Four women work together in a genocide information centre in Copenhagen. One day, two of them receive emailed death threats. At first, they assume the threats are from one of the mass murderers they've written about, but then booby traps appear in the office, and they start to mistrust each other. As the relationships between them deteriorate, things get worse and worse...

In a nutshell, the novel argues that all of us have deep-rooted fears and concerns, which if played upon can lead us to irrational behaviour - and when taken to extremes, this is what leads to genocide. It's an interesting idea, but I have two problems with it:

- first, the execution. The book's focused on its didactic intent, and everything is just so implausible - from the main story development to the little details (if you thought you were being victimised by work colleagues, would you really start reading about the psychopathology of evil?). Also, the writing (or the translation) is very clunky, and the characters are pretty annoying.

- secondly, I don't really buy the proposition that, say, reacting irrationally if you think your more attractive friend is interested in the same guy you are is *really* on the same spectrum as clubbing your neighbours to death. Or if it is, it's so far the other end of the spectrum as makes no difference.

So, an interesting rather than enjoyable read for me.

Recommended for: someone who is interested in ideas about the nature of evil. ( )

I liked this book, it is the story of a work enviroment, and the interpersonal issues that come in work. but also a real study of evil the ending is great because you dont know, at least I didnt know you did it ( )

Too Long ( )

Excellent, very memorable novel. See the plot summaries, etc., written by the reviewers on Amazon.

What matters in this book is the extremely unusual mixture of fiction and nonfiction. The researchers in the book write reports on evil, genocide, and other subjects, and we read them embedded in the novel. The facts in those reports are all real, and I learned, for example, about theories of evil in the Third Reich beginning with Arendt and continuing to the present.

But then between the reports, the fictional authors continue to do evil to one another. It's a very effective device.

When I met Jungersen in Copenhagen, he said he wrote intuitively, and he had little to add. I don't believe artists who claim they are intuitive: it's an easy out when it comes to public relations. I hope he changes his attitude to his own work.

The book ends weakly, with a chapter ripped from (or written for) a Hollywood screenplay. ( )

I had just finished reading Jakov Lind's "Landscape in Concrete," a 1963 novella about a Nazi soldier and accidental criminal, when I came across a review for Christian Jungersen's "The Exception." A 2004 European bestseller, "The Exception" has been translated from Danish by Anna Paterson and, like Lind's book, deals with questions regarding human behavior during wartime. Unfortunately, not only were the characters insufferable, the novel as a whole is ultimately pointless - kind of like a misanthrope's big rant on Why People Suck - but I did enjoy (morbidly) the embedded articles on genocide and psychology. But everything else . . . meh.

"The Exception" centers on four women - Iben, Malene, Ann-Lise, and Camilla - who work for the Danish Center for Information on Genocide, a small non-profit in Copenhagen, headed by a man named Paul, that disseminates information on genocide for governments and researchers. Malene is suffering from early-onset rheumatoid arthritis and Iben is her longtime best friend (they are in their late twenties). Camilla is a middle-aged woman who works closely with Iben and Malene, while Ann-Lise (Camilla's age) is relegated to the back room, where she feels left out and ignored by her three coworkers. Things are going smoothly, despite some tension with Ann-Lise, until one day, out of the blue, Iben and Malene receive threatening emails from an anonymizer server that makes tracking the sender impossible. Now, as professionals who write about and raise awareness of war crimes for a living, you would think that these two would be no strangers to anonymous death threats. But no, Iben has a big freak-out and the whole thing catalyzes a period of bullying and intimidation among the four women of the DCIG.

Basically, it's supposed to be microcosm of the group dynamics that lead perfectly ordinary people to commit horrendous atrocities, such as the Holocaust, the Rwandan genocide, and the Stanford Prison Experiment catastrophe. So, in other words, the characters are not meant to be particularly likeable. But did they really have to be so incredibly *annoying*? The four DCIG employees start out as these liberal progressive tolerant self-righteous Social Democrat types who then descend into childish playground tormentors. They even resort to breaking into someone's house at night to access her computer. One gets mad at another just for looking at her and not sitting with her at lunch. Practical "jokes" are played. Ergo: "Mean Girls" = "Apocalypse Now."

