Hjalmar Söderberg (1869–1941)
Author of Doctor Glas
About the Author
Works by Hjalmar Söderberg
Den talangfulla draken : En novell 11 copies
Doktor Glas : Förvillelser 7 copies
Kära Hjalle, kära Bo : Bo Bergmans och Hjalmar Söderbergs brevväxling 1891-1941 — Author; Author — 7 copies
Historietter och noveller 7 copies
Martin Bircks ungdom : Gamla minnen 6 copies
Ödestimmen : skådespel i tre akter 5 copies
Noveller. 2 4 copies
[Skrifter]. 2, Gertrud ; Aftonstjärnan ; Den allvarsamma leken ; Noveller ; Dikter ; Journalistik 4 copies
Noveller. 1 4 copies
Samlade verk. D. 8, Forntid och saga 4 copies
Skrifter. D. 10, Vers och varia 3 copies
La kiso : kaj dek tri aliaj noveloj 3 copies
Samlade verk. D. 6, Dramatik 3 copies
[Skrifter]. 1, Förvillelser ; Historietter ; Martin Bircks ungdom ; Doktor Glas ; Hjärtats oro 3 copies
The Burning City [short story] 2 copies
Historietter : ett urval 2 copies
Aforismer och maximer 2 copies
Short Fiction 2 copies
Jag tror på köttets lust och på själens obotliga ensamhet : Hjalmar Söderberg : de bästa citaten (2008) 2 copies
Valda sidor 2 copies
Det mörknar över vägen 2 copies
Skrifter. D. 6 2 copies
Gertrud, Aftonstjärnan 1 copy
Selected Short Stories 1 copy
Novelletter 1 copy
Vers och varia 1 copy
Litterärt varia II 1 copy
Sista boken 1 copy
Associated Works
A Very Scandinavian Christmas: The Greatest Nordic Holiday Stories of All Time (2019) — Contributor — 25 copies, 1 review
Meesters der Zweedse vertelkunst — Author, some editions — 10 copies
Svenske fortællere fra August Strindberg til Harry Martinson — Author, some editions — 1 copy, 1 review
Tagged
Common Knowledge
- Canonical name
- Söderberg, Hjalmar
- Legal name
- Söderberg, Hjalmar Erik Fredrik
- Birthdate
- 1869-07-02
- Date of death
- 1941-10-14
- Gender
- male
- Education
- Uppsala University
- Occupations
- civil servant
critic
novelist
short story writer
playwright - Awards and honors
- De Nios stora pris (1934)
Gustaf Fröding-stipendiet (1941) - Relationships
- Söderberg, Tom (son)
Söderberg, Mikael (son)
Stangerup, Henrik (grandson) - Short biography
- Hjalmar Emil Fredrik Söderberg, né le 2 juillet 1869 à Stockholm et mort le 14 octobre 1941 à Copenhague, est un romancier, auteur dramatique, poète et journaliste suédois. C'est le grand-père maternel de l'écrivain danois Henrik Stangerup (1937-1998).
Il débute dans le monde littéraire à l'âge de vingt ans en écrivant pour le quotidien suédois Svenska Dagbladet. Il sort six ans plus tard son premier roman, Förvillelser (Égarements). Il s'intéresse à la fin de sa vie au journalisme. Il a critiqué le nazisme avec véhémence, écrivant longuement à ce sujet dans le quotidien libéral, très anti-nazi, suédois Göteborgs Handels- och Sjöfartstidning. - Nationality
- Sweden
- Birthplace
- Stockholm, Sweden
- Places of residence
- Stockholm, Sweden
Copenhagen, Denmark - Place of death
- Copenhagen, Denmark
- Burial location
- Vestre Kirkegård, København, Denmark
- Map Location
- Sweden
Members
Reviews
Revisiting classics is always an interesting experience.
I had read "Doctor Glas" when I was about fifteen, as a school assignment. I liked it then.
So, what did I think this time?
- Söderberg's writing is still marvellous. I found myself rereading certain sentences, just to savour them better. (I was reading the original, not the translation ;-))
- Every Söderberg novel I had read paints Stockholm beautifully. These glimpses of my city are very precious.
- I really liked the sense of time show more and place, and all those philosophical and not so philosophical conversations between friends.
- The moral dilemmas are going to be interesting to talk about in my book club...
- Doctor Glas is a masterfully created, and very disturbing character.
- It's interesting to see how far ahead of his time Söderberg was, discussing marital rape and euthanasia. Yet, there are things in this book that have not aged well. I wish Helga was more of a "real" character, instead of a symbol/catalyst/object of obsession. Sometimes I put the book down to say STOP.WRITING.ABOUT.WOMEN.THIS.WAY! (I wonder how many classics pass the Bechdel test? This one does not.)
