I Fjor Var En Lang Natt Av Joakim Kjørsvik

<p>In <i>Last Year was a Long Night </i>we follow the wanderings of a nameless protagonist through Oslo¿s underworld, a realm where alcohol, drugs, tall tales, superficial acquaintances, dirty money, one night stands, fights and tragic destinies throng together, staggering from bar to bar through the wintry night. And like a dark shadow hanging over it all: a dead father, an unusual childhood and a crippled romance.</p><p>Excerpt:</p><p>I want to catch a bus that leaves in twelve minutes, call my Dad and be finished with that by the time we get downtown, make a short stop at Robinet, where I get a special discount since I used to work there, order half a pint and two fingers of Fernet, try to steady my nerves, send a text to Pettersen and get him to make a small delivery, pop in to the crapper and pee through my arse, snort a couple of fat lines, feel better, kiss the mirror, order another round, roll my eyes and grin while I lie through my grating teeth to people I hardly know. I¿m out of the door in less than a minute, I just get up and go.</p><p>REVIEWS:</p><p>These are 'Friends' in hell. Or at least in Oslo. ... Within its screwed, crooked frames, the story works well. <i><b>Dagens Næringsliv</b></i></p><p>Kjørsvik writes well, the book is fun, and he also manages to get a wound undertone that gives the story a deeper sound base. <i><b>Adresseavisen</b></i></p><p>Joakim Kjørsvik writes cruel and honest about the city's less stressful people. <i><b>Dagbladet</b></i></p><p>It's bad and raw stories that are told. But at the same time it is done with a drive that hardly avoids grasping. <b><i>Hamar Arbeiderblad</i></b></p><p>Joakim Kjørsvik is a good publisher with a sense of comedy in the tragic. <b><i>Dag og Tid</i></b></p>

In Last Year was a Long Night we follow the wanderings of a nameless protagonist through Oslo’s underworld, a realm where alcohol, drugs, tall tales, superficial acquaintances, dirty money, one night stands, fights and tragic destinies throng together, staggering from bar to bar through the wintry night. And like a dark shadow hanging over it all: a dead father, an unusual childhood and a crippled romance.Excerpt:I want to catch a bus that leaves in twelve minutes, call my Dad and be finished with that by the time we get downtown, make a short stop at Robinet, where I get a special discount since I used to work there, order half a pint and two fingers of Fernet, try to steady my nerves, send a text to Pettersen and get him to make a small delivery, pop in to the crapper and pee through my arse, snort a couple of fat lines, feel better, kiss the mirror, order another round, roll my eyes and grin while I lie through my grating teeth to people I hardly know. I’m out of the door in less than a minute, I just get up and go.REVIEWS:"These are 'Friends' in hell. Or at least in Oslo. ... Within its screwed, crooked frames, the story works well." Dagens Næringsliv"Kjørsvik writes well, the book is fun, and he also manages to get a wound undertone that gives the story a deeper sound base." Adresseavisen"Joakim Kjørsvik writes cruel and honest about the city's less stressful people." Dagbladet"It's bad and raw stories that are told. But at the same time it is done with a drive that hardly avoids grasping." Hamar Arbeiderblad"Joakim Kjørsvik is a good publisher with a sense of comedy in the tragic." Dag og Tid