Knausgaard's life and my own

Started reading the eagerly anticipated My Struggle Volume 5 and as usual am drawn immediately into the life of Karl Ove Knausgaard; even the first paragraph is very amusing, a wink from KOK to the many readers who have stayed w/ him this far, paraphrasing: I lived in Bergen from XX to XX and I don't remember a thing about it. Hah! I bet. And of course from that point he goes into an exquisitely detailed recollection of his arrival in Bergen penniless (kroner-less) after some difficult travels across the continent, meeting w/ his brother, settling into his year-long sublet, lonely but exhilarated, walking the streets killing time, thinking about young woman he's fallen for based on brief encounter and many letters, worried about when and how to look her up, not to be overly eager nor too diffident, thinking about the start of his studies in the writing academy. Once again I'm completely astonished at how unique and specific these events and recollections are to KOK yet how they also strike me as completely universal, or maybe that's just true from others who had dreamed or or strived to "become a writer," (and I especially admire that he doesn't just dream of becoming a writer, doesn't in any way pose as a writer, but he actually writes - makes a point of finding the time to be alone and to concentrate on his work, even at this fledgling stage) but his experiences so exactly mirror my own, from a different generation, a different culture, a family entirely different from his - but on an experiential and emotional level I understand so much of what he has experienced. As another commentator said, and I'm sure I've quoted this before, it's like looking into someone else's diary and discovering it's your own.