The Sealwoman's Gift

by Sally Magnusson

In 1627 Barbary pirates raided the coast of Iceland and abducted some 400 of its people, including 250 from a tiny island off the mainland. Among the captives sold into slavery in Algiers were the island pastor, his wife and their three children. Although the raid itself is well documented, little is known about what happened to the women and children afterwards. It was a time when women everywhere were largely silent.

In this brilliant reimagining, Sally Magnusson gives a voice to Ásta, the pastor's wife. Enslaved in an alien Arab culture Ásta meets the loss of both her freedom and her children with the one thing she has brought from home: the stories in her head. Steeped in the sagas and folk tales of her northern homeland, she finds herself experiencing not just the separations and agonies of captivity, but the reassessments that come in any age when intelligent eyes are opened to other lives, other cultures and other kinds of loving.

The Sealwoman's Gift is about the eternal power of storytelling to help us survive. The novel is full of stories - Icelandic ones told to fend off a slave-owner's advances, Arabian ones to help an old man die. And there are others, too: the stories we tell ourselves to protect our minds from what cannot otherwise be borne, the stories we need to make us happy.

Genres: Historical Fiction, Fiction, Historical, Book Club, Literary Fiction, Audiobook, Fantasy

365 pages, Paperback

First published February 8, 2018

About the author

Sally Magnusson is a Scottish author and broadcaster.

Reviews

[Dem · Rating 5 out of 5]

A brilliant literary Novel, inspired by a true story, The Sealwoman's Gift evokes a dramatic existence in a distant time and place. Islandic History brought to life makes this a very moving, believable and enjoyable read

In 1627 Barbary pirates raided the coast of Iceland and abducted some 400 of its people, including 250 from a tiny island off the mainland. Among the captives sold into slavery in Algiers were the island pastor, his wife and their three children. Although the raid itself is well documented, little is known about what happened to the women and children afterwards. It was a time when women everywhere were largely silent.

This is a fascinating and little-known historical event that took place in not only Iceland but many other countries including Ireland back in the 1600s and I was very interested in getting my hands on a copy of this book as had heard that Sally Magunsson had written a very impressive debut novel and had listened to an interview on BBC2 where the book was discussed and I was fascinated by the premise of the story.

This is a Novel that takes a little known event in history, presents the facts and imagines the lives of those families abducted and how they adapt to their new surrounding, religion and customs of the Algiers. For me this was historical fiction at its best and I was hooked from page one.

I loved this Novel and the mix of fact and fiction, I loved the character of Asta and the stories of the women in the haren. A book about family separation, loss and love, a book about storytelling and a gift that lasts a lifetime. This was a terrific story extremely well executed and well researched and a book that will stay with me a long time. I think the reader should bear in mind when reading this story that it is Historical fiction and not an a history of the slaves or their lives in Algiers warts and all but a imagined account of one woman's life and her family.

The Notes at the end of the book explain what is fact and what is fiction and I think readers who have enjoyed books likeBurial Rites or His Bloody Project: Documents Relating to the Case of Roderick Macrae or may well enjoy this novel as well.

[Fiona · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Scottish Icelandic Magnusson family are very well known in Scotland and the UK. Sally is a broadcaster and journalist; her father, Magnus Magnusson, was chair of Mastermind for many years and an expert on Iceland’s history and sagas. This isn’t Sally’s first book but it is her first novel. It’s based on a raid on Iceland in 1627 by Algerian and Moroccan corsairs (pirates) during the course of which many Icelanders were killed and 400 were captured to be sold as slaves in Algiers. The event is considered one of the most traumatic in Icelandic history.

Asta and Olafur (a Lutheran priest) and two of their three children are amongst those taken. She gives birth to another child at sea. On arrival in Algiers, the couple are bought by a wealthy man, Cilleby, who also takes the two smallest children. Egill, their older son, is purchased by the pasha, who was known for his taste in young boys so what remained of Egill’s childhood was probably very difficult. Asta and the children are taken to Cilleby’s main residence. Olafur is kept separately and after a while is sent to Copenhagen to ask the Danish king (Iceland was under Danish rule) for a ransom to free the captives. It would be many years before this was achieved and few were ever to return home to Iceland.

This is a book about stories and their role in our lives. The Icelandic sagas were a source of comfort to Asta and were to prove useful in her relationship with Cilleby, just as the other women of the household enjoyed listening to the tales of Scheherazade in the evenings. It’s about the stories we tell ourselves and each other to keep our spirits up during difficult times. Asta was able to transport herself back to Iceland by imagining what she would be seeing and feeling, smelling and touching. It’s about love and separation - ‘Is it by the wanting that we measure love or is it something else?’ It’s about the choices people make when their lives are changed forever and they have to find a way to survive. It’s about the judgements of others who cannot imagine what they would have done in the same situation but are quick to condemn.

