De kaller meg ulven

Suveren forteller! … Zeshan Shakar beviser nok en gang at han kan håndverket når han nå avslutter trilogien som startet med suksessen "Tante Ulrikkes vei".

Zeshan Shakar overgår seg selv med "De kaller meg ulven". … Zeshan Shakar skaper et høyoppløselig og oppdatert bilde av Norge som klassesamfunn, fullt av talende detaljer. Den klassebereiste fortelleren mestrer flere språkregistre, og kodeveksler drevent etter behov. Der en forfatter som Kjartan Fløgstad prioriterer klasse over identitet i sin samfunnsforståelse, er Shakar opptatt av forbindelsen mellom disse to: Arbeidsinnvandrerne var innvandrere, men også industriarbeidere. Og morens familie er fattige arbeidsfolk fra Finnmark, med et ukjent antall kvenske grener på slektstreet. Minoriteter er ikke noe nytt her. "De kaller meg ulven" er en velvalgt tittel: Romanen sitrer av fortellerens rastløse, eksistensielt ensomme uro der han flakker rundt i drabantbykvelden og prøver å forstå mer av faren sin. Det var alltid avstand, fravær. Først fordi han måtte jobbe så mye, så fordi ekteskapet brøt sammen og han flyttet ut. Små fragmenter av språket, kulturen og religionen fra Pakistan har han klart å gi videre til sønnen, men ikke mer. I utforskningen av forholdet mellom de to blir romanen ikke bare interessant, men også dypt bevegende.

Zeshan Shakar forteller en enkel historie om to foreldre nederst på rang­stigen. Intet øye forblir tørt denne gangen heller. […] … blikket for det representative er typisk for sosiologi-utdannede Zeshan Shakar. Det har han til felles med årets nobelprisvinner i litteratur, Annie Ernaux. Begge skildrer hoved­personer som er sosiale klatrere, som forlater sin egen klasse, også geografisk og etablerer seg i middel­klasse­strøk – andre steder i byen. Shakar har en forteller­måte som er ut­preget nedpå – akkurat som Ernaux. […] Når faren finner frem "Outragious (!) Hit Collection – Biggest Hits from Top Films" fra hanske­rommet, begynner våre vante fore­stillinger om hvordan verden er skrudd sammen på å løsne. (Der har du selve meningen med litteraturen.) Det blir ikke i like stor grad bruk for de fast­tømrede fore­stillingene våre. Det blir kortere vei til tåre­gangene. Zeshan Shakar har bare skrevet tre romaner, men har allerede fått til mye. Det er noe inkluderende, ja nærmest folke­kjært, over disse bøkene. Blodet strømmer friere gjennom årene. "De kaller meg ulven" er en litterær bypass­operasjon som vil glede mange.

… en lavmælt, bevegende fortelling om oppvekst mellom to kulturer.

Med sin tredje roman viser Zeshan Shakar nok en gang hvordan "beskrivelser" – enten de tar form av språk, underforståtte fordommer, hverdagslige handlinger eller politikk – former kropper og liv. … Shakar [viser] seg igjen som en forfatter i stand til svært minneverdige og intense scener. … Og en forfatter som kan skrive scener, er det virkelig grunn til å forvente mye av. Han har timing, følsomhet for de små tingene, evne til å gjengi ulike språklige typer. … Det er en touch og et blikk i "De kaller meg ulven" som gjør leseren sikker på at dette forfatterskapet vil by på enda mye mer.

Zeshan Shakar er tilbake som nyskapende språkarbeider. Varmt og sårt portrett av en far som er i ferd med å forsvinne. … en lystbetont leseopplevelse og en følelse av at kjærlighetserklæringer kan komme i så mange ulike former, eksempelvis et nærgående språkstudium.

Bugner av ømhet og vemod. Zeshan Shakars nye roman er en sår historie om å gi alt og likevel ende tomhendt på utsida. … Boka tilfører interessante perspektiver på norsk oppvekst. Det er likevel skildringen av forholdet mellom far og sønn som er sterkest: Farens milde vesen og ivrige samtale på engelsk og gebrokkent norsk. Alt de ikke sier til hverandre. Fra sønnens siden består følelsene for faren av både frustrasjon og kjærlighet, respekt for arbeidsmoralen og skuffelse over hva faren har oppnådd. Det er en relasjon som er nydelig skrevet fram av Shakar, og rører langt inn i hjerterota.

… pakket med komplikasjoner og spenninger. […] "De kaller meg ulven" serverer mye å tygge på. Til alle.