Four stars, because I don't know what else to do. I have to confess that the last point made it more difficult for me to like "Doctor Glas". It doesn't happen with all the books I read, I CAN make allowances. This time, I had trouble doing that... show less
I had read "Doctor Glas" when I was about fifteen, as a school assignment. I liked it then.
So, what did I think this time?
- Söderberg's writing is still marvellous. I found myself rereading certain sentences, just to savour them better. (I was reading the original, not the translation ;-))
- Every Söderberg novel I had read paints Stockholm beautifully. These glimpses of my city are very precious.
- I really liked the sense of time show more and place, and all those philosophical and not so philosophical conversations between friends.
- The moral dilemmas are going to be interesting to talk about in my book club...
- Doctor Glas is a masterfully created, and very disturbing character.
- It's interesting to see how far ahead of his time Söderberg was, discussing marital rape and euthanasia. Yet, there are things in this book that have not aged well. I wish Helga was more of a "real" character, instead of a symbol/catalyst/object of obsession. Sometimes I put the book down to say STOP.WRITING.ABOUT.WOMEN.THIS.WAY! (I wonder how many classics pass the Bechdel test? This one does not.)
Four stars, because I don't know what else to do. I have to confess that the last point made it more difficult for me to like "Doctor Glas". It doesn't happen with all the books I read, I CAN make allowances. This time, I had trouble doing that... show less
You can love me in a pagan way.
Two young people, Arvid and Lydia, meet and fall in love. There are no immediate hurdles to their love. That should be it, right, just coast to the happy ending? Except things don't just "happen". (I have a feeling Söderberg would have agreed with John Lennon about life being what happens to you while you're busy making plans.) A few hesitations, a few clumsy words, and they're on different paths, reconnecting and rekindling and resplitting several times over show more the next 15-odd years, while the world continues around them. They both want to be free, they both want to be together, but as fate would have it, those two things are never possible at the same time.
They talk about mountain landscapes - it should be called valley landscapes. You live and work in the valley, not on the peaks.
I haven't read this since high school, and I'm struck again by how thoroughly modern Söderberg feels in almost all respects. It's a novel from 1912 (the free ebook version is pre- grammar and spelling reform, at that) in which people have casual (and not-so-casual) sex, swear and generally act in their own best interest, set to a clear-eyed, mildly ironic prose where Söderberg doesn't so much gladly dismantle the old society that's about to become something different as pass it by with cold disdain; while it's set during a time when both revolution and war was in the air, Söderberg remains coolly above such things as politics and just focuses on his two fuckups as they dance around each other, trying to figure out what's keeping them apart or together.
It's weird how it even feels more timeless than both adaptations I've taken in - Sundström's 1960s-set rewrite For Lydia and Pernilla August's 2016 film. Those feel like period pieces (an unsuccessful one in August's case) while the original, details and a few plot elements (the casual dismissal of children, for instance) aside, feels far more relatable. not because Söderberg doesn't allude to then-current events - he most definitely does, that's part of the point of having a novel take place over 15 years - or because things haven't changed (especially for women) in 107 years, but because the things he does dwell on remain mostly the same. (OK, apart from the obsession with what Carl Snoilsky would have thought.) (Though it also probably helps that 1910 is more safely in The Past than a story set when my own parents were dating.)
Where August rushes through the plot, Söderberg lets them evolve (or not) seperately, until it's already too late. Where Sundström rightfully calls both Arvid, Söderberg and society on their insidious rather than overt sexist bullshit, and probably writes a more likable story, Söderberg lets his two characters be both part of the world and isolated from it, creating tension from their inability (or well, chiefly Arvid's) to find and accept each other at the same level. Cool and collected on the outside, messed up as hell on the inside.
You don't choose your destiny. And you no more choose your wife or your mistress or your children. You get them, and you have them, and occasionally you lose them. But you do not choose! show less
Two young people, Arvid and Lydia, meet and fall in love. There are no immediate hurdles to their love. That should be it, right, just coast to the happy ending? Except things don't just "happen". (I have a feeling Söderberg would have agreed with John Lennon about life being what happens to you while you're busy making plans.) A few hesitations, a few clumsy words, and they're on different paths, reconnecting and rekindling and resplitting several times over show more the next 15-odd years, while the world continues around them. They both want to be free, they both want to be together, but as fate would have it, those two things are never possible at the same time.
They talk about mountain landscapes - it should be called valley landscapes. You live and work in the valley, not on the peaks.