This is a very well researched historical novel as the Author’s Note at the end explains but it never gets bogged down by detail. It is first and foremost a story and it’s very well told. I was frustrated when I had to stop reading it and took every opportunity to get back to it. The pace is perfect and I found it a real page turner.

4.5-5 stars and I’m really looking forward to her second novel. With thanks to NetGalley and Two Roads/John Murray Publishers for a review copy.

Aside: when I was living in London in the early 80s, Sally Magnusson was a newsreader on, I think, LWT. One night, she was finishing with a piece on the Edinburgh Festival. Sally, who grew up in Glasgow, read the piece and then went off script to say, “Why is there such a fuss over a piddling little festival in Edinburgh that only lasts three weeks? Glasgow is home to both national orchestras (the Royal Scottish National Orchestra and the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra), to the national opera company (Scottish Opera) and ballet (Scottish Ballet), The Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama (now Royal Conservatoire), one of the most esteemed art schools (Glasgow Art School) and one of the most admired theatre companies in the UK (the Citizens Theatre). Edinburgh has three short weeks. Pfffff!” She then smiled to the camera and said ‘Have a good evening’, cool as you like. I loved her for that. She made my day! Everyone knows the best thing to come out of Edinburgh is the Glasgow train! ;-)

[Andy Marr · Rating 4 out of 5]

I had mixed feelings about this one. The first and final sections, set in Iceland, were beautifully described and rang entirely true, but the middle (and longest) section really left something to be desired. I think that perhaps, given the fact the book spanned more than a decade, the novel was simply short of one- or two-hundred pages. A fairly solid four stars, nevertheless.

[Tania · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wow! What an amazing book, not what I expected at all. The author's writing is exquisite. I didn't know anything about Icelanders being captured by pirates and sold into slavery in north Africa in the 1700's. Although my heart broke for Asta, the author manages to infuse the story with a quiet humor.

I listened to this on audible and the narration was outstanding. This is a book about the art of storytelling, of love and loss and survival. If you enjoy stories where you can immerse yourself in someone else's life in a different time and place, I highly recommend this. Based on a true story, this has unexpectedly become one of my favorite 2018 reads.

[Chrissie · Rating 3 out of 5]

In the summer of 1627 Barbary pirates attacked Iceland which was then ruled by Denmark. These pirates, often referred to as Ottoman or Maghreb corsairs, were based in North Africa. Thy were in search of slaves to be sold as cheap labor or ransomed. There were two raids on Iceland that summer. Pirates based in Salé attacked the eastern coastline. Pirates based in Algiers attacked the Westman Islands off Iceland’s southern coast. Here, on the island Heimaey, a Reverend Ólafur Egilsson, a Lutheran minister in his sixties, his pregnant wife Ásta of thirty-five and their two children, a girl of three and a boy of eleven, were four of those captured. Their eldest daughter was not captured as she was living o the mainland at this time. Arriving in Algiers after one month aboard ship, the wife and children were sold at a slave market. Reverend Ólafur was sent to Denmark; he was to arrange ransom payment of the Icelanders from King Christian of Denmark. The king was unwilling to pay, and so the reverend returned home alone to Iceland. It took him ten years to gather the ransom, privately. All of this is fact-- Reverend Ólafur Egilsson wrote of this in his book The Travels of Reverend Ólafur Egilsson: The Story of the Barbary Corsair Raid on Iceland in 1627. Of the nearly four hundred Icelandic prisoners taken, only thirty-four were ransomed. Reverend Ólafur’s wife was one of them.

This book of historical fiction imagines Ásta's experiences and what she endured and felt in Algiers and on returning home to Iceland.

I like how the author has captured Icelandic ways—the feel of the land, both its beauty and its harshness, and the importance of sagas in Icelandic culture. However when the story shifts to Algiers, the telling becomes less authentic, less vivid. This part is fiction and it feels as such. We are told of the difficulties that arose for the large group of Icelanders gathered there. These Icelanders remain as a diffuse group. Their sufferings feel distant, spoken of, but not felt by the reader. Ásta and her three children, one child was born on the ship, were well treated. Their suffering is marginal, which in my view gives the parts of the book set in Algiers a fairy tale feel to them. Only when Ásta must decide whether to remain or return to Iceland, leave behind her children and a man toward whom she has come to have ambiguous feelings of love, does the story begin to have depth.

