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The Whispering Muse
The year is 1949 and Valdimar Haraldsson, an eccentric Icelander with elevated ideas about the influence of fish consumption on Nordic civilisation, has had the singular good fortune to be invited to join a Danish merchant ship on its way to the Black Sea.
Among the crew is the mythical hero Caeneus, disguised as the second mate. Every evening after dinner he entrances his fellow travellers with the tale of how he sailed with the fabled vessel the Argo on the Argonauts’ quest to retrieve the Golden Fleece.
A master storyteller, Sjón seamlessly blends seafaring yarns of the ancient world with the manners of the modern age.
Among the crew is the mythical hero Caeneus, disguised as the second mate. Every evening after dinner he entrances his fellow travellers with the tale of how he sailed with the fabled vessel the Argo on the Argonauts’ quest to retrieve the Golden Fleece.
A master storyteller, Sjón seamlessly blends seafaring yarns of the ancient world with the manners of the modern age.
144 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2005
67 people are currently reading
2278 people want to read
About the author
Sjón
58 books636 followersSjón (Sigurjón B. Sigurðsson) was born in Reykjavik on the 27th of August, 1962. He started his writing career early, publishing his first book of poetry, Sýnir (Visions), in 1978. Sjón was a founding member of the surrealist group, Medúsa, and soon became significant in Reykjavik's cultural landscape.
Since then, his prolific writing drove him to pen song lyrics, scripts for movies and of course novels such as The Blue Fox.
Since then, his prolific writing drove him to pen song lyrics, scripts for movies and of course novels such as The Blue Fox.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 304 reviews
October 28, 2022
Quirky Icelander Valdimar Haraldsson an octogenarian living in a tiny apartment in Copenhagen, Denmark is a firm believer in the benefits of eating fish frequently, he has written books and magazine articles even lectured to this supposed fact, and views the Nordic people's healthy and robust bodies as a confirmation of that undeniable truth. Nevertheless being twice a widower he is an unhappy lonely and rather bored man...until an unexpected invitation from Danish shipping magnate, Magnus Jung-Olsen to take a trip on his new ship the Elizabet Jung-Olsen her maiden voyage too, Valdimar had been a great friend of the wealthy man's son Hermann, late friend he was killed young in a tavern brawl...ironically celebrating the end of WWI in Vienna .The year is now 1949 from Denmark to Norway all through the Mediterranean Sea, to the Black Sea the freighter will travel during the spring, picking up cargo and delivering it to different ports along the way. Appreciative of the fabulous accommodations, he Valdimar finds a suite two rooms, as good as Captain Alfredson's all free... arriving in a wondrous Norwegian fjord (feeling better) to receive raw paper there, put it in the ship's wells the crew will do, and leave but first seeing the vast operations a complicated procedure, miles of long rail tracts for the heavy lumber from the distant forests to finally getting to the paper mill, for processing a dangerous job obviously for the hardy workers accidents happen often ...unfortunately this situations takes place.. a family man is very badly hurt (quite mangled)...tempers, inevitably flare punches are viciously struck...Mr.Haraldsson watches, he cannot do anything else. ..Staying longer than planned still at night after work, dinner the crew including himself the captain and the few passengers ( one not a respectable woman, on board) listening intently to the second mate's Caeneus, a gigantic old yet charismatic gentleman if that is an appropriate term, sea stories...yarns which strangely begin by his taking out a piece of ancient wood, (from the Argo?) really a splinter raises that to his right ear and listens carefully...the fantastic famous, mythical tales of Jason and the Argonauts. They come to an island in the Aegean Sea deserted by the men only women left... well you don't have to guess you known what will happen...years have passed since the ladies have seen a man. This fantasy from Iceland, is a strange mixture of two realities if I may loosely call this novel this, a combination of what could be and something that only exists in a fictional book...Your enjoyment depends on how far you're willing to be taken on a strange voyage into unknown worlds of the imagination...
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July 10, 2022
'The wind was in our favor.'
Stories are the building blocks for our lives and the whole of human history. We all have our own personal experiences which we share with others to create an image of ourselves in their minds, and through the stories of our ancestors we can chart the progression of history as it marches toward the present, while witnessing the creation and destruction of all the civilizations, religions and other governing systems of belief across it’s ever-growing timeline. Even our early moral lessons are often instilled in us by children’s fables and folktales. Language and narrative are essential tools in our understanding the world around us, which makes literature and mythology such a valuable barometer for the culture it was born within. Icelandic author Sjón’s The Whispering Muse (2005) uses the conversations and stories which fill the decks and dining halls of a Danish steamship as a consummate catalyst for an amalgamation between the tales of Jason and the Argonauts, as well as Norse mythology, Christianity, sailor’s songs, and the political climate in the fallout of WWII. Both playful and ponderous, The Whispering Muse launches the reader on an abstract voyage where the boundaries of myth, cultures, and reality itself begin to dissolve, and a larger, more encompassing vision of humanity begins to take form. Through a variety of narrative devices and subtle connections, Sjón intricately layers together individual sagas and culture mythos to create an epic in miniature that forms a gateway between the real and the mythological as well as an intersection of cultural and religious traditions.
Sjón has earned an impressive reputation back home for his novels, poems, plays, and song lyrics (preformed by Bjork), and is now slowly gaining readership outside of Europe. Rightfully so, as this quiet novel leaves quite the lasting impression through its subtle knots of narrative structures and mythology. There is a poetic ecstasy lurking within The Whispering Muse underpinned by a filter of a stuffy academic narrator. It’s like hearing breath-taking music muffled on the other side of a thick wooden door, and while the technique works for humorous reasons within the novel, it is nearly impossible to not read another of his novels as if throwing the door open in hopes of being washed in that elusive poetic beauty (this promise is fulfilled in The Blue Fox: A Novel). Keeping tight control on his pace and prose, Sjón has created something wonderful here.
Valdimar Haraldsson, a pompous and overbearing journalist whose life work is to expound on his belief that the Nordic people are genetically superior due to their fishing industry and diet of fish, details the several days spent aboard the MS Elizabet Jung-Olsen on the first leg of it’s passage from Norway to Turkey. The choice of the insufferable academic as narrator is brilliant as it opens up a comedic rift between what transpires and the way he perceives it, and he often misreads or is utterly oblivious to the social cues of those around him. Haraldsson takes everything far more serious than anyone else, which is a point of bewilderment to the crew at times, and sees the world through a very narrow perspective. This forms the great irony in the novel, as Sjón builds an elaborate human mosaic that can only be seen through the perepheries or lapses in the narrator’s restrictive vision and the vast assortment of perceptions are funneled down into the driest and most self-important of them all. Much of the poetic beauty that reaches his ears comes out through his narrative voice in dusty terminology and pretentious adornments, and the true reactions of the crew can only be discerned by reassessing the fleeting bits of descriptions that have already re-forged in his mold of perception.
Each night after dinner (a humorous bit that resurfaces a few times is that, while the crux of Haraldsson’s theory is the Nordic’s fish consumption, the ship never serves fish.), the second mate tells a continuing story of his time sailing with Jason and the Argonauts. While the story is seemingly outlandish, crude, and improbable, the crew never seems to doubt it’s validity, much to the chagrin of our narrator, who is doubly aggravated by the ‘prop’ through which the mate puts to his ear and hears the story from: a splinter of wood from the Argos.
While each individual thread within the novel is captivating on it’s own, it is the subtle ways through which they intersect that is most impressive. The narratives point towards each other like the two ends of a bridge unfinished in the middle. Our minds understand and apply the non-existent bridge as the connection between both ends, and it is this non-existent bridge, this abstraction, where we find the heart of Sjón’s story. There is the Greek myth of Jason in which the crew is treated to a ballad telling the violent Nordic myth of Sigurd and Gudrun, further emphasizing the mix of Greek mythology with the Nordic setting of Haraldsson’s story. Similarly, the extended stay of the Argo’s in Lemnos coincides with the MS Elizabet Jung-Olsen being held at port through the Easter season until the factory crew can return to work and load the ship and the Christian Easter story is reflected in the Greek tale of Caeneus when he is nailed to a cross to heal his broken body. The separate myths and stories begins to all hum together to form a euphoric choir of voices delivering a poignant melody of humanity as one giant mythos. Theses characters all experience the pain of humanity as a whole having suffered the horrors of WWII, and there is a subtle cry for worldwide unity that is forever fractured by the political struggles that the characters still see around them. Sjón seems to offer a hope that can come only if we break down our barriers and open our minds. In this new world where reality and myth blur, even the impossible can be possible.
There seemed to be a misogynistic vibe throughout the slim novel, however. The female roles are often seen as conniving tricksters (such as the Purser’s girlfriend—who is only known by her relation to the male figure of the Purser, one of the subtle ways language can be used to show her as subservient), sex workers, or pitiful creatures needing the comfort an protection of the men of the Argos. This may be used to reflect the stereotype of rough, roguish seamen, and it reflects on the way women have been treated poorly through history. Men have shaped them into this position through their tales, and, as Adrienne Rich offers in her poem Diving into the Wreck, mythology has chained women to these roles in the perceptions of men since they grow up hearing these stories and have their beliefs shaped by them. Towards the end there is a dramatic and heart wrenching account of a young maiden's rape by Poseidon () and the emotional response it elicits from the Purser’s girlfriend. The crew gives her a moment of silence to collect herself and shows her due respect, and the narrator reads this as ‘the weeping [was] for all of us. Four years had passed since the end of the great conflict but we still couldn’t believe that humanity had won.’ Perhaps this is to show an empathy for the women and that the horrors of war which befell all, men and women, have allowed people to see one another as equals in humanity. I’m not sure if this is completely unfounded, yet the misogyny seems intentional only to be used to further Sjón plead for worldwide unity and equality. As Adrienne Rich stressed, we must rewrite the myths. I leave this issue to those with better reading powers and insight than my own.
