Halldór Laxness; translated by Philip Roughton
Iceland’s Bell by the 1955 Nobel Prize winner Halldór Laxness and translated by Philip Roughton is set in Iceland in the late 17th century when Iceland was a Danish colony. The novel, a hodge-podge of different elements, is geographically and politically broad in scope.
The three parts span a couple of decades. Part one follows the mishaps of Jón Hreggvidsson, a drunken fisherman, punished for stealing a fishing line, accused of murder, awaiting execution in jail, and escaping with the help of Snæfridur, the magistrate’s daughter, known as the Iceland’s sun for her beauty. Embroiled in the political turmoil of the times, Jón has a penchant to burst into Icelandic song whenever the mood takes him.
Part two, which takes place years later, focuses on Snæfridur’s trials and tribulations with her drunken husband Magnus. She is in love with Arnas Arnæus, a character based on the historical Arni Magnusson who collected ancient manuscripts of Icelandic sagas with a goal of recording and reviving Iceland’s glory.
Part three takes place in Copenhagen where the war for political control of Iceland is waged. Snæfridur has gone to Denmark to reverse her father’s conviction by appealing to the Danish authorities. She speaks with eloquence, passion, and pride in Iceland’s cultural heritage while decrying the injustices it has suffered. Arnæus is tempted with the governorship of Iceland by German merchants on the verge of purchasing Iceland from Denmark. The novel concludes with a brief description of the fire in Copenhagen.
Throw in the mix a host of complex civil and criminal litigations; a critique of trials and legal procedures; examples of Denmark’s colonial exploitation of Iceland, stripping it of its resources to finance the whim and exploits of the Danish king; the poverty, famine, and abysmal living conditions of the Icelandic people; references to Icelandic folklore heroes and heroines; citations from the sagas; and then pepper the narrative with an abundance of Latin phrases for good measure. If all this sounds complicated, that is because it is.
Laxness populates his canvas with aristocrats, drunkards, criminals, and hypocrites. In the tradition of Icelandic sagas, his characters have no interiority. We are not made privy to their feelings or thoughts and see them exclusively through their words and actions. Laxness portrays them without judgment. Even the most outlandish, horrific experiences and actions are described with a detached, dark humor that borders on being cartoonish. The narrative rambles; the dialogue is choppy with characters seemingly talking at each other. The pronunciation guide at the beginning and the extensive notes at the end are helpful. But the constant need to refer to the end notes to understand references and context disrupts the flow of the narrative.
This dense, somewhat unwieldy narrative provides a panoramic view of the suffering of the Icelandic people under the colonial yoke of Denmark. What emerges from this rollicking, contemporary Icelandic saga is Laxness’ love for his country and his respect for its rich cultural heritage.
Recommended with some reservations.