Olav Audunssøn: I. Vows was an engaging read on many levels. The characters and their situation caught my interest from the start, and I enjoyed Undset's saga-like storytelling style. This book is split into two parts, with the first section told from Olav's POV and the second from Ingunn's. I liked Olav in the first section; however, I turned against him a little in the second. This, though, comes from looking at the story and judging his actions with a modern eye; his actions would have been completely acceptable for the time period in which the story is set. I don't think this book has quite the magic of Kristen Lavransdatter, but I would be keen to read on in the tetralogy nonetheless, to find out what will happen to the characters. As far as the translation is concerned, the text flows nicely, with no jarring rhythms. This was a solid 4-star read for me.

I received this book as a free eBook ARC via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

4.5

trigger warning
kidnapping, mention of rape, suicide attempt, mentall illness, torture, dementia, death of a parent, being orphaned

It is with good intentions that Olav and Ingunn are betrothed as children, and Olav is taken in by his future father-in-law as a foster child as his own father lies dying.
No one senses what troubles will come of this.

You see, the trouble was that the adults didn't think the children would remember while the children grew up in the knowledge they would spend their whole life together. Insert a bit of misfortune and complicated politics, and it gets dramatic quick.

This was not at all what I thought it would be though it fits the blurp exactly. One setback was that I did not realise as I requested this arc that this book is set after people in Norway became Christian and I was excited for the Norse mythology featuring as a backdrop to this, which didn't happen.
And teenagers doing stupid stuff really, really, really annoy me.

The book starts with a short introduction by the translator, who outlines that this is the first book of a tetralogy that hasn't been newly translated in over 100 years and it's been overdue, that Sigrid Undset was the child of an archaeologist and an artist who both inspired her.
We also get footnotes that explain terms that refer to certain things found in scandinavian medieval times. Sadly, in my version the footnotes are at the back of things so I mostly ignored them as jumping back and forth in a digital copy is no fun. I much prefer the annotations to be at the bottom of the page.

The characters are very three dimensional and especially the depiction of trauma, grief and dementia were superb. Also, this one is character driven, there is no real plot. And I don't do well with those books in the most cases, so it's safe to say that this one simply isn't for me.

The arc was provided by the publisher.

Wonderful historical fiction

It's hard to write a review of The Axe without comparing this book - the first of a tetralogy - to Kristin Lavransdatter, which I read last year and really loved. Both series are historical fiction set in the Middle Ages in Norway, and were originally written in Norwegian by the Nobel Prize-winning author Sigrid Undset. The society and customs of medieval Norway may be foreign to us, but Undset's characters are so vivid and interesting that her books act as a window into another time. They feel similar, in some ways, to Elena Ferrante's Naples tetralogy: firmly grounded in a particular time and place, but with gorgeous writing and the exploration of themes that are still very relevant to readers today.

The Axe splits its perspective between Olav and Ingunn, who are betrothed as children and raised as foster siblings. Like Kristin, this book deals very heavily in the societal strictures of the nobility, and particularly in the contract and bonds of marriage. This is a love story—Olav and Ingunn fall in love as teenagers—but the two are forced apart because of the demands of family and the law. Thirteenth-century Norway is tumultuous, with a line of kings who only reign for one year or two, and marriages for power, rather than pure wealth, are paramount for an individual family's success. Olav, as a rich but poorly connected orphan, doesn't fit the dreams of Ingunn's uncles, and they connive to invalidate the betrothal made when the two were children. Unfortunately, Olav and Ingunn take matters into their own hands first by sleeping with each other (a definite no) and then running to the local bishop to help them out of their quandary. It's a series of interlocking social norms that don't quite mesh, underscored by the tension between the rise of Christianity and Norway's pagan past. Are Ingunn's uncles honoring the contract made when the two were children, in front of witnesses? Is Olav dishonored by his foster father, who doesn't make provisions for the marriage, or does he dishonor his foster family by sleeping with Ingunn? What is the line between childhood and adulthood, and when does a marriage contract backed by men become a contract with the divine?

