Torborg Nedreaas’s controversial, 1940s novel is riddled with contradictions and ambiguities – it’s no wonder it’s sparked a series of furious debates. Considered culturally and socially significant, it’s a Norwegian classic: decades after it was written, it resurfaced during Norwegian women’s struggle for reproductive rights particularly access to safe, legal abortion. But, despite that, I’m not convinced women are Nedreaas’s primary concern here. Their experiences are inextricably entangled with a broader investment in exposing the harsh conditions of Norway’s working-class.

After a nail-biting, noir-ish beginning this morphs into an unusual frame narrative – a story about a story about a story. In a Norwegian city, a troubled man’s searching for someone he once met, a woman who spent a single night at his apartment before vanishing. The bulk of Nedreaas’s novel is taken up with what happened that night, it’s centred on a seduction but not the one you’d expect. Instead, the brief interaction between this man and this nameless woman resembles scenes from a confessional. The woman’s desperate to unburden, to talk about her past, to have the man acknowledge her every trauma and shameful secret.

At fifteen, not long after WW1, the woman fell for Johannes an older teacher, the start of an on-off relationship that shaped her existence for almost twenty years. Their affair made her an outcast in her rural, mining community. Over the course of time the woman’s father died from a disease caused by working down the mines and her remaining family was plunged into poverty. The woman struggled to simply survive, nearly dying from the aftereffects of a backstreet abortion and later a pregnancy self-terminated with knitting needles – for a piece from the 1940s Nedreaas’s recreations of these incidents are exceptionally explicit.

But, although power’s key here – who has it, who hasn’t - this isn’t a conventional Hardyesque portrait of a working-class girl succumbing to fate and voracious men. Nedreaas’s anonymous woman is no Tess, she has a degree of agency and her own intense, sexual desires. She’s undone, not purely by individuals, but by systems and institutions; a mere cog in the machinery of a relentlessly unequal, capitalist society. Its hypocrisy, its destructive values reinforced by the established church with its insistence on the primacy of marriage, the nuclear family and the domestication of women. All of which is then mirrored in the beliefs and negative reactions of her community.

Nevertheless, there’s a sense that Nedreass, a lifelong communist, is asking us to judge the woman’s choices. Her framing of the woman’s obsessive love for Johannes reads like an object lesson in false consciousness, a delusion that both masks and denies wider political realities. This is reinforced through the woman’s friendship with former political agitator Morck. He’s a washed-up musician who sometimes reads like a stand-in for the author – Nedreaas trained as a classical pianist. Morck’s growing despair seems to echo Nedreaas’s personal frustrations about the “failure” of large swathes of Norway’s working-class to embrace radical alternatives – it seems telling the narrative’s most identifiable historical reference is to the Russian Revolution. Nedreaas’s structuring of her material highlights issues around representation, what stories are told and who gets to tell them. Yet, I found Nedreaas’s take on the working-class oddly distancing and distanced, bourgeois even - I frequently felt Nedreaas’s characters were little more than vehicles promoting a particular political standpoint.

These impressions were reinforced by Nedreass’s take on pregnancy and abortion. Literary critics have noted that it sometimes coincides with a contemporary pro-choice stance but can also verge on pro-natalist - there’s an ongoing emphasis on the sentience of the unborn. Moreover, these foetuses are always assumed to be boys – their loss that much more tragic because of their future potential as workers? The woman at the heart of Nedreaas’s novel grieves after each termination, yearning for children but keenly aware of the condemnation “invited” by being an unmarried mother. However, I don’t think Nedreaas’s portrayal of the woman’s actions and “maternal” dilemmas is randomly inconsistent. Her stance roughly aligns with the position held by the Norwegian Communist Party (NKP) – she was a member when she wrote this. The NKP supported the decriminalisation of abortion in favour of improving the economic and social status of working-class women, as well as combatting discrimination against “unwed” mothers. Nedreaas also appears to be restating aspects of Bolshevik policies in the Soviet Union during the 1920s - women had access to abortion but motherhood was framed as their highest calling; to be strongly encouraged and enabled.

