On the Calculation of Volume (Book I) by Solvej Balle (2024): A Review
Author: Solvej Balle
Publication Year: 2024
Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐
Pages: 176
Source: ebook
Genre: literary fiction, philosophical fiction
Awards: Winner of the Nordic Council Literature Prize and shortlisted for the International Booker Prize
On the Calculation of Volume (Book I) by Solvej Balle is a short, peculiar little book — “little” in the same way a black hole is little. Technically compact, yes, but once you’re inside, time stretches, reality collapses, and you begin questioning your sanity.
At first, the title is terrifying. On the Calculation of Volume sounds like the sort of book that might suddenly ask you to solve for x or explain fluid dynamics. You think, “Please, God, don’t let this be about mathematics or physics.” Then you read the first parts, figure out what is actually happening, and immediately think, “You know what? Maybe mathematics would have been kinder.”
That said, I absolutely loved the premise. I am a sucker for stories that play with time. My main research area is basically chasing time and time structures through fiction with a butterfly net, so when I realized this was a time-loop story, I was thrilled (ooops spoiler). Our main character is stuck on one single day — November 18th — while everyone else remains blissfully unaware that they are all trapped in the same day for days, weeks, months, seasons, and maybe years. Isn’t that adorable? A little cosmic nightmare in a literary trench coat.
The trouble begins when the repetition becomes, well, repetitive. At some point, I felt like I was reading the same sentence over and over again, as if the narrator had personally decided to trap me in my own November 18th. I understand the point: we, the readers, are supposed to feel the main character’s dread, frustration, and claustrophobia. Very effective. Too effective, perhaps. I was ready to negotiate with time itself.
Thankfully, she eventually finds ways to live the same day differently. And if you survive the first half of the book without dramatically staring out a window and whispering, “Is this my life now?”, congratulations — you have made it to the other side.
This tiny book does not feel tiny at all, especially in terms of time. It makes you question everything: reality, philosophy, time, space, relationships, marriage, love, boredom, and possibly your own blood pressure. I went completely feral with theories. At one point, I genuinely wondered if we were dealing with a werewolf. Was there evidence? No. Was I desperate for entertainment inside this elegant literary prison? Absolutely.
Joking aside, the book is fascinating. It is strange, thoughtful, suffocating, and quietly maddening. I did enjoy it — but I also spent a good portion of it creating my own fun inside the story’s exhausting claustrophobia.
Spoiler: I liked it, but I wish it had been 100 pages instead of 176. Also, why would you end the book on a cliffhanger? Come on. I understand there are more volumes. I understand this is part of a larger project. But a cliffhanger? After all that temporal suffering? Have mercy.
Would I read the second book? Not right now. I need to recover emotionally, intellectually, and possibly physically. Also, there are seven volumes out there in the world, and I do not know if I have the cardiovascular strength to survive a sequence of literary cliffhangers.
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