On the Calculation of Volume (I) by Solvej Balle
- 4 days ago
- 3 min read
There are a hundred ways to choose a book. Reviews, recommendations, or maybe you just like the picture on the cover. I've been known to seek out books after spotting other people reading them on the subway.
But this is the first time I've picked up a book because its plot is centered on my birthday.
In Book One of On the Calculation of Volume by Danish novelist Solvej Balle, antiquarian bookseller Tara Selter has somehow become trapped living the same day on an endless loop (think "Groundhog Day" without the comedy). This day is November 18, which happens to be my birthday. It seemed almost mandatory that I should read this book.
Nothing out of the ordinary occurs on Tara's first November 18. She's on a business trip in Paris, where she buys some rare books and visits friends. The next morning, she's puzzled that the newspapers in the hotel lobby are a day old. She grows more confused when another hotel guest drops a piece of bread on the floor at breakfast, in the same spot as he did the day before. Tara returns home to her husband in the French countryside thinking she must have been dreaming, hallucinating or had some kind of memory lapse, only to find that the next day is also November 18. And the next day. And so on.
This sounds like science fiction, though it doesn't fit neatly into that genre. Tara's predicament becomes surprisingly relatable as she recounts in minute detail how she gets through her endless day. At first, she tells her husband everything and is relieved when he believes her. They try to find an explanation. Parallel universes? Multiple worlds? Labyrinths in time? But the next day, he awakens to a fresh November 18 with no memory that Tara is reliving this day again.
The book becomes a meditation on how someone copes with the loneliness and inexorable boredom of chronological stasis. A different type of person might see the opportunity for mischief; the stock-market manipulation possibilities, for example, seem endless. But Tara retreats into herself as she can no longer bear trying to live a normal life when time is completely out of whack. She secretly trails her husband around town, just to feel close to him. She takes up solo hobbies, from bread baking to stargazing. Above all, she becomes hyperaware of nature, memorizing the exact moment when the raindrops will hit the windowpane and the precise sequence of nocturnal noises that will lull her to sleep.
I didn't know much about this book before I read it, and only afterward did I learn that it is the first in a planned seven-book series — yes, seven books — all of which follow Tara as she tries to break through to November 19. According to a New York Times profile of the author (which I only skimmed to avoid spoilers), the series has developed a cult following among readers who find it a deep and philosophical exploration of time and self.
I can see why this concept has struck a chord. We are all trying to make the most of our time, but what if time simply stops moving? Because Tara does not appear to be immortal in her strange new universe, she too must choose how to use her time in ways that are meaningful. Otherwise, there is no point to staying alive.
Balle's writing is beautiful, and I give a lot of credit to the translator, Barbara J. Haveland, for the lean and controlled language. I found myself quickly turning the pages even though very little actually happens in the book. At the same time, I never got a clear picture of Tara, whether it was her age, appearance or other details that would have rounded out her character.
Would I read more of this series? It's hard to see how the author can keep this up for seven installments. But I can't stop thinking about it and am eager to find out whether Tara can ever get time to budge. I also want to know why Balle selected my birthday as her forever day.
I was just at the bookstore and was excited to see they had Book Two in stock. So yes, I think I will be spending more November 18s with Tara.