This is weirdly compelling stuff, underlined by the flaws of Olav and Ingunn themselves. They aren't perfect, star-crossed lovers, denied their happy ending by outside forces. More than anyone else, they prevent their own marriage, even when they don't realize it. Olav is presented as our hero, who strives for the rights granted to him, but he's also revealed to be wildly inconsistent and hotheaded, someone whose loyalty to his family or liege usually flies in the face of what's best for Ingunn. Ingunn is trapped between maiden and wife for nine (!!) years, but she isn't a paragon of constancy. She's depicted as weak, not very smart, and in desperate need of guidance, moving between obstinacy and flightiness depending on her circumstances. This isn't the world of Kristin, where you get a more female-centric view of the social structure and its effects. The Axe presents nuanced views of how men and women have to move within the boundaries, and what is and is not permitted, and how Olav and Ingunn uniquely fail the tests presented to them.

There are two other key factors that make Undset's books so good. The first is her descriptions of Norway in all its seasons. You can clearly visualize the color of the light in autumn, or how the snow changes from one hour to the next, or the differences between the fiords at Berg and Hestviken. The second is the depiction of faith. These books are deeply religious in a sincere and genuine way. Ingunn's choice at the end of the book to attempt suicide is dramatic and captivating partially because the stakes for her, as a Christian, are so high: she will be damned forever. Of course the church is different in medieval Norway. Priests have children and the bishops are caught up in the secular power struggles of the warring kings. But faith underpins everything in the book, from Ingunn's faith that Olav will come back to her, to the struggle between the old laws and the new.

My main complaint with this book is the translation. The edition of Kristin that I read was translated by Tiina Nunnally, and feels considerably more modern. The only English translation of The Master of Hestviken, as far as I can tell, is this one, done by Arthur Chater. The characters are always saying things like "I trow" and "I ween" and "I wis." It could be worse, I guess.

And now for some spoilers and more comparisons to Kristin!

- I related the entire plot of this book to Matt aloud, and it is truly LIT. The entire opening sequence where Steinfinn is humiliated in his own home, kills Matthias years later, and then dies of his wounds is honestly operatic in its scope. I love it.

- Olav and Ingunn are flawed and interesting as protagonists, which is why I really liked this. You can forgive Olav, somewhat, for killing Einar; it's less forgivable when he runs away from his family in Denmark (Ingunn forgives him, of course, but I couldn't as a reader). It calls into question his true character and if any of his choices have been right, or will be, going forward. It's the great tension between the Norwegian concept of honor and the Christian way: "All men could never be such saints as to consent to submit all their concerns, great and small, to the judgment of their even Christians, always being satisfied with the law and with receiving their rights—never taking them for themselves." But he's SO remarkably bad at taking his rights and working within the system!

- Ingunn spends 9 (nine!!) years waiting for Olav to come back to her, fantasizing about their children and their household, while her younger sister has five children and becomes a real wife. She is stuck between taking the coif and wearing her hair down, between maidenhood and marriage. I like that Undset's books usually stay in Norway. Olav leaves for Denmark when he becomes an outlaw, but we have to stay in Norway with Ingunn. "The world was wide and great—for the men, who could roam afar in it." She's trapped dreaming of a future that won't come, and it's unclear if it won't happen because she (and her father) have chosen the wrong husband, or if she is even capable of creating the life that she wants once Olav is back: she's an indifferent worker, weak and prone to sickness. Can she even bear a child? (Unfortunately, she can.)

- This book works in contrast to Kristin because it focuses on the dual struggles of the protagonists, rather than showcasing the female experience first and foremost. It succeeds because Ingunn is unremarkable and frequently underestimated, not because she has a strong will and the strength to make her own way in the world, as Kristin does.

- "Asbjørn All-Fat" is the best name for a priest that could possibly exist.

- I'll never be over the great contentious divide on naming between the Norwegians and the Danes. It's extremely bad luck in Norway to name a child after someone who is still living, while the Danes do it to honor their family members. Olav's Danish mother calls him Olav after his living grandfather, and everyone is immediately super pissed. The naming scandal is one of my favorite plot points in Kristin, and I want more of it in this series.

- Count of axe murders in this book: 2, but only 1 with Kinfetch (which is a BADASS name for an axe). The axe is Olav's family history and his connection to his past, but he also chooses to use an axe in the two turning points of his fortunes (murdering Einar, murdering Teit). The first murder is tied to his honor and to the pagan traditions of old, as he kills another man of his class; the second murder is more commonplace and almost shameful, and done to preserve the little remaining honor that Ingunn possesses. That axe is lost.

- Other parallels between Olav and Steinfinn: the arm injury, the rumors and whispers. I flipped back to see if it was the same arm. Steinfinn injures his right, while Olav injures his left. But their shared failure to live by the required social norms, taking the wives that they want, is what leads them into peril.

