On the Calculation of Volume is a seven-book series written by Danish author Solvej Balle, 5 of which have been released in Denmark and 2 of which have been currently translated to English and are available to buy at the time of writing this. I feel like this is important information to preface because it is a relatively short novel, clocking in at around 180 pages, and with the novel’s strange, experimental, offbeat nature, it’s important to understand that it is part of a larger body of work in which the sum may be more than the whole of its parts. Saying that, however, I have only read this book in front of me, Book 1 of 7, and, while I definitely will read later books in the series at some point, I can only judge a book for what is in the book, and not for potential books I have yet to read. It may be the case that I retroactively change my opinion on this in the future knowing how it all fits in.

On the Calculation… is a time loop story. On the 18th of November in some year, our protagonist and narrator Tara goes about her day as an antique bookseller, focussing on procuring some rare books in Paris. A completely normal day ensues. However, when she wakes up the next morning in her hotel room, she finds everything from her memory of that previous morning being replayed—though some of the books she procured remain in her possession, alongside a burn mark she suffered from the previous night. She goes to sleep and wakes up to the same phenomenon: everything in the world is reset to the morning of the 18th of November, save for her, her memories, and her possessions. Hundreds of days have passed like this already—we see her story reflected in the journal she has kept since the loop began—and there seems to be no way out.

It is somewhat of a classic science fiction trope, but the book carefully stays away from the trappings of conventionality. What Balle is more interested in is the philosophical questions the time loop frame can offer, and what Tara’s unique position in the world can tell us about the way we think about life, belonging, and companionship. My favourite part of the novel is Tara’s interactions with her husband, Thomas. Tara’s first solution to get out of the scenario she’s in is to explain everything to Thomas, who trusts her inherently and strives as much as he can to find explanations and solutions, scientific or otherwise. The kicker is, of course, that every night at an unspecified time the world resets to the 18th of November, and Thomas’s memories, unlike Tara’s, do not carry forward. In Thomas’s mind, Tara should be in Paris—her presence in their house necessitates an explanation, which Tara continues to deliver, morning after morning,  alongside the accumulation of knowledge she has gained after dozens of 18ths of Novembers.

Sooner or later Tara realises that this obligation to explain becomes a burden, and so she stops seeking him out, choosing to live her 18ths in a guest room in the house. In doing this, her love shifts from companionship and presence to observation and devotion, with her memorising his daily habits and shiftings around the house, knowing them better than she knows herself. In doing so, she saves him from the distress of an explanation, and allows him to live his undisturbed November day continuously. It's a beautiful encapsulation of enduring love, even in moments of unexplainable existential collapse.

Balle’s style is straightforward and uncomplicated, focussed on the everyday and the mundane. Fans of Karl Ove Knausgaard would appreciate the level of granular detail dedicated to the small things, such as household chores and everyday occurrences. And despite its sci-fi adjacent premise, the suburban, middle-class setting does not stray wildly into discussions of parallel universes or into philosophical understandings of Tara’s scenario, for why would they? Tara is a mere bookseller, not a philosophically trained author, who has just found herself in this dreaded existential purgatory, and the narration reflects this almost devastating acquiescence. 

The style both lent impact to the major themes of the book and somewhat detracted from my reading experience at the same time. For the former, the book is principally concerned with ‘possessions’ and ‘attention.’ What would we actually see in our life, if we bothered to look? If the day was repeated, what would we notice? If we don’t notice, is it the same as nonexistence? It is established clearly that what Tara brings ‘beyond the precipice’ into the next ‘day’ are things she has actively thought about and considered as her own, no matter the size. And this focus on objects serves an ecological message too—what do we ‘devour’, as humans, if we pay attention to everything we consume; if, when a day is repeated, we never get back what we used up? The writing style, focussing on small things and small actions, lends itself nicely to this central message.

For the latter, though, with the novel being 1/5th of the size of a typical Knausgaard book, you’ll quickly find out that the novel is practically over before it begins, and a lot of its space is spent on these small details. Perhaps that is intentional by Balle. Perhaps, like the story’s premise, we should re-read and drill down on the small details as much as possible. But I do wonder whether it would be better to combine some of these smaller books in a 7-book series into one longer work.

In all, though, I definitely enjoyed the book’s unique (at least for literary fiction) premise, alongside its offbeat style. At points, Tara’s desperation and existential dread is presented masterfully by Balle. I definitely want to read more in this series as it comes out, but I might wait a bit until everything is available in English.