DZIEŁO SZTUKI

Beautiful. Compelling. Highly recommend!

A Norwegian Journey

This first novel of Sigrid Undset’s famous trilogy begins at Jørundgaard and introduces us to Kristin Lavransdatter, her family, its history and the surroundings deep in the mountain valleys of northern Norway during the Middle Ages. I was in particular struck by the omnipresence of nature and the people's connection to it via stories/tales. There is an initial trek up the mountain with the young Kristin and her father that gives Undset a wonderful opportunity to immerse the reader with these themes and she does so beautifully. The surroundings are vividly depicted and one gets quickly pulled into the matters that are important to Kristin and her parents. Undset is skilled at bringing in the landscape (especially the mountains and the river) as well as the cloudscape/weather/wind into these chapters. In the early travels one feels such a juxtaposition between the north and the south of Norway. Undset also slowly turns up the age factor as the novel progresses. In the first section of the novel I really felt like one took in a child observing her world. Her growing up in harmony with the world around her was a pleasure to read.


Romsdalen, Norway

Life at the family farms seems very comfortable. Of course, we are only seeing it from the owner's perspective. Still, it seems a bit too good - almost picturesque if you know what I mean? A beautiful postcard from Medieval Norway? Undset is adding a lot of detail in terms of food and clothing which I thoroughly enjoy, but very little about possible hardship linked to the seasons, poverty, lack of food, disease and other negative issues. As I read the novel I wondered if I was just charmed by the Norwegian language? It echoed so prettily in my mind as the sentences flew by. Perhaps a story takes on a different ambience because of the language? Perhaps I would view the story differently if was reading the English translation?

The central part of the book is focused on a complex web of relationships. As Kristin Lavransdatter gets older the question about marriage starts to emerge. At this point in the story Undset is moving along rather quickly.  I found it bizarre that Kristin falls in love so suddenly (sure - lust perhaps?) and promises herself utterly to another without really knowing anything about the man. I wish Undset took some more time to develop the relationship and the character.  


A Norwegian wedding crown

It is very peculiar how Undset based the novel on the dynamics of a specific relationship. Does romantic love always challenge the traditions and rituals of a specific society? Or is Undset placing an unrealistic romantic template upon the Medieval world she is depicting?
 The love story is a roller coaster wrapped around the social norms of the time. I enjoyed it (probably because of the thrill of reading my first book in Norwegian), but had a little alarm bell going off in the back of my mind. Of course, the main character Erlend is depicted a black sheep that already has completely gone overboard in terms of the "rules" so it is understandable that this is the key in the romantic drama. I must admit that I was a little disappointed in the story although I hope that this changes in the next part of the trilogy. The Nobel Prize Committee's words seem to ring hollow at this point ("principally for her powerful descriptions of Northern life during the Middle Ages") as I (at this point) don't really view the novel that way. Granted that the setting provided a great atmosphere (but that is Norway itself). The Medieval aspects were subtle - one senses a feudal society as well as the great emphasis on agriculture and the importance of religion. Of course, the social life of neighbors, courting, weddings etc. were present, but I expected a bit more nuances of life. It seems like an extreme romance embedded within the infrastructure of the Middle Ages. However, it is possible that things will continue to change in terms of the psychology of the characters in the remainder of the trilogy. 

I strongly feel as if Undset's strength is her ability to convey the surroundings - especially the landscape with trees and flowers, the wind, clouds, rain, the flows of the river and other changes in the environment. She did so effortlessly and it sounded so GOOD in Norwegian. I kept going back and forth between the original and the Nunnally translation to check if I understood a paragraph correctly. I do have a thick dictionary as well but it is more cumbersome. Reading Undset makes me interested in reading more history - yes, the Middle Ages of Scandinavia hovers on the horizon. Ah, I love history! I also have an urge to seek out the Norwegian film from 1995 directed by Liv Ullmann. It is elusive, but an old VHS cassette will probably be the solution.

Now, as the novel is starting to slowly settle in my mind, the dynamics and details of the book's romance are starting to dissipate. They seemed a bit obsessive during the reading experience. Instead, the beautiful heroine of the novel, Kristin Lavransdatter, is starting to emerge with an almost bewitching quality. She seems to represent some type of Norwegian archetype resonating with the realm of Norway, its landscape, permeating its past and present. She is somehow shifting in my mind to represent much more than a simplistic romance.

I think my “critical thinking skills” were a bit muddled by reading this novel in a language I (yet) don’t fully master. However, it was a wonderful experience to immerse oneself in Norwegian in this fashion as it still continues to sing and ripple through my mind. Onwards to the next part of the trilogy!

