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    Independent People
    Independent People
    Independent People
    Audiobook20 hours

    Independent People

    Written by Halldor Laxness

    Narrated by Michael Page

    4/5

    ()

    About this audiobook

    This magnificent novel-which secured for its author the 1955 Nobel Prize in Literature-is now available to contemporary American audiences. Although it is set in the early twentieth century, it recalls both Iceland's medieval epics and such classics as Sigrid Undset's Kristin Lavransdatter. And if Bjartur of Summerhouses, the book's protagonist, is an ordinary sheep farmer, his flinty determination to achieve independence is genuinely heroic and, at the same time, terrifying and bleakly comic.

    Having spent eighteen years in humiliating servitude, Bjartur wants nothing more than to raise his flocks unbeholden to any man. But Bjartur's spirited daughter wants to live unbeholden to him. What ensues is a battle of wills that is by turns harsh and touching, elemental in its emotional intensity and intimate in its homely detail. Vast in scope and deeply rewarding, Independent People is a masterpiece.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTantor Media, Inc
    Release dateApr 18, 2017
    ISBN9781541470392
    Independent People

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    Reviews for Independent People

    4/5

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    • 5/5
      You really should give this book a try. Even though people will tell you that it’s mostly about sheep, it’s a terrible, sad, true and funny epic about people you rarely meet in fiction. Well worth all the praise it has ever received.
    • 5/5
      Thit is a brilliant epic saga about the life of Bjatur an Icelandic sheep farmer. Being an epic it is complex withmany memorable characters , the primary one being Iceland itself. Within it there is the struggle between man and nature, and mana man with all of the focus on Bjatur's struggle to maintain his independence. If you are going to read one book about Iceland it should be Independent People.
    • 5/5
      In this mindboggling epic that most readers have never heard of, a simple-minded, surly peasant shepherd subsists in dire living conditions yet sedulously toils to be debt-free while being pitted against a wealthy landowner, crooked merchants and bankers, new-fangled cooperatives, political “opponents” in collusion with each other, and changing times and economic circumstances that he cannot grasp—complete, no less, with a motif of attacks by preternatural beings from a dimension that lies beyond what most humans can perceive, let alone comprehend. This morose, complexly plotted, intense, slow-going rare gem of a book from Iceland is worth every minute it takes to trudge through it. Although not necessarily an easy thing to do, find yourself a copy of Independent People, and trudge.
    • 5/5
      Wow, it’s one of those books that you don’t want to end, want it to go on and on. It is the story of Bjartur of Summerhouses, a man of the moors, sheep and ancient Icelandic poetry. Set around 1900, Bjartur of Summerhouses and his family struggle to make their small croft thrive, through Iceland’s harsh winters, personal tragedies and the desire to be independent, free people.

      I absolutely loved it and have already added more of Halldór Laxness’ books to my reading list. Top notch, I recommend it.
    • 3/5
      Interesting novel of a conflict-ridden family.
    • 4/5
      Set in rural Iceland in the early 20th century, this is a sweeping multi-generational family saga focused on protagonist Bjartur of Summerhouse’s obsessive quest for independence and its impact on his family. He lives in a remote region with brutal climate and rugged terrain. In Iceland, the cost of autonomy is high, and Bjartur pays the price. Along the way, the reader learns much about raising sheep (perhaps more than I ever needed to know) and the ups and downs of the Icelandic economy of the era.

      Bjartur is an unpleasant person with a gruff and abrasive personality. Fortunately, his strong-willed daughter, Ásta Sóllilja, is easy to like. Like her father, she desires independence, which leads, of course, to conflict between the two. I was particularly impressed by the portrayal of the relationship between Bjartur and his daughter. I wish she had been an even bigger part of the narrative.

      It is long and densely written. It contains a great deal of suffering and tragedy. It includes elements of Icelandic myths and superstitions, along with observations on religion and politics. The beauty of the prose is striking. It is poetic and atmospheric. I read the English translation by James Anderson Thompson. After reading this book, it is easy to see why Laxness was awarded a Nobel Prize in Literature.
    • 4/5
      "Independent' is apparently Icelandic for "stubborn and ignorant".

