My Struggle is unlike any book I’ve read. Sincere and genuine, it’s surprisingly—and refreshingly—free of irony and sarcasm. A meditation on death, Book One is a reminder that everything and everyone is impermanent. But this is not just some treatise on sorrow and pointlessness, rather, Knausgaard celebrates the mundane, as that’s really all we’ve got. A neurotically detailed document, My Struggle logs all of the minutiae that make up a stray thought, a day, a life. Raw, prolix, messy, and tangential even to the point of boredom at times (intentional on the part of Knausgaard in keeping with his theme of lauding all that’s prosaic), this is a unique work, a profound examination of what all makes up a wonderfully ordinary life.