4/5

I apparently had the wrong translation and was very confused upon starting. Someone set me straight and they newer translation is much better - still, I’m caught off guard by the story and the amount of dRaMa in this book. I started off disliking the story but quickly got drawn in and am curious to see how it all ends. I’ve heard about these books for a long time and I just didn’t realize it’s kind of like a soap opera set in 1400’s Norway.

The problem with a lifetime of reading pseudo-medieval fantasies is that I kept expecting dragons to appear at any moment.

No, okay, that's too glib. I understand why Undset won the Nobel for (among other things) this book; the characterization is powerful, and the writing beautiful even through what seems a sometimes clunky translation. (Maybe I should have tracked down the more recent one? On the other hand, this is a book written in 1920 and set in the 1300s; archaic language should be part of its charm.

It's also drenched in a Christian morality utterly alien to my modern Jewish upbringing, and occasionally tips from grim to hilariously over-the-top in its melodrama (his other love tries to give her leprosy with poisoned wine, really?). I am still undecided about whether I'm going to continue the trilogy. But I'm glad I read this one.

Lavrans is our hero and was scammed. He deserves better

I’m actually still having a little trouble digesting this book. I’m not sure I really like ANY of the main characters, yet I enjoyed reading it and am probably going to read the second one. It felt a little jumpy at times but overall I loved the way that an “old English” scene was set without using old English type of language.

It’s a great commentary on how sinfulness clouds our judgement and the utter irrationality of our sins. There are great Catholic elements to unpack and sit with, and it’s a great book club book for that reason (shoutout to da fam)

I'm giving it five stars based on trust that over the series the beautiful tragic and compelling themes Undset is developing, will bring good fruit. I am loving the subversion and reconstruction of the chivalric courtly love genre taking place here, and am tickled that such a grounded and well researched historical novel also has fairies.

(One might object and say "John, isn't this book really just part one of a larger book? Why are you counting it on its own?" Because I am determined to reach my reading goal and I will take all the help I can get.)

This is one trilogy of books, Kristin Lavransdatter, where the experience changes with age. Deeply profound, this book can be hard to read as it can touch so many bruises. This time around I felt far more sympathy for Kristin’s mother. I felt like I knew her very well and loved her. Poor Kristin now she will live a life her parents would have saved her from if they could have.

I thought this was the kind of book I'd read one day when for some reason I am prescribed bedrest by a doctor and I have already used up all of the internet.

A couple of years ago, my partner read them, and after each one he said, "Wow! These are so good!" And I would say, "Isn't it sort of boring, though? Hard to get into? Dry? Dull?" And he would say, "No, not at all!" And I wouldn't believe him because sometimes, men, you know?

Well, I never did hear anybody say: THIS IS A SOAP OPERA! A GOOD ONE! It is essentially unputdownable! Just rejoice, turn those pages, and try to find emoji to describe your contorted expressions of delighted distress as yet one more thing manages to happen, while you text your partner over your lunch break who is like, I told you they were good.

So, it's all a big drama, yes for sure. It is also, as advertised, an epic of Catholicism — even this first volume, which barely scratches the surface of the religious contemplation within. But these things are twinned, I now understand. For this author, the route to the penetrating inner life of these incredibly human characters is through their faults and reckonings. The way she writes it, the Church is their moral ballast — but that doesn't mean that the only thing these people do is pray. Indeed, I was swept right away.

I think I'll talk about the characterisations later, since I'm behind in writing up my thoughts and I've nearly finished all three books at this point. But one magical thing that hurtles itself at you from the very beginning of the first book is the absolutely transportive powers of this author to bring to life a world that is gone. Medieval Norway, mountain homes. The Earth, untouched and forested, clear rivers and privacy, not one single machine more technical than a millstone. It is profound, and vivid as can be.

And: So. Few. People. The world, so small, and vast. Here is a pano of a farm near "Sil" today (now Sel). Just try not to heart-eyes it. What's stunning, for me, is in considering that all of the world was left this way, once. Except for that newfangled paved road.

There's a line in the introduction to the second volume, laying out the historical context of the books, that says, "For many people medieval Norway simply is the world Sigrid Undset portrayed in her fiction. It is fortunate, therefore, that she was such a meticulous scholar and historian." This comes as a welcome relief, because the writing is so good that you'll start to think you know everything you need to know about people's thoughts and buildings and customs and clothes, all of it foreign to us and all of it necessary for knowing who we used to be when we were like this.

