Modern Icelandic Fiction

Codex 1962
A trilogy by Sjón
Translated by Victoria Cribb
MCD, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2018

Hotel Silence
A novel by Auður Ava Ólafsdóttir
Translated by Brian FitzGibbon
Pushkin Press, 2018

Music isn’t the only Icelandic cultural import; 2018 is shaping up to be a banner year in translated Icelandic fiction. I reviewed Hallgímur Helgason’s incendiary Woman at 1000 Degrees and have now read two more recent works by Icelandic authors. These are pure literature, not genre works, and both are well worth reading.

Codex 1962 is by Sjón: author, poet, lyricist and unassuming literary giant of Modern Icelandic Fiction. The previous works I’ve read of his have been modest affairs—exquisite novellas—whereas this is a full-sized 500+ page novel that is densely packed with allusions to European and Icelandic culture (including Halldór Laxness); a narrative that covers seventy years and references that span centuries. Full of digressions, unreliable narrators and clever literary experiments; this novel will challenge even the most sophisticated reader.

Auður’s Hotel Silence, on the other hand, is a very tightly spun story told from the point of view of an unnamed narrator who, despairing of his life in Reykjavík, leaves everyting behind (except for his tools) and travels to a run-down hotel in a country that is still struggling with the aftermath of a horrendous civil war. He intends to commit suicide there, to avoid burdening his family, but instead becomes involved with the locals as a fix-it man in the resource-poor society trying to reestablish a sense of normality. The book slowly develops from a simple story about human failure into a great novel of ideas and compassion. Her previous novel, Butterflies in November, was a humorous satire of modern Iceland, this is in another class altogether.

A note on the translated editions: Victoria Cribb and Brian FitzGibbon are on a roll, with Cribb handling serious Icelandic literature and genre work (she also teaches Icelandic at two universities in England) and FitzGibbon a heavyweight as well. Both of these translations have been supported by the government-funded Icelandic Literature Center, an organization that promotes the translation of Icelandic literature into many languages.


NOTE: I’ve been given a temporary reprieve from my secret government mission, enabling me to have the time to write this post (the mission is still a secret.)

From the Mouth of the Whale

A novel, by Sjón
Telegram Books, London, 2011
Translated by Victoria Cribb

This story of Jónas Pálmason, a self-taught seventeen-century Icelandic healer, naturalist and heretic (loosely based on the real Jon Gudmundsson the Learned), is a wild hallucination from start to finish. Sjón’s vivid imagery and constant shifting of tone makes it a somewhat difficult read, but I found it to be rewarding enough to stick with to the end. Jónas is a misfit in a world of petty and small minded men: he is persecuted for years, banished to a small island, is humiliated and threatened. His tale captures the feel of 17th century Iceland. The inspiration of the natural world and Jónas’ sometimes mystical interpretation of it is a constant theme. He perseveres even as his children and wife are cruelly taken from him. His merciless condemnation of those who have power over him could be taken as Sjon's indictment of the modern day financial “Vikings” who nearly destroyed the Icelandic economy, but that might just be me reading too much into it. There are numerous incidents based on Icelandic history (including the slaughter of Basque whalers) while other events occur which are fantastic, to say the least (see title.)

I can’t think of another contemporary writer who is working in these areas. Sjón is a modern, but this writing is presented in an almost archaic style. Victoria Cribb’s translation realizes this beautifully—I think she works better in this mode than she does in modern crime fiction. If you are looking for a challenge, this might be just the book for you. It is is more than a bit “Icelandic,” the wider the knowledge of Iceland’s history you have, the more you'll appreciate this unique book.

The Whispering Muse

A novel by Sjón
Translated by Victoria Cribb
Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2013

I, Valdimar Haraldsson, was in my twenty-seventh year when I embarked on the publication of a small journal devoted to my chief preoccupation, the link between fish consumption and the superiority of the Nordic race.

So begins this strange book of tales, set aboard a freighter in 1949. Valdimar is a "supernumerary", a guest, and most of the tales are told by Caeneus, the ships second mate who is possession of a piece of the legendary ship Argo. By listening to this ‘splinter’, Caeneus is able to recall stories of Jason and his crew, stories which include Caeneus himself as a character.

Sjón is noted for his fantastic stories, tales told with a historical overlay, such as The Blue Fox and From the Mouth of the Whale. This book was derived from a number of sources, but the themes are from Sjón himself. I got a sense the the author was critiquing Northern European culture, there is a strong sub-theme about theories of racial purity and the disastrous effects which were manifest in World War II.

While not for everyone, I think this book is a little more accessible than the other two mentioned. It may be a little less poetic for that, but the three titles make for a truly unique trilogy.

Symmetry

I have seen the universe!
It is made of poems!

The Blue Fox
A novel by Sjón
Telegram Books, London, 2008
Translated by Victoria Cribb

This beautiful and peculiar short novel takes place in Iceland over the span of a few days in 1883. A reverend, a naturalist, a woman with Downs syndrome (Abba), an "eejit" and a blue fox are the book's primary characters, characters whose lives are intertwined by fate.

The book is filled with symmetries. The reverend and the naturalist, Abba and the eejit, the naturalist and the eejit (and Abba as well), the blue fox and the reverend, all mirror each other. Sjón is a noted Icelandic poet (and occasional lyricist for Björk) and there are moments when his prose becomes poetry, and his realism becomes mystic. Victoria Cribb's translation flows, never wordy, never awkward. A great introduction to modern Icelandic fiction, and to the ephemeral attraction of Iceland.

For more about this fascinating story, check out Caroline's review.