The Calf

Høghaug spins a lively and unique story of a mechanical garden gnome in Norway who’s forced to relive traumatic events that took place at the mystical Mare Cooter Canyon. The gnome works in an underground office labyrinth, where he makes coffee, sharpens pencils, and shreds paper. There, he tries his best not to recall the summer night that occurred sometime in the 1980s, when a ragtag group of young boys that called themselves “the cowboys” entangled him in a nightmare involving a Noahesque figure known as the Prophet for his preparations for a flood and a “watersogg’d” alien named the Calf. The memory of this event, which also involved a shotgun and a wad of cash stuffed in the gnome’s shoe, is told in scattered sections shrouded in mystery, as the narrator provides an unreliable and confused account of what happened. Added to the challenge for the reader is translator Smith’s decision to convey Høghaug’s rural Norwegian dialect as Southern vernacular (“He tripp’d an’ he said Sheeit an’ he took a noshun to lay there a spell just a-kickin an’ complainin”). It’s a bold choice in keeping with Høghaug’s own modernist aspirations, as the Joycean monologue regularly branches off into wandering tangents and anecdotes. Those willing to go the distance will find plenty of humor, intrigue, and literary ambition on offer here. (Oct.)