I had very mixed reactions to this. As a snapshot of a time and place, and as a cultural and historical document, it’s undeniably fascinating. But as a novel it’s wildly uneven. It’s very visual, lyrical images of nature form a commentary on the restrictions and rigid, oppressive conservatism of Norwegian society. Nedreaas’s structure falls somewhere between theatrical two-hander and prolonged monologue – which could be a bit wearing. It also undermined the notion that we’re eavesdropping on a spontaneous outpouring, underlining its artificiality. At times the woman functions like a kind of working-class everywoman striving to ensure that the interplay between capitalism and gender isn’t consigned to the margins of political debate. The tone varies between feverish and didactic, and the plot can lean towards melodrama – so much so it reminded me of nineteenth-century morality tales. Translated by Bibbi Lee.

I'm not the fastest reader but it took me a while to get through this one. I could put it down. It meandered at times, repeated itself (arguably it didn't, it was the unrealiable and emotional narrator who did that), and lacked some pace. Emotion and intrigue ran high as an enigmatic woman recounts her haunting background to a stranger. If felt like it was building to a crescendo and dramatic reveal, but for me it didn't quite hit ahigh. That's not to say it wasn't a devasting story full of passion, heartbreak, and the impossible position of women in society. No doubt in 1947, when this book was first published, it would have been more impactful than it feels now.

Essentially a story of a woman telling her life story to a stranger that takes you on a strange lucidlike dream. Thanks to NetGalley and publishers for the arc.

First published in 1947, this novel tells the heart-breaking story of a young Norwegian girl from a poor working family, whose life spirals out of control after she falls in love with a man who can never return her love in the same way. Her story offers a glimpse into the social injustices people of her class and sex had to endure. The hopelessness of her situation is very moving and society’s role in facilitating this sickening, especially as we still see parallels in today’s world. While the young woman’s story is compelling, the novel is structured in such a way that her telling of it is essentially one big monologue, which I found rather tiring. It is nonetheless a haunting, memorable, and (at times) beautiful piece of work.

I enjoyed Nothing Grows by Moonlight. Best read in little chunks so you can absorb the beautiful language.

Broadly, this is a story of a woman telling her life story to a stranger - I think it is best to leave it there and go on the journey of the book (check TWs if you need to) . Be caught in the woozy dreamlike which slowly reveals a nightmare.

I would recommend for lovers of language, literary fiction and Scandi litfic.

I feel that I didn't do justice to this, but the writing is so intense and the story so involving that I found myself skipping sections, hoping for some relief.

Worthy, yes, and I can see it's impact in 1947 would be ground-breaking, but sometime you need a little light reading, and this isn't that! Maybe a book to return to one day. 3 stars.

(With thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for an ARC of this title.)

Thank you NetGalley and the publisher for providing me an e-ARC of this book in exchange of an honest review.

Captivated by a woman on a station platform, a man approaches her and offers help. The pair end up in the mans home where, over alcohol and cigarettes, the woman recounts the tales from her very eventful life. This book was first published in 1947, and is a classic of Scandanavian feminist literature. The writing was very sluggish and dream-like, perfectly encapsulating a sharing secrets over a drunken night. The prose was told through a stream of conciousness monologue.

I was unfortunately not able to finish this book, as I find stream of conciousness difficult to read, and after several attempts this book failed to hold my attention. Not for me, but definitely a good read if you enjoy feminist literature.

The writing in this book was incredible, it captivated me from the opening few pages and kept me gripped until the end of the book. It was tragic and heavy in parts but beautifully written.
Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the chance to read this ARC.

I want to thank the author, the publisher and NetGalley for giving me access to an advanced copy of this book.

I did not finish this book. I found the writing style quite hard to read, it might have been a case of something lost in translation. However, there’s no denying that the characters and their stories did not succeed in engaging the audience.

This was an okay read. As others have said, it was very slow, and I felt it laboured in parts. The story itself was fine, and I really liked the premise, but it is difficult to fully enjoy a story when you find yourself drifting to think of other things.

"In the blue dusk of a spring evening, a man is drawn to a lonely, beautiful stranger across a station platform. She follows him home, and over one heady night of wine and cigarettes, recounts to him the devastating story of her life..."

