I was very excited for this one, because it's been years since another Laxness book has been translated into English - despite him remaining a legend in Iceland nearly 20 years after his death. It's a very entertaining novel, both in its blatant humor and its not-so-subtle mockery of epic sagas and the ridiculous notion held by many proud Scandinavians that vikings were noble warriors with dignity, valor, and any semblance of morals. Laxness takes this epic tale of sworn brothers Þorgeir and Þormóður, the former a psycho killer and the latter a wannabe poet/skald whose main wish is to glorify the evil, base, "valiant" deeds of his sworn brother and their ilk. Throughout their absurd paths, together or separated, Laxness constantly illustrates how unblinkingly violent and undignified these 11th Century warriors were, with heads being chopped off at every turn, entire townships being burned without regard, and games where babies are thrown up into the air only to be skewered on spear-tips. As much as Laxness has previously demonstrated his love for the language and poetry of the old Sagas, he makes it perfectly clear how much he despises these morally-corrupt scoundrels. He isn't merely "poking fun" at the sagas, he's ripping them apart in hilarious fashion.
On par with his mockery of these warriors is his disgust with the Church of old and their corruption, thievery, and murder. Also getting doused in Laxness' flammable words are Kings and politicians of all sorts. Indeed, it could be read as a condemnation of 20th century world leaders (the book originally came out in Iceland in the early 1950s). "Such was King Olaf's learning that he knew only two solutions to any predicament: one being baptism and the other murder. Due to his childish ignorance, he constantly had to have others at hand to tell him when to baptize and when to strike."
Perhaps my favorite part of the book is when Þormóður goes on his quest for vengeance and ends up in the northern parts of Greenland, "farther north than any other humans." In these parts, he's nearly left for dead and subsequently nursed back to health by the Inuits, who the Scandinavians in Greenland consider subhuman "trolls." It's fascinating to see the details Laxness gives us about the lifestyle, culture, and entertainments of the Inuits. He's extremely compassionate about their people and dignity, and holds no bars when it comes to contrasting them with the Norsemen and their evil, base ways.*
The middle section gets bogged down a bit when it moves from Iceland to Norway, Denmark, Sweden, Rome, and Kiev, introducing a bunch of history and new characters and virtually ignoring our sworn brothers for about a quarter of the book. However, some of the most scathing indictments of the Church of that time are in this section, so it holds interest.
All in all another pretty essential Laxness book, and one with a very unique tone (which says a lot about a writer whose books often have rather diverse tones).
Some favorite passages:
"Good men, let us now go and set Norway awash with flames. And when we have burned, scorched, and decimated the land, I will name my right-hand men and grant estates and titles to those who make the greatest achievements in the work that we shall commence in the red light of dawn. [...] The time has come for us to burn the Norwegian peasants' dwellings to charcoal. It is my command that you spare no creature that draws breath in Norway, and show no man mercy until I have once again gained control of the land. Wherever you see a churl with his brood in field or meadow, on the highroad, or in his punt, cut off his head. If you see a cow slaughter it. Set each and every house ablaze, and send barns up in flames. Millhouses--topple them; bridges--break them. Wells--piss in them."
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"Good sirs, it is my understanding that this man you are teasing is a countryman of mine, and I ask you to regard his sore and battered feet and consider what a difficult road he has traveled. Look, too, at how weathered and furrowed his face is. This man has certainly traveled far longer and harder roads than you. I would hazard that he has experienced a thing or two more than some of you who lie about here among the skerries of Norway, men of little spirit and narrow outlooks."
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*"[In the north] were to be found the abodes of the troll-races and sorcerers that the Greenland colonists called skraelings, after the way they wrapped themselves in scrappy, tattery skins and furs the likes of which Norsemen were ashamed to wear. The Norsemen refused to consider skraelings as human and declared them unfit to live [...]. Whenever the skraelings were sighted on land, the Norse chieftains sent out a call to arms and sallied out to kill them. The Norsemen soon learned that the skraelings' sorcery was so potent that they were never in mortal peril on sea or land. To them, every sort of weather was fair, and they were never more entertained than during the tempests that froze the life out of Norsemen or drowned them. These folks always had an abundance of food, in both good and bad years, and their bodies wobbled with fat. They feasted joyously while everything undertaken by the Norsemen - reputed to be wise, industrious husbandmen - went amiss, their colonies under constant threat of hunger and want, their crops failing and their livestock perishing, their children dying in the womb. When the sky darkened with piercing winds, heavy snowstorms, and harsh frosts, the troll-folk were settled snugly in their castles of ice, entertaining themselves by singing the 'Hymn of the Moon Man' backwards and forwards, night and day, and not giving a hoot whether the storms went on for days or blew over. The Norsemen, on the other hand, found it particularly bizarre that his race had no weapons and no knowledge of the arts of manslaughter and murder, and let themselves be chopped up like brushwood and their dwellings be set on fire when their sorcery was powerless to save their lives."