      Unlike Growth of the Soil, this is not a dreamy vision of the romanticism of the sheep farmer. Tragedies abound, and no matter if it's the Capitalists or the Socialists in ower, the small farmer gets the short end of the stick.
    • 3/5
      I picked this book up at a library sale for $2 in basically new condition. I tend not to read Nobel Prize winners; this and the Peace are essentially politically motivated decisions. But I did read it, and my impressions were again confirmed. To be a Nobel winner, it helps to write about suffering, either self-inflicted or from external sources.If you intend to read the book, please do not read the intro by Brad Leithauser, a published but obscure poet. He essentially stuffs every spoiler he could think of into it. He is also insufferably self-congratulatory on his incredible insight into the book's merits. He says when people ask him what it is about, he says "sheep", which is facetious and misleading.Bjartur is described on the cover in more positive terms than the text proves to be the case. In fact, he's incredibly stupid, suspicious, and unfeeling. Of course that makes it hard for the reader to root for him, so your feelings turn toward his family and in particular to his "daughter" Sola. Without giving anything away, he treats them so atrociously that I grew to despise him. I found the ending less affecting as a result. The decidedly more sensitive Brad weeped as he finished the book, and he wants us to know that he did so while sitting at a cafe in Rome while it rained outside. How appropriate.My rating mostly reflects the quality of the writing; I can't tell you, however, if that's due to the translation by J.A. Thompson or by the author Laxness.
    • 5/5
      This wonderful somewhat slow-paced tale captures the life and struggles of early 20th century Icelandic farmers perfectly. The reader gets a very close look at one family but also the surrounding community and effects of global happenings on this remote island. The particular challenges of the middle class, especially relative to the wealthy, is eerily reminiscent of America today. I enjoyed the book and watching the tale unfold and take the twists and turns of life was compelling but there were a few parts that dragged on a bit longer than necessary.
    • 5/5
      Bookworm12 really summed it up when they said in their review: "An exhausting but memorable read".I had to slow down and pay attention. Sometimes it was slow, a lot of times it was emotionally exhausting (reading about an impoverished family's life of destitution for hundreds of pages), but it was also very beautiful, and I found the ending to be more than worth reading through any slow parts. It was a great ending. I love Bjartur, even though I was thoroughly annoyed with him at times. It was definitely worth reading, and I would read it again!
    • 5/5
      It took me a while to get through this, but ultimately it rewards your attention and justifies the hype. Very funny, very touching, very (intentionally) ridiculous, and makes me very excited to read other Laxness, yes, but even more so, a biography of the man, who sounds utterly fascinating.
    • 5/5
      Worth the extra effort
    • 5/5
      Months after finishing this book, I still don't know how to describe it, so I'll just describe my reaction. I absolutely adored every word of Laxness's writing, and couldn't tear myself away even though the events he describes are such a succession of awfulness that I often wanted to put it down. The book wormed its way into my head in a way that I've rarely experienced since I stopped studying literature formally, and several of the scenes are still vivid in my mind now.

      I think this is one of the finest books I've ever read, but don't read it if you're feeling down, because it's also one of the bleakest.
    • 1/5
      Could not get into the writing style. Maybe a different translation would be better.
    • 4/5
      Way back when. My wife and went to our prominent local bookseller over the holidays in 2003. She asked me if I had read anything by Laxness and I adroitly responded, "who?" She bought something else and the following day I jogged down to the public library. My face burning with shame I checked this out from the stacks and returned home. I read such over two days. Jonsson the sheep farmer is everyman and he's screwed. Modernity arrives along with a nascent globalization. Never razor sharp, the farmer does possess a tradition and a rustic skill set. I loved that. Ultimately it may be a meditation on living in a bleak landscape: such is helpful in Indiana.
    • 3/5
      Very Icelandic. Lots of sheep farming. It started very strong, but petered off toward the end. Too Icelandic for me.
    • 5/5
      Finished this book set in Iceland. A story of the struggling Icelandic people who were self standing people. I think what I appreciated most about his book is the way it captured the Scandinavian way. It is a story set in the early years of the 20th century and is epic and it reminded me a lot of Hamson's Growth of Soil. The stubbornness and stoicism is so accurately depicted and being Scandinavian and married to a Scandinavian, this book rang so true. It also touches on the Saga's which I have heard about and so that was also interesting and the descriptions of Christianity in this isolated country of Iceland and it's peasant people was another aspect of the book that I found interesting.
    • 5/5
      Wow, it’s one of those books that you don’t want to end, want it to go on and on. It is the story of Bjartur of Summerhouses, a man of the moors, sheep and ancient Icelandic poetry. Set around 1900, Bjartur of Summerhouses and his family struggle to make their small croft thrive, through Iceland’s harsh winters, personal tragedies and the desire to be independent, free people.

