Hidden in the forest of Sweden, a country church gleams white, as stark and resilient as the Lutheran faith that sustains it. The First World War rages on the continent. Anna, in the front pew, refuses to accept the age-old beliefs the village hands her. Sixty years later, Anna gives refuge to a young niece, whose marriage is falling apart. Fredrik, Anna's lover, is long since dead. She still blames him for the death of their child, yet she misses his scent that would linger on her skin, like the moon that shone on the snow and colored it blue. Every day she visits the child’s grave, an old woman in a beret and tweed jacket. Time after time her thoughts return to the past, when she had to go on living, even though all seemed lost.
We follow the story of Anna, daughter of the local village leader Grim Larsson (aka Rammen), as she comes of age against a backdrop of a rigid class system, political upheaval, recession and very hard times. The story shows how the choices we make can define and confine us, but also how society has its own pressures. As a side note, in Norse mythology, a fylgia is similar to a guardian angel.
Main Characters:
Anna Larsson: The protagonist, we see this world through her eyes and her experiences.
Fredrik Otter: Anna’s homme fatale, he is full of modern ideas on farming, and causes a stir in this conservative village.
Rammen: (aka Grim Larsson) Anna’s father, charismatic, a leader, yet is rigid and inflexible when things happen that go against his moral and religious beliefs.
Bjorn: Anna’s brother, second-in-line to inherit the farm, a bit of a player in his youth.
Agnes: Fredrik’s live-in housekeeper, and sometime lover.
Minor Characters:
Kristina: The local prostitute, with six kids by different fathers, she ran a tavern and generally struggles to make ends meet.
Ulrika: Wife of Rammen, suffering from neurasthenia, declining into possible dementia.
Karin: Young niece of Anna, struggling to make her marriage work, and with her feelings on being trapped.
Wilhelm: Anna’s oldest brother, who is banished and disinherited.
Wikander: The local preacher, very Lutheran in outlook, though partial to a card game.
Plot:
Fylgia’s story is told in the first-person by Anna, now in her eighties, looking back over her life. Her history is revealed by switching the narrative to the particular time, like sequences of flashbacks, where Anna relives particular events and scenarios, and she sees parallels in the life of Karin (and Olaf her husband). She has some anger towards Fredrik, she grieves the loss of her child, and feels sorrow at some decision that were taken, and those that were not.
She sets a scene of a conservative village society at the turn of the 20th century, where field work is mostly done manually, there is an accepted class system in operation (see where the sexton tried to refuse entry to a church pew to the servant, or where Anna could not talk to her former schoolmate, who was now a mill-worker), and there was still a certain belief in magic, “wise women” and trolls.
Everyone watches everyone else, to ensure things are done appropriately, and that women are modest. Weekly, the preacher thunders from his pulpit his stories of having to suffer in this world, and other joyless messages.
Rammen is a successful farmer, and others look to him for advice. He’s the village representative for the Provincial Council. Anna’s family is thus well-known and there are high expectations of the children in terms of marriageability and social decorum.
As Anna gets older, she begins to chafe against this, and begins to question things. Her turbulence is matched by turmoil in the country. Sweden, though neutral in the Great War, has its shipping fleet damaged, and rationing sets in. This causes great social unrest, as does the fact of the king’s wife being German, and the socialists are on the march.
Anna sees Fredrik for the first time, and despite herself is drawn to him, both for his newness, his confidence in bringing new ideas, and basic sex appeal. She is 22, and inexperienced, whereas Fredrik is somewhat older, worldly and confident.
Fredrik is completely unsuitable and undesirable to her family, which serves only to increase the attraction. Anna admits early on she knew he wasn’t right, but can’t help herself. As their relationship develops, a lot of other people are affected, and lives changed. She gets a job in the local bank, becoming a person of importance, and illegally makes contraception available to the local women.
There is a lot of comings and goings between the various characters (a much larger cast than outlined above), and there is palpable tension between Agnes and Anna over the affections of Fredrik. His true love is the land, and he wants his own farm but he is also caught between his duty and his desire for the two women.
There are other stories going on as well, for example we gain insights into Rammen and Ulrika’s marriage, Bjorn is more than just the village playboy, and even in the big cities you cannot be anonymous.
The various children grow up, and move away, or inherit. Life goes on, even during and after the Spanish flu, the Great Recession, and the Second World War. Modernisation comes, but some still resist. The land and the forest are constant backdrops, and people still measure their worth by this. Some seek to monetise the forests, for example, others believe they should be left alone. Unmarried Anna falls pregnant, and this is the event which is a real dividing line in her life, as she experiences first-hand the various taboos and rituals of the village and society, their approval and disapproval, and hard choices to be made.
Fylgia also brilliantly captures the rural society at a particular point of change. There are still those who keep to the old ways (Gustava, a servant, keeps a careful eye on Anna’s caul to ensure trolls and others don’t get it), there is a magic in the forest that may not be trifled with, and for me Anna’s fylgia is the roe buck, who appears when she needs it.
We also get a glimpse of a city world where courtships were started through formal introductions, a world of balls and soirees, and “matches” were made.