The Whispering Muse is a fantastic little novel that serves as a perfect introduction to this Icelandic author. Quietly edging forward, Sjón never falters with his polished balance of intertwining stories that blossom out of each other like fractals. It left me wanting more, showing that the author has huge potentials that were not quite reached in this book, some of them being self-imposed restrictions such as the narrators stuffy grip on the prose. A fun and fascinating re-telling of Greek mythology, as well as an engaging story of ships and frosty landscapes, The Whispering Muse is a delicate, delightful book of great imagination where reality is reshaped and the myths walk among us.
3.75/5
Stories are the building blocks for our lives and the whole of human history. We all have our own personal experiences which we share with others to create an image of ourselves in their minds, and through the stories of our ancestors we can chart the progression of history as it marches toward the present, while witnessing the creation and destruction of all the civilizations, religions and other governing systems of belief across it’s ever-growing timeline. Even our early moral lessons are often instilled in us by children’s fables and folktales. Language and narrative are essential tools in our understanding the world around us, which makes literature and mythology such a valuable barometer for the culture it was born within. Icelandic author Sjón’s The Whispering Muse (2005) uses the conversations and stories which fill the decks and dining halls of a Danish steamship as a consummate catalyst for an amalgamation between the tales of Jason and the Argonauts, as well as Norse mythology, Christianity, sailor’s songs, and the political climate in the fallout of WWII. Both playful and ponderous, The Whispering Muse launches the reader on an abstract voyage where the boundaries of myth, cultures, and reality itself begin to dissolve, and a larger, more encompassing vision of humanity begins to take form. Through a variety of narrative devices and subtle connections, Sjón intricately layers together individual sagas and culture mythos to create an epic in miniature that forms a gateway between the real and the mythological as well as an intersection of cultural and religious traditions.
Sjón has earned an impressive reputation back home for his novels, poems, plays, and song lyrics (preformed by Bjork), and is now slowly gaining readership outside of Europe. Rightfully so, as this quiet novel leaves quite the lasting impression through its subtle knots of narrative structures and mythology. There is a poetic ecstasy lurking within The Whispering Muse underpinned by a filter of a stuffy academic narrator. It’s like hearing breath-taking music muffled on the other side of a thick wooden door, and while the technique works for humorous reasons within the novel, it is nearly impossible to not read another of his novels as if throwing the door open in hopes of being washed in that elusive poetic beauty (this promise is fulfilled in The Blue Fox: A Novel). Keeping tight control on his pace and prose, Sjón has created something wonderful here.
Valdimar Haraldsson, a pompous and overbearing journalist whose life work is to expound on his belief that the Nordic people are genetically superior due to their fishing industry and diet of fish, details the several days spent aboard the MS Elizabet Jung-Olsen on the first leg of it’s passage from Norway to Turkey. The choice of the insufferable academic as narrator is brilliant as it opens up a comedic rift between what transpires and the way he perceives it, and he often misreads or is utterly oblivious to the social cues of those around him. Haraldsson takes everything far more serious than anyone else, which is a point of bewilderment to the crew at times, and sees the world through a very narrow perspective. This forms the great irony in the novel, as Sjón builds an elaborate human mosaic that can only be seen through the perepheries or lapses in the narrator’s restrictive vision and the vast assortment of perceptions are funneled down into the driest and most self-important of them all. Much of the poetic beauty that reaches his ears comes out through his narrative voice in dusty terminology and pretentious adornments, and the true reactions of the crew can only be discerned by reassessing the fleeting bits of descriptions that have already re-forged in his mold of perception.
Each night after dinner (a humorous bit that resurfaces a few times is that, while the crux of Haraldsson’s theory is the Nordic’s fish consumption, the ship never serves fish.), the second mate tells a continuing story of his time sailing with Jason and the Argonauts. While the story is seemingly outlandish, crude, and improbable, the crew never seems to doubt it’s validity, much to the chagrin of our narrator, who is doubly aggravated by the ‘prop’ through which the mate puts to his ear and hears the story from: a splinter of wood from the Argos.
I hear something that could best be compared with the soporific hiss of our shortwave radio receiver: as if a handful of golden sand were being shaken in a fine sieve…Once the ear has fallen asleep, the humming takes on a new form. It becomes a note, a voice sounding in the consciousness, as if a single grain of golden sand had slipped through the mesh of the sieve and, borne on the tip of the eardrum’s tongue, passed through the horn and ivory-inlaid gates that divide the tangible from the invisible world.We all have our muse. We have our history, our loves, longings, hopes and sorrows that compel us to tell our stories. The world is a collection of stories, and each story is filled with stories within them. Even if we are the lead in our own story, each secondary character down to the walk-on extras have their own stories to tell. Whispering Muse is composed of all these stories within stories, often told through differing voices (the narrator usually, but not always, admittedly supplying his own variation on the actual words), and different narrative forms such as Norse lyrical epics or simple drinking songs. This is a story of Haraldsson’s voyage with many other narratives that weave in and out of it and further telescope into the narratives that are contained inside them as well.
While each individual thread within the novel is captivating on it’s own, it is the subtle ways through which they intersect that is most impressive. The narratives point towards each other like the two ends of a bridge unfinished in the middle. Our minds understand and apply the non-existent bridge as the connection between both ends, and it is this non-existent bridge, this abstraction, where we find the heart of Sjón’s story. There is the Greek myth of Jason in which the crew is treated to a ballad telling the violent Nordic myth of Sigurd and Gudrun, further emphasizing the mix of Greek mythology with the Nordic setting of Haraldsson’s story. Similarly, the extended stay of the Argo’s in Lemnos coincides with the MS Elizabet Jung-Olsen being held at port through the Easter season until the factory crew can return to work and load the ship and the Christian Easter story is reflected in the Greek tale of Caeneus when he is nailed to a cross to heal his broken body. The separate myths and stories begins to all hum together to form a euphoric choir of voices delivering a poignant melody of humanity as one giant mythos. Theses characters all experience the pain of humanity as a whole having suffered the horrors of WWII, and there is a subtle cry for worldwide unity that is forever fractured by the political struggles that the characters still see around them. Sjón seems to offer a hope that can come only if we break down our barriers and open our minds. In this new world where reality and myth blur, even the impossible can be possible.
There seemed to be a misogynistic vibe throughout the slim novel, however. The female roles are often seen as conniving tricksters (such as the Purser’s girlfriend—who is only known by her relation to the male figure of the Purser, one of the subtle ways language can be used to show her as subservient), sex workers, or pitiful creatures needing the comfort an protection of the men of the Argos. This may be used to reflect the stereotype of rough, roguish seamen, and it reflects on the way women have been treated poorly through history. Men have shaped them into this position through their tales, and, as Adrienne Rich offers in her poem Diving into the Wreck, mythology has chained women to these roles in the perceptions of men since they grow up hearing these stories and have their beliefs shaped by them. Towards the end there is a dramatic and heart wrenching account of a young maiden's rape by Poseidon () and the emotional response it elicits from the Purser’s girlfriend. The crew gives her a moment of silence to collect herself and shows her due respect, and the narrator reads this as ‘the weeping [was] for all of us. Four years had passed since the end of the great conflict but we still couldn’t believe that humanity had won.’ Perhaps this is to show an empathy for the women and that the horrors of war which befell all, men and women, have allowed people to see one another as equals in humanity. I’m not sure if this is completely unfounded, yet the misogyny seems intentional only to be used to further Sjón plead for worldwide unity and equality. As Adrienne Rich stressed, we must rewrite the myths. I leave this issue to those with better reading powers and insight than my own.
The Whispering Muse is a fantastic little novel that serves as a perfect introduction to this Icelandic author. Quietly edging forward, Sjón never falters with his polished balance of intertwining stories that blossom out of each other like fractals. It left me wanting more, showing that the author has huge potentials that were not quite reached in this book, some of them being self-imposed restrictions such as the narrators stuffy grip on the prose. A fun and fascinating re-telling of Greek mythology, as well as an engaging story of ships and frosty landscapes, The Whispering Muse is a delicate, delightful book of great imagination where reality is reshaped and the myths walk among us.
3.75/5
February 10, 2017
An eccentric Icelander with lofty ideas of fish
consumption on Nordic civilization has been invited to join a Danish merchant ship on its way to the Black Sea. One of the crew members, a mythical hero, is disguised as a ship mate. Every night after dinner, he tells stories of how he sailed with the fabled vessel 'Argo' on its quest to retrieve the Golden Fleece.
"There it was fighting to free itself from the hook, bending the rod to breaking point for what seemed like an eternity--it took me a full forty minutes to reel it in. When it finally stopped flapping about the deck and lay gasping at my feet, I calculated that this gargantuan fish would suffice for at least two meals for the seven of us at the Captains table".
This slim book is really quite funny….with some hilarious physical transformations…
Things get quirky..... fishy with pure diluted seawater.