I haven't read this since high school, and I'm struck again by how thoroughly modern Söderberg feels in almost all respects. It's a novel from 1912 (the free ebook version is pre- grammar and spelling reform, at that) in which people have casual (and not-so-casual) sex, swear and generally act in their own best interest, set to a clear-eyed, mildly ironic prose where Söderberg doesn't so much gladly dismantle the old society that's about to become something different as pass it by with cold disdain; while it's set during a time when both revolution and war was in the air, Söderberg remains coolly above such things as politics and just focuses on his two fuckups as they dance around each other, trying to figure out what's keeping them apart or together.
It's weird how it even feels more timeless than both adaptations I've taken in - Sundström's 1960s-set rewrite For Lydia and Pernilla August's 2016 film. Those feel like period pieces (an unsuccessful one in August's case) while the original, details and a few plot elements (the casual dismissal of children, for instance) aside, feels far more relatable. not because Söderberg doesn't allude to then-current events - he most definitely does, that's part of the point of having a novel take place over 15 years - or because things haven't changed (especially for women) in 107 years, but because the things he does dwell on remain mostly the same. (OK, apart from the obsession with what Carl Snoilsky would have thought.) (Though it also probably helps that 1910 is more safely in The Past than a story set when my own parents were dating.)
Where August rushes through the plot, Söderberg lets them evolve (or not) seperately, until it's already too late. Where Sundström rightfully calls both Arvid, Söderberg and society on their insidious rather than overt sexist bullshit, and probably writes a more likable story, Söderberg lets his two characters be both part of the world and isolated from it, creating tension from their inability (or well, chiefly Arvid's) to find and accept each other at the same level. Cool and collected on the outside, messed up as hell on the inside.
You don't choose your destiny. And you no more choose your wife or your mistress or your children. You get them, and you have them, and occasionally you lose them. But you do not choose! show less
I asked a friend who grew up in Sweden to recommend some Swedish literature, as I couldn't remember ever reading any. Söderberg was the first writer they mentioned. I subsequently found a lovely 1963 Chatto & Windus edition of ‘Doctor Glas’ in the university library, which was a delight to the senses. It has that lovely old books scent, satisfyingly thick paper, and appealing typography. It reminded me that modern bindings are of such inferior quality by comparison. I very much doubt show more that most would survive more than fifty years in such excellent condition. Given the age of the edition, the introduction was a little dated in a quite amusing fashion, including this gem:
Personally, I have never felt that I had to be able to pronounce an author’s name in order to read their books. Apparently things were different in the early 1960s! Anyway, turning to the novel itself, ‘Doctor Glas’ is told in the form of a diary. A little like [b:The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge|93405|The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge|Rainer Maria Rilke|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1348925210s/93405.jpg|314321], in fact, except Glas has a job and actually does things, rather than being such a flâneur. The narrative centres on his interference in an unhappy marriage. His perspective is quite progressive for the time of publication (1905) as he discusses abortion, adultery, and sex in a dispassionate fashion. He is himself celibate and lonely. I found his voice distinctive and largely interesting, especially in conversation with his friends. This speech by his friend Birck was a favourite:
Although I appreciated this sort of byplay, the overall turn of the plot did not greatly move me. I can’t really say why without spoilers, however.The main event is, of course, Glas deciding to murder Rev. Gregorius and doing so remarkably easily. (A striking reminder that prior to forensic science, it must have been pretty easy to get away with murder.) I found the whole business rather unsatisfactory. Glas seemed to consider this murder ‘ethical’ without adequately considering the other options available. Obviously divorce would have been preferable if possible, but could he not have assisted Mrs. Gregorius in fleeing? Had she no family to take refuge with? Given that he was able to poison the reverend, why not give him a less severe poison that would debilitate but not kill him? I found the dichotomy of Do Nothing or Cold-blooded Murder rather forced. Glas also did not pause to reflect on his hippocratic oath, which does not exactly condone killing people because they are mistreating their wives. Gregorius certainly seems a repulsive and horrible character, however that doesn’t mean killing him without consequences is just fine. Who would trust a doctor that would do such a thing based entirely on their own supposed moral authority? This is not to say that the narrative invites unequivocal sympathy for Glas, just that the implications of his actions are not fully explored. Perhaps because it is quite a short book and much of it is taken up with scene-setting.