      I absolutely loved it and have already added more of Halldór Laxness’ books to my reading list. Top notch, I recommend it.
    • 5/5
      A bleak but poetic epic family story of survival in the harsh climate of the Icelandic mountains, this book tells the story of Bjartur, a crofter and sheepfarmer who sacrifices almost everything to his dream of being an independent farmer. Powerful, austere and hauntingly beautiful, it is also a microcosm of the history of Iceland and a devastating critique of the economic and political conditions that exploited the rural poor in the early 20th century.
    • 4/5
      I really enjoyed Halldor Laxness' novel "Independent People." It's a wonderful story, showcasing a man's drive to eke out a living in a rather extreme environment in Iceland without being beholden to anyone. This independence comes at great cost and ultimately proves to be unsustainable in the changing times.The novel follows Bjartur as he starts homesteading and the trials and tribulations faced by his family. At times, the politics of those on the crofts got a bit heavy handed. Some aspects of the plot, while understandable in terms of moving the story forward, didn't necessarily fit in with the overall tone of the novel. But these are minor quibbles.... overall the book was a fun and interesting read.
    • 5/5
      This is another extremely satisfying novel that I read because of my interest in Scandinavian literature. Laxness is an Icelandic Nobel Laureate and this book is a new favorite of mine that I will definitely be rereading. Independent People is the story of Bjartur, an Icelandic man who has just earned his way to independence and purchased a small plot of land that is believed by the people of the region to be cursed. Bjartur, much to the horror of his new young wife, refuses to follow the local custom of throwing a rock into the grave of the spirit woman who rules the area to appease her. This seems to set off a lifetime chain of disasters for Bjartur, though overall the disasters could easily be a result of the harsh climate and way of life in rural Iceland. There is a believable thread of supernatural through the book though, that becomes part of the background of the story. Bjartur must contend against not only the harsh living conditions in Iceland and his extreme poverty, but also the evil spirits that conspire against him. Independence seems to be an Icelandic value, but Bjartur takes it to an extreme. It’s hard to tell whether to admire Bjartur’s independent spirit or loathe him for it. Bjartur values his independence far above the living conditions of his growing family, that is basically starving for most of the book. He seems to love his sheep more than his wife or children; there is a long time in the novel when the sheep certainly are more visible than the children, but as the children grow, they become more central to the novel. There is Asta, the daughter of Bjartur by his first wife, whose father/daughter relationship with Bjartur becomes the central relationship of the novel. There is also Nonni, the sweet creative boy who ends up emigrating to America. And Gvendur, Bjartur’s youngest son, stays in Iceland presumably to continue in Bjartur’s legacy though he seems to lose his way at the end. I also loved the Grandmother, who had a special relationship with Nonni and seems to live forever as everyone begins to die around her. Throughout the novel there is a tension between the supernatural and Christianity. This made the novel have a very old world feel to me, even back to when Christianity was making its first appearances and mixing with the long held beliefs about multiple gods, folklore, and the sagas. But then suddenly the novel is grounded in to the 20th century with the advent of WWI and the need for Icelandic sheep and wool in Europe. All of a sudden even the smallest sheep farmers are flush with cash. Even Bjartur builds a real house, though prices crash before he completes it. There is a shift in politics also from capitalism, which is seen to hold the small farmer down and benefit only the already rich, to a cooperative society. I was interested to see if Bjartur could get on board with the idea of cooperatives since his whole life had been a quest for independence. He resists for a while, but nominally gets on board with the idea when he sees some of the benefits. He never seems to fully commit, though, which I think fit his personality. This book just oozes with the Icelandic setting. I feel that I know Iceland after reading this (probably a dangerous feeling since its really the only Icelandic book I’ve read). Bjartur is a great main character; he is not likable and at first seems simple, but his personality gains in complexity as the novel progresses and I have to think I will feel differently about him each time I read this novel. For a while the characters are overshadowed by the setting and history of the book, but in the end they become equal with and completely entwined with the setting in an amazing way. I found this book had great adventure, interesting characters, an informative historical setting, and amazing depiction of the Icelandic setting and way of life. What’s not to love? As a side note, I’ve read Growth of the Soil and The Saga of Gosta Berling recently, both of which have a lot in common with this book in terms of tone at least, and I found Independent People to be the best of the bunch. It sacrifices none of the complexity but gains in readability and cohesion. I loved it.