This story is a great fit right now- matching the heavy rain storm in the Bay Area.
Sijon writes lyrically and delightful.
consumption on Nordic civilization has been invited to join a Danish merchant ship on its way to the Black Sea. One of the crew members, a mythical hero, is disguised as a ship mate. Every night after dinner, he tells stories of how he sailed with the fabled vessel 'Argo' on its quest to retrieve the Golden Fleece.
"There it was fighting to free itself from the hook, bending the rod to breaking point for what seemed like an eternity--it took me a full forty minutes to reel it in. When it finally stopped flapping about the deck and lay gasping at my feet, I calculated that this gargantuan fish would suffice for at least two meals for the seven of us at the Captains table".
This slim book is really quite funny….with some hilarious physical transformations…
Things get quirky..... fishy with pure diluted seawater.
This story is a great fit right now- matching the heavy rain storm in the Bay Area.
Sijon writes lyrically and delightful.
August 10, 2020
+++ I'm just reposting this to flex that I did an interview with Sjón and you can listen to our conversation here! :-) +++
Full disclosure: I love love love Sjón! In "The Whispering Muse", he fuses the ancient myth of the argonauts with the story of an octogenerian Icelandic racial theorist/fish enthusiast who takes part in a cruise. The whole mastery of Sjón becomes apparent when he gives us the most tedious and self-regarding character as a narrator without writing a boring book - on the contrary.
The year is 1949 when Valdimir Haraldsson boards a Danish merchant ship to take a cruise on which he was invited, planning to entertain the other passengers with his expertise on fish - but the second mate outshines him with his adventure tales, because he is no other than Caeneus who partook in the Argo's voyage to retrieve the Golden Fleece. Haraldsson can't fathom why the other passengers are fascinated by Caeneus' stories, whispered into his ear by a piece of wood that turns out to be a splinter from the bow timber of the Argo, and don't share his enthusiasm for his theories regarding the unsettlingly insane assumption that there's a "link between fish consumption and the superiority of the Nordic race" - this juxtaposition gives the text its typical playfulness, while underneath the surface, the story on the cruise ship and the story of the Argo strangely intersect and even interact.
Interestingly, Sjón's novel was inspired by two texts his great-grandfather, Matthías Þórðarson frá Móum, wrote. One of these texts was a story which Sjón describes as an "anti-narration (that) had the flavor of modernist writing in its main character’s insistent refusal to engage with what is supposed to be noteworthy in a story." The other one, published in 1936, is an essay in which "he proposes, in all seriousness, a theory about the relationship between fish consumption and the superiority of the Nordic race." I really like how Sjón works with stories taken from myth and history, including his own family history (no matter how disturbing it may sometimes be), the best example probably being the twist at the end of "Moonstone: The Boy Who Never Was".
Like all books by Sjón, the novel has been translated by Victoria Cribb who is so good that I stopped reading the German translations. I already got the next text by Sjón/Cribb right at the top of my TBR: "From the Mouth of the Whale".
Full disclosure: I love love love Sjón! In "The Whispering Muse", he fuses the ancient myth of the argonauts with the story of an octogenerian Icelandic racial theorist/fish enthusiast who takes part in a cruise. The whole mastery of Sjón becomes apparent when he gives us the most tedious and self-regarding character as a narrator without writing a boring book - on the contrary.
The year is 1949 when Valdimir Haraldsson boards a Danish merchant ship to take a cruise on which he was invited, planning to entertain the other passengers with his expertise on fish - but the second mate outshines him with his adventure tales, because he is no other than Caeneus who partook in the Argo's voyage to retrieve the Golden Fleece. Haraldsson can't fathom why the other passengers are fascinated by Caeneus' stories, whispered into his ear by a piece of wood that turns out to be a splinter from the bow timber of the Argo, and don't share his enthusiasm for his theories regarding the unsettlingly insane assumption that there's a "link between fish consumption and the superiority of the Nordic race" - this juxtaposition gives the text its typical playfulness, while underneath the surface, the story on the cruise ship and the story of the Argo strangely intersect and even interact.
Interestingly, Sjón's novel was inspired by two texts his great-grandfather, Matthías Þórðarson frá Móum, wrote. One of these texts was a story which Sjón describes as an "anti-narration (that) had the flavor of modernist writing in its main character’s insistent refusal to engage with what is supposed to be noteworthy in a story." The other one, published in 1936, is an essay in which "he proposes, in all seriousness, a theory about the relationship between fish consumption and the superiority of the Nordic race." I really like how Sjón works with stories taken from myth and history, including his own family history (no matter how disturbing it may sometimes be), the best example probably being the twist at the end of "Moonstone: The Boy Who Never Was".
Like all books by Sjón, the novel has been translated by Victoria Cribb who is so good that I stopped reading the German translations. I already got the next text by Sjón/Cribb right at the top of my TBR: "From the Mouth of the Whale".
August 10, 2020
3.5, rounded up.
Although this is my least favorite of the three Sjón novels I have read so far, there is something so joyously playful about them, that even when they don't seem to come together in any fruitful fashion, as here, they are still a pleasure to read. And as per usual, Victoria Cribb's translation is so effortlessly fluid that if it weren't for the subject matter, one wouldn't guess it wasn't originally rendered in English.
Although this is my least favorite of the three Sjón novels I have read so far, there is something so joyously playful about them, that even when they don't seem to come together in any fruitful fashion, as here, they are still a pleasure to read. And as per usual, Victoria Cribb's translation is so effortlessly fluid that if it weren't for the subject matter, one wouldn't guess it wasn't originally rendered in English.
January 17, 2016
I loved this little gem of a book, that demands much more than the 143 pages it is written on. It is an invitation to embark on the adventures of The Argonauts, as told by the second mate Caeneus, who while voyaging on a ship in 1949 narrates his previous adventures on the Argo under Captain Jason in their quest for the Golden Fleece.
Not being familiar with the epic poem written by Apollonius of Rhodes, (Hellenistic poet, 3rd century BC) I diverged off course to familiarise myself with its plot, and some of the named characters mentioned, as this is a book full of mythological literary references that make a pleasant and fulfilling divergence in its reading.
Set in 1949 as an elderly, eccentric Icelandic man is invited by the father of one of the fans of his work on Nordic culture and fish consumption, to embark on a voyage at sea from Copenhagen to the Black Sea, he recounts his journey as he sees it, while learning about the grand voyage of Caeneus.
The sources quoted on the last page provide a link to the sparks that ignited the imagination of Sjon.
Entertaining, intriguing, intellectually stimulation and fun, what more could one for from a book read on the 1st day of the new year 2016.
Not being familiar with the epic poem written by Apollonius of Rhodes, (Hellenistic poet, 3rd century BC) I diverged off course to familiarise myself with its plot, and some of the named characters mentioned, as this is a book full of mythological literary references that make a pleasant and fulfilling divergence in its reading.
Set in 1949 as an elderly, eccentric Icelandic man is invited by the father of one of the fans of his work on Nordic culture and fish consumption, to embark on a voyage at sea from Copenhagen to the Black Sea, he recounts his journey as he sees it, while learning about the grand voyage of Caeneus.
The sources quoted on the last page provide a link to the sparks that ignited the imagination of Sjon.
Entertaining, intriguing, intellectually stimulation and fun, what more could one for from a book read on the 1st day of the new year 2016.
July 10, 2020
Well this is hard to describe , such an unusual book. It’s lightly humorous yet carries some quite dark undertones. The narrator is an Icelandic pompous , selfinterested old fool who doesn’t seem to realise how ridiculous he is. This is how the book opens:
“
I, Valdimar Haraldsson, was in my twenty-seventh year when I embarked on the publication of a small journal devoted to my chief preoccupation, the link between fish consumption and the superiority of the Nordic race.”
In 1949, He gets invited on a cruise on a Norwegian boat where the first mate tells tales of his travels every night after dinner. His name is Caeneus and turns out he is a mythical figure who travelled on the Argo with Jason and his argonauts. The stories are in marked contrast to the speech Haraldsson gives and his normal day to day thoughts and conversations.
I enjoyed this combination of retelling of Greek myth and Norse counterparts with an interesting cast of characters. I’m sure I’ll be thinking about it for ages and leaves me thinking I need to read up on some greek classics (Ovid, Euripides are included in the sources)!
“
I, Valdimar Haraldsson, was in my twenty-seventh year when I embarked on the publication of a small journal devoted to my chief preoccupation, the link between fish consumption and the superiority of the Nordic race.”
In 1949, He gets invited on a cruise on a Norwegian boat where the first mate tells tales of his travels every night after dinner. His name is Caeneus and turns out he is a mythical figure who travelled on the Argo with Jason and his argonauts. The stories are in marked contrast to the speech Haraldsson gives and his normal day to day thoughts and conversations.
I enjoyed this combination of retelling of Greek myth and Norse counterparts with an interesting cast of characters. I’m sure I’ll be thinking about it for ages and leaves me thinking I need to read up on some greek classics (Ovid, Euripides are included in the sources)!
June 30, 2013
This was a strange book. Essentially, it's the tale of a tale being told, with the telling occurring a long time ago (for most of us living souls) about an even more ancient tale.
It was okay, but...I just could not ever really get into the story. The main character comes off as somewhat pompous with an overblown sense of racial/ethnic superiority. I couldn't identify with him, or with his points of view. I wanted to shove him off the boat and into the sea, preferably with circling sharks in the vicinity.
