<span>L</span><span>ast year, anglophone readers </span><span>were able to </span><span>engross themselves in the translation of the sixth </span><span>and final book in Karl Ove Knausgaard's magisterial </span><span><em>My Struggle</em></span><span> series. </span><span>At more than </span><span>1,000 pages, and combining up-close-and-</span><span>personal depictions of individual angst and family drama with a 400-page essay on Adolf Hitler, </span><span><em>The End</em></span><span> was weighty in </span><span>every sense of the word. </span> <span>While waiting for</span><span> the English translation, aficionados </span><span>of the Norwegian</span><span> writer could turn to his </span><span><em>Seasons</em></span><span> quartet to tide them over</span><span>, a worthy yet patchy project </span><span>in which the author mus</span><span>es on the "wonders of life".</span><span> Those include both the</span><span> sublime (subjects such as the sun, intelligence</span><span> and van Gogh) </span><span>and the ridiculous (manholes, lawn sprinklers</span><span> and toilet bowls).</span> <span>Knausgaard</span><span> shows no sign of running out of steam, either. </span><span><em>So Much Longing in So Little Space: The Art of Edvard Munch</em></span><span> is </span><span>his take on the life </span><span>and work of </span><span>his compatriot</span><span> painter. Deftly translated into English by Ingvild Burkey, and including colour reproductions of Munch's paintings, the book comprises Knausgaard's views on the artist's work, </span><span>an examination of the creative process, and </span><span>reflections on how art imitates life. </span> <span>It starts with a painting and a puzzle</span><span>, as Knausgaard </span><span>examines a simple, almost featureless </span><span>work by Munch from 1915</span><span>, </span><span><em>Cabbage Field</em></span><span>, and tries to put </span><span>his finger on how it manages to achieve its magical effect. </span><span>"I feel as if something is bursting within me. And yet it is just a field of cabbages</span><span>," he says.</span> <span>After </span><span>stating that </span><span>the painting fills us with emptiness and conveys a sense of yearning – "a longing to disappear and become one with the world" – Knausgaard </span><span>gives us a portrait of this versatile artist</span><span> – "a painter of the inner life, of dream, death"</span><span> – and </span><span>identifies </span><span>the pivotal events and </span><span>character traits</span><span> that </span><span>may have informed </span><span>the artist's work. </span><span>Munch was still young when </span><span>his mother and older sister </span><span>died, and the artist had a fear of intimacy with women. Knausgaard sifts through Munch's vulnerabilities and idiosyncrasies, analysing them against his artistic output, before searching for significance in the motifs </span><span>the artist recycled throughout his career. </span> <span>For example, Munch</span><span> portrayed his younger brother, Andreas, in two works that elicit</span><span> varying responses: in </span><span>the picture made in 1882, when Munch was 19, Knausgaard sees the work of </span><span>an inexperienced painter </span><span>trying to find his way; in</span><span> </span><span>the other, </span><span>completed 53 years later, Knausgaard draws our attention to a pronounced shadow across the boy's eyes</span><span>. The author claims</span><span> that "marked him with death".</span> <span>More of this fusion of art, biography </span><span>and art evaluation would have been welcome in the book. </span><span>But after 50 pages, Knausgaard turns the spotlight </span><span>on himself. From here</span><span> </span><span>the book begins to live up to its classification of "memoir/art". Fuelled by coffee and cigarettes, Knausgaard sits writing at his desk </span><span>amid plunging temperatures and speaks directly to his reader. From this position, he shares his </span><span>thoughts and accounts of the research trips </span><span>under</span><span>taken</span><span> to get closer to Munch's artistic practice.</span> <span>Knausgaard describes </span><span>his first impressions of</span><span> Munch's paintings, often making intriguing cross-cultural comparisons. He has conversations with contemporary artists and photographers, both in Norway and beyond. He visits the farm where Munch was born and the landscapes that inspired him</span><span>, </span><span>buys a Munch painting at auction</span><span> and</span><span>, in an equally unprecedented move, agrees to co-curate a</span><span>n exhibition of the artist's work. Knausgaard rises to this challenge and sets about selecting paintings</span><span> for the show</span><span>, stipulating that they must be less familiar pieces. As a result, Munch's</span><span> famous masterpiece </span><span><em>The Scream</em></span><span> doesn't get a look-in.</span> <span>Knausgaard's picture-by-picture discussions with experts are as refreshing as they are enlightening</span><span>, as they focus</span><span> on little</span><span>-known and seldom</span><span>-seen paintings from the three main stages of the artist's oeuvre. Frustratingly, some of th</span><span>e paintings under scrutiny are absent from the </span><span>images shown in the book. Either we have to seek out the works elsewhere or are left to take Knausgaard's </span><span>appraisals on trust.</span> <span>On the occasions when we are able to view a picture and then see it through Knausgaard's eyes</span><span>, such as the mesmerising </span><span><em>Inger Munch in Black</em></span><span>, one of the author's favourite</span><span> </span><span>works, we find his critiques perceptive and his arguments persuasive. What could have been a blandly conventional art history guide is instead an exhilarating, free-flowing jumble of sharp dialogues, shrewd observations, searching meditations and also sound judgments.</span> <span>Knausgaard is </span><span>also not afraid to ask </span><span>the big questions</span><span>, such as: what does this painting want of us? What makes a </span><span>work "good"? And why is Munch's art still relevant</span><span>?</span> <span>Knausgaard </span><span>comes to the conclusion that Munch's gift</span><span>s "lay in his ability to paint not only what his gaze took in, but also what that gaze was charged with". Knausgaard's own gifts – such as his roving eye, inquiring mind and original thoughts – </span><span>are on full display here, too.</span>