You know, sometimes when you read a book, you find yourself just wanting to leap into the story and start slapping some sense into everyone. Anything to get these infuriating basket cases to starting acting like responsible adult human beings again! Of course, presiding distantly and benevolently over the four hysterical females is Paul, the level-headed man, which gives "The Exception" some sadly sexist overtones. I mean, other than that one war criminal and his goons, all the male characters in this book come across as pretty normal when compared to the DCIG drama queens. Probably the best part is when Iben starts researching split personality disorder and goes to Paul to inform him that Ann-Lise *doubtlessly* has this highly rare condition. Wow, srsly? Does Jungersen honestly expect us to believe that we are all potentially this neurotic, petty, immature, and self-destructive? But lo! there is hope. You can still be the Exception, that lone individual who rises up above the collective juggernaut and acts selflessly in defense of your fellow man, whatever the personal risk. Maybe, that is. Possibly. Uh, actually we're not quite sure. You know what? Humanity might just be doomed after all.

And yeah, that's pretty much the moral of the story. Again I ask, what's the point? ( )

This book surprised me....I anticipated a conventional psychological thriller, and it did deliver on that expectation. What I did not expect was the thought provoking examination of the nature of evil. I thorougly enjoyed it, and found that it stayed with me for days after closing the book. ( )

Spændende som en krimi. Giver et godt og nuanceret protræt af de forskellige kvindetyper på en arbejdsplads. Handlingen kunne godt være sand!! ( )

4/5 af bogen er kedelig og 1/5 er totalt overdrevet - fatter ikke den har fået en pris ( )

A very interesting book about the nature of evil (sort of like the fiction equivalent of The Lucifer Effect), explored in a strange combination of the banal (office politics) and the horrific (various accounts of genocide). It kept my interest throughout; the characters were very well developed, but the combination was jarring and the violence at the end was somewhat short of believable. ( )

This is one of the hardest books to review. I hesitate to use the word schizophrenic about the book, but that occurred to me after reading some of the hallucinations by one of the characters late in the book as being apropos about the book itself. Nominally a thriller, the book is basically US TV show 'The Office' meets John Le Carre book. The story centers around four female Danish officemates who work at a research library and activist organization against Genocide. The book moves along but the author gets a little 'cute' - or schizophrenic - in his use of the following techniques: skipping point of view of each of the four from chapter to chapter, breaking from that, inserting text of anti-genocide articles to the point where they are almost propaganda, and have little or nothing to do with the story, hallucinations, mental illness, multiple-personalities, etc. Were the book to have a couple fewer of these techniques it would be more solid.

It received a world of praise, I believe it probably isn't as good as an International Book Award. Perhaps it's the translation but not a lot of sophisticated or even ultra-simple writing. The writing isn't labored, but it seems to be almost student writing. I wouldn't be suprised if this came out of a writing workshop or some process of mapping out plot by an academic rather than 'from the heart' or scratched out ad hoc. I hate to be negative on something that is truly unique. I am not sure anything like this has ever been written--with the combinations, the underlying political themes, mystery, all female protagonists. However the author resorts to pretty unbelievable and unconnected approaches at times. ( )

(Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography [cclapcenter.com].)

"Ignoring the small flash of doubt in yourself -- that is what evil is. Nobody thinks of himself as evil, but that deception is part of evil's nature. And you can't lie to yourself all the time. Once in awhile, there's that moment when you question if you are doing the right thing. And that's your only chance to choose what is good, to do the right thing. And the moment lasts maybe fifteen minutes every other month, maybe less."

The little lesson about life quoted above is something a lot of us (especially Americans) are starting to realize more and more; that the root of what we traditionally call "evil" lies not in the cartoonish villainy we've assigned over the decades to such groups as the Nazis and the Klan, but rather in the small everyday lapses in ethics all of us commit regularly, which when multiplied by millions is what leads to things like Hitler, Franco, Stalin, Bush, etc. "Evil" is when we see something happening that we know is ethically wrong, but turn a blind eye towards because it's easier to do so; evil is when we overreact, when we rush to judgment, when we affect a self-righteous tone, when we abuse whatever tiny little amount of power any of us might have in our particular lives. It is something we're all guilty of, that none of us ever think we're guilty of ourselves, but when multiplied by an entire society is what leads us into the grand messes of both the world and of history.