Just like there is chick lit, maybe there is guy lit too. It might be a tale with a more masculine air about it, and I missed the entire point because of the gender difference. For me, reading this one started to smack of a high school mandatory read and it was nearly torture. The story moved too slow, I couldn't get into it, and I wasn't getting the point.
It was okay, but...I just could not ever really get into the story. The main character comes off as somewhat pompous with an overblown sense of racial/ethnic superiority. I couldn't identify with him, or with his points of view. I wanted to shove him off the boat and into the sea, preferably with circling sharks in the vicinity.
Just like there is chick lit, maybe there is guy lit too. It might be a tale with a more masculine air about it, and I missed the entire point because of the gender difference. For me, reading this one started to smack of a high school mandatory read and it was nearly torture. The story moved too slow, I couldn't get into it, and I wasn't getting the point.
October 19, 2014
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 4, 2013
much like the blue fox, sjón's the whispering muse is possessed of qualities that linger long after the novel has concluded. combining elements of greek mythology with modern storytelling (as well as incorporating his grandfather's fascination with icelandic & nordic fish consumption), the whispering muse (argóarflísin) is a lyrical, imaginative work. set mostly upon a merchant ship in the spring of 1949, the crew is regaled nightly by the astonishing tales of mate caeneus's adventures sailing with jason and the argonauts. there is a quiet beauty and simplicity to sjón's writing, but his novel is hardly a disposable affair. the whispering muse's undulous, dual narratives are charming and seamlessly intertwined, while sjón winningly blends his twin influences of the contemporary and the classical.
*translated from the icelandic by victoria cribb
grief crushed the liver-red gull's heart as caeneus recognized in the tramp's burst pupils the most splendid champion the world had ever known, the man who had commanded the most famous heroes in days of yore, he who had won the love of queens and enchantresses; yes, there the gull saw the ruins of his old captain, jason son of aeson.
*translated from the icelandic by victoria cribb
December 28, 2016
I am not surprise to learn that he wrote for Bjork. What doesn't Sjon cover in this slim little volume? Still thinking about it days after reading it. It's actually a wonderful novel. Thank you Richard.
February 9, 2013
With a cover and a title like that, glowing recommendations from renown authors like David Mitchell and Alberto Manguel, and the comparison as "Iceland's Haruki Murakami/Robert Bolaño" from my colleague, it was hard to keep my hands off this book. I had no inkling as to what "The Whispering Muse" was about so it was a pleasant surprise as to how taken I was by the story and the words.
When I say story, I meant a story within a story, where Vladimar Haraldsson is on board a Danish merchant ship and is entertained by second mate Caeneus with the adventures of his time aboard the Argo to retrieve the Golden Fleece. Yes, of famed Greek mythology Jason and the Argonauts. The contrast between these two narratives is so jarring it shouldn't work, yet they go against the grain and form quite the intriguing blend of past and somewhat present, fable and seemingly non-fiction, traditional and determinedly progressive.
To go back and forth between ancient Greece to a mid-20th century Nordic setting, Sjón's writing style does the trick in presenting them on an even plane and bridging them together. This is where we see his talent as a poet and a lyricist (for Björk) on top of a novelist. Each word glides off the previous one making a string of them lyrical, while having an informative tone that adds weight to what is being written to build the atmosphere of the plot. Credit must also be given to Victoria Cribb for masterfully translating such an extraordinary piece of Icelandic literature.
Even though I've only read a single Mitchell novel and not all of Murakami's works, I can see the similarities Sjón has with them - effortless prose in bringing to life the collision of reality and surrealism. It excites me to begin reading another novel of his.
When I say story, I meant a story within a story, where Vladimar Haraldsson is on board a Danish merchant ship and is entertained by second mate Caeneus with the adventures of his time aboard the Argo to retrieve the Golden Fleece. Yes, of famed Greek mythology Jason and the Argonauts. The contrast between these two narratives is so jarring it shouldn't work, yet they go against the grain and form quite the intriguing blend of past and somewhat present, fable and seemingly non-fiction, traditional and determinedly progressive.
To go back and forth between ancient Greece to a mid-20th century Nordic setting, Sjón's writing style does the trick in presenting them on an even plane and bridging them together. This is where we see his talent as a poet and a lyricist (for Björk) on top of a novelist. Each word glides off the previous one making a string of them lyrical, while having an informative tone that adds weight to what is being written to build the atmosphere of the plot. Credit must also be given to Victoria Cribb for masterfully translating such an extraordinary piece of Icelandic literature.
Even though I've only read a single Mitchell novel and not all of Murakami's works, I can see the similarities Sjón has with them - effortless prose in bringing to life the collision of reality and surrealism. It excites me to begin reading another novel of his.
October 30, 2020
The Whispering Muse by Sjón, translated from the Icelandic by Victoria Cribb, blends fiction with mythology. The narrative unfolds through the first-person voice of Valdimar Haraldsson, a somewhat pompous elderly gentleman with an inflated ego. He is the author of a 17-volume journal devoted to demonstrating the supposedly mental and physical superiority of the Nordic race which he attributes to its consumption of fish. He has written articles and given lectures on the subject. Haraldsson is at a cross roads in his life when he is invited by the son of a deceased friend to join a Danish merchant ship on its way to Turkey. He embraces the opportunity. The year is 1949.
Once situated on the ship, Haraldsson meets the senior members of the crew. Among them is Caeneus, the second mate. Caeneus regales the guests at dinner time with tales of Jason and the Argonauts on their adventures to retrieve the Golden Fleece. He claims to have sailed with Jason, his muse being a broken fragment of the Argo’s hull which whispers in his ear. He serves as the muse’s mouthpiece. His tales include the stay at Lemnos whose exclusive inhabitants are females eager to entertain their male guests; his rape as a female and subsequent transformation into a male; his stint as a bird, as well as many other fantastical elements. He weaves Nordic mythology with Greek myths from Apollonius, the plays of Euripides, and the poetry of Ovid. He garners the rapt attention of the dinner guests, much to Haraldsson’s chagrin since he had hoped to entertain them with his theory on the benefits of eating fish.
Caeneus’ playful, fantastic tales contrast sharply with Haraldsson’s dry, controlled speech.
His mythic retellings intersect with events on the ship. For example, during Easter when the ship is delayed at port, Caeneus tells the story of the Argo’s extended stay at Lemnos. He also echoes Easter when he launches into an improbable tale of being nailed to a cross to heal his broken bones.
Haraldsson barely contains his boredom as he listens to the Caeneus’ tales. He cannot fathom the audiences’ fascination with the stories and is frustrated by the lack of seafood on the ship’s menu. When he finally delivers his lecture on “Fish and Culture,” the audience listens in polite silence. He is dull, insufferable, and bereft of imagination. He refuses to be transported by Caeneus’ narrative. His perceptions are out of joint with the other guests and he is totally clueless on the impact he has on those around him. Upon his return home, he starts a romance with his elderly neighbor. The novel ends with Haraldsson stroking the “whispering muse” he smuggled off the ship.
This is an unusual, light-hearted mingling of mythic elements, storytelling, and sea-faring yarns, all told through the voice of a self-absorbed, pedantic egoist. The translation flows smoothly and is very readable. The narrative is entertaining, but it lacks the gravitas and intensity of Sjón’s The Blue Fox.
Recommended.
My book reviews are also available at www.tamaraaghajaffar.com
Once situated on the ship, Haraldsson meets the senior members of the crew. Among them is Caeneus, the second mate. Caeneus regales the guests at dinner time with tales of Jason and the Argonauts on their adventures to retrieve the Golden Fleece. He claims to have sailed with Jason, his muse being a broken fragment of the Argo’s hull which whispers in his ear. He serves as the muse’s mouthpiece. His tales include the stay at Lemnos whose exclusive inhabitants are females eager to entertain their male guests; his rape as a female and subsequent transformation into a male; his stint as a bird, as well as many other fantastical elements. He weaves Nordic mythology with Greek myths from Apollonius, the plays of Euripides, and the poetry of Ovid. He garners the rapt attention of the dinner guests, much to Haraldsson’s chagrin since he had hoped to entertain them with his theory on the benefits of eating fish.
Caeneus’ playful, fantastic tales contrast sharply with Haraldsson’s dry, controlled speech.
His mythic retellings intersect with events on the ship. For example, during Easter when the ship is delayed at port, Caeneus tells the story of the Argo’s extended stay at Lemnos. He also echoes Easter when he launches into an improbable tale of being nailed to a cross to heal his broken bones.
Haraldsson barely contains his boredom as he listens to the Caeneus’ tales. He cannot fathom the audiences’ fascination with the stories and is frustrated by the lack of seafood on the ship’s menu. When he finally delivers his lecture on “Fish and Culture,” the audience listens in polite silence. He is dull, insufferable, and bereft of imagination. He refuses to be transported by Caeneus’ narrative. His perceptions are out of joint with the other guests and he is totally clueless on the impact he has on those around him. Upon his return home, he starts a romance with his elderly neighbor. The novel ends with Haraldsson stroking the “whispering muse” he smuggled off the ship.
This is an unusual, light-hearted mingling of mythic elements, storytelling, and sea-faring yarns, all told through the voice of a self-absorbed, pedantic egoist. The translation flows smoothly and is very readable. The narrative is entertaining, but it lacks the gravitas and intensity of Sjón’s The Blue Fox.
Recommended.