    • 5/5
      ‘Independent People’ is a book whose subject and length might make you think it was going to be as exciting as eating sawdust. Bjartur of Summerhouses is a very poor sheep farmer in Iceland in the early part of the 20th century, who after 18 years of indentured servitude has earned the right to a piece of land with a turf house on it. He faces threats from the very harsh winters, disease and parasites to his sheep, and the threat of a curse to the land he’s on from centuries of folklore. He faces even bigger threats from the rich farmers around him, as well as the political movements at play as Iceland modernized. Sound exciting? Well, it is. This book has it all – outstanding prose, wry humor, wonderful characters, great dialogue, and a deep sense of culture. It’s no wonder that it earned Laxness the Nobel Prize in 1955, nine years after it was published.Bjartur’s greatest strength is his stubborn, steely resolve to overcome all obstacles, and to remain beholden to no one. He not only refuses loans but also any type of gift or kindness, and warily avoids business propositions that he instinctively knows are likely to take advantage of the little guy. In this way he is an Independent Man, completely free, and scratching and clawing to survive on his own land.Of course being “Independent” has its drawbacks, and Bjartur is quite blockheaded at times. He’s a loner who doesn’t feel love or understand that humans need to lean on each other sometimes. The same strength we applaud as he holds his own against his rich neighbor the Bailiff in sharp exchanges, we cringe at as he’s extraordinarily callous to his own children. He’s a hard guy to like and certainly no hero, and yet, he seems to recall the great Icelandic heroes of old that are referenced in the novel (mostly by Bjartur himself, who also likes composing traditional poetry to himself).This novel, as it’s subtitled, is an epic, and yet there are not a lot of overly complicated relationships or excessive characters that are hard to keep track of. Each character that Laxness does include, however, whether major or minor, is masterfully painted. There are several parts of the book which are memorable. Stop reading here if you don’t want to see spoilers, because I’d like to share three of them. In the first, Bjartur’s first wife is terrorized by what seems like a demonic sheep while alone at night, leading to her killing and butchering it. Bjartur then goes out and looks for that sheep, thinking it lost, even though his wife is due to give birth. He comes across a reindeer that he attempts to kill with his bare hands, successfully mounts it, but then takes a ride into the icy river, forcing him to eventually let it go. Stuck on the wrong side of the river, he then faces a long, circuitous route home through a howling blizzard. By the time he gets home, his wife has died in childbirth, but his infant daughter has miraculously survived. In another, when his daughter, Asta Sollilja has grown up a bit, she goes to town with him. It’s a ‘big outing’ for her, and she compares the fashions of the girls there to her threadbare clothes, visits a bookstore, and later needs to share a bed in a hotel with Bjartur in a roomful of snoring men. She innocently snuggles up to him for warmth in the drafty room, but this leads to a confusing situation for Bjartur.The last one I’ll mention is youngest son Nonni, who seems to be Laxness himself. He has a special relationship with his grandmother and he’s a dreamer, imagining the kitchen utensils talking in the night, and eventually he sets off for America still as a child. The book doesn’t follow him, it stays entirely in one small region of Icleand, but it makes clear that despite making it as a ‘singer to the world’, he always carries Iceland and the memories of his humble upbringing with him as he goes. There are many others. It’s shocking to me that this book went out of print for decades. If you’re travelling to Iceland, it would seem like essential reading. If you aren’t travelling to Iceland, well, it’s still great, great reading, and I highly recommended it.Just one quote, on poetry:“This was the first time that her soul was charmed by the power of poetry, which shows us the lot of man so truthfully and so sympathetically and with so much love for that which is good that we ourselves become better persons and understand life more fully than before, and hope and trust that good may always prevail in the life of man.”
    • 5/5
      How to describe this utterly beautiful book? The adjective I most want to use is 'human', although at least half of what is wonderful about this book are the non-human elements: the land, the weather, the sheep.I think I want to use the word 'human' because that's how it makes me feel. Fragile, embattled, prejudiced, hopeful. This is about as perfect as literature gets.
    • 3/5
      It can never be said of the Swedish Academy that they don't know what they like. Between this, The Growth of the Soil, The Good Earth, and probably several others I haven't read yet it seems clear that the path to a Nobel prize in literature is the one trod by struggling farmers out in the countryside.