It is interesting to observe why some Icelanders chose to remain in Algiers. Here the author takes the opportunity to compare lifestyle differences in Iceland and in Algiers. Similarities and differences in religious beliefs are cleverly dealt with. Ásta’s emotional difficulties on returning to Iceland are well drawn. It was this that saved the book for me.

I had difficulty distinguishing the Icelandic names. It would have been easier for me to read and see the names rather than hearing them. I listened to the audiobook narrated by Katherine Manners. In my view she does not pronounce the names clearly. She pronounces the names differently at different times. It was only her pronunciation of names that gave me trouble though; all the rest was fine. I have given her narration performance three stars.

I do not love the book. I find it rather ordinary. It has some interesting things to think about though.

[Eric Anderson · Rating 5 out of 5]

There’s something so wonderful about being wholly drawn into a richly imagined historical novel that both illuminates a somewhat forgotten or not-widely-known period of history and gives voice to people who are only glancingly referred to in the history books. Sally Magnusson does all this in her debut novel “The Sealwoman’s Gift” which recounts the abduction of over four hundred Icelandic citizens from their homes in the year 1627 by pirates from Morocco and Algeria. These prisoners were sold into slavery and a ransom for their release wasn’t obtained until several years later – by which point many of those abducted had either died, been irretrievably lost or converted/integrated into life along the Barbary Coast. Copies still exist of a famous account of these abductions written by a Reverend who was captured himself, but Magnusson focuses her novel more on the journey and inner-struggles of his wife Ásta. It’s noted how “others may have written their own accounts of captivity. Men, of course. Does it matter that nobody will know how it was to be a woman?” In doing so, this novel brilliantly engages with many of the heartrending conflicts a woman in Ásta’s position must have faced while also powerfully illuminating the cultural importance of storytelling and the complicated dynamics of love.

Read my full review of The Sealwoman’s Gift by Sally Magnusson on LonesomeReader

[Maria Hill AKA MH Books · Rating 4 out of 5]

“It was one of those morning when the winds breaths the scent of cut grass and the sea winkles like an old man’s hand. When you can see nearly all the islands dozing for miles around in the clear light.”

I originally read this on audible but loved it so much I picked up a hardcopy today so I can reread it.

The premise is based on a true story. In 1627 Barbary Pirates abducted 400 people from a remote island in Christian Iceland and sold them into slavery in Muslim Algiers. This is the imagined story of one of the slaves, Ásta, a pastors wife, who must raise her children alone in a dry, hot Muslim world so different from her remote island home. All she has of her homeland are her Icelandic legends and stories.

This novel is about family separation, immigration, what makes a land your home, how and why we love and the importance of stories in our lives.

Recommended to people who enjoyed historical fictions such as Burial Rites and The Snow Child

[Sonja Arlow · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was in two minds whether to read or listen to this, but all the strange Icelandic names convinced me that listening may be better, and I must say the audio narrator did an excellent job.

Four hundred years ago, pirates invaded the coast of Iceland and captured hundreds of people to sell into slavery in north Africa. The story is based on true events as outlined in the journal entries of Reverend Ólafur Egillson. But as with most historical events a female perspective is lacking.

So, this novel explores the event and aftermath form the viewpoint of Olafur’s wife Asta.

When your life (and children) are forcibly taken form you it’s devastating, but when your identity and religion is also sacrificed it’s hard to remember who you were.

The longer Asta stays in this foreign land the more distant and idealised her homeland becomes. Her children thrive in this new land with its burst of colour, cuisine and customs. When Asta catches herself enjoying some aspects of her new life she is riddled with guilt.

For me the story was about choices.

I think it’s more difficult to make peace with a conscious choice you make to take a certain path to the detriment of another. Comparably it’s easier to make peace with a situation that you are forced into. Asta’s struggles with this was beautifully told.

This literary tale may be slower than what I normally prefer but it was worth it.

[Anna · Rating 5 out of 5]

“The woman who has come back seems more knowing, less compliant. She has a confidence that holds itself tight and aloof. Thinking it over, it will appear to him extraordinary that someone who was dragged from her home a captive should return with such a sense of owning herself. She has felt much: that he can tell here and now.”

Like The Book of Strange New Things , this is a story that will stay with me. What makes this even better than Faber’s novel is that here we have more than the wife’s letters; we follow her through her own struggles and resilience but, most importantly, we get to know Ásta through the stories she tells.

[Claire · Rating 5 out of 5]

Described as The Turkish Raid or Tyrkjaránið, the inspiration for the novel is based on the invasion of Iceland in 1627 by pirates from Algeria and Morocco, also known as Barbary pirates (a reference to the Barbary coast, a term used by Europeans in the 16th century, referring to the coastal aspect of the collective lands of the Berber people of North Africa). They were lead by the ambitious and cunning Dutch captain Jan Janszoon van Haarlem, commonly known as Murat Reis the Younger, himself captured and "turned Turk".