My book reviews are also available at www.tamaraaghajaffar.com
Read
May 26, 2023Argóarflísin er síðasta bókin eftir Sjón sem ég átti eftir að frumlesa og ég skil eiginlega ekki afhverju ég var ekki löngu búinn með hana því mér fannst hún alveg frábær! Hér vinnur Sjón með mismunandi frásagnaraðferðir og mismunandi tímaskeið, en allt hverfist þetta í kringum goðsagnir, grískar og norrænar. Hér höfum við minnst tvo sögumenn, annars vegar hinn óþolandi aldraða bezzerwizzer Valdimar Haraldsson og hinsvegar forn-gríska stýrimanninn Keneif sem sigldi með hetjunni Jasoni á hinu sögufræga skipi Argó. Argóarflísin er saga inni í sögu, inni í sögu og það er eiginlega ótrúlegt hversu víða þessi stutta skáldsaga ferðast í bókmenntalegu samhengi. Sjón sýnir hér enn og aftur hversu mikill sagnameistari hann er og það er magnað hvernig honum tekst að segja svo stórar og djúpar sögur með svo fáum orðum.
August 29, 2021
Onlangs las ik met plezier "Codex 1962" van de IJslandse schrijver Sjón, en herinnerde ik mij weer mijn leeservaringen met andere boeken van hem: het ongelofelijk verrassende en onconventionele "Uit de bek van de walvis" en het surrealistische "De jongen die nooit heeft bestaan". Dat smaakte allemaal naar meer, want ik hou wel van Sjóns ongeremde en veelvormige fantasie en van zijn originaliteit. Dus besloot ik eindelijk eens "De fluisterende muze" te gaan lezen, een novelle of korte roman die ik al tijden in mijn ereader had staan. En ik amuseerde mij als een kleuter, vooral dankzij Sjóns originele vorm en zijn fantasievol- poëtische stijl, een stijl die dankzij meestervertaler Marcel Otten mooi tot zijn recht komt.
In deze korte roman worden we getrakteerd op verhalen van stuurman Caeneus, die anno 1949 de passagiers van zijn schip vergast op belevenissen uit de tijd dat hij nog bij de Argonauten hoorde, en nog allerlei avonturen vol magie beleefde samen met Jason, Heracles en andere mythische figuren. De lezer moet meteen al enig ongeloof opschorten: Caeneus is dus kennelijk stuurman van een modern, 20e eeuws schip en was vroeger een Argonaut uit de vervlogen oud- Griekse tijden!? Hij is dus een persoon uit het moderne hier en nu en tegelijk een persoon uit fictieve mythologieën van ooit!? Dat kan natuurlijk niet. Behalve dan bij Sjón want in zijn fantasiewerelden kan alles. En in Caeneus' verhalen worden we bovendien helemaal meegesleept in mythologische werelden van vroeger, en in de charme daarvan. In werelden dus waarin meer kan dan in de onze.
Dat gebeurt op stimulerende en prikkelend- originele wijze: de bekende verhalen over Jason en Medea worden vervormd en omgedraaid, oud- Griekse mythen en oud- IJslandse mythen worden zomaar ineens vermengd tot iets nieuws en prikkelends, metamorfosen zijn aan de orde van de dag op een manier die herinnert aan maar toch heel anders is dan in Ovidius' "Metamorfosen", zodat schone vrouwen kunnen veranderen in krijgshaftige mannen, die mannen weer in meeuwen, die meeuwen weer in mannen..... en ga zo maar door. Deze wereld van verhalen wordt Caeneus ingefluisterd door een stukje hout, een brokstuk van het sprekende hout van de Argo (= het schip van de Argonauten). Het sprekende, goddelijk bezielde hout ook dat de Argonauten door vele gevaren heen loodste. Caeneus put dus niet uit herinneringen, maar uit influisteringen van een fluisterende -dus: in stilte sprekende, door geheim verhulde- muze. En Caeneus weet prachtig uit te leggen hoe die influisteringen werken: "Dan hoor ik iets wat je nog het beste kunt vergelijken met de hypnotiserende ruis van onze kortegolfradio: alsof een handvol goudzand in een fijnmazige zeef wordt gewiegd. Dit geluid streelt het gehoororgaan zo zachtjes dat het insluimert eer je het in de gaten hebt. Dan krijg ik door de ruis heen een zwak gebrom te horen. Eerst denk ik dat ik me vergis, maar nee, ik hoor het weer... stijgend en dalend, steeds maar weer, onveranderlijk. Als het gehoororgaan is ingeslapen, krijgt het gebrom een nieuwe vorm. Het wordt een toon, een stem die in het bewustzijn klinkt, alsof een goudkorrel door de mazen van de zeef is ontsnapt en op het puntje van de tong van het trommelvlies ligt en dat de met hoorn en ivoor ingelegde poorten is gepasseerd die het tastbare en onzichtbare van elkaar scheiden. Eerst is het woordloos, als geneurie bij een wieg en dan gaat het over in een lied. Het is een vrouw die zingt".
Dit vind ik schitterende zinnen over de verbeeldingskracht, die werkelijkheden en werelden opent die we nog nooit hebben gezien of gedroomd. Bovendien, door die verhalen van Caeneus werd ik voor mijn gevoel ook echt naar zulke werelden 'vervoerd'. De affecten van wellust, woede, geilheid en wraakgevoel worden bijvoorbeeld even pakkend gestileerd en gedramatiseerd als in sommige Griekse mythen of Griekse tragedies. De pijnlijke en bijna onmogelijke wedergeboorte uit de dood krijgt fascinerend gestalte in een wel heel opmerkelijke oud- Griekse variant van Christus' kruisiging en wedergeboorte. Het gevoel van totale teloorgang en verlatenheid van de ten onder gegane Argonauten wordt prachtig gepersonifieerd en gesymboliseerd door het inmiddels verrotte sprekende hout van de vergane Argo, dat in gesprek is met de in totale onherkenbaarheid en onaanzienlijkheid gemetamorfoseerde Jason. De wanhopige vraatzucht en verhongering van een van de Griekse helden wordt bijzonder plastisch voelbaar gemaakt door de metamorfose van die held in een luid krijsende en vraatzuchtige meeuw. En ik kan uren blijven staren naar passages vol mythische avontuurlijkheid als de volgende: "Voordat de wisselende winden ons overweldigd hadden en naar Lemnos hadden gebracht, kliefde ons schip, de Argo, door de zee als een meeuw die beneden over het wateroppervlak scheert zodat de toppen van de golven zijn vleugelspitsen nat maken, terwijl de vogel zelf tussen hemel en zee zweeft als de boodschapper van de goden, Hermes met de gevleugelde voeten. En de machtige Orpheus slaat het ritme op zijn lier en zingt een lied om de monsters van de peilloze diepte, die op het punt staan het schip aan te vallen, terug te laten deinzen voor de gretige steven van het vaartuig met de vele spijkers. Want de Argo was voor dat ongedierte een goddelijk wezen, een unieke levenskracht, het gezang en de zanger, dat de werkwoorden 'komen' en 'gaan' in zich verenigde, de moeder en de moederschoot tegelijk -want het embryo denkt altijd dat de moeder niets meer dan de baarmoeder is".
De door zijn fluisterende muze geïnspireerde Caeneus schotelt ons dus meerdere ongelofelijke taferelen voor. Toch is niet hij de verteller en ik- figuur: dat is Valdimar Haraldsson, de al fors oude passagier op het moderne schip waarvan Caeneus stuurman is. En Haraldsson is een opmerkelijk on- poëtische figuur, een behoorlijk saaie kwezel zelfs, met nogal gekke gedachten over het verband tussen eten van vis en de superioriteit van het noordse ras. De mythologische werelden die Caeneus ingefluisterd krijgt zien we deels dus via Valdimar, een kwezel die niet in zulke werelden gelooft. Dat vond ik eerst een wat gekke constructie, vooral omdat we door de weinig sympathieke stem van Valdimar nogal afgeleid worden van de fraaie zang van Caeneus. Maar precies dat geeft ook wel weer een intrigerende extra spanning: Valdimar geeft als het ware stem aan de moderne tijd waarin niemand meer gelooft in goden en mythen, Caeneus geeft stem aan de tijden waarin het geloof in goden en mythen nog hoogtij vierde, en in "De fluisterende muze" klinken die beide stemmen tegelijk. En die meerstemmigheid voegt zonder meer extra lagen en kleuren toe aan dit toch al zo pluriforme boek.
