Silja Aldudóttir’s debut novel, ”Odjur” (Monster), illustrated by Bárður Dal Christiansen and translated by Anna Fohlin Mattsson, presents a promising premise that unfortunately fails to deliver on its initial potential. Set in the Faroese capital of Tórshavn, the story opens with a series of unsettling events: overflowing sewers, rats infesting the streets, and unexplained earthquakes. These occurrences hint at a lurking menace beneath the city, a massive, hungry creature waiting to be unleashed. Simultaneously, we are introduced to Asta, a solitary, bullied 13-year-old harboring a deep well of inner anger. The stage is set for a thrilling encounter between a troubled individual and a monstrous external force.
The initial intrigue, however, quickly dissipates as the narrative progresses. Asta, lacking companionship, has created a sanctuary in a hidden treehouse within the city park. This secret haven is disrupted by the arrival of Lóa, a girl Asta’s age, and a tentative friendship blossoms. Aldudóttir adeptly portrays the nuances of their burgeoning relationship, particularly the anxiety Asta experiences when Lóa brings another girl to the treehouse without permission. This incident serves as a catalyst for Asta’s subsequent encounter with the monster lurking in the sewers. This encounter should have been the turning point, propelling the narrative forward with heightened tension and excitement. Instead, the story veers in an unexpected and ultimately underwhelming direction.
Rather than reacting with fear upon discovering the gigantic serpent-like creature, Asta displays an almost unnatural bravery and immediately seeks to connect with the monster. This inexplicable shift in Asta’s character undermines the potential for genuine suspense and transforms her into a stereotypical, fearless protagonist. The creature itself, whose origins and nature remain largely unexplained, never truly becomes a formidable threat. Instead, it quickly evolves into a colossal, wounded pet, affectionately nicknamed “Lillen” (Little One) by Asta. Their bond, formed within the murky depths of the sewers, deflates any remaining sense of danger, and the narrative focus shifts from confronting a monster to rescuing a misunderstood creature.
The inherent tension in the story, despite the illustrator’s attempts to imbue the monster with a sense of menace, is completely dissipated. The plot now revolves around saving the creature from the city’s plan to unearth a buried river, which would destroy its habitat. The question becomes whether the young protagonists can succeed in their rescue mission. This shift in focus feels jarring and ultimately unsatisfying.
Aldudóttir’s narrative suffers from a lack of clear direction. The various threads of the story – Asta’s internal struggles, the dynamics of her friendships, and the looming threat of the monster – never fully coalesce into a cohesive whole. Potentially compelling conflicts, such as the tensions between Asta and her schoolmates or the complexities of her newfound friendships, are left undeveloped. The monster, which held the promise of being a truly terrifying antagonist, is reduced to a sympathetic, oversized pet.
The novel’s fragmented narrative and underdeveloped themes suggest a need for more rigorous editing. The initial promise of a thrilling encounter between a troubled girl and a monstrous force is ultimately squandered, leaving the reader with a sense of unfulfilled potential. The story meanders and loses its way, failing to capitalize on the intriguing setup and ultimately delivering a rather tame and predictable conclusion. The intriguing premise of a monster lurking beneath the city becomes a backdrop for a rather simplistic tale of friendship and animal rescue.
The lack of exploration regarding the monster’s origins or nature further contributes to the narrative’s shortcomings. The opportunity to delve into the mythology and folklore surrounding such creatures is missed, leaving the monster feeling more like a plot device than a fully realized entity. The potential for a deeper, more symbolic interpretation of the monster and its connection to Asta’s inner turmoil is also left unexplored. The result is a story that feels both rushed and underdeveloped, lacking the depth and complexity that the initial premise promised. A tighter focus on either the psychological aspects of Asta’s character or the monstrous threat lurking beneath the city could have significantly improved the narrative’s impact.
Ultimately, “Odjur” feels like a missed opportunity. The intriguing premise and the initial portrayal of Asta’s internal struggles hinted at a much more compelling narrative. However, the author’s inability to fully commit to a particular direction, coupled with the underwhelming depiction of the monster, results in a story that falls short of its potential. A more focused narrative, exploring either the psychological depths of the protagonist or the monstrous threat with greater depth and complexity, could have transformed “Odjur” into a truly captivating and memorable read. As it stands, the novel feels like a collection of intriguing ideas that never quite coalesce into a satisfying whole.
