Review: 'Evil Flowers,' by Gunnhild Øyehaug, translated from the Norwegian by Kari Dickson

Thirteen months after the spectacular novel "Present Tense Machine," Norwegian author Gunnhild Øyehaug and her longtime English translator Kari Dickson are back with a story collection, "Evil Flowers." On the surface, this slim volume of two dozen short stories, some of which are only a couple of pages long, would seem antithetical to last year's intricate novel of parallel worlds, which features gloriously cascading drawn-out sentences. But these surreal new tales share the novel's focus, delving into the power and limitations of language and love, and they do so with a playfulness that has never been so abundant in Øyehaug's work.

In short, Øyehaug seems to be having a great deal of fun here, with both her craft and her audience, though never at the expense of either. Characters repeatedly address the reader directly, and Øyehaug herself chimes in on occasion, from her perch as author or from within the minds of her creations. She even completely derails the titular story by having the narrator admit after its first couple pages that everything they have said so far is "all made up."

Some of the stories are interconnected, including three reacting to "The Thread," about a woman in a care home who is striving to retain control of the reins of her memory. Those supporting stories offer the perspectives of two side characters, including a surprisingly compassionate lion and an anonymous protester, objecting to the reality presented in the original story. The latter is a spot-on satire of the entitlement, felt by so many today, to offer their unsolicited opinion on anything that doesn't fit within their bubble.

"Evil Flowers" has two other protest stories, including a brilliant one proclaiming that "unhappy endings drive us nuts" and that, essentially, everyone deserves a prize.

Dickson is having fun here, too, in her fourth English-language translation of Øyehaug's work. Her adroitness is visible in countless subtle word choices, like "a red stripy fifties bathing suit," and in almost Seussian sentiments like "Not even a Lucia bun falling from the piled-high basket and hitting the linoleum with a dull bun thud."

Yet caprice doesn't equal frivolity. "Evil Flowers" was published in Norway in 2020, but many of these stories channel the gloomy, questioning, post-pandemic nostalgia and existential angst many of us feel. "A Visit to Monk's House" looks at the superficiality of online communities and the illusion of closeness they can create. "Short Monster Analysis" shows how hard it can be for someone who has been abused or wronged to accept that they are not to blame for their mistreatment. And in "The Mational Nuseum," the misuse of words, in this case a transposition that slips by every line of defense, dooms the opening of a mew nuseum, excuse me, a new museum, in a distinct echo of the verbal slip in "Present Tense Machine" that cleaves the space-time continuum.

I fell in love with Øyehaug's writing five years ago, with her novel, "Wait, Blink," and continue to marvel at her ability to find new ways of expressing her ever trenchant intellect. We're spoiled to get two excellent books in such quick succession, but I still can't wait to see what comes next.

Cory Oldweiler is a freelance writer.

Evil Flowers

By: Gunnhild Øyehaug, translated from the Norwegian by Kari Dickson.

Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Girous, 128 pages, $25.