Klaus the Great goes on a literary polar expedition, and is given a cold shower by Hegge the expert

How to become a man – Rifbjerg revisited

BY POUL BAGER

Klaus Rifbjerg
Nansen and Johansen. A Winter’s Tale
Gyldendal. DK

Per Egil Hegge
Fridtjof Nansen. Just One Will
J.M. Stenersens forlag. N

The Danish master of memory, Klaus Rifbjerg, has now thrown himself full-heartedly into a historical event that he probably has few qualifications to understand completely: Fridtjof Nansen’s polar expedition of 1893-1896 in the good ship “Fram”. His reasons for doing so are not entirely clear to me. Rifbjerg has adopted many different lines of approach during his literary lifetime, and dealt with a wide variety of material. But Rifbjerg on skis? Even the Danes must realise that this is beyond the pale.

Miniature masterpiece
Let it be said from the start: despite a variety of mistakes and improbabilities that the Norwgians have been quick to point out (in the newspapers Aftenposten, Dagbladet and Weekend Avisen), Rifbjerg’s Nansen and Johansen. A Winter’s Tale is a miniature masterpiece with themes stretching back in time to his earliest novels and prose. But in Nansen and Johansen these themes are described with the kind of nonchalant ease he has acquired since those early days – although we should not allow ourselves to be fooled by this nonchalance. This is not merely a novel full of wonderful words. Nansen og Johansen is a very tightly written book with a wealth of tracks crossing and re-crossing each other, giving us an idea of exactly how comprehensive the civilisation process is (both externally and in particular internally). The novel seeks to focus on this process – not on the pole itself, or even the sexual relationship between the two heroes involved in the story (which is the aspect that has attracted greatest attention).
As usual, Rifbjerg chooses the point of view of the less famous member of the expedition, Hjalmar Johansen – the eternal number two. It is Johansen’s dreams, willpower and doubts that we observe – and we observe them closely. He is the one who wants to become a man, or as the book says elsewhere (these words are Nansen’s): to grow up! This seems like a familiar tune from the hand of Rifbjerg, who never tires of dealing with innocence, and all the obvious Freudian metaphors and symbols do not make the tune any less familiar. But this time the process takes place in an icy desert that is like a clinical laboratory – where any deviations from the straight and narrow become even more obvious. This is where the innocent, un-freeborn, shy and silent Johansen realises his wildest dreams when his “noble” leader and captain lets go of himself and has intercourse with Johansen inside a double sleeping bag on New Year’s Eve in 1895. Nansen even stands by what he has done, and these two very different men (who have been through many trials and tribulations) start talking to each other in a more informal fashion at
Nansen’s request.

Once upon a time
For Johansen this sexual act constitutes nothing less than the peak of happiness, and he wishes to remember it as an oceanic experience of almost eternal scope (Johannes V. Jensen’s “Great Whiteness” and Herman Melville’s white whale hover in the background). But for Nansen the event is nothing more than an interregnum, in which this normally so determined man (who seems capable of encompassing everything) gives himself a break, allowing his acknowledged animal/primitive nature to have its pound of flesh. It is certainly true that when he returns to civilisation Nansen becomes Dr. Nansen once again: expedition leader and independent man of action. Johansen is left standing rejected in the shadows – he achieved his wildest dreams only to watch them disappear again like yet another fata morgana. Time passes, and time heals all wounds. Nansen understands this, and starts turning his attention and willpower outwards again towards the world and its problems. He is a man of his age, a man capable of providing solutions.
But for Johansen there is only one path left to take – the path leading back to once upon a time. Just like earlier in the novel, his development takes place in the form of a “progression in circles”, as Rifbjerg puts it in a slightly different but corresponding context. But this is not the way to become a man, or even a woman (Madame Bovary lurks in the wings). This is only the way to prepare your own death. The fact that Johansen commits suicide in a flat and not in a park surely matters very little. But it is significant that Rifbjerg lets him kill himself with the rifle and telescopic sight that helped him before, instead of doing the job with a pistol (which is what really happened). Even positivists must be able to understand this. Oh dear – what a change. But oh dear – it was all in vain. The ring is complete. For Johansen external progress means nothing, because when Fridtjof became Dr. Nansen again he lost everything. Johansen never really understood what becoming an adult really means. Even though Nansen gave him a good example.

Per Egil Hegge: a few corrections
As indicated above, Rifbjerg does not raise any questions about the format of Fridtjof Nansen – on the contrary. But this is precisely what Per Egil Hegge, the editor of the Norwegian newspaper Aftenbladet does. With indulgent irony he seeks to instruct Rifbjerg by pointing out not only his laziness but also his ignorance – which are of course two concepts that are not entirely independent of each other (Weekend Avisen, Bøger, 20-26 September 2002). Rifbjerg is not really used to this kind of criticism, although he himself has been known to list people’s errors and give grades for their efforts. But in this instance Rifbjerg is forced to give way, because Hegge’s book about Nansen (written simultaneously, based on careful research and entitled Fridtjof Nansen. Just One Will) seems so authoritative that it simply goes straight home. The fact that Rifbjerg (on the phone from Spain) takes Hegge’s criticism so lightly and with such humour is just typical of him. But Rifbjerg the invulnerable is not invulnerable. So we can only hope that Hegge (who undoubtedly allows him plenty of latitude) has sent Rifbjerg a copy of his excellent and wonderfully illustrated book (my compliments to J.M. Stenersen’s publishing house for maintaining the traditional craftsmanship of publishing). If he were a schoolboy, Rifbjerg’s punishment would be a well-deserved detention. After all, Rifbjerg himself admits that he has not even read Hjalmar Johansen’s own account of the polar expedition – only an American book about Nansen (Dagbladet 09.10.2002).

Hegge’s view of Nansen
Using one of of Hegge’s many understatements, the nature of Fridtjof Nansen was not entirely simple. His wanderlust undoubtedly had its price – and he knew this of course. So the noble captain also turns out to be a man who has more similarities with Johansen than one might expect. But his powers of concentration and will to succeed – they were amazing! So the rejection of Johansen was not a unique event in Nansen’s life. There is only one kind of willpower according to Nansen: firm willpower.
In Denmark Kierkegaard and later Kaj Munk preached that: “The purity of the heart means desiring one thing only”. In Norway – and subsequently in the rest of the world – Nansen practised this philosophy. And he did so in humanitarian fashion – as if he knew how Kierkegaard continued: “Desiring one thing only means desiring Good”. It is certainly undeniable that countless refugees and people who were starving derived great benefit from Nansen’s indomitable willpower and leadership after the First World War and the Russian Revolution. In describing these events, which won Nansen the Nobel Peace Prize in 1922, it becomes clear that Hegge has learned a great deal from his time spent as the correspondent of Aftenposten in both Washington and Moscow.

Poul Bager is a senior teacher at Randers Statsskole in Denmark

Translated by Nick Wrigley