Tag Archives: Icelandic

Quake by Audor Jónsdóttir 

I opened this book to judge whether I wanted to add it to my tbr pile. I finished it in 24 hours. I was drawn in by the opening, the mystery of the woman who knew nothing of her own circumstances. In addition, it was set in Reykjavik, Iceland, a place I had liked immensely when I visited. The country is famous for its seismic activity, and the novel appeared to make a reference to it in the title: Quake.

Quake

The narrator is a woman of about 30 whose name is Saga. The story begins when Saga comes round from a grand mal seizure, and she cannot work out where she is, or remember how she got there, or where her son is or why they are not together. She is in hospital in Reykjavik.

The quake of the title disrupts the narrator’s memory and understanding of her past and her identity. But it also refers to the upset of her life that immediately preceded a series of seizures. They have returned after a long absence since adolescence. 

Saga is very ill and even when she is well enough to go home, she must not be left alone, or take care of her son. She needs help. Her parents arrive, then her sister and eventually she employs the teenager and her boyfriend next door to stay with her. These two seem to be more organised than any of the other characters in the novel, including the medical staff.

When her mother goes missing Saga becomes less of the focus for the family which is when she finally realises that her life is difficult, indeed that she has to face up to some enormous changes. Her husband does not want to return to her, she finally understands the causes of her mother’s periodic disappearances, and her work must come second to her son and her recovery. Having understood all this she can begin to put things together for herself and for her family.

Her love of her son runs through the short chapters. Here is the moment he visits her in hospital. Saga has been afraid that he was lost when she fell.

He stands by the side of my bed. Laughter lights up his face, his golden locks. His baby teeth graze my cheek, little nips of love. Wasn’t he going to the doctor? […]
“Mamma is here,” I whisper as I breathe him in greedily, drag him into my arms, still uncertain whether it’s a dream or flesh and blood. It’s enough that he’s here, my Ívar, in this strange room in which he doesn’t fit. In which I shouldn’t fit. He should never find out how frightened I feel, stitched into this sterile landscape with hypodermic needles. (14)

As Saga gradually recovers, and talks with her sister and her parents, and the young couple who seem to have adopted her, she begins to see the world as it is, although she is tempted to continue to see it only as she wishes it to be. 

Instability – of the ground beneath your feet, or in your life – is unlikely to occur only once. But Saga is better equipped to deal with the dramas she will encounter by the end of the novel

Her name, Saga, is a reference to the cultural heritage of her country, and to the place of storytelling in creating identity and belonging. When she first has her seizure Saga loses both but regains them through retelling stories with her family and with her son.

Books and Iceland

Iceland is a fascinating country. It has a population of under 400,000, of whom nearly 125,000 live in the capital Reykjavik. It has only been settled since the 9th Century. Due to plate tectonic activities volcanoes and earthquakes are common, and the island country has many hydrothermal baths. It has some attractive traditions, including the Jolabokaflod, the Christmas book flood, the name given to the book-buying bonanza of the Christmas period. Books are Iceland’s most popular Christmas present.

I visited Iceland in February 2017 and I wrote about it on this Blog: Bookword in Iceland. The photographs in this post are from that visit. By the way, I never finished reading the Laxness.

I have read Burial Rights by Hannah Kent, a difficult story based on real events, about a woman awaiting execution in Iceland in 1829. I included it in a post called Why use real people in fiction?

Quake by Audor Jónsdóttir, first published in Iceland in 2015 by the dottir press. 295pp. The English version was published in 2022, translated from the Icelandic by Meg Matich. 

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And the Wind Sees All by Gudmundur Andi Thorsson

Recently I seem to have become worn down by reading long and difficult books. So it was with some pleasure that I began this short Icelandic novel from Peirene Press. I enjoyed the structure, a series of stories about people in one village, translated by Bjorg Arnadottir and Andrew Cauthery.

It’s good to subscribe to Peirene. Periodically, that is every four months, I receive a translated novella, European, attractively produced and always interesting. This novel is from the current series: Home in Exile.

And the Wind Sees All by Gudmundur Andi Thorsson

A coastal village, Valeyri, north of Reykjavik, is the focus of this novel. The question is being asked, what makes a community?

A village is not just the movement of the surf and a life of work, the clattering of a motorboat, or dogs that lie in the sunshine with their heads on their paws. It’s not only the smell of the sea, oil, guano, life and death, the fish and the funny house names. It’s also a chronicle that moves softly through the streets, preserving an elemental image of the village created piece by piece over the course of centuries. This is us, what we are like, the people of Valeyri, we here, we. (84)

I respond warmly to the idea that a community is its shared history, written down, narrated or even never told. This idea appeals to the historian in me, and helps me understand why we look into our local and our family histories and why we commemorate events.

What this short novel gives us is a succession of stories about some of Valeyri’s inhabitants. Structurally they are linked by the image of a young woman who is wearing a distinctive blue polka dot dress and who cycles to the concert she is due to conduct in the village hall, to be performed by the local choir.

She herself is from Trnava, Slovakia and the story of how she arrived in Valeyri is only revealed towards the end of the novel, connected to someone else’s story. We briefly visit other local people, musicians, former couples, the gambling priest, the rescuers, the fixers, and the people who own and run the restaurant. The stories are intertwined.

We can see that community is shared and evolving stories, held together by shared activities, shared retelling of the histories, acts of kindness and generosity, and facing together the challenges of life in the 21stcentury.

This is an affirming novel. The publisher, Meike Ziervogel tells us why she chose it:

Reading this book was like embarking on a gentle journey – with music in my ears and wind in my hair. Yes, there is some darkness in the tales, and not every character is happy. But the story is told with such empathy that I couldn’t help but smile and forgive the flaws that make us human.

You can find the post Bookword in Iceland here. I never finished Independent People, by the way.

And the Wind Sees All by Gudmundur Andi Thorsson, first published in Icelandic in 2011. Translated by Bjorg Arnadottir and Andrew Cauthery it was published in Engllish by Peirene Press in 2018. 173pp

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