We also see changes in society at this time, how the far-away war has affected everyone, and the sheer poverty of some of the people. We see a growing lack of respect for authority figures, and a new confidence in the young people to throw off restraints.
What I Liked:
- The historical accuracy is excellent, and the research the author put in really paid off. - Small-town life is perfectly described, where everyone knows each other’s business, and tongues always ready to wag - The characters are real – we see their flaws, their passions, their dreams and disappointments in clear detail - The story flowed very smoothly
What I Didn’t Like:
- There was very little in the story I didn’t like, and maybe that’s because it has its roots in real-life. - There was just a sense of greyness, of not much hope. Notions of love are treated as fantasy. - I would have liked more of a connection between Anna and the fylgia.
Overall:
This is a historical fiction memoir with a bite, as the story draws you in, and draws you on. You want to find out how Anna and Fredrik turn out, you need to find out why does Anna blame Fredrik for the child’s death, and how did the complicated relations in a small village unwind themselves, or did they?
The author cleverly draws the power of society to make people conform, the conflict between tradition and change, and the hidden lives lived out in full view.
Anna was of a generation and time that got on with things, made do, and realised that life is hard, but it’s also what you make it. Choices made cannot be unmade, and like the tramp you need to follow your path one step at a time.
I thoroughly enjoyed this book. It tells a great story, realistic, and touches on important themes.
Acknowledgements:
My thanks to the author who sent me a copy of the book, in return for an honest and objective review.
As this achingly lovely novel opens, Anna Larrson is on a journey. She’s making her way through the forest to a grave marked by an iron cross. She looks down at the grave and stares at the raised letters covered with gold.
Here at the grave, we see Anna's world is bathed in memories and filled with gaps similar to the pews of the church. The very same church she attended when she was eight. The church where she first saw the wooden Christ hung tortured on a cross.
Sixty years later, Anna still resides in Hult, a village hidden in the forests of southwest Sweden.
Anna now has the appearance of an old woman who doesn’t appreciate the familiarity of being called by her first name. She stands silently at the grave, recalling the sacrifice and purpose of praising.
In the midst of her contemplation and yearning, readers are delicately guided to see how the life of the silkworm is a glance at her future. The life of the niece is a resemblance of her past. The opera is a reminder that before the final curtain was lowered her Fylgia ran through the forest alongside her.
In closing, I received this book through the generosity of the author Birgitta Hjalmarson. I was completely enchanted by the Swedish lore and atmosphere. This storyline creates a sense of mystery and intrigue and evokes mood and expectation fused with themes of birth, death, history, religion, and war. This is a classic tale and each character is brilliantly written so that they remind us of the eminent frailties of human nature.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
A very moving story set in an unfamiliar land and time. Anna Larrson is the youngest daughter in her family, her father being a respected member of their small village. Life revolves around their church in more ways than one. Alternating between the period just before WWI and present, one can visualize the people, their difficult lives in hard times, how gossip abounds in a small village and the price one pays to go against the grain of society.
I loved this book. At first I didn't "get it", but about a third of the way through I began to see patterns and meaning (including why it's called Fylgia) and got completely hooked. This complex novel weaves big societal themes (sexism, class, rural vs urban) together with existential questions (like fate versus human choice, love, meaning) into a rich, exquisitely detailed, and tragic story in a setting obviously deeply familiar to the author. Don't just read it. Read it slowly, and savor each sentence.
I just finished Fylgia and don’t know where to begin! So many thoughts twirling around my head...for me the sign of a really good book. Not just the story (but WHAT a story)...it leaves me with so many things to ponder about the way in which life moves over us. Do we really have choices?? And, of course, I am sad to come to the end. I enjoyed being in Hult...and loved seeing so many seasons at Ramm. I could smell it!
I did take my time reading Fylgia. Fylgia is that kind of rare book, that while you know you want to find out what it is all about, the process of reading slowly is satisfying in itself. Birgitta Hjalmarson draws you in – into a story of Anna, her family and her village as a part of Sweden.
Fylgia unfolds within two timelines. In one we find Anna as an old woman in mourning and in the other we meet Anna as a young woman searching for her own kind of life. As a young woman she yearns for things that at the time were not suitable for women. Years later there is loss of a child and the loss of her lover to be dealt and explained. You can guess at the story and yes, in many ways these things could have happened to other women too. But the end will surprise you and you will feel sadness for those involved. At least I did.
Anna’s story is real. It has actually happened. Birgitta Hjalmarsson spent a lot of time and effort in getting out the story from those, who were reluctant to share it with her at first. You see, Birgitta Hjalmarsson was as stranger to them. After return visits and persistence over the years, enough trust was created. Swedish roots also helped here.
What is fylgia, you may ask? I too was curious and so I googled it. Fylgja with the letter J can mean a spirit who accompanies a person and can take the form of an animal such as a mouse, an ox, a cat or even a deer. Norse mythology is of help here. Fylgja can also mean the afterbirth or the caul that covers in some way a new-born baby. You will form your own understanding when reading the book, but keeping the above in mind will be helpful.
