After the cemetery gate was locked, I should have gone straight home, but I felt an instinctive dread of my dark and empty room rom one place to another. A policeman walked up and down a little way off. Otherwise, not a person could be seen, and the entire harbor was silent.

For a few moments I didn't have a single sad thought, I forgot my troubles and felt peaceful looking at the harbor that lay serene and lovely in the dusk. I had the habit of cheering myself up by reading through the article I had just written, which always seemed to my afflicted brain the very best piece I had done. I pulled my manuscript out of my pocket, held it close up to my eyes, and read through one page after the other. Finally I grew tired and put the papers in my pocket. Everything was still; the sea stretched away like bluish mother-of-pearl, and small birds flew silently past me, going from one place to another. A policeman walked up and down a little way off. Otherwise, not a person could be seen, and the entire harbor was silent.

I counted up my money once more: one half a pocketknife, one key chain, but not an øre. Suddenly I reached into my pocket and pulled the papers up once more. It was an automatic thing to do, an unconscious reflex. I found a white page among them, not written on, and — God knows where I got the idea — I folded it into a cone and closed it carefully so that it looked as though it was full, and then threw it as far as I could out in the front of me. The wind carried it a little farther, then it lay there quietly.

Hunger was beginning to attack me now. I sat staring at the white paper cornucopia, which looked as though swollen by shiny silver coins, and I egged myself on to believe that I really did contain something. I sat there inviting myself in a normal voice to guess how much was in it — if I guessed right, the money was mine! I imagines the small exquisite ten-øre coins at the bottom and the fat, fluted krone pieces on top — a whole paper cone full of money! I sat gazing at it with huge eyes and urged myself to go and steal it.

Then I heard the policeman cough — and why did it suddenly occur to me to do the same? I stood up and coughed, repeating the cough three times so he would be sure to hear it. Now, won't he jump for that paper cone when he comes near? I sat rejoicing over this joke, I rubbed my hands in ecstasy and swore magnificently. His nose will stretch when he sees that! After this trick, he'll want to sink into the hottest puddle in hell! I had become intoxicated with starvation, my hunger had made me drunk.

Hunger was recommended to me by a visitor to my site. I found this book highly unusual and the author's voice fascinating. It amazed me how the character would give his money away as soon as he got his hands on some. I also thought it was interesting that we never find out the main character's name. Even though the underlying scenarios are far from funny, this novel was often hilarious. It was also very thought provoking. Thank you so much for the recommendation, Jay!