      Independent People, unlike some of the other novels of this vein, focuses on the unpredictability of both nature and man as the decisive reason why farming succeeds or fails. While Hamsun stages a play where hard work and the willpower of the human spirit leads to the successful farm, Laxness sees the lonely farmer as ruled by the vicissitudes of fate more so than the noble human spirit.

      I'm no farmer, and I don't pretend to know what interpretation is more accurate, but I can see the effect that the philosophies have on both stories. Hamsun's main character is essentially a simpleton, whose strength and work ethic are the source of success. His wife, neighbors, and children are all lesser beings even when more intelligent, whose virtues decrease according to how little they care for the farming lifestyle. In sum The Growth of the Soil is a showcase for the triumph of the human will and an ode to the farming lifestyle, even if the characters are rather flat and one dimensional given how long the book is.

      In Independent People, in contrast, the characters feel more fleshed out, though all of them are insufferable to different degrees. Stubborn and proud even when they have done nothing to be proud of, a mix of bad luck and human foolishness means that life is a struggle in this novel even when things are going well. The main character is no supernaturally strong jack of all trades, and so he cannot be as independent and self-sufficient as he would like to be, and how the main character of Growth of the Soil actually is. Eventually the epiphany the man reaches and the message of the book as a whole is that there is no such thing as a truly independent person, as man is a social animal. It's a fairly obvious message, and not one that takes 450 pages to convey. John Donne did it more effectively in a single paragraph.

      Pearl S. Buck's The Good Earth is the best of the three, and also the least tethered to the setting or realism of a farm. Rural China as imagined by a Westerner is vivid, probably more vivid than it was in reality, but I'd happily sacrifice realism for a good story. In The Good Earth a farmer's success is also due to chance, but it is chance governed by man as much as it is by the weather or fate. The main character ultimately succeeds due to an act of theft, not hard work, and the final chapters of the book depict the corrupting power of wealth. The Good Earth also ends with a message in support of the farming lifestyle, not because of its nobility, but because the soil is permanent while other human endeavors are transient.