I do recommend the book. Mostly it is because the writing is beautiful, informative and it kind of surrounds you. It is easy to imagine the scenes, actions and even smells. The characterizations are strong and varied, though one might feel that there are too many people in the book. Fylgia is certainly a good choice for those readers who like WW1 or Swedish history. Women’s issues will be of interest to some. Birgitta Hjalmarsson is aware of culture and this shines through, which makes this book delightful. There could still be an editorial read or two, but I cannot let this influence my rating – even if the five is not the strongest kind.
Birgitta Hjalmarson’s breakout novel, Fylgia, set during World War I in rural Sweden—when the deprivations of war and the challenges of modernity were pressuring all Swedes—focuses on a common woman of good character and family who cannot resist working toward greater liberties for women and toward the love of a man her family has rejected—pressing her will despite repeated warnings against overriding cultural norms.
Hjalmarson’s prose sweeps readers along in masterful imagery of the Swedish farm country and village of Hult, where Anna Larsson, daughter of esteemed parents, raised on a large working farm with her large family, and farmhands and servants, is also a woman wanting votes for women, birth-control options for wearied mothers, and to express her passion for a man of the new order, a newcomer who is an expert on progressive but resisted farming practices—even though he has jilted a woman who bore him a daughter.
Hjalmarson’s story of how Anna navigates the contradictions and complexities of strained wartime village life and learns to trust the brilliant passion that eventually brings her enormous loss, is told elegantly, with an engaging emotional tension that makes for an exceptional read. Fylgia leaves us with a generous understanding of Sweden’s Great War experience—and the role sheer determination plays in human destiny.
I loved reading Fylgia, and had a hard time putting it down. It flows seamlessly through the time periods, expertly weaving backstory into the storyline, and leaving the reader with clear descriptions of the Swedish landscape. As a reader I felt I had just enough to move through the storyline, while the plot still withheld surprises to keep me turning pages. Thank you to this author for writing my favorite type of book: one that makes me think, question and learn.
So glad to read about people who could be my relatives -- there are not many books about women's issues, politics and society in rural communities like this one in Sweden. Set in the early 1900s, the events of this novel provide a close look at real lives and the real problems that have been, thankfully, addressed to some degree over the last century: birth control, women's legal rights, the oppressiveness of religious and social taboos and even the social change associated with industrialization. Small details and motifs repeat throughout to give the story depth and poignancy.
This book is an experience. You’ll feel the cold of winter. You’ll recognise rural politics and mindful eyes of small town culture. You’ll sense the repression of turn of the century social customs and you’ll want to rebel. You’ll feel you know the main character even while you are still learning about her.
Fylgia is an impressively researched and detailed book. The pressures faced by the main character are heartbreakingly real and familiar. I closed this book, but Fylgia quietly continued provoking reflection within me. In some way I do not completely understand, Ms. Hjalmarson’s book helped me to navigate the difference between highlighting regrets and accepting choices made. Somewhere in all that, there is beauty.
A beautifully constructed drama, simmering in an unfamiliar setting. Best not disregard a character that seems insignificant when first introduced. Turn of the century rural Sweden is culturally foreign, and this tale is the more compelling for it. Take time to enjoy gifted writing.
Fylgia is a fascinating and beautifully written tale of a woman looking back on her life as a pregnant, unwed mother in rural Sweden during World War l. Birgitta Hjalmarson’s descriptions of rural life and nature are vividly memorable. C. Keating
I read Fylgia quickly because I sometimes need to devour books. Then, I read it again slowly. Carefully researched- - - it inspired me to do some research of my own. Thank you for this compelling and thoughtful book.
It is magical, the way she brings Anna's world to life for us. We see nature and feel it just the way Anna did. We feel love and betrayal exactly the way Anna felt it. We mourn loss and harbor bitterness exactly the way she did. This book is fierce, and tender, and resolute. Just like Sweden.
This book has received a Discovering Diamonds Review: Helen Hollick founder #DDRevs "Within just a few short pages, I was drawn fully into this world. Birgitta Hjalmarson writes evocatively of what to me is a foreign land: Sweden."
I was enthralled by FYLGIA. It starts quietly, gathers as it goes, and is so moving, as the author frames the past (Sweden, World War I) with another in the present, which is more than mere reflection by a longshot. When Anna decides to go up against the village of Hult for the sake of love, she must pay a high price, one that is slowly revealed in beautiful story-telling and prose. I loved the ever-presence of nature and being transported into the thrum of village and farm life, the way everyone’s lives are bound together through the generations. No spoilers here, except to say about the ending—powerful, searing, magnificent really.
This book is simply stunning. We follow Anna as she faces an unrelenting father in an era when women were valued for their chastity, and as wives and mothers, pretty much only. But Anna has other plans. She sees a bigger world, challenged by the ideas of Nietzsche and a strange man who comes into the midst of their conventional village. The love, loss, and heartache here will take your breath away. Just beautifully written, by an author who has come into her own.
Sometimes it was hard to follow the book. Chronologically it went back and forth, and sometimes I didn't understand what was going on. Full of hard times; little emotion in the Swedish folks. I certainly know and this book has helped me to understand my family much better. It is not a book to read if you are depressed.