Three in Norway, by Two of Them — Edition Insights

The Epigraph as a Promise

The Carlyle quotation—'Fact is eternal; all fiction is very transitory in comparison'—serves as a compact with the reader. The authors claim to report only what they 'have themselves gone through, and known.' Yet the excerpts show they are not above embellishing for comic effect. For instance, the description of baking a 'boss pie' includes precise measurements (12 inches across, containing 'nearly a hind quarter of venison') but also a moonlit, almost theatrical scene of 'three figures bending o'er the simmering treasure.' The epigraph thus becomes a playful benchmark: the reader is invited to judge how faithfully the authors adhere to their stated ideal.

Camp Life and Culinary Obsession

A striking feature of the middle excerpts is the detailed attention to food preparation. The 'boss pie' episode in Memurudalen is described with the gravity of a major expedition: the baking tin size, the ingredients, the oven temperature ('seven times hotter than before'), and the ritual of gazing at the pie before baking. This culinary focus recurs, as when the authors list local berries—'klarkling,' 'blau bær,' 'skin tukt,' 'mölte bær'—with the enthusiasm of naturalists. Such passages ground the narrative in tangible, sensory experience, making the camp life vivid and relatable.

The Unseen Third and Narrative Voice

The title promises 'Three in Norway, by Two of Them,' yet the excerpts never name the third companion directly. He is referred to only as 'the Skipper' or 'John' (the latter possibly a servant or local guide). This deliberate anonymity creates a running puzzle: who is the third? The narrators, 'Esau' and another, maintain a collective 'we' that sometimes excludes the Skipper. For example, when 'Esau and John' bake while the Skipper is away, the group dynamic is subtly delineated. This narrative choice keeps the reader attentive to pronouns and roles, adding a layer of mystery to the travelogue.

Landscape as a Character

The excerpts repeatedly personify the Norwegian landscape, especially Lake Gjendin, which is described as lying 'in a trench' where wind 'draws straight up or down the length.' The mountains are 'so high and steep' that the lake becomes a dangerous funnel. This treatment gives the setting an active, almost menacing presence. The authors also note that 'all the Norwegians we have seen say it is the height of madness to go on Gjendin at all in such boats,' lending local authority to their descriptions. The landscape is not a passive backdrop but a force that shapes the travelers' actions and moods.

Readers approaching this book for the first time should pay attention to the interplay between the authors' declared commitment to fact and their evident love of a good story. The unnamed third companion, the meticulous food chronicles, and the animated landscape all reward close reading. The excerpts suggest a work that balances outdoor adventure with domestic comedy, and that finds as much drama in a pie crust as in a rapid.

Reading about their clumsy campfires and careful bird notes, I remembered a gray afternoon at my grandfather's cabin, where I found a battered copy of The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 18 — Themes and Context and felt the same quiet ache—how making a home out of scant materials, whether on a fjord or in a tent, steals up on you like dusk. That old volume carried similar weather.