I have to concur with both of the reviewers on this page. The book stood on my shelf for a long time before I took it down to read, twice putting it back as I just "couldn't get into it". Then over time I amassed more information about Denmark, the country and its people; I had been brought up Hans Christian Andersen, later loved Isak Dinesen's Winter and then Gothic Tales, now I virtual travelled, very leisurely, through Denmark, its land and its history, a map opened at my left. Then I re-read Dinesen's Danish stories and suddenly their arcane, specifically "cultural signs", references a Dane would pick up on immediately began to open out for me. It is after this that I have re-entered "The History of Danish Dreams." And this time I have got "into" it!

However, I too have a problem with the 'intrusive voice of the narrator" . Over time the voice with its limited range of tone seems to pall, and sad to admit a level of boredom sets in ; one longs for the characters to break free and speak for themselves. I think I will pursue it and read on but somehow I feel that the books effect will fade for me too. I have encountered this effect with contemporary authors before. I while ago I was three quarters of the way through Anita Brookner's Family and Friends, when I realized that I had read it before and up until then had had no recognition. It was a peculiar experience to say the least. On the other hand a book like Tolstoy's Anna Karenina remains, for me, entirely unforgettable. A conundrum.

So why am I going to persevere with "History" even though there is so much to read and time so limited? I think because it is, despite the caveats, cementing my understanding of a people and a society; it is a book that is broadening my horizons as I read it and hopefully some of that will remain after I have closed the book. ( )

Too Danish, meaning that if I were a Dane then it works as I would know its cultural signs. I had similar problems with the American Underworld by Don Delillo ( )

Not as compact and polished as Borderliners, which remains my favourite of his. It has the same fascination with time, though, and he even reused the image of the god unlocking the gates of morning (I guess this is a memory of his own school years).

What I continue to love about Høeg is his casual and matter-of-fact movement from the real to the fantastic, so smooth that in fact there is no division between the two.

What continues to frustrate me, on the other hand, is his bitterness -- very much to the fore in this novel.

I also wasn't quite content with the intrusive voice of the narrator, who justifies some of the decisions of narrative focus with explicit reference to the 'History of Danish Dreams' conceit.

This isn't really a solid review, since I finished the book several weeks ago and its effect has faded somewhat. Solid recommendation, though, is to read Borderliners instead of this as a Høeg introduction. ( )