Oystein

Oystein is Harry Hole’s childhood friend and an enduring presence in his life, defined here less by grand declarations than by the ease of their banter and the weight of habits they have shared for years. In a meeting beside the bunkers, he treats Harry’s injuries with teasing familiarity, reflects on their friendship and their choices, and lets a small gesture with his cigarette summon the long history between them.

Identity and Friendship

When Harry asks why they became friends, Oystein suggests that they grew up next to one another. Harry tests whether their bond amounts only to demographic chance, but the question itself gives the exchange its intimacy: their friendship is old enough to be examined, joked about, and still taken for granted. Oystein offers no grand theory of their connection; shared proximity is his plain explanation.

That familiarity shows in his first reaction to Harry’s face. Oystein is horrified by how badly Harry looks and blames the surgeon’s poor day, then jokes that Harry no longer needs a Halloween mask. He warns him not to laugh in case the damaged face opens again. Harry answers with a promise. The humor does not erase the injury; it is the form their concern takes when they are together.

The Meeting by the Bunkers

Oystein picks Harry up as he walks down the slope from a dance hall and a seamen’s school, both described as no longer serving their former purposes, toward the bunkers. The fjord and city lie hidden in fog below them, while cars move cautiously through it. In the car, Katie Mehla’s song plays from the stereo; Harry searches in vain for the off switch. The scene places their reunion in a landscape of abandoned uses and obscured views, but their conversation remains direct and familiar.

Oystein mentions that it is his birthday. Harry congratulates him and offers him a cigarette as a present. Later, Oystein parks on brown grass and opens the car doors. Harry climbs onto the bunker roof and sits at its edge with his legs dangling. Springsteen sings from the car speakers about blood brothers, a winter night, and a promise that must be kept; Oystein passes Harry a bottle of Jim Beam. A lone siren rises faintly from the city and dies away. Harry vomits after his first swallow, finds the second easier, and by the third enjoys the taste. Oystein’s birthday, the offered cigarette, the shared drink, and the music turn the meeting into a quiet ritual between friends.

Regret and Self-Understanding

Oystein says he often thinks he ought to wish that he regretted more, but does not even feel that. He believes he accepted from the beginning that he was a complete loser. His account is starkly different from Harry’s: Harry says he regrets his own choices intensely, perhaps because he thinks too highly of himself and imagines he could have chosen differently. Oystein counters that Harry could not have done otherwise. The exchange sets Harry’s self-reproach against Oystein’s resigned acceptance, without making either man’s judgment a settled explanation of their lives.

Oystein also mocks Harry’s optimism as enough to make him sick. The remark keeps the conversation from becoming a consoling speech: his loyalty does not require him to agree with Harry’s outlook or soften his own bluntness. Instead, he stays beside him through the drink, the music, and the talk of regret.

The Gesture That Holds Their History

As Oystein tilts his head and flicks ash from his cigarette, Harry feels close to tears. The motion brings back the years that made up their lives: Oystein’s leaning body and slanted head, as though the cigarette were too heavy and the world looked better from an angle. Harry remembers the same gesture in the school smoking shelter, into an empty beer bottle at a party they had crashed, and now onto the cold, raw concrete of the bunker.

The repeated gesture gives their history physical form. The places and circumstances change, but Oystein’s small movement recurs across their shared past, allowing Harry to see that past gathered into one ordinary action. When Oystein tells him he is getting old, and Harry asks why he says so, the exchange leaves their recognition of age open rather than resolving it. In this scene, Oystein’s importance rests in that continuity: he can make the years palpable without explaining them away.