Reading Scandinavian literature - Iceland and Finland - Gapes the grisly earth-girdling serpent / when strides forth Thor to slay the worm.

While concentrating on Austrian literature last year, I concluded that I needed to know the work of Henrik Ibsen and August Strindberg better.  Then I started to think of other Norwegian and Swedish books I would like to read, then on to Denmark, and on like that, until I concluded that this would be the year of Scandinavian literature.

My Austrian project was a bit more thesis-driven, while this time I am more of a blank slate.  Just reading some books.

As usual, anyone who for some reason would like to read along on a particular book should speak up.  It can probably be done.  Scandinavian books are short.  I still want to stay close to my nineteenth century home, so nothing after World War I, please, although I have some arbitrary exceptions in mind and always make an exception for good poetry.

What has caught my eye?  I will tell you.  This will be in no way comprehensive, or even comprehensive-in-translation.  How could it be?  Please peruse the offerings of Norvik Press, publishers of Runar Schildt (1888-1925), “one of Finland's finest short-story writers” and “an observer of decadence in Helsinki,” or Elin Wägner, author of the “disrespectful and witty” Penwoman (1910), “the classic novel about the Swedish women's suffrage movement,” or Arne Garborg (1851-1924), “a writer who was left rootless and in conflict with himself, always searching.”  Who on earth are these people, and what is in their books?  Some interesting things, I suspect.  Maybe some of you already know.

I will proceed geographically.

Iceland

Medieval Icelandic literature is like nothing else.  The sagas are a mix of history and fiction, public and domestic life, violent yet often quite subtle, that is unique, or that was once unique, since they have had so many popular offshoots, most prominently The Lord of the Rings.  I am surprised I do not come across book bloggers reading them more often, but I am sure the Tolkien fans have good excuses and will get to them soon.

I have not read Njál’s Saga (late 13th century), so that one is most tempting, but I urge anyone curious to try Egil’s Saga, the life of a sociopathic poet, or Grettir’s Saga (c. 1320), the sad tale of the last of the monster-killers.  What strange books.  Or of course the Saga of the Völsungs, the source for Richard Wagner’s Ring operas.

The collection of ballads known as the Poetic Edda (12th century) and Snorri Sturluson’s Prose Edda (13th) are the primary sources for the Norse myths (Snorri may well have written Egil’s Saga too).  Fans of the recent movies featuring Thor will certainly want to read these (see post subtitle).

I have always loved mythological tales and have been reading versions of these stories since I was a child.  The Norse myths do not form as rich a literature as does Greek and Roman mythology – there is nothing as sophisticated as Homer or Ovid – but I have always found the stories to be as imaginatively rich.  Their use over the last 150 years or so tells me I am not alone.

Finland

The great Finnish mythological collection is a difficult case.  The Kalevala (1849) is the result of the efforts of  Elias Lönnrot, a country doctor who like the Grimm brothers collected folk songs and stories.  Rather than publish an anthology, though, he edited his collection into a coherent poetic epic, meaning that he wrote quite a bit of it and that the book is a hybrid of original and folk material.

Then again, so is The Prose Edda; so is The Odyssey; so is Genesis.  The difference is that The Kalevala is a recent hybrid.  I read a version of it many years ago, and would probably enjoy it a lot now.  My understanding is that the old public domain translations stink.

The one old Finnish novel I have in mind is Aleksis Kivi’s Seven Brothers (1870), about irresponsible agricultural practices, or something like that.  Again, the newer translation sounds necessary.

I have been enjoying Tove Jansson’s books a lot, but I want to save comment on her.  I guess I should save Norwegian, Swedish, and Danish literature, too, until tomorrow.  I hardly got anywhere today.  What did I miss or forget?  What obscure sagas should I read?  Runar Schildt, yes or no?