In the summer of 2016, I was passing through Kastrup Airport in Copenhagen with my wife, on our way home after a visit with family. We stopped to browse the bookstore, and I noticed a reprint of a book by Danish author Tove Ditlevsen called Gift, which had first been published in 1971. I hadn’t read much of her work, but I knew she was a big name, so I bought it, even though the cover was strange, a psychedelic skull on a gray background.
Unbeknownst to me, that was the beginning of my long journey with Ditlevsen. World Literature Today recently published an article about that journey. You can read it here.