In zijn intrigerende nawoord zegt Sjón bovendien: "[H]et integreren van de verhalen van Caeneus en Valdimar laat ons misschien beseffen dat wij mensen zijn op de eeuwige plek in de stilte tussen de zware slagen van het hart van de kosmos". Een even fraaie als raadselachtige zin, maar hij benadrukt wel mooi de afstand tussen de moderne tijd en de tijd van Griekse mythen. Tegelijk zegt Sjón ook: "De laatste tijd hebben velen er tevreden mee ingestemd dat het gecastreerde verbond van monotheïsme en politiek van plan is ons op gedrongen transport te zetten naar die wereld die de goden zo lang geleden moesten ontvluchten". Daaruit maak ik op dat het hem vooral erom gaat om de polytheïstische en pluriforme wereld van Griekse mythen weer op te roepen in onze moderne, monotheïstische of zelfs atheïstische tijden. Misschien ziet Sjón monotheïsme als star geloof in één onveranderlijke, alles verklarende, ultieme en niet ter discussie staande Waarheid. Misschien spreekt hij daarom van "het gecastreerde verbond van monotheïsme en politiek". Misschien vindt hij onze huidige moderne tijd te dogmatisch, te star, te veel op eenduidige en zogenaamd alles verklarende waarheden gericht. Dat zou trouwens ook verklaren waarom er in "De fluisterende muze" zo vaak op de beide wereldoorlogen gezinspeeld wordt, want dat waren toch wel heel exemplarische uitwassen van dogmatiek. En wellicht is de mythische, veelvormige en van metamorfose en verandering doorregen verhaalwereld van "De fluisterende muze" wel als tegenwicht bedoeld tegen de eenvormigheid van de moderne tijd. Of als een manier om in die moderne tijd toch stem te geven aan de mythen van ooit. Waarbij die mythen en metamorfosen weliswaar op heel eigenzinnige wijze worden omgevormd, zodat zij een typische moderne Sjón- signatuur krijgen. Maar dat verrijkt die mythen ook en draagt bovendien weer bij aan hun veelvormigheid.
Ik lees "De fluisterende muze" kortom als een pleidooi voor de verbeeldingskracht, en dan vooral de verbeeldingskracht die in staat is om ons van mythische en veelvormige werelden te laten dromen. Bovendien lees ik "De fluisterende muze" als een mooi voorbeeld van precies die verbeeldingskracht. Dus ben ik ook met dit boek van Sjón weer heel tevreden. Misschien moet ik meteen maar zijn doorbraakboek "Blauwvos" gaan lezen?
In deze korte roman worden we getrakteerd op verhalen van stuurman Caeneus, die anno 1949 de passagiers van zijn schip vergast op belevenissen uit de tijd dat hij nog bij de Argonauten hoorde, en nog allerlei avonturen vol magie beleefde samen met Jason, Heracles en andere mythische figuren. De lezer moet meteen al enig ongeloof opschorten: Caeneus is dus kennelijk stuurman van een modern, 20e eeuws schip en was vroeger een Argonaut uit de vervlogen oud- Griekse tijden!? Hij is dus een persoon uit het moderne hier en nu en tegelijk een persoon uit fictieve mythologieën van ooit!? Dat kan natuurlijk niet. Behalve dan bij Sjón want in zijn fantasiewerelden kan alles. En in Caeneus' verhalen worden we bovendien helemaal meegesleept in mythologische werelden van vroeger, en in de charme daarvan. In werelden dus waarin meer kan dan in de onze.
Dat gebeurt op stimulerende en prikkelend- originele wijze: de bekende verhalen over Jason en Medea worden vervormd en omgedraaid, oud- Griekse mythen en oud- IJslandse mythen worden zomaar ineens vermengd tot iets nieuws en prikkelends, metamorfosen zijn aan de orde van de dag op een manier die herinnert aan maar toch heel anders is dan in Ovidius' "Metamorfosen", zodat schone vrouwen kunnen veranderen in krijgshaftige mannen, die mannen weer in meeuwen, die meeuwen weer in mannen..... en ga zo maar door. Deze wereld van verhalen wordt Caeneus ingefluisterd door een stukje hout, een brokstuk van het sprekende hout van de Argo (= het schip van de Argonauten). Het sprekende, goddelijk bezielde hout ook dat de Argonauten door vele gevaren heen loodste. Caeneus put dus niet uit herinneringen, maar uit influisteringen van een fluisterende -dus: in stilte sprekende, door geheim verhulde- muze. En Caeneus weet prachtig uit te leggen hoe die influisteringen werken: "Dan hoor ik iets wat je nog het beste kunt vergelijken met de hypnotiserende ruis van onze kortegolfradio: alsof een handvol goudzand in een fijnmazige zeef wordt gewiegd. Dit geluid streelt het gehoororgaan zo zachtjes dat het insluimert eer je het in de gaten hebt. Dan krijg ik door de ruis heen een zwak gebrom te horen. Eerst denk ik dat ik me vergis, maar nee, ik hoor het weer... stijgend en dalend, steeds maar weer, onveranderlijk. Als het gehoororgaan is ingeslapen, krijgt het gebrom een nieuwe vorm. Het wordt een toon, een stem die in het bewustzijn klinkt, alsof een goudkorrel door de mazen van de zeef is ontsnapt en op het puntje van de tong van het trommelvlies ligt en dat de met hoorn en ivoor ingelegde poorten is gepasseerd die het tastbare en onzichtbare van elkaar scheiden. Eerst is het woordloos, als geneurie bij een wieg en dan gaat het over in een lied. Het is een vrouw die zingt".
Dit vind ik schitterende zinnen over de verbeeldingskracht, die werkelijkheden en werelden opent die we nog nooit hebben gezien of gedroomd. Bovendien, door die verhalen van Caeneus werd ik voor mijn gevoel ook echt naar zulke werelden 'vervoerd'. De affecten van wellust, woede, geilheid en wraakgevoel worden bijvoorbeeld even pakkend gestileerd en gedramatiseerd als in sommige Griekse mythen of Griekse tragedies. De pijnlijke en bijna onmogelijke wedergeboorte uit de dood krijgt fascinerend gestalte in een wel heel opmerkelijke oud- Griekse variant van Christus' kruisiging en wedergeboorte. Het gevoel van totale teloorgang en verlatenheid van de ten onder gegane Argonauten wordt prachtig gepersonifieerd en gesymboliseerd door het inmiddels verrotte sprekende hout van de vergane Argo, dat in gesprek is met de in totale onherkenbaarheid en onaanzienlijkheid gemetamorfoseerde Jason. De wanhopige vraatzucht en verhongering van een van de Griekse helden wordt bijzonder plastisch voelbaar gemaakt door de metamorfose van die held in een luid krijsende en vraatzuchtige meeuw. En ik kan uren blijven staren naar passages vol mythische avontuurlijkheid als de volgende: "Voordat de wisselende winden ons overweldigd hadden en naar Lemnos hadden gebracht, kliefde ons schip, de Argo, door de zee als een meeuw die beneden over het wateroppervlak scheert zodat de toppen van de golven zijn vleugelspitsen nat maken, terwijl de vogel zelf tussen hemel en zee zweeft als de boodschapper van de goden, Hermes met de gevleugelde voeten. En de machtige Orpheus slaat het ritme op zijn lier en zingt een lied om de monsters van de peilloze diepte, die op het punt staan het schip aan te vallen, terug te laten deinzen voor de gretige steven van het vaartuig met de vele spijkers. Want de Argo was voor dat ongedierte een goddelijk wezen, een unieke levenskracht, het gezang en de zanger, dat de werkwoorden 'komen' en 'gaan' in zich verenigde, de moeder en de moederschoot tegelijk -want het embryo denkt altijd dat de moeder niets meer dan de baarmoeder is".
De door zijn fluisterende muze geïnspireerde Caeneus schotelt ons dus meerdere ongelofelijke taferelen voor. Toch is niet hij de verteller en ik- figuur: dat is Valdimar Haraldsson, de al fors oude passagier op het moderne schip waarvan Caeneus stuurman is. En Haraldsson is een opmerkelijk on- poëtische figuur, een behoorlijk saaie kwezel zelfs, met nogal gekke gedachten over het verband tussen eten van vis en de superioriteit van het noordse ras. De mythologische werelden die Caeneus ingefluisterd krijgt zien we deels dus via Valdimar, een kwezel die niet in zulke werelden gelooft. Dat vond ik eerst een wat gekke constructie, vooral omdat we door de weinig sympathieke stem van Valdimar nogal afgeleid worden van de fraaie zang van Caeneus. Maar precies dat geeft ook wel weer een intrigerende extra spanning: Valdimar geeft als het ware stem aan de moderne tijd waarin niemand meer gelooft in goden en mythen, Caeneus geeft stem aan de tijden waarin het geloof in goden en mythen nog hoogtij vierde, en in "De fluisterende muze" klinken die beide stemmen tegelijk. En die meerstemmigheid voegt zonder meer extra lagen en kleuren toe aan dit toch al zo pluriforme boek.
In zijn intrigerende nawoord zegt Sjón bovendien: "[H]et integreren van de verhalen van Caeneus en Valdimar laat ons misschien beseffen dat wij mensen zijn op de eeuwige plek in de stilte tussen de zware slagen van het hart van de kosmos". Een even fraaie als raadselachtige zin, maar hij benadrukt wel mooi de afstand tussen de moderne tijd en de tijd van Griekse mythen. Tegelijk zegt Sjón ook: "De laatste tijd hebben velen er tevreden mee ingestemd dat het gecastreerde verbond van monotheïsme en politiek van plan is ons op gedrongen transport te zetten naar die wereld die de goden zo lang geleden moesten ontvluchten". Daaruit maak ik op dat het hem vooral erom gaat om de polytheïstische en pluriforme wereld van Griekse mythen weer op te roepen in onze moderne, monotheïstische of zelfs atheïstische tijden. Misschien ziet Sjón monotheïsme als star geloof in één onveranderlijke, alles verklarende, ultieme en niet ter discussie staande Waarheid. Misschien spreekt hij daarom van "het gecastreerde verbond van monotheïsme en politiek". Misschien vindt hij onze huidige moderne tijd te dogmatisch, te star, te veel op eenduidige en zogenaamd alles verklarende waarheden gericht. Dat zou trouwens ook verklaren waarom er in "De fluisterende muze" zo vaak op de beide wereldoorlogen gezinspeeld wordt, want dat waren toch wel heel exemplarische uitwassen van dogmatiek. En wellicht is de mythische, veelvormige en van metamorfose en verandering doorregen verhaalwereld van "De fluisterende muze" wel als tegenwicht bedoeld tegen de eenvormigheid van de moderne tijd. Of als een manier om in die moderne tijd toch stem te geven aan de mythen van ooit. Waarbij die mythen en metamorfosen weliswaar op heel eigenzinnige wijze worden omgevormd, zodat zij een typische moderne Sjón- signatuur krijgen. Maar dat verrijkt die mythen ook en draagt bovendien weer bij aan hun veelvormigheid.