- The different social classes become so important in this book. Everyone is shocked that Ingunn could even be wooed by Teit. The laws are fine for the common people, but the nobility continue to pay each other blood money. Olav is the "Master of Hestviken" (a place we still haven't seen by the end of this book!!), but he's drawn into this battle with an Icelander (the horror).

I would highly recommend reading Undset. Kristin Lavransdatter is the place to start, but I'm very much enjoying The Master of Hestviken and hope the next few books live up to this one.

Who would have imagined that the first volume of the Sigrid Undset saga quartet, THE MASTER OF HESTVIKEN, would be so good. It made me move on to volume II, "The Snake Pit". I look forward to reading volume's III and IV. Set a pair of unlikely lovers, promised to each other as children by father's under the influence of strong drink, follow their unlikely romance through its innocent childhood, adolescent assignations, strong attempts by Ingun's family to ignore the betrothal and marry her off to someone older and richer, murder, infidelity, a child born out of wedlock, and a host of other twists and turns. . .and set the novel in 13th Century Norway in the early struggles between the gods of Norwegian mythology, and the Christian God imposed on them by St. Olaf, and you have a tale worthy to be included in the body of work for which Unset was granted the Nobel Prize for Literature. I don't imagine that many of my Goodreads friends have THE MASTER OF HESTIVIKEN on their "to read" lists. Perhaps few of them have ever heard of it. Now they have. And it comes with my most humble 5 star recommendation.

So far might be better than Kristin. Certainly more exciting. I might say a high-brow Romance novel, but that sounds like a criticism. Certainly the only "Romance Novel" I would *want* my teenagers to read. On to the next volume....

“The axe” depicts an interesting portrait of Norway in 1200.
Still, the plot is not very exciting, consisting of the main characters waiting to finally get married, and the prose drags on.

Most of all, however, I was appalled by the female main character (Ingunn). She is described as an half-wit, childish, weak and lazy girl. I would expect a book character to be at least likeable, to have one quality or something interesting. When she was a kid, she even abused animals, cruelly killing two kittens with no apparent remorse. Our heroine is “neither handy nor bold, but weak, quick to give up and take to tears when their play grew rough or the game went against her”. “Ingunn, such as she was and not otherwise, weak and obstinate, short of wit, alluring and tender and warm”. “Weak she was, even now when she had her health, and she had never liked to have to do anything that demanded hard work or continued thought”. The author even clarifies that she doesn’t work because she doesn’t want to, not because she is unable: “her aunt saw that she could work when she chose—she was by no means so incapable when she took herself in hand”.

Everyone keeps treating her in a condescending way, which is incredibly irritating, but how to blame them? Here is what the male lead thinks of her: “She had little more understanding than a child or an animal, poor thing—nay, he had often thought her like a gentle, timid beast—a tame doe or a young heifer, so fond of endearments and so easily scared”. Charming. The male lead’s (inexplicable) fondness of her is described as “half pity” and “half pride”: “With a burst of fervour he felt a tenderness that had in it both pity and a touch of pride”. A very weird concept of love, even in 1200.

I went on, hoping it would get better: surely she would grow and have more character development. Well, she doesn’t. Possibly, she gets worse. And the book keeps getting worse as well, being narrated from her point of view. I cannot help but wonder at all the great reviews this book has…

I think Kristin Lavransdatter was a better book but I throughly enjoyed this one too. Looking forward to the others in this series.

After reading the translator's outstanding introduction to this I thought I'd be in for a treat, but alas the repetition and unending grinding of slow-moving plot points and relationships didn't keep my attention.

Okay, so one volume in of the four, I don’t think it’s as good as Kristin Lavransdatter. Still, Sigrid Undset remains a master of her craft and one of the most underrated authors in the west. The characters are beautifully real (every mannerism is shown, everyone has faults, no one is a white knight), the prose and the descriptions of medieval Norwegian life are stunning, the drama is dramatic! Sometimes, it can delve into melodrama which I never felt during KL and I think KL is a tighter novel. I don’t know if it needed to take this long for all this to happen. But, I’m only one book in. So stay tuned!

When I saw that cover, and this being Undset, I knew I was in for some serious soul-flaying and flagellation. I am eager to read the rest of the books though only the first 2 are published thus far.
I don't know why is it that someone born in 1882, can write believable medieval characters while the younger HF writers of 21st century, who are exposed to far more data about Middle ages, can only come up with anachronistic caricatures.