And perhaps the guiltiest parties of all, or so argues Danish novelist Christian Jungersen in his brilliant new book The Exception, are those who believe they could never be guilty in the first place -- radical liberals, for example, humanitarians, those from pacifist countries -- because it is these people precisely who are blundering through such small evil acts without ever acknowledging them, without recognizing them for what they are. it's a fascinating and controversial thing for someone in Jungersen's position to posit, which is what has made Jungersen a fascinating and controversial author in his native Denmark; for Denmark, you see, has a long and proud tradition of pacifism and humanitarianism, including being one of the only countries on the planet during the Nazi era to officially and publicly harbor Jews. As a result, or at least according to Jungersen, there is now a certain amount of "liberal haughtiness" inherent in the Danish national character; a certain proclivity these days, for example, for the average Dane to take a dismissive stance towards what's been happening in America this decade, to profess how glad they are that they live in a "more enlightened" country that is "above" such things. Jungersen argues in this novel that no society is "above" such behavior, because such behavior is an ingrained part of the human condition; that all it takes is the right combination of kindling, fuel and flame to ignite a bonfire of hate and violence in almost any situation you can name, in almost any society on the planet.

And the way Jungersen demonstrates this in The Exception is even more brilliant; he sets the entire story within the delicately liberal world of "non-governmental organizations," or NGOs, which deserves to be explained a little for those not already familiar, in order for today's review to make sense...

Most Americans, of course, are already familiar with not-for-profit organizations, whether religious in nature or cultural or historical. In northern Europe, though, where they're known as the aforementioned NGOs, such groups have taken on an entire culture of their own, because of the governments there being much more socialistic in nature; that is, places like Norway and Sweden and Holland and Denmark extract a lot more money from each citizen through taxes, but provide a lot more things in return, like national healthcare and a pervasive welfare system, deep financial support for NGOs and the like. As a result, you see the following in small amounts in America, and especially in big cities with large liberal bases (New York, Chicago, San Francisco, etc), but in northern Europe especially you see a sizable proportion of the population who will spend their entire careers working in the NGO "industry," attending an endless series of conferences in progressive global cities, and going on an endless series of sabbaticals to third-world countries. Needless to say, this keeps the NGO world a highly insular, highly gossipy one, especially considering the close ties it has to the insular, gossipy world of academia; and also like the academic world, needless to say that the vast majority of its "lifers" are ultra-liberal in political makeup, just like the majority of military lifers are ultra-conservative.

Now, I don't want today's essay to become one big unchecked ultra-liberal bashing; being in the arts myself, of course, I have lots of friends who are radical liberals, and there are lots of things to like about these people as well as be frustrated by. (And for what it's worth, I consider myself a strict moderate with progressive leanings, a political stance that can also be criticized in certain undeniable ways.) And I also want to specifically point out that I'm marking a difference here between mere liberals and radical liberals, just like there's a difference between the merely religious and Fundamentalists; that there's nothing wrong with simply having opinions about the world, and with standing up for these opinions based on your own ethical convictions. But it's undeniable that Jungersen's novel is in many ways a scathing indictment of radical liberals specifically, which is why today's essay is going to mostly concern this topic too; and this is even more shocking, of course, because of it coming from an author who is a pacifist northern-European liberal himself, and that it devastatingly points out step by step all the terrible things about most ultra-liberals that such people can rarely even admit about themselves -- the passive-aggression that borders on psychopathic, the tendency to wildly overreact to honest misunderstandings, the utter lack of a sense of humor, the proclivity to go around "preaching" to others from a standpoint of moral superiority. And not only that, but Jungersen also shows how when these traits are laid on top of each other in a certain order, even a group of ultra-liberal NGO lifers can create an environment of emotional terror and intimidation as oppressive as any fascist society.

The novel takes place at one of these NGOs, in fact, the fictional Danish Center for Information on Genocide (or DCIG), whose entire staff consists of five people -- Iben and Malene, old personal friends who do most of the "big thinking" as well as administrative chores; Camilla, the group's secretary, receptionist and administrative assistant; Anne-Lise, their part-time librarian intern; and Paul, the only male, who heads the group and raises most of its budget, and who is out of the office more often than he's in. It is a bad time when it comes to money, in fact, reflecting something that's true as well in the real world of NGOs; that the more we progress as a modern society, the more NGO administrators our planet's universities are pumping out, even as the money available for NGOs worldwide has grown at a much slower rate. It's created a situation of somewhat desperation at these organizations lately; where if you lose your current job, there's a very good chance that you might never find one again in your field, and be relegated to either working at a Starbucks in your forties and while holding a PhD, the humiliation of permanent welfare, or perhaps becoming a jaded alcoholic housewife, whose kids all have behavioral problems because of your soul-sucking, gin-swilling aimless ennui (a particularly deep fear of all these specific female characters).

