotional landscape of Helga. Many good phrases:
“What does one person mean to another anyway, except when one forces the other to act?”
“Things outside her world didn’t really mean anything to her. Until now. Until she acted.”
“She wasn’t the same person she had been the day before. She was a woman walking into shops looking at umbrellas.”
Also made me think of the Jane Campion film “The Piano”. What’s impressive about Ditlevsen’s writing is that she manages to conjure up a deep level of emotion using only a very simple object – an umbrella – by investing it with Helga’s life desire.
After I wrote that, I looked her up. Found a review of the trilogy by Hilton Als in Feb. 2021 NYer. Very well written review. Her life explains her story’s tone and content. Als writes:
“Unlike Karl Ove Knausgaard and many other recent memoirists, Ditlevsen doesn’t have a larger philosophy about pain or death; she is drawn to the flatness of facts and the way they mix with dreams. She builds a literature of disaster, brick by brick, entombing within it all the people who couldn’t love her and whom she couldn’t love.”
I was very impressed with this. In the end, we’re seeing the “entombing” quoted by William in Hilton Als’s review. The ambiguity, though, is what to make of this. One could argue that giving up one’s dreams is maybe easier, more practical, and finally can allow her to fit into the pattern she has not previously been able to see (except when looking at the past). On the other hand, what her husband has done is brutal and what has made her unique is now gone. So which reading is it (or is another one)? I don’t know if there’s supposed to be an answer to this question, but either way it’s sad–it’s about resignation either way.
One can never forget the emotional impact a writer can produce. I was audibly startled by the husband suddenly breaking the umbrella.
But do I want to read more of her stories? Maybe such stern medicine should be taken infrequently.