I read the introduction last as usual and agreed with a comment in it that ‘Doctor Glas’ has the feeling of a French novel of the same period. Slightly less melodramatic, perhaps, but only slightly. I enjoyed parts of it very much, but the narrative-by-diary put more pressure on Glas as as character than I felt he could really sustain. He spends a great deal of time alone, yet is most intriguing when interacting with others. Moreover, it’s frustrating that Mrs. Gregorius acts as the catalyst of events without being given her own voice or much in the way of identity. She remains rather an enigmatic cypher. Finally, Glas can be more than a little pretentious. In a way this is incongruous with his job, which requires a very visceral engagement with human bodies. At times he really needs someone to bring him down to earth. show less
Söderberg - which translates simply as Southrock - comes up against an absurd but common prejudice in English hands, the fear of unfamiliar Swedish names and occasional Swedish words. [...] I have seen a book of Scandinavian short stories criticised pejoratively in a leading London literary paper for being spattered with names such as - well, Söderberg. Even these many decades of Ibsen and Strindberg do not seem to have bettered the distance and the nonsense. But the aeroplane will, and in the meantime we must adjust a stiff upper lip.
Personally, I have never felt that I had to be able to pronounce an author’s name in order to read their books. Apparently things were different in the early 1960s! Anyway, turning to the novel itself, ‘Doctor Glas’ is told in the form of a diary. A little like [b:The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge|93405|The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge|Rainer Maria Rilke|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1348925210s/93405.jpg|314321], in fact, except Glas has a job and actually does things, rather than being such a flâneur. The narrative centres on his interference in an unhappy marriage. His perspective is quite progressive for the time of publication (1905) as he discusses abortion, adultery, and sex in a dispassionate fashion. He is himself celibate and lonely. I found his voice distinctive and largely interesting, especially in conversation with his friends. This speech by his friend Birck was a favourite:
"...And your answer reminds me for the hundredth time that all philosophy lives by, and wholly feed on, verbal ambiguities. Against the happiness-pancake so ardently desired by the mob, one person sets up his birthday-cake of salvation and another ‘his work’; and both deny that they so much as know what is meant by trying to find happiness. An enviable gift this, of being able to deceive oneself with words. Haven’t we all, always, a need to see ourselves and our efforts in the light of a certain ideality? Perhaps then in the last resort the deepest happiness lies in the illusion of not desiring happiness."
Although I appreciated this sort of byplay, the overall turn of the plot did not greatly move me. I can’t really say why without spoilers, however.
I read the introduction last as usual and agreed with a comment in it that ‘Doctor Glas’ has the feeling of a French novel of the same period. Slightly less melodramatic, perhaps, but only slightly. I enjoyed parts of it very much, but the narrative-by-diary put more pressure on Glas as as character than I felt he could really sustain. He spends a great deal of time alone, yet is most intriguing when interacting with others. Moreover, it’s frustrating that Mrs. Gregorius acts as the catalyst of events without being given her own voice or much in the way of identity. She remains rather an enigmatic cypher. Finally, Glas can be more than a little pretentious. In a way this is incongruous with his job, which requires a very visceral engagement with human bodies. At times he really needs someone to bring him down to earth. show less
Another rare source for my voracious reading machine is the occasional mention in a novel of another novel. Most often these are made up, but every once in a while one turns out to be a published novel. Such was the case with Swedish author Hjalmar Söderberg mentioned several times by Fredrik Backman in My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry. Söderberg’s short novel, Doctor Glas turned out to be a very popular novel by an acclaimed author. According to the blurb on the paper show more back version, Söderberg lived from 1869 to 1941, He is considered one of the greatest writers in the Swedish language. Doctor Glas, his third novel, was first published in 1905.
The novel has the expected Spartan language, along with a healthy amount of introspection, topped off with some serious angst. Doctor Glas is a young physician in Stockholm. One of his patients is a local parish priest, Gregorious, who is about 20 years older than his lovely young wife, Helga. She comes to Glas for a solution to her unhappy marriage. The doctor falls seriously in love with Helga. Meanwhile, a number of women come to the surgery for help with an abortion, which is illegal in Sweden at the time. He refuses each time, despite some pretty desperate pleas for help. When a couple of feeble attempts at freeing Helga, Glas begins to toy with the idea of “rescuing” Helga by murdering her ageing husband.
In this passage, Glas agonizes in his journal over failed love. He writes, “No, I don’t understand it. Why must it be? Why does it always have to be like this? Why does love have to be faerie gold that on the next day turns into withered leaves, or dirt, or gruel? From the human longing for love a whole branch of culture has sprung up – everything, indeed, that does not immediately pertain to quieting hunger of vanquishing enemies. Our sense of beauty has no other source. All art, all poetry all music has drunk from it. The tawdriest modern history painting no less than a Rafael Madonna and Steinlen’s little worker women, Dödens ängel no less than the “Song of Solomon” and the Buch der Lieder, church chorales and Vienna Waltzes, indeed every piece of ornamental plaster in this modest house where I live, every design on the wallpaper, the shape of the porcelain vase over there and the pattern on my cravat – everything that would decorate and embellish, whether it succeeds or fails, derives from it, though sometimes remotely and circuitously. And this notion is no nocturnal whimsy of mine, but has been demonstrated a hundred times. // But the true name of that source is not love, but the dream of love” (17-18).
