After visiting Iceland, I was eager to read this book which won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1955. It is an interesting novel, based on an individual farmer who is determined to create and maintain his independence. Having been a bonded man for eighteen years, he then spent twelve years paying off a piece of land which is remote and considered a poor prospect for a successful sheep farm.
The main character is an ignorant, dull man who knows little of the world and whose entire existence is centered around raising his sheep. He is callous towards the women and children in his life, his life is brutish and dependent upon factors over which he has no control, such as the weather, markets, etc. For several hundred pages we follow this man, hoping that at some point his struggle for independence will allow him to interact with others in a positive manner. Good luck! He stumbles through life, nobly facing adversity but seemingly unable to learn from his errors and life.
Reading this book, I fulfilled my yearly venture into Nordic literature and although this book is considered an “Icelandic epic”, it is in fact another of those dark, brooding Nordic stories which reflect the geography and history of the people. Reviewers note the main character’s “flinty determination to achieve independence” when in reality he is a slave to his lack of rational thought. There is something dark and brooding in Nordic/Scandinavian literature which one can feel when visiting the area. Perhaps it is the long dark winters or the lack of grand purpose to their lives, perhaps it is the realization that their time has long passed and so they attempt to assume an air of moral superiority when they realize they are but bit players in the world, but this novel captures the isolation and distance of that land. Caution! You do not want to read this novel while listening to Leonard Cohen.