Outstanding storyteller!

Zeshan Shakar outdoes himself with “They Call Me the Wolf”. … Shakar captures a high-definition and updated image of Norway as a class-based society, full of revealing details. The upwardly-mobile narrator masters several linguistic registers and need-driven code-switching. Whereas an author like Kjartan Fløgstad prioritizes class over identity in his social analysis, Shakar is interested in the connection between the two: migrant workers were immigrants, and also industrial laborers. And the mother’s family are poor workers from Finnmark [in Northern Norway] with an unknown number of Kven branches in their family tree. Here, minorities are nothing new. “They Call Me the Wolf” is a well-chosen title: The novel thrums with the protagonist’s restless, existentially lonely unease as he roams suburbia for an evening and tries to gain a better understanding of his father. There was always distance, absence. At first because his father had to work so much, then because his marriage fell apart and he moved out. To his son he has passed on small fragments of language, culture and religion from Pakistan, but no more. In this exploration of their relationship, the novel isn’t just interesting, but also deeply moving.

Zeshan Shakar tells a simple story about two parents on the bottom rung. Not an eye will stay dry this time either. […] his eye for the representative is typical of the sociology-educated Shakar. He has this in common with this year’s Nobel Prize winner for Literature, Annie Ernaux. Both write protagonists who are social climbers, who abandon their class, also geographically, and establish themselves in the middle class — elsewhere in town. Shakar has a narrative voice that is notably modest — just like Ernaux. […] When his father digs out “Outrageous (!) Hit Collection - Biggest Hits from Top Films” from the glove compartment, our old stories about how the world is put together begin to fall apart. (The very purpose of literature.) There is not the same level of need for our fixed perceptions. The path to tearfulness is shorter. Zeshan Shakar has only written three novels, but he has already achieved a lot. There is something inclusive, even a fondness for people, in his books. Your blood flows more freely through your veins. “They Call Me the Wolf” is a literary bypass surgery that will bring to joy many.

…an unassuming, moving story about growing up between two cultures.

With his third novel, Zeshan Shakar shows once again how “descriptors” — whether they take the form of language, ignorant prejudices, daily behavior, or politics — shape bodies and lives. […] Shakar again demonstrates he is an author capable of very memorable and intense scenes […] And a writer who writes scene, there is a lot to set expectations for. He has timing, an attentiveness to the minor details, an ability to use different forms of language […] The touch and gaze in “They Call Me the Wolf” assure the reader that this authorship has much more to offer in the future.”

Zeshan Shakar is back as an innovative wordsmith. A warm and tender portrait of a father who is on the verge of disappearing […] a reader experience with a light touch and a feeling that declarations of love can come in a multitude of forms, and through examples, a personal study of language.

Abounds with tenderness and melancholy. Zeshan Shakar’s new novel is an aching story about giving your all and still ending up on the outside, empty-handed […] The novel provides interesting perspectives on growing up in Norway. Still, it is the description of the relationship between father and son that is most powerful: The father’s mild character and eager conversing in English and limited Norwegian. Everything they don’t say to one another. As for the son, his feelings for his father comprise both frustration and love, both respect for his work ethic and disappointment over what his father has achieved. It is a relationship that is beautifully depicted by Shakar, and it touches at the very root of one’s heart.

… packed with complications and tensions. […] They Call Me the Wolf serves up a lot food for thought – for all of us.

Shakar’s portrait of a young man torn between two different cultures is written with an intensity and a presence that quivers on every page. While he portrays a specific experience that stems from a Norwegian-Pakistani identity, the emotions and themes are universal. I think all of us can identify with the feeling of wanting to fit in, of having parents from different backgrounds and of different characters that you wish to appease, while also wanting to go our own way. In his novel, Shakar brings these issues to life with delicate strokes of the brush, a great deal of subtext, in simple but beautiful language and with emotional intensity. It’s impossible not to be moved by the book, and by the end I had tears in my eyes.

In a subtle, demonstrative tone, Zeshan Shakar depicts a life in the suburbs, on the outskirts, between a father and a son, between two classes, between two (or four!) languages, between cultures and between countries. With linguistic elegance he writes a story in which the characters and situations are as large as life, described with tenderness and sadness, meaning that you can’t leave the book alone. The story of the longed-for, necessary class journey, which never arrives – because it is accompanied by a sense of grief for the distance and of bitterness for the discrimination – makes an indelible impression. They Call Me the Wolf will remain a work of reference in Nordic literature for many years to come.