Ik lees "De fluisterende muze" kortom als een pleidooi voor de verbeeldingskracht, en dan vooral de verbeeldingskracht die in staat is om ons van mythische en veelvormige werelden te laten dromen. Bovendien lees ik "De fluisterende muze" als een mooi voorbeeld van precies die verbeeldingskracht. Dus ben ik ook met dit boek van Sjón weer heel tevreden. Misschien moet ik meteen maar zijn doorbraakboek "Blauwvos" gaan lezen?
June 7, 2013
The Whispering Muse is a delightful tale. Sjon weaves myth into common human experience and places the thread deftly into historical context. Not too high-minded, and just enough left unexplained. Read it if you'd like a humorous and inspiring story about divinity and humanity intertwined.
January 8, 2023
Set in 1949, this concerns Valdimar Haraldsson, an eccentric Icelander with controversial ideas about how fish consumption influences life in Scandinavia. As part of his studies, he invited to join a Danish merchant ship on its way to the Black Sea.
Inventively, one of the crew is the mythical hero Caeneus, in disguise as the second mate. Every evening after dinner he regales his fellow travellers with stories of how he sailed with the Argo on its quest to retrieve the Golden Fleece.
There are some interesting and contrasting tales lying within here, but I don’t think they gel together as a novel. Contrast, in that some of the anecdotes are humorous, and others quite morally directed, in a curious sort of mix.
It would probably be appreciated more with a better knowledge of Classical Greek, which I do not have.
Inventively, one of the crew is the mythical hero Caeneus, in disguise as the second mate. Every evening after dinner he regales his fellow travellers with stories of how he sailed with the Argo on its quest to retrieve the Golden Fleece.
There are some interesting and contrasting tales lying within here, but I don’t think they gel together as a novel. Contrast, in that some of the anecdotes are humorous, and others quite morally directed, in a curious sort of mix.
It would probably be appreciated more with a better knowledge of Classical Greek, which I do not have.
December 14, 2014
Неговата проза е нещо много различно от всичко, което съм чела. Сьоун наистина притежава безкомпромисен интелект, който успява да обвърже с чувството си за хумор и да представи този синхрон в романа си “The Whispering Muse” (Шепнещата Муза). Там читателят среща Валдимар Харалдсон, ексцентричен и леко надут застаряващ исландец, който се качва на борда на датски кораб в пътешествие до Черно море. Действието се развива през 1949 година, а героят на Сьоун е обсебен от теорията, че превъзходстсово на скандинавската раса, физическо и интeлектуално, се дължи до голяма степен на обилната консумация на риба. Противно на очакванията му обаче главният готвач на кораба не е включил в менюто на пътешествието риба. На борда оживяват митични същества и истории от гръцката и скандинавската митология, което превръща романа в магична приказка, на всичкото отгоре и забавна. Преплитането на античността с новото време в “Тhe Whspering Muse” създава една толкова ярка и добре описана картина, че на читателя е трудно да не повярва в достоверността на разказаната история. Романът на Сьоун е истинско предизвикателство към интелекта на читателя - не само заради преплитането на древни митове, но и почти неуловимите намеци на автора към настоящите геополитически особености на човешката раса.
Още малко ето тук: http://thetochka.blogspot.ca/2014/11/...
Още малко ето тук: http://thetochka.blogspot.ca/2014/11/...
April 5, 2015
I received this book in a Goodreads giveaway.
Really... what was the point of this book? It was written in 2005 so there's really no excuse for the overt racism and sexism. The main character was stubborn, obnoxious, and a snob. He constantly just talked about how the Nordic race is the master race because they eat fish all day.
Apparently I'm some sort of illiterate fool for not liking this book, according to other reviews, but I sincerely see zero purpose this book filled. It wasn't an adventure story despite being on a boat for most of it. The main character passes off the two or three opportunities he has for actually doing anything fun. He sits there and moans about how boring the storyteller is (I quite liked his story better than the actual story) but never does anything fun - oh, except watch wood be turned into paper pulp. He sits there and watches that all day for entertainment.
What was the point of the hand in the machine? What was the point of him going on the boat in the first place? His luggage and the armory? Am I missing something here?
The cover was pretty. That's all you'll get out of this one.
Really... what was the point of this book? It was written in 2005 so there's really no excuse for the overt racism and sexism. The main character was stubborn, obnoxious, and a snob. He constantly just talked about how the Nordic race is the master race because they eat fish all day.
Apparently I'm some sort of illiterate fool for not liking this book, according to other reviews, but I sincerely see zero purpose this book filled. It wasn't an adventure story despite being on a boat for most of it. The main character passes off the two or three opportunities he has for actually doing anything fun. He sits there and moans about how boring the storyteller is (I quite liked his story better than the actual story) but never does anything fun - oh, except watch wood be turned into paper pulp. He sits there and watches that all day for entertainment.
What was the point of the hand in the machine? What was the point of him going on the boat in the first place? His luggage and the armory? Am I missing something here?
The cover was pretty. That's all you'll get out of this one.
July 10, 2013
Myth
I’ve read other reviews so I’m aware I was meant to love or at least like this book very much. I didn’t. I didn’t hate it but it didn’t spark my interest as much as it did others’. Perhaps if I was more familiar with Greek mythology I would have had more of a framework for enjoying it.
There was a sly humor in it that I liked and the main character, though unlikable, was an intriguing narrator. He was no one’s fool and was not going to be taken in by the tall tales that were told onboard ship even though the rest of the crew hung on every word. It does end with a twist that I liked.
This review is based on an advance readers copy supplied by the publisher.
(Disclaimer given per FTC requirement.)
Goodreads friends if you happen to see my reviews on Amazon please do NOT vote on them.
I’ve read other reviews so I’m aware I was meant to love or at least like this book very much. I didn’t. I didn’t hate it but it didn’t spark my interest as much as it did others’. Perhaps if I was more familiar with Greek mythology I would have had more of a framework for enjoying it.
There was a sly humor in it that I liked and the main character, though unlikable, was an intriguing narrator. He was no one’s fool and was not going to be taken in by the tall tales that were told onboard ship even though the rest of the crew hung on every word. It does end with a twist that I liked.
This review is based on an advance readers copy supplied by the publisher.
(Disclaimer given per FTC requirement.)
Goodreads friends if you happen to see my reviews on Amazon please do NOT vote on them.
July 9, 2014
2.4 stars rounded down. Sjón, I think we're done here. The Blue Fox is a better novel, but not by much. Meh.
May 9, 2011
Very very Bad and very boring. As an Icelander, don't rate our literature according to this book.
March 8, 2018
Reading this while sitting by the sea in Iceland was an experience. I don't quite know how to describe it. A story of stories? Perhaps so.
Sjón seems to write as if orchestrating music.
Sjón seems to write as if orchestrating music.
Read
September 1, 2020Sjón captivates fully, the reader never quite sure where the story will veer to next. Whispering Muse deserves a second reading, maybe more. I dug it.
Read
July 16, 2015Dec 2013.
[3.5] Once again, I'm underwhelmed by Sjón .
Is it partly the translator, Victoria Cribb? Aside from Sjón's The Blue Fox, the only other translation of hers I've read was Hypothermia by Arnaldur Indriðason; the style there was perfectly serviceable for a police procedural, and here she rarely conveys much sense of this as a novel by a poet. (The narrator is, though, a pedant and Nazi sympathiser aged 80ish in 1949, not really given to flights of ethereal fancy.) The effusive blurbers and reviewers for Sjón's English editions – among them A.S. Byatt and David Mitchell – seem to have been reading a different author; I just don't find his work that amazingly special. Björk I'll give the benefit of the doubt because she reads him in their native language, and, well, she's Björk.
Still, one of the great things about translations is that they don't have the wearingly predictable tics of Eng-lang litfic. (A few years ago I got so sick of them I decided only to bother with contemporary fiction if it was translated. Which as can be seen from my more recent reading, didn't quite stick.)
Our narrator, Valdemar Haraldsson, is a little more subtly done that he might be in British or US fiction. Not much is directly made of his views, which may not have been terribly unusual among middle-class Nordic men of his age and time - albeit most of them didn't used to publish a journal* on fish consumption as a cause of Nordic cultural superiority, or work in Germany during the war. Here he is simply presented as a buffoon who is rather judgemental of, and irritating to, most people around him. (Which for me works rather well, a needed reminder of times before the last few months of Goodreads-overuse, when I was usually more inclined to roll my eyes at the extreme marginal views rather than waste energy getting angry. It's also a presentation and response that comes from lives where liberal views have always been a comfortable norm, feeling safely able to dismss such opinions as irrelevant.) Haraldsson is mocked by his creator without being dehumanised, and the story eventually unlocks a somewhat more relaxed side to his character without being a cheesy tale of redemption.
