This unique and enchanting book opens the door to a captivating world of Icelandic folk legends. The six chapters are each based on a different setting: farm, wilderness, darkness, church, ocean and shore. The anthology provides translated tales from the 19th and 20th centuries, as well as introductions by the author which place these often-supernatural happenings in the context of Icelandic society. The legends include tales of hidden people, trolls, ghosts, sea monsters and even polar bears, exploring themes of love, revenge and conflict. The book highlights the tension between Christianity and heathen beliefs, past and present, nature and humanity, and divides within society. Drawing from a wide variety of Icelandic sources, this book makes these colourful, entertaining, lively stories available to non-Icelandic speakers, many for the first time.
Book Review: Ghosts, Trolls and the Hidden People: An Anthology of Icelandic Folk Legends by Dagrún Ósk Jónsdóttir
Dagrún Ósk Jónsdóttir’s Ghosts, Trolls and the Hidden People is a mesmerizing journey into the heart of Icelandic folklore, where the boundaries between the natural and supernatural dissolve into a landscape alive with hidden people, vengeful spirits, and treacherous trolls. As a reader, I was struck by the immediacy of these tales—how they pulse with the anxieties, wisdom, and dark humor of the communities that nurtured them. Jónsdóttir’s curation and analysis reveal these stories not as relics of a distant past but as vital reflections of Icelandic identity, gender dynamics, and the enduring tension between Christian doctrine and older, earth-rooted beliefs.
What moved me most was the visceral sense of place in these legends. The Icelandic wilderness—a character in its own right—emerges as both sanctuary and threat, mirroring the precariousness of rural life. Tales of sea monsters and polar bears evoked a primal awe, while stories of ghosts seeking justice resonated with a distinctly feminist undercurrent. Jónsdóttir’s commentary subtly highlights how women’s voices and agency surface in these narratives, whether through cunning, resilience, or supernatural intervention. Her analysis of marriage and power relations lingers beneath the surface here, inviting readers to read between the lines of these deceptively simple tales.
That said, I found myself wishing for deeper critical engagement with the colonial and socio-political contexts that shaped these stories. While Jónsdóttir’s introductions provide valuable historical framing, a more explicit interrogation of class strife or the impact of Danish rule (a recurring shadow in Icelandic history) could have enriched the anthology’s scholarly contribution. Additionally, though the translations are lyrical, some footnotes clarifying cultural nuances—such as the significance of kvöldvaka gatherings—would have bridged gaps for non-Icelandic readers.
Despite these minor critiques, this anthology is a triumph. Jónsdóttir’s passion for preserving and interrogating these tales shines through, making Ghosts, Trolls and the Hidden People an indispensable resource for folklorists, feminists, and anyone captivated by the interplay of myth and reality. It’s a reminder that folklore is never just entertainment—it’s a lifeline to the fears, hopes, and rebellions of those who came before us.
Thank you to the publisher and Edelweiss for providing a free review copy of this book. It was a privilege to wander Iceland’s haunted shores through Jónsdóttir’s expert guidance, and I’ll return to these stories often—both for their magic and their unflinching mirror of human nature.