Brand . You are in the strangeness of Norway—and then there are people saying things that might be said anywhere. But with something going in and out of the words all the time. Ibsen’s genius. You can’t understand it or see where it is. Each sentence looks so ordinary, making you wonder what it is all about. But taking you somewhere, to stay, forgetting everything, until it is finished. An hour ago Ibsen was just a name people said in a particular way, a difficult wonderful mystery, and improper . Why do people say he is improper? He is exactly like everyone else, thinking and worrying about the same things. But putting them down in a background that is more real than people or thoughts. The life in the background is in the people. He does not know this. Why did he write it? A book by a genius is alive. That is why “Ibsen” is superior to novels; because it is not quite about the people or the thoughts. There is something else; a sort of lively freshness all over even the saddest parts, preventing your feeling sorry for the people. Everyone ought to know. It ought to be on the omnibuses and in the menu. All these people fussing about not knowing of Ibsen’s Brand. A volume, bound in a cover. Alive. Precious. What is Genius? Something that can take you into Norway in an A.B.C.
Se adentró en Oxford Street. Había un cielo inmenso, fresco y bañado en luz dorada en algún lugar detrás de la penumbra. ¿Por qué se sentaba Ibsen en Noruega a escribir obras de teatro? ¿Por qué la gente decía Ibsen como si fuera la respuesta a algo? Caminar por Oxford Street con un volumen leído de Ibsen apretado contra el pecho es caminar con algo precioso entre dos cubiertas que te hace saber que eres rica y libre. … Siguió vagando, una y otra vez, en una expansión de todo lo que pasaba por su mente, hacia afuera y más afuera, hacia un centro en