It happens because he takes a trip aboard a well-appointed Danish merchant ship, a gift from the father of a deceased friend of his. (Is the father very ancient, the friend much younger than the narrator, or is the chronology a mess? It's rarely relevant for most of the book at least.) Here, the original title, which translates as “A Splinter from the Argo” comes into play. One crew-member, Caeneus, regales his shipmates with tales from his days voyaging with Jason and the Argonauts, and an extra story-within-a-story-within-a-story as a Greek poetess tells the legend of Sigurd and Gudrún. I was interested to read some of these myths, especially Caeneus/Caenis (an inspiration for Orlando?) which I hadn't heard before. However, as far as adaptations of mythology into new fiction go, The Whispering Muse isn't terribly imaginative – shown up all the more because the last book I read was by Neil Gaiman.
I'm not overly fond of most “books about books”, or books about writers, or the power of storytelling – the last is what this is. In a way I understand them, but there's a point where the theme becomes too precious for my liking. Noticing the times I've read most during my life, and what I've read when, I seem to use books more as a subsitute for, or gateway into, interesting real life, rather than something preferable to it regardless of circumstance as many truly “bookish” people do. A heretic and traitor in the midst. (Aged 17 and deciding on university courses, my own idea was one I would later read from the disapproving mother in Atonement: that it wasn't necessary to do a degree to read and analyse all those novels, I could do that anyway, better to study something real. Or once-real.)
I pushed through my native philistinism to try and understand The Whispering Muse as something to do with its own culture because that would make the book – which I sometimes struggled to see the point of - mean more. In winter, the re-reading and oral recounting of the Sagas is still a notable part of Icelandic culture: Caenus' storytelling in the book, to a group of adults, reflects that. Having made sense of that part of the structure, seeing that it will resonate more if you've had the experience of listening to ancient stories that way, I still haven't worked out why the the myth of the Argonauts on Lemnos was chosen for the major part of of Caenus' story. The past of the purser's lady friend (as the narrator always calls her) ties into it mythologically, yet I haven't quite got a sense of its wider significance in the rest of the story.
The Whispering Muse was a nominee for the 2013 Science Fiction and Fantasy Translation award; that's not a prize I know much about, but I can't help wondering if they were short of suitable novels this year. Here, as well as some pretty straight re-tellings of Greek and north European myths, there's a mostly-realist narrative frame with oddments of magic realism and literary slipstream. It's not a book it would have occurred to me to recommend to friends who are fans of sci-fi and fantasy and in their context I can't help thinking of it as SFF for people who don't read much SFF. (I may be wrong though … Sjón is also compared to Borges and Calvino; I've never had any urge to read Borges and couldn't take to Calvino when I tried.)
If I haven't put you off Sjón, you may like to know that his three novels- or two novellas and one novel - are in the UK Kindle Christmas sale for 99p each.
* Jul 2015: realised that Valdemar's journal, Fisk og Kultur, might be a mischievous allusion to Swedish publisher Natur och Kultur
[3.5] Once again, I'm underwhelmed by Sjón .
Is it partly the translator, Victoria Cribb? Aside from Sjón's The Blue Fox, the only other translation of hers I've read was Hypothermia by Arnaldur Indriðason; the style there was perfectly serviceable for a police procedural, and here she rarely conveys much sense of this as a novel by a poet. (The narrator is, though, a pedant and Nazi sympathiser aged 80ish in 1949, not really given to flights of ethereal fancy.) The effusive blurbers and reviewers for Sjón's English editions – among them A.S. Byatt and David Mitchell – seem to have been reading a different author; I just don't find his work that amazingly special. Björk I'll give the benefit of the doubt because she reads him in their native language, and, well, she's Björk.
Still, one of the great things about translations is that they don't have the wearingly predictable tics of Eng-lang litfic. (A few years ago I got so sick of them I decided only to bother with contemporary fiction if it was translated. Which as can be seen from my more recent reading, didn't quite stick.)
Our narrator, Valdemar Haraldsson, is a little more subtly done that he might be in British or US fiction. Not much is directly made of his views, which may not have been terribly unusual among middle-class Nordic men of his age and time - albeit most of them didn't used to publish a journal* on fish consumption as a cause of Nordic cultural superiority, or work in Germany during the war. Here he is simply presented as a buffoon who is rather judgemental of, and irritating to, most people around him. (Which for me works rather well, a needed reminder of times before the last few months of Goodreads-overuse, when I was usually more inclined to roll my eyes at the extreme marginal views rather than waste energy getting angry. It's also a presentation and response that comes from lives where liberal views have always been a comfortable norm, feeling safely able to dismss such opinions as irrelevant.) Haraldsson is mocked by his creator without being dehumanised, and the story eventually unlocks a somewhat more relaxed side to his character without being a cheesy tale of redemption.
It happens because he takes a trip aboard a well-appointed Danish merchant ship, a gift from the father of a deceased friend of his. (Is the father very ancient, the friend much younger than the narrator, or is the chronology a mess? It's rarely relevant for most of the book at least.) Here, the original title, which translates as “A Splinter from the Argo” comes into play. One crew-member, Caeneus, regales his shipmates with tales from his days voyaging with Jason and the Argonauts, and an extra story-within-a-story-within-a-story as a Greek poetess tells the legend of Sigurd and Gudrún. I was interested to read some of these myths, especially Caeneus/Caenis (an inspiration for Orlando?) which I hadn't heard before. However, as far as adaptations of mythology into new fiction go, The Whispering Muse isn't terribly imaginative – shown up all the more because the last book I read was by Neil Gaiman.
I'm not overly fond of most “books about books”, or books about writers, or the power of storytelling – the last is what this is. In a way I understand them, but there's a point where the theme becomes too precious for my liking. Noticing the times I've read most during my life, and what I've read when, I seem to use books more as a subsitute for, or gateway into, interesting real life, rather than something preferable to it regardless of circumstance as many truly “bookish” people do. A heretic and traitor in the midst. (Aged 17 and deciding on university courses, my own idea was one I would later read from the disapproving mother in Atonement: that it wasn't necessary to do a degree to read and analyse all those novels, I could do that anyway, better to study something real. Or once-real.)
I pushed through my native philistinism to try and understand The Whispering Muse as something to do with its own culture because that would make the book – which I sometimes struggled to see the point of - mean more. In winter, the re-reading and oral recounting of the Sagas is still a notable part of Icelandic culture: Caenus' storytelling in the book, to a group of adults, reflects that. Having made sense of that part of the structure, seeing that it will resonate more if you've had the experience of listening to ancient stories that way, I still haven't worked out why the the myth of the Argonauts on Lemnos was chosen for the major part of of Caenus' story. The past of the purser's lady friend (as the narrator always calls her) ties into it mythologically, yet I haven't quite got a sense of its wider significance in the rest of the story.
The Whispering Muse was a nominee for the 2013 Science Fiction and Fantasy Translation award; that's not a prize I know much about, but I can't help wondering if they were short of suitable novels this year. Here, as well as some pretty straight re-tellings of Greek and north European myths, there's a mostly-realist narrative frame with oddments of magic realism and literary slipstream. It's not a book it would have occurred to me to recommend to friends who are fans of sci-fi and fantasy and in their context I can't help thinking of it as SFF for people who don't read much SFF. (I may be wrong though … Sjón is also compared to Borges and Calvino; I've never had any urge to read Borges and couldn't take to Calvino when I tried.)
If I haven't put you off Sjón, you may like to know that his three novels- or two novellas and one novel - are in the UK Kindle Christmas sale for 99p each.
* Jul 2015: realised that Valdemar's journal, Fisk og Kultur, might be a mischievous allusion to Swedish publisher Natur och Kultur
March 25, 2019
The Whispering Muse is another quirky tale from Icelandic author Sjón. As with all Sjón's works, the prose is lyrical and the plot full of magical realism. I enjoyed the idea of telling the story of Jason and the Argonauts (parts of it, anyway) from the perspective of Caeneus, and it was interesting to see him juxtaposed with the rather eccentric Haraldsson. I really enjoyed the story, which I finished in a single sitting; however, this particular book didn't captivate me as deeply as some of Sjón's other works. Nonetheless, I am giving it 4.5 stars, which I would round up to a five rather than down to a four.
July 24, 2020
En periodo de entreguerras, un jubilado islandés, amante del pescado y seguro de la superioridad de los nórdicos gracias a su consumo, recibe una invitación para viajar en barco. Durante la travesía un marinero del barco, llamado Ceneo, narra todas las noches su propia historia cuando fue tripulante del Argo junto a Jason.
La verdad es que me esperaba más del libro. Algunos pasajes me han aburrido bastante. Lo mejor, la parte mitológica, la historia de ceneo y los argonautas.
La verdad es que me esperaba más del libro. Algunos pasajes me han aburrido bastante. Lo mejor, la parte mitológica, la historia de ceneo y los argonautas.
June 13, 2020
3.5 This was a confusing book, even for Sjon. Most of it I could follow, but at times it drolled on. The ending, as in most of his novels, is a bit weird, to say it mildly, but not without humor. So, I'm perplexed. I enjoyed the mythological parts, though, it was well woven in the story.
Read
July 6, 2023Keneifur og kynin þrjú; kona, maður, mávur
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