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210 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1963
The ice construction rises above them, enigmatic, powerful, its pinnacles disappearing into the darkness and the winter cloud drift. It seems prepared to stand eternally鈥� There is something secret here. They bring out what sorrows they may have and transfer them to this midnight play of light and suspicion of death鈥� The men are lost in the game at the ice palace. They seem possessed, searching feverishly for something precious that has come to grief, yet involved themselves. They are tired, grave men, giving themselves over as sacrifices to an enchantment, saying: It is here. They stand at the foot of the ice walls with tense faces, ready to break into a song of mourning before the closed, compelling palace.
鈥淚 promise to think about no one but you. To think about everything I know about you. To think about you at home and at school and on the way to school. To think about you all day long, and if I wake up at night.鈥�
No one can witness the fall of the ice palace. It takes place at night, after all the children are in bed.
As we stand the snow falls thicker.
Your sleeve turns white.
My sleeve turns white.
They move between us like
snow-covered bridges.
After a while Siss began to feel Unn鈥檚 eyes on her in class. Unn sat a couple of desks behind her, so she had plenty of opportunity. Siss felt it as a peculiar tingling in her body. She liked it so much she scarcely bothered to hide it. She pretended not to notice but felt herself to be enmeshed in something strange and pleasant. These were not searching or envious eyes; there was desire in them 鈥� when she was quick enough to meet them. There was expectancy. Unn pretended indifference as soon as they were out of doors and made no approach. But from time to time Siss would notice the sweet tingling in her body: Unn is sitting looking at me.Ich wei脽 nicht, wie diese Anziehungskraft zwischen den M盲dchen in den 60er-Jahren rezipiert wurde (oder was Vesaas Intentionen waren), aber aus heutiger Sicht ist sie bemerkenswert, diese Mischung aus Neugier, Bewunderung und Erotik, die sich auf Unn konzentriert. Siss hat (noch) kein Vokabular f眉r diese neuen Dinge, die sie da f眉hlt. Sie wei脽 nur, dass sie Unn unbedingt treffen muss. Vesaas schafft es, diese Intensit盲t und Dringlichkeit, die die Pubert盲t vieler zeichnen, einzufangen. Es wurde auch an mich herangetragen, dass Das Eisschloss in Norwegen mittlerweile als queerer Klassiker gefeiert wird 鈥� das wundert mich nicht.
She saw to it that she almost never met those eyes. She did not yet dare to do so 鈥� only in a few swift snatches when she forgot.
But what does Unn want?
Some day she'll tell me.
Peter Owen (1927鈥�2016) started his company, aged twenty-four, six years after the Second World War.And the book that Peter Owen regarded as the crown jewel of that highly distinguished roster? The Ice Palace: the English translation, in 1993, by Elizabeth Rokkan of the Norwegian writer Tarjei Vesaas 1963 novel Is-slottet.
He ran the business from home, with a typewriter as his only equipment. Soon, however, the company started to flourish, enabling him to employ some staff 鈥� his first editor was Muriel Spark. He was able to bring some of the very best international literature to what was a very insular British market.
In the decades since then, although the industry has changed beyond recognition, Peter Owen Publishers continues the tradition of producing new and interesting writing. The company has published seven Nobel Prize winners, including Hermann Hesse, Octavio Paz and Isaac Bashevis Singer, and boasts a backlist that includes some of the most talented and important writers from all over the world.
Peter Owen sadly died in May 2016, but his legacy lives on in the publishing house that carries his name and his commitment to publishing talented and exciting writers.