Maria Sveland’s new essay collection, ”Nu njuter Maggan” (Now Maggan Enjoys), takes its title and inspiration from the author’s mother, a woman depicted as simple, uncomplaining, and content with life’s small pleasures. This initial premise sets up an expectation of a departure from Sveland’s previous works, which often centered on her personal struggles and perceived societal injustices against women. The reader anticipates a more mature, less self-absorbed narrative, perhaps hinting at a newfound peace and acceptance within the author. However, this expectation is quickly shattered as the essays unfold.
Instead of a celebratory exploration of her mother’s quiet strength, the collection becomes another platform for Sveland’s familiar grievances. She rails against the patriarchy, which she broadly defines as anyone who doesn’t unequivocally praise her work. This includes critics who panned her previous book, ”Happy, Happy,” whom she compares to Anders Behring Breivik, the perpetrator of the 2011 Norway attacks. While acknowledging the difference in the extremity of their actions, the comparison itself reveals a dramatic overreaction to literary criticism and a tendency to perceive dissent as an attack. Furthermore, she engages in an extended, imagined confrontation with fellow writer Hanna Hellquist in a supermarket, showcasing a preoccupation with perceived slights and an inability to move beyond past disagreements.
Sveland’s critique extends to younger generations of women, specifically ”trad wives” and ”soft girls,” whom she accuses of being complicit in patriarchal structures. She criticizes their online presence, characterizing their curated images of domesticity as a form of performative femininity that reinforces traditional gender roles. Ironically, Sveland’s critique mirrors the very behaviors she condemns. Her own writing is arguably a performance of victimhood, a carefully constructed narrative of oppression that seeks validation and sympathy. Both Sveland and the women she criticizes appear to be engaged in a form of self-presentation aimed at garnering attention and affirmation, albeit within different ideological frameworks.
The collection also touches upon Sveland’s complex relationship with motherhood, attributing her struggles, at least in part, to Christianity. She interprets the biblical narrative of the Annunciation as a story of divinely sanctioned rape, further highlighting her tendency to view traditional institutions through a critical, and arguably distorted, lens. This interpretation serves to reinforce her narrative of female oppression, positioning religion as another facet of patriarchal control. This perspective, while potentially provocative, lacks nuance and historical context, reducing complex theological concepts to simplistic pronouncements that serve her pre-existing arguments.
Underlying Sveland’s various critiques is a pervasive sense of immaturity and a refusal to take personal responsibility. She consistently positions herself as a victim, blaming external forces for her unhappiness and failing to acknowledge her own agency in shaping her life. This victim mentality prevents her from embracing the freedom that feminism ostensibly offers. The very essence of feminism, as Sveland herself notes, is about empowerment and self-determination. Yet, her writing consistently undermines this principle by focusing on perceived injustices rather than exploring avenues for personal growth and change.
The irony of Sveland’s critique of ”trad wives” and ”soft girls” is that they share a common thread: a reluctance to fully embrace adulthood and its accompanying responsibilities. While these groups manifest this reluctance in different ways – through romanticized domesticity on one hand and performative victimhood on the other – both seem to seek refuge in a state of arrested development. Sveland’s constant complaining and her refusal to engage in self-reflection prevent her from achieving the very liberation she claims to champion. Ultimately, ”Nu njuter Maggan,” despite its initial promise, falls short of offering any meaningful insights or solutions. Instead, it becomes yet another installment in Sveland’s ongoing narrative of personal grievance, a testament to her unwillingness to move beyond the role of the perpetually aggrieved. The “sprittig energi” present in her writing, as noted by the reviewer, remains untapped, lost in a cycle of blame and resentment that ultimately hinders her own personal growth and undermines the feminist principles she claims to espouse.
