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Karl Ove Knausgård, the acclaimed Norwegian author of the provocative "My Struggle" series, joins novelist Eliza Clark to discuss his latest novel "The School of Night" - a dark exploration of artistic ambition set in 1980s London. The conversation delves into Knausgård's creative process, his fascination with morally complex characters, and the inspiration behind his latest protagonist, Christian Hadeland - a callous, empathy-lacking photographer willing to do anything for artistic fame. (31:10)
Karl Ove Knausgård is widely heralded as one of the most provocative Norwegian writers since Ibsen and described by the New York Times as simply "one of the finest writers alive." His five-part autobiographical novel sequence "My Struggle" catapulted him into the stratosphere of literary celebrity and cemented his place as an outspoken giant of contemporary literature. A long-time London resident, his latest work "The School of Night" marks his first novel set in the British capital.
Eliza Clark is the author of "Boy Parts," a critically acclaimed novel. She serves as the interviewer for this conversation, bringing her own experience as a novelist who has explored similar themes of problematic artists and photography in her work.
Knausgård discovered that writing a character without empathy creates unprecedented narrative freedom. As he explains, "if you don't care about other people, you can do what you want. You know? So that's the that's he's free, I discovered. He's free because he he's had no empathy." (03:03) This revelation opened up entirely new creative possibilities, allowing him to explore spaces typically forbidden in both literature and life. The key insight is that by channeling our own suppressed, unsocialized thoughts and impulses into fictional characters, writers can access authentic emotional truths while maintaining psychological safety through the buffer of fiction.
After struggling for years with perfectionism that led to discarded manuscripts, Knausgård developed a revolutionary approach: "Accept whatever comes and relate to what what's there. Don't throw it away. Don't go another way, but just just do that. Because if you do that, then something eventually will come out of it." (43:16) This method emerged from his experience writing "My Struggle," where he simply wrote "how it was" rather than trying to create literature. The practice requires trusting the process even when individual passages seem inadequate, understanding that meaning and quality emerge through sustained engagement rather than immediate perfection.
Knausgård maintains a rigid writing schedule of five hours a day, five days a week, with a goal of three pages daily. More importantly, he uses music as a gateway into each book's emotional world: "I play the same music to each novel, different music to different novel... I just take on my headphones and put on the music, and then the atmosphere and everything that has been there for months just comes back instantly." (44:52) This creates what he calls a "safe space" where he can consistently access the mental state needed for each specific work, demonstrating how external anchors can reliably trigger internal creative states.
The highest moments in writing occur during states of complete selflessness, as Knausgård learned from Ian McEwan's observation about "those moments of selflessness. You completely disappear for yourself and just you don't know you're there." (46:42) This transcendent state, achievable both in writing and reading, represents literature's fundamental purpose - providing escape from our own limitations and perspectives. Writers can cultivate this by avoiding overly constructed or analytical approaches that maintain self-awareness, instead allowing themselves to become fully absorbed in the fictional world they're creating.
Even successful artists cannot fully explain the moment when their work transitions from mediocre to exceptional. Knausgård recounts observing a friend who "all of a sudden, without any explanation, he he wrote something incredibly good... I asked him what happened. I I don't know. He don't know." (09:35) This mystery extends to the gap between an artist as a person and the quality of their art, suggesting that creative excellence involves forces beyond conscious control. Rather than being discouraged by this uncertainty, aspiring artists should focus on consistent practice and remain open to unexpected moments of breakthrough.