      All three are solid books, and all three treat the subject in different and interesting ways. Nevertheless, I'm glad the Swedish Academy has since expanded its view of literature beyond the farm.
    • 5/5
      To use an overused cliche; this book changed my life. I do not use the phrase lightly, Independent People is one of the greatest novels of the 20th century, in any language. It answered as well as asked a number of questions of my own life, and I could certainly see myself in Bjartur, for better or worse. The story tells of Bjartur, and his family, on his cursed farm, across 18 long hard years. The life of a sheep farmer is never easy, but is made even tougher in the unforgiving Icelandic landscape, and we follow Bjartur through happy and sad times, prosperity to bankruptcy. As Sigur Rós symbolise a country with their music, so this book by Halldór Laxness does the same with words. The struggle epitomises a great nation and people, still trying to find themselves in the world, while stubbornly refusing the outside help which could be the making of the nation. Iceland as a nation is unique in world literature, as without question it is their greatest passion, far exceeding all other pastimes. Independent People is probably the greatest gift of an Icelander to the world; a beautiful and at times tragic masterpiece.
    • 5/5
      ' "It is freedom that we are all after. ..He who keeps his sheep alive through the winter lives in a palace" ', 26 May 2014This review is from: Independent People (Paperback)Utterly compelling work, set in the bleak Icelandic farming world of 1900-20.Bjartur has just acquired his own piece of land after 18 years in thrall to the local bailiff. As he comes home to his humble croft - built on traditionally cursed ground - with his new bride, who is pregnant by another, he is obsessed by his new-found freedom. The pleasure of treating his former boss in a scornful manner; the need to increase his herd of sheep at the expense of all else, make him a seemingly hard and curmudgeonly character. And yet moments of intense emotion pepper the work: Bjartur's relationship with his wife's daughter; the occasional meetings of his wife and her father. One of the most moving parts of the book concerns the family cow...Interspersed with this are the meetings of the uneducated country folk, reminiscent of the unintentionally comic characters in Thomas Hardy's work. Whether they're discussing worms in their sheep, the length of women's skirts or asserting that 'Easter falls on a Saturday this year', the reader feels he's present at their discussions.Such a beautiful book, I think it'll be my number one read for this year.
    • 4/5
      How do I explain my joy with this book? I always liked Scandinavian sagas (Jane Smiley/The Greenlanders, Per Petersen, Smilla's Sense of Snow, Dragon Tattoo, etc) but this is just so being there, I don't know how else to explain it. It's the story of Bjatur, the stubbornest man on earth, a sheep farmer and former serf, who finally gets to own his own land and isn't beholden to anyone. But he isn't good for his wives, servants, and children. The surroundings are so harsh, as befits this winter. The pleasures of staying with Bjartur are so great. He has such a strong voice of poetry and doom and duty. There are also some hilarious parts, especially when all the farmers are together in sad and happy circumstances, when the talk inevitably turns to sheep worms and God and weather. The addition of a cow to his household, his daughter Asta Sollilja's first trip to town, the winter of the schoolteacher - all remarkable tales that could be books on their own. The story changes as WW I starts and ends and the migration to America begins. Laxness won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1955, the only Icelander who has ever been thusly rewarded. This book is a treasure but do not pick it up lightly. It's a challenge too. Kind of the anti-beach book!
    • 4/5
      Such a sad, bleak book, and yet not an unenjoyable read. Met a man from Iceland just as I finished reading it.
    • 5/5
      This book is about sheep. And being cold. If you think about sheep, the reality of them, they're kinda dirty, kinda creepy, look a little like weird demon creatures. Same goes for a lot of things in this book. There ARE weird demon creatures and creepy men/women/children; some die spitting blood into the snow while some survive reindeer rides through ice-cold rivers in the middle of a night where time seems to have stopped; people dream long or briefly and inevitably lose their dreams; gnarled old farmers argue about ovine minutiae; and of course everything is dirty and cold.

      This book takes place in Iceland, where it is apparently a national treasure. Or is it the author who's a national treasure? I forget.