They were referred to as Turks, as Algeria was then part of the expansive Ottoman Empire. Icelandic villagers were abducted, and taken by ship to be sold as slaves in Algiers, a request for a ransom was made to the Danish King, and a few would make it back home.

Relative to its size, Iceland the furthest north the corsairs reached, was hit particularly hard. To lose four hundred people out of a population of around forty thousand - including most of the island of Heimaey - is by any standards a stupendous national tragedy, particularly for what was at the time the poorest country in Europe. That may be one reason why Iceland has kept painfully in its collective psyche what has largely faded from the memory of other affected nations. It may also be down to the Icelandic compulsion to write. Voluminous historical narratives were written afterwards and copied by hand. It was felt important that the nation's great trauma should be understood and never forgotten.

The Sealwoman's Gift follows one family, Ólafur the local pastor, his relatively younger wife Asta and two of their children, all of whom are abducted, the mother due to give birth, which she does on the ship. Initially Ólafur is herded onto a different ship, perhaps due to his advanced age, however he manages to fight his way to his wife and children, allowed to do so while others are struck down for such defiance, when his ability to calm the captives is noted by the Captain.

They voyage across the sea to Algiers where their fate awaits them. While on the ship, one of the islanders Oddrún - affectionately referred to as the sealwoman, due to her insistent belief that she was a seal who came ashore and had her sealskin stolen, forcing her to remain human - has a dream, another shared prophecy, words that are usually ignored, but given their predicament and desire for escape, are this time listened to attentively.

'I have seen Ólafur in a great palace. He is kneeling before the king.'

It's not possible to write too much about what happens without spoiling the discovery for the reader, suffice to say that poverty-stricken conservative Christian Icelanders arriving in the warm, lush climate of Algiers, where, although they are enslaved, many will live in ways less harsh than what they have experienced in freedom, and children will be both born and grow up within a culture and religion unlike their home country, one that some will embrace, others will defy, awaiting the response of their king to the request for a ransom.

Those that return, in turn, face the dilemma of reacclimatising to their culture and way of life, so different to what they have experienced, the memories of their time of enslavement never far from their thoughts and the judgments of those who were not caught felt in a wayward glance.

How could she have forgotten, how could she possibly not have remembered, what it is like to live for month after month with only a few watery hours of light a day,  with cold that seeps into your bones and feet that are always wet? Is it conceivable that she never noticed before how foul the habits are here?...

Can she not have noticed how the turf walls bend in on you and bear down on you until you are desperate to break out and breathe again? Only there is no roof to escape to here but just gabled grass, and the wind would toss you off it anyway if it did not freeze you first. To think she spent more than thirty winters in a house like this, yet only now is oppressed by the way the stinking fulmar oil in the lamp mingles with the stench of the animals and the meat smoking over the kitchen fire and the ripe sealskin jackets on their hook, making her sick with longing for the tang of mint and cumin and an atrium open to the sky.

While much of the Reverend Ólafur Egillson's story is known from journals he kept, that have been transcribed and translated and kept his story and that of the islanders alive, not much is known of the fate of his wife Asta while she was captive, an interlude that the author immerses herself in through the imagination. A fragment of engraved stone is all that remains to commemorate the life of this woman who lived an extraordinary life, the details of which she took with her to the grave.

'History can tell us no more than it does about any woman of the time in Iceland or anywhere else, unless she happened to be a queen.'

Overall, this story provides a thrilling depiction of the terror of a pirate invasion that changed the lives of 400 islanders from Iceland, their journey across seas to Algiers, the slave markets and fates of those who survived, their children and an imagining of how they may have coped as they watched their youth grow up and become part of another culture and way of life, while older Icelanders struggled with what they retained within them of their past and the changes that would envelope them in the years that followed, in a strange new land, one that despite their suffering, also offered opportunities they would never have encountered at home.

[Indieflower · Rating 4 out of 5]

An enjoyable read based on a true event. In 1627 Barbary pirates carried off 400 people from Iceland, including 250 from a tiny island off the mainland - almost the island's entire population - and sold them into slavery in Algiers, this is the part fictionalised story of one of the families. I liked this more than I anticipated, it was well written and quite moving in places, though the pacing was a bit off, sudden jumps forward in time without any preamble were a bit weird. There is also, unexpectedly, some rather cringe inducing, melodramatic romance, which carried the overpowering whiff of Mills & Boon and made me grimace a bit 😬. Overall though, pretty good, I previously knew nothing of this period in history and found it very interesting, and I loved learning about the landscape of Iceland and it's ancient sagas.