It is a world where no one actually says to each other what exactly they mean, or what exactly they're thinking; where every statement made out loud, every single one, must first be vetted through an entire series of inner-brain filters, checking for political correctness and potential long-term impact, of how it might influence the way those around you perceive you, of whether it's too confrontational or not enough, of who else that person might relay the statement to themselves, as a codified passive-aggressive statement that you originally wanted to make to that third party to begin with, except can't because all the other NGO people would then passively-aggressively react to you, and run you right out of their insular little world altogether without a single bad thing ever actually being said to your face. Whew! Welcome to the world of radical academic liberals, Jungersen seems to be saying to us, deliciously adding to the conflict by making the office almost exclusively female in the first place; that is, so that the main characters are not only running around not saying what they actually mean, not only acting in a passive-aggressive manner, not only wildly overreacting to every situation, but as women doing it in the most cruel, catty, emotionally devastating ways possible. Which would normally, of course, result in not much more than the upper dramatic limits of the normal workplace environment that so many office workers have to deal with themselves; but then Jungersen ups the ante by having both Iben and Malene receive death threats one night via email, from someone who quite obviously knows who they are.

Is it a war criminal their organization has outed in the past? Is it the rowdy neo-Nazi kids in Copenhagen who give all the NGOs a hard time? Or is it more sinister and a lot closer to home? That's the mystery that fuels the entire storyline of The Exception, and is a brilliant plot device for Jungersen to employ; because under his deft skills, the story here quickly becomes not the one of the hate mails themselves, but rather the way the various staff members of the center react to them, creating a situation of inner-office suspicion and paranoia that gets worse with each day, and especially when combined with the natural personality flaws of each character as well. Because that's another smart element Jungersen has added to this story, of making each of these characters emotionally scarred ones, whose scars in fact are precisely what led each of them to the DCIG in the first place -- turns out, for example, that Camilla dated a Serbian war criminal in her past before knowing he was a war criminal, while Iben was a victim of a political kidnapping in Africa during her activist youth, one that ended badly for the kidnappers but not the earnest young white hostages themselves.

It creates the same kind of situation here that Tom Perrotta created less successfully in his novel and screenplay Little Children; where a series of annoying but innocuous personality flaws are layered on top of each other, among a group of people who already dislike each other and are prone to gossipy histrionics, until eventually exploding into a surprising orgy of violence and blood. Because that of course is the final touch of genius to The Exception, and what makes it so brilliant in the first place, instead of some whiny humor-free ripoff of The Office; that Jungersen carries events through to a shocking level of actual violence, in a solidly logical way that makes you absolutely believe it could actually happen, to the point where some people die, others have nervous breakdowns, and yet others might or might not be spending the rest of their lives in jail because of it. It's a powerful message here that Jungersen has to convey to his fellow Danes, a refreshing one given both its originality and the way he utterly proves it -- that maybe all the haughty EU liberals these days should lay off those crazy Americans a little, or at least acknowledge that every society on the planet is prone to what's going on in the US these days, given just the tiniest change to that society's status quo (like, say, having the tallest building in that country blown up by airplane-hijacking suicidal terrorists). It's a point that's hammered home over and over in The Exception, in fact, both in the actual storyline and in the historical cases of genocide that the characters are constantly referencing; that a wartime situation changes everything about a society, whether that's a large society like an entire country or a tiny one like a five-person academic research office. Bring together the right combination of innocent yet evil little behavior, Jungersen argues here, and you're bound to create the kind of "grand evil" we associate with those like Hitler and Bush, even if all the people involved are literally pacifist war-protesting radical liberals.

To be sure, there are also some problems with the book, mostly technical in nature which regular readers know I don't mind that much; it's kind of a clunky translation, for example, utilizing a personal style that's awfully bland and pedestrian, and with the narrative containing way too much expository material concerning the history of genocidal acts (however fascinating it might be). The reason to read The Exception, though, is not for the personal style on display, but rather the convoluted yet concretely realistic storyline, for the masterful way Jungersen guides us over 500 pages from usual petty office politics to a literal bloody civil war. It's easy to see why Jungersen has become as popular and controversial in Europe as he has; and while Americans are definitely not his target audience here, it's a story I think a lot of Americans are going to find fascinating nonetheless.

Out of 10:
Story: 9.7
Characters: 9.2
Style: 6.6
Overall: 9.4 ( )

http://www.dagbladet.no/kultur/2006/0... ( )

Supergod læsning, hvor man virkelig fornemmer den ætsende stemning, der er på denne arbejdsplads. Kan varmt anbefales. Altid svært at skulle fremhæve en bog frem for andre, men med denne er det muligt! ( )