      I have to give this book five stars because although I can't say for certain whether "I loved it," it is certainly amazing.
    • 5/5
      The fact is that it is utterly pointless to make anyone a generous offer unless he is a rich man; rich men are the only people who can accept a generous offer. To be poor is simply the peculiar human condition of not being able to take advantage of a generous offer. That quote comes near the end of the book and is almost the first time I noticed the author allowing himself the luxury of making direct commentary. And it takes all the weight of this incredible tome behind it – all its poverty and poetry; all its idiocy and ideals, for the reader to understand the full flavour of this little snide remark. This book is about so much! One could pick out themes and sound all learned, and one could write essay upon essay on it. There is social commentary and politics; there is Icelandic history and saga and poetry; there is the conflict between ideals and reality (that’s a really big one); and there are all the usual elements of great fiction: love and death and betrayal and illusion and rugged individuality. The book opens in Bjartur’s perspective – a peasant who has just, after long struggle, bought himself a freeholding, has married a wife and is arriving at his own land as an independent man. He is isolated and dirt-poor – and the most horrible, awful man one could ever not help liking in the history of fiction. Reading it, in spite of all the pain and death and cruelty he inflicts on others, I hardly even noticed that he was such an awful man until about halfway through the book. The tone is detached and sardonic and at the same time chatty and funny. One stands back and watches what the man will do next with a wry smile. For me personally, it was a most refreshing thing to read a book that didn’t ask to engage my sympathy and wrench my heart strings. However – that changes. And it needs to, considering the book’s length and themes. After a while the perspective shifts to that of Bjartur’s youngest son Nonni. And the whole tone changes, so much so that we begin to realise afresh the strangeness of Bjartur’s character. Through Nonni’s eyes, we begin something like a saga and a folk tale blended together – magic and longing and the wonder in small details. And later we see through the perspective of Asta Solilja, a character of such individuality and loveableness that now our heart is wholly won – and her perspective and style is different again. This is a kind of anti-saga. It’s saga for the twentieth century; saga for the Modernists. Its heroism is a misplaced heroism, so utterly misplaced that it amounts to cruel lunacy. The idea that to maintain independence against all odds must be heroic is an idea that recurs again and again – mostly because this idea is the mainstay of Bjartur’s character (which is wholly unique). And yet, when he does make a move contrary to his independence, that also ends in failure. Such is the lot of a peasant and a man without choices. After all, what is independence really, when one is tied to backbreaking work and poverty that keeps one near death all winter? This is social and economic commentary; it’s the large-scale mixed in with the microcosmic – such is the essence of this book. It’s difficult to talk about anything in it on any one level. Another anti-saga device is that nearly every quest undertaken leads to disillusionment. Glittering away in the distance is the idea of America – though everyone has a different America and only one character ever gets to the actual country. It isn’t always the country itself that attracts them. To some, their America is love; to others, wealth. To Bjartur, it is independence. For nearly everyone, it comes to nothing in the end.The book is full of poverty. Raw, dirt-poverty. Unromantic poverty, thrown into strong comic relief by the well-to-do bailiff’s wife, who composes poetry and writes articles and expounds on the beauty of hard work and Mother Mountain and the romance of the Good Life On The Land. “Townsfolk,” she said, “have no conception of the peace that Mother Nature bestows… The countryman, on the other hand, walks out to the verdant meadows, into an atmosphere clear and pure, and as he breathes it into his lungs some unknown power streams through his limbs, invigorating body and soul…” The setting and experience of the whole book is bogged unrelievedly in material and spiritual and intellectual poverty. And yet, still there is magic – the glitter of dreams and the wonder of unknown things. Poetry runs through the book in a constant thread, and everyone relates to it some way or another – even Bjartur composes traditional Icelandic verse in private. Again, this touches so many levels, as Icelandic poetry is of great importance in Icelandic identity. And I have not even touched on Icelandic identity in this book, and how it relates to independence and politics and war and economics… and to stubborn old Bjartur in his little mud croft in the mountains. A recurrent thing in the book is the throwing away of people – those who are loved, those who belong to one, for the sake of an idea (usually that of being ‘independent’). Such enormous and unnecessary suffering. Only by going into detail could I convey the impact of this theme on the book. There is the larger scale of it – the relation of politicians to peasants, and in the background, a world war; all using the expendability of people for the sake of an ideal or a fixation: something ultimately selfish. Bjartur himself on his smaller scale does it again and again: takes a person he loves, or who does him some kind of good, and with unbelievable casual cruelty, he throws them away.One doesn’t (or shouldn’t) win a Nobel Prize for Literature for simply writing a ‘good book’. This book deserves the prize fully (sez me). It’s a huge thing, massive in its scope, even though the main bulk of its events are in a tiny, filthy, cheerless dark mud hut in the bleak snowbound isolation of rural Iceland. It’s a mighty impressive result. It’s been a long time since I read a book that gave me so much on so many levels; and it left me reeling at the end as I tried to contain its complexity and individuality in some order in my mind, a thing I’m still finding hard to manage.It is brilliantly written. Few events are predictable, but everything is inevitable. In fiction, as in music, this is a sign of greatness. The style of writing – so matter of fact, often sardonic, sometimes wondrously poetic, deeply humorous without ever being comic – is a mark of a great writer and a great translator. J.A. Thompson, the translator, apparently never translated anything else in his life but this book, and it took him many years. He too should have won a Nobel Prize.