Jørgen-Frantz Jacobsen, Barbara. The current edition of Barbara (translation by George Johnston, Norvik Press, 1993) is serviceable, if somewhat pedantic. I first read it a couple of years ago and enjoyed it immensely.
Recently, my interest in Estrid was re-kindled when I obtained a well-thumbed copy of the original Penguin paperback of Barbara (#681, 1s 6p), that featured the first translation, her translation. This version was a revelation. Aside from a strange sensation of reading a book where, in real life, the translator was the basis for the free-spirited main character, I found that the POV was decidedly more sympathetic to Barbara’s story and less favorable towards the miserable Parson Poul who, knowing full well what kind of woman Barbara was, falls for her anyway and tortures himself for the rest of the book. In real life, Jacobsen was madly in love with Estrid (who just happened to be his cousin!)
The Adventurers Club of Denmark (Estrid in glasses, right). She made her way to England where she was an “attache” to the Danish Embassy during World War II. She became a friend and did translations for the artist Rockwell Kent. In the prime of her life, attractive and cultured, she did not want for company and ultimately ended up as the lover of William Emrys Williams, an influential educator and writer (he was knighted) and one of the founders of Penguin Books. From a humble start in the 1930s, the Penguin imprimatur became known world-wide as a mark of high-quality/low price publications, a reputation which continues to this day. In 1946 they introduced the now classic cover scheme:
Estrid was on the Penguin payroll as a translator and editor, where she had many titles to her credit. Her affair with Williams eventually cooled and when he died in 1965 his memoirs, which would have undoubtedly contained details of his affair with Estrid, were burned by his secretary—who then committed suicide! The Sunday Times Magazine named Estrid as ‘The naughtiest girl of the century.’
Estrid spent the final years of her life in Ireland. Her name became, with delicious irony, Estrid Bannister Good when she married Ernest Good, an Irish ‘fisherman’, settling in West Cork. Before she died in 2000, she had been interviewed by television reporters, had a biography written about her and the letters between her and Jacobsen were published. Alas, all these resources (except for the interview in the link) are in Danish only, but what I’ve read about them suggests that she was, indeed, very much like Barbara—loving but unsentimental—and never letting conventional mores hinder her quest for a fulfilling life.