I found the beginning of this video about the wardrobe of 14th-century women an absolutely magnificent illustration (thanks to a friend who pointed out that the whole YouTube series is an awesome way of seeing in action some of the things you only encounter in novels). Although it's based on English dress, it looks exactly like the clothing described in Kristin's life, except for hose made of leather. The second half of the video is based on fashion trends too late to appear in these books (which is sort of crazy), but gives a good example of a married woman's wimple.

There's a video of agricultural men's dress too, which, as a sidebar, gives a pretty humbling example of the way people in these books are always sleeping on benches. (I wish I could find a video for noblemen's dress, though, because there is absolutely nothing in one's mind's eye that could possibly be equal to Erlend.)

I desperately want some media around the architecture, too, even just some drawings to show me what it was like inside all these "loft" buildings on the farms, the windowless rooms with smoke holes in the roof, and the "courtyards" outside. As far as I can tell, the two-story houses often looked like this from the outside, which is intriguing enough on its own. Being that most of these buildings were made of wood and sod, it isn't likely we can explore many of them in the 21st century, but some illustrations would be neat.

Reading something as incredibly masterful as this also really gives clarity to the enormous annoyance that was hard for me to articulate during the last historical novel I read, which tried to handle a similar level of historical detail in a far less genuine way.

If you've got a copy of this languishing on your shelves, just crack open the thing and try your best to start it. I'm so happy to finally know them.

EDITED: OH MY ACTUAL GOODNESS, I didn’t even MENTION the ending!! I think, aside from pure enjoyment, the five-star gleam for me came straight off the feeling of quiet wonder I had at that sad, understated little scene in a side room acting as the ending to this dramatic book. UGH it gutted me right out. I guess we’re gonna have to talk about it LATER.

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Found this at More Than Words Bookstore & Cafe in Waltham, MA which is my new favorite thing in the entire world, honestly, can we all have these, please.

3/1/20 * 3.5 - 4

Rereading this book in a new translation proved to be a rather fascinating experience. My mother's friend gave me the series for Christmas when I was about 13 and I enjoyed it in spite of the original 1927 translation. Before I go further, let me provide an example of that edition's florid, faux-medieval style (which for some reason primarily infects the dialogue and not the narration).

First translation:

"What think you of this device?" he asked, quickly and low. "Think you 'tis a great wrong I do? -- yet needs must I speak with you."
"It boots but little now, I trow, to think what is right and what is wrong," said Kristin.

New translation, reportedly much more true to the original Norwegian:

"What do you think of this ruse?" he asked quickly, in a low voice. "Do you think I've done wrong? But I had to talk to you."
"It won't do much good for us to think about what is right and what is wrong," said Kristin.

Add in the fact that the first volume is the story of a lovelorn teenager seeking to marry the man she lost her virginity to, despite her father's disapproval, and you had the potential for some pretty tawdry prose. I remember one of my close friends picking this or its sequel up off the cafeteria table and flipping through it, quickly alighting on some particularly purple passage. "OH, ERLEND," my friend Andrea moaned, loud enough for the entire middle school to hear, dramatically reading a few more lines of "I trow" and "methinks" before dissolving into maniacal giggles. My ears redden at the recollection. I'm pretty sure she continued to OH, ERLEND me on subsequent occasions and might resume doing so today if she sees this review.

I read the series more than once, but I think it must have all been in high school because when I returned to the story now, I found I read it entirely differently--and not just because of the more readable translation. As a teen I guess I found the sneaking around rather exciting, but as an adult, I was slapping my forehead over how useless Erlend is. The medieval scenery of the series is so lovely, but there is a very contemporary reason that Kristin should stay away from Erlend, which is that when a 30-something guy is hitting on a teen, it's not because the teen is so beautiful and cool, but because the guy is too delusional and/or pathetic to get along with people his own age. This is actually specifically pointed out in the narration, when Erlend gets drunk before the wedding with his groomsmen, who are all younger than him because his peers are all long married. I now see that Kristin's father is eminently reasonable, and her approved fiancé Simon, whom I originally found to be a drip, seems a like a stand-up guy.

What I see in this book now is less a convincing romance and more a strange medieval political novel. That Kristin and Erlend will eventually marry seems plain through a large portion of the text; the question is just how certain laws, agreements, and traditions will be used or broken to arrive there. The author, Sigrid Undset, was deeply religious and the most successful aspects of the novel are her portrayal of religious life, of how central religion was to medieval communities, and how Kristin struggles to define her actions in religious terms. While this is far from my own mindset, it all feels very organic and well-observed.