First published in 1947, this Scandinavian novel is a feminist classic. You'll be drawn into the tale - eager to hear more of the rambling stream of consciousness told to a stranger. Nothing Grows by Moonlight tells the haunting tale of one woman's doomed obsession with her teacher when she was seventeen. He seems like a light in the dark, dull monotony of her life and family in a small town. Her mother has a dreary life and is happy with what she has. This woman wants more and takes more.

Torborg Nedreaas's Nothing Grows by Moonlight envelops readers in a narrative suffused with profound tenderness, conveyed through the intimate voice of its unnamed female protagonist. The novel begins in an almost strange, dreamlike haze—her voice drifting between confession and reflection, as if testing the waters of memory before fully immersing us in her story. ​The novel unfolds as she recounts her life's story to a stranger met at a train station, drawing readers into a poignant exploration of love, loss, and resilience. This initial uncertainty lingers until the second narrative voice—the listener at the railway station—takes over, grounding the tale in an unsettling yet compelling structure.

The protagonist's voice is marked by an unflinching honesty, laying bare her vulnerabilities and desires. Her clandestine affair is depicted with a rawness that captures the intensity of youthful passion and the subsequent anguish of unreciprocated love. ​These confessions ​are crafted with a delicate touch, allowing the narrator's tenderness to shine through even in moments of profound despair.

This ​a​lmost softness is further amplified as the protagonist confronts societal expectations and personal tragedies. Her reflections on ​h​er life are imbued with a gentle resilience, offering a nuanced critique of the societal norms that confine her. Through her introspective narrative, readers are invited to empathize deeply with her journey, experiencing the emotional landscape of a woman striving for autonomy in a restrictive world.

​T​he novel's lyrical prose enhances the narrator's tender voice, weaving a story that resonates with emotional authenticity. The exploration of themes such as forbidden love, societal judgment, and personal agency is rendered with a sensitivity that lingers long after the final page. Nothing Grows by Moonlight stands as a testament to the power of storytelling to evoke empathy and understanding, guided by the gentle yet profound voice of its central character.

First published in 1947, Nothing Grows by Moonlight by by Torborg Nedreaas is being re-released by Penguin Classics

This is the tale of a woman's soul-shattering love affair. Pretty much a monologue in its 208 pages. The publishers describe it as “an obsessive passion for her high school teacher consumes a small-town seventeen-year-old, her life spirals out of control, giving way to pregnancy, poverty and alienation.” And it is exactly that.

At its heart, this novel is a story within a story. A man wandering into a train station offers to help a solitary woman and ultimately takes her home with him. As the night unfolds, fuelled by cigarettes and schnapps, she lays bare the painful events from twenty years prior that led her to stand in that station, ready to follow a stranger for a fleeting escape and to unshackle herself from two decades of silence.

The depiction of a self-induced abortion was groundbreaking and startling at its time, leaving an indelible mark on readers. Yet today, I wonder if it resonates with the same weight—unless it serves as a clarion call against the [current] ignorant pro-life attitudes dominating the United States.

The novel’s subtle triumph lies in its exploration of political awakening and a powerful moral reckoning about responsibility and humanity. It’s a swift read, and the narrator's lyrical voice is captivating, poignantly illuminating the complexities of the female experience. I can see why it is a modern classic. Torborg Nedreaas delivers a masterclass in storytelling.

Thanks to Penguin Classics and Netgalley for the arc.

In the blue dusk of a spring evening, a man is drawn to a lonely, beautiful stranger across a station platform. She follows him home, and over one heady night of wine and cigarettes, recounts to him the devastating story of her life.
When an obsessive passion for her high school teacher consumes a small-town seventeen-year-old, her life spirals out of control, giving way to pregnancy, poverty and alienation. Here, darkness and light converge, and unrequited love blooms against the shadows of societal injustices, as she fights for autonomy: over her life, her mind and her body.

This is very depressing and probably not what I thought it would be. The story is quite slow and there was very little character depth. Not for me.

First published in 1947, I imagine it made huge waves as a social comment. Whilst the slightly creepy, mysterious way in which the protagonist relates the story is intriguing, after a while I found it a teensy bit monotonous. I was impressed by the patience of the man who found the beautiful stranger! The revealing of the life of the stranger is well-crafted, emotive in response to the obsession she had, the poverty she endured, but perhaps this would be better played out on stage.