Another example of his introspection is his musing on happiness. Glas writes, “And I often wonder what sort of environment I’d choose for myself if I’d never read a book and never seen a work of art – maybe then it’d never even occur to me to choose at all; maybe the archipelago with its little hillocks would be good enough for me. Most likely all my dreams and thoughts about nature are founded on impressions I’ve taken from art and fiction. From art I’ve learned my longing to wander aimlessly among old Florentine flower meadows and rock upon Homer’s wine-dark sea and bend my knee at Böcklin’s Sacred Grove. Oh, what would my own poor eyes see in the world, left to their own devices, without all these hundreds and thousands of teachers and friends from among those who’ve written and thought and seen for the rest of us! In my youth I often thought: But that I might join them! But that I might be capable of joining them, those who for once could give, not just forever receive! It is so desolate to walk alone with a fruitless soul; you never know how you might manage to feel that you are something, that you have some significance, and gain a little respect for yourself. It’s most likely a great boon that the majority are so undemanding in this regard. I wasn’t, and long has it pained me, though I think the worst is over now” (53-54).
I enjoyed this clever little novel. Now all I have to do is figure out how Söderberg’s Doctor Glas fits in with Backman. 5 stars
--Jim, 3/27/16 show less
The novel has the expected Spartan language, along with a healthy amount of introspection, topped off with some serious angst. Doctor Glas is a young physician in Stockholm. One of his patients is a local parish priest, Gregorious, who is about 20 years older than his lovely young wife, Helga. She comes to Glas for a solution to her unhappy marriage. The doctor falls seriously in love with Helga. Meanwhile, a number of women come to the surgery for help with an abortion, which is illegal in Sweden at the time. He refuses each time, despite some pretty desperate pleas for help. When a couple of feeble attempts at freeing Helga, Glas begins to toy with the idea of “rescuing” Helga by murdering her ageing husband.
In this passage, Glas agonizes in his journal over failed love. He writes, “No, I don’t understand it. Why must it be? Why does it always have to be like this? Why does love have to be faerie gold that on the next day turns into withered leaves, or dirt, or gruel? From the human longing for love a whole branch of culture has sprung up – everything, indeed, that does not immediately pertain to quieting hunger of vanquishing enemies. Our sense of beauty has no other source. All art, all poetry all music has drunk from it. The tawdriest modern history painting no less than a Rafael Madonna and Steinlen’s little worker women, Dödens ängel no less than the “Song of Solomon” and the Buch der Lieder, church chorales and Vienna Waltzes, indeed every piece of ornamental plaster in this modest house where I live, every design on the wallpaper, the shape of the porcelain vase over there and the pattern on my cravat – everything that would decorate and embellish, whether it succeeds or fails, derives from it, though sometimes remotely and circuitously. And this notion is no nocturnal whimsy of mine, but has been demonstrated a hundred times. // But the true name of that source is not love, but the dream of love” (17-18).
Another example of his introspection is his musing on happiness. Glas writes, “And I often wonder what sort of environment I’d choose for myself if I’d never read a book and never seen a work of art – maybe then it’d never even occur to me to choose at all; maybe the archipelago with its little hillocks would be good enough for me. Most likely all my dreams and thoughts about nature are founded on impressions I’ve taken from art and fiction. From art I’ve learned my longing to wander aimlessly among old Florentine flower meadows and rock upon Homer’s wine-dark sea and bend my knee at Böcklin’s Sacred Grove. Oh, what would my own poor eyes see in the world, left to their own devices, without all these hundreds and thousands of teachers and friends from among those who’ve written and thought and seen for the rest of us! In my youth I often thought: But that I might join them! But that I might be capable of joining them, those who for once could give, not just forever receive! It is so desolate to walk alone with a fruitless soul; you never know how you might manage to feel that you are something, that you have some significance, and gain a little respect for yourself. It’s most likely a great boon that the majority are so undemanding in this regard. I wasn’t, and long has it pained me, though I think the worst is over now” (53-54).
I enjoyed this clever little novel. Now all I have to do is figure out how Söderberg’s Doctor Glas fits in with Backman. 5 stars
--Jim, 3/27/16 show less
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