This is an atmospheric and haunting novel of love, loss and betrayal. The novel opens with our unnamed narrator meeting an attractive and mysterious woman at a train station. Her age is indeterminable and she carries a powerful weight of emotion about her. He takes her back to his apartment and over the space of the night she tells him her tragic life story.

She embarks on a clandestine relationship with one of her teachers, Johannes. As passionate and overwhelming as her feelings are for him, this relationship quickly descends into a constant cycle of rejection and reunion. Johannes abuses his position of power and continues to play with her emotions even once he has married another. Nedreaas poignantly evokes the heartbreak of our female protagonist as she continues in this destructive coupling and yearns for Johannes - in spite of his poor treatment of her.

This book powerfully explores the themes of love, betrayal and abuse. It also examines the issues surrounding the identity of the women that do not conform (or indeed want to). Nedreaas certainly wasn’t afraid to peek under the surface of a woman’s right to make her own choices and abortion is presented in a very direct and detailed way. Although this book was first published in Norway in 1946, there is a vitality and relevance in the text that appeals to a 21st century audience. I really enjoyed this book!

This is the story of a woman who had quite an unusual life.
It is set in early twentieth century Norway.
The main character as a girl fell in love with an older man, who was a teacher.
She became involved with the teacher, but they were never really a couple.
The style is typical of the type of story that would be told in the days that this book was written (1940s).
There are lots of hints that the setting is Norway, although this is never stated.
The bulk of the story is told, whilst consuming large quantities of wine, to a man that she has met at a railway station.
Although the story is clearly dated now it reflects life as it it was in the time of the setting.
I would recommend this book to anyone who likes Scandinavian literature and can put up with things written last century.
I liked it a lot, but there was a little too much repetition for me to say that I loved it.
I received an advance review copy for free, and I am leaving this review voluntarily.

I was very intrigued by this book. I was unaware it was a re-publication prior to reading. However, it was quite clear on reading it, that it was from a different time. I found this a very unusual read and regretfully did not finish it. I may go back to it in the future. At present, it has quite triggering themes to me and I don’t want my mind there. It has probably come at the wrong time too, in that I am seeking warmth and comfort in my reads just now.

I did find the style quite clunky also and its readability was not straightforward. There wasn’t a natural flow to it nor was the story itself fully capturing my attention. Given other reviews, it is interesting hearing others thoughts.

First published in 1947, but new in translation, this novel, is somehow presented as a feminist classic of Scandinavian literature. I think that’s pushing it!

There’s not much to the story. A man meets a stranger on a railway platform and she comes home with him. Over copious amounts of alcohol and endless cigarettes, she tells him her life story, starting with a relationship with a local school teacher when she was only 17. The following morning, after he has fallen asleep she is gone.

The lifetime she recounts is quite appalling in many ways featuring unsuccessful relationships, terminations and what appear to be endless days sobbing on her bed.

There are moments when her life appears to improve but she is unable to take advantage of them, so things drift from worse to worse. When she leaves the man’s house, the reader has no idea whether she is dead or whether life goes on for better or worse.

That lack of resolution is the weakness in the novel. We cannot tell if she has changed by this Ancient Mariner need to tell her story or even if it has helped her. The man is anonymous and there’s no worthwhile interaction between them.

So, in the end, it’s just a sad story about a woman whose life is blighted, possibly by men or possibly by her own emotional breakdowns. It is not a jolly read and, perhaps a pointless one, except in highlighting how life can grind a young woman down.

Here we have a classic read, originally published in 1947 in Norway that grips its reader instantly with two key interesting characters. When our unnamed male protagonist meets a woman on a train he is fascinated by her mysterious energy and appearance. The book allows us to see these two characters interact with one another as the mysterious woman details her life telling the man of her years of pain, heartbreak and difficulties as a woman. The harrowing history of her relationships leaves us readers completely hooked and hanging on her every word but also in deep though and feeling. This is a book that will keep you feeling a lot of emotions towards the woman detailing her life and for some we may even find ourselves connecting with her in ways we wish we didn't.

I did find that my interest dipped a little midway through and felt it could have been a little shorter but aside from that this is a book I know will stay on my mind and stay with me for years to come. It's a classic read that I would recommend especially for a female audience.