[Leah · Rating 2 out of 5]

Slavery, Mills and Boon style…

It is 1627 when a horde of Barbary pirates raid the Westman Islands off the coast of Iceland and carry off 400 people to be sold into slavery in Algiers. Among them is Ásta, a married woman pregnant with her fourth child. Two of her children are with her while the third was left behind in Iceland. She, her children and her husband, Ólafur, will all have different experiences that will change them for ever...

That is, they will once we’ve gone through sixty pages of labour aboard a slave ship in which we are gifted descriptions of every contraction, finally followed by the usual bloody and traumatic birthing beloved of fiction writers, but not beloved by yours truly who finds that when you’ve read about one harrowing childbirth you’ve pretty much read about them all.

On arrival in Algiers, Ásta and her now three children are sold into slavery, with Ásta and the two youngest bought by a rich Muslim called Cilleby, and Ásta becomes one of the women in his harem. Meantime Ólafur, a Christian pastor, is sent back to Iceland to negotiate ransom for the captives from the King. The King is not keen to pay out, though, so the slaves’ captivity stretches out to many years. Some are luckier than others. While Ásta and some of the younger women are kept in harems in a luxury they have never known before, older women and men become forced labour, many of them underfed and cruelly treated. As time goes on, more and more of them die, while others, usually the children and younger ones, reconcile themselves to their new country, forsake their Christianity for the Muslim faith, and are freed to become citizens and make new lives for themselves.

Although I didn’t love this book while I was reading it, I didn’t hate it either, at least not till quite late on. The historical aspects are interesting and, I assume, accurate, and Magnusson writes well, although unfortunately in the tedious present tense. The religious element of the slaves having to decide whether to remain Christian or adapt to Islam is handled reasonably well. Those who hold onto their Christian faith also hold onto the hope that one day they will be ransomed and return home. In the meantime, though, they will continue as slaves. Those who feel less of a pull to Iceland are more willing to convert if it means that they can become free citizens of a country filled with warmth and luxuries they had never before encountered. But if they convert, they will never be welcome back in Christian Iceland, even if the ransom ever finally shows up. Magnusson doesn’t take a side which is politically correct of her, but leaves the story rather flat. If no one is right or wrong, then where’s the emotion? The book is also incredibly slow – those endless contractions in the beginning just the start of a story told with far too much repetition and not enough pace.

But what eventually led me to actively dislike the book is Ásta’s story. It turns into a nice cosy love story where the male love interest just happens to be a slave owner and the female is his slave. But fear not! He’s terribly civil, and instead of forcing his unwanted sexual attentions on her (but are they unwanted?) he listens while she fends him off by telling him the Icelandic sagas she learned as a child. It reads like a cross between a Mills and Boon romance and a remake of The King and I, with elements of One Thousand and One Nights thrown in for good measure.

Books where women are seduced by cruel, masterful types are fine by me if they were written a hundred years ago, but not so much if they’re written now unless they have considerably more psychological depth than this has. Do I believe that female slaves had willing sex with their masters to keep themselves and their children safe and maybe gain a bit of luxury? Yes, I do. Do I believe it’s possible for a slave-owner and a slave to genuinely fall in love despite power imbalances and cultural and religious differences? Yes, I do. However, do I believe female slaves slept with their slave-owners because they were overwhelmed with love and desire to the extent that even their children mattered less than a bit of exotic rumpy-pumpy? Er, no. Well, maybe, but if so don’t look for my sympathy – it’s gone AWOL. Do I believe that slave-owning men who want a bit of rumpy-pumpy with a slave would instead be willing to listen to Icelandic sagas night after night for years instead? Now my credulity has eloped with my sympathy…

So in the end my general lack of enthusiasm turned to active distaste. A pity – the premise is interesting and Magnusson seems to know her history. But the hackneyed romanticisation of the master/slave story used to tie it together left me feeling rather nauseated. In the end the lack of a decent plot led me to think that she would have been better to write the story of this episode as a non-fiction.

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[Calzean · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm not a great fan of historical fiction except where there is a little known story well researched around real events and the characters are not all beautiful/handsome. I enjoyed this one though.
400 or so Icelandic people are kidnapped by "Turkish" pirates and become slaves in Algiers. The events are a fictional account based on a true story and gives a voice to Asta, a pastor's wife. She has two children with her and a third is born on the pirate ship. Over 10 years she adapts to living in a harem, relating Icelandic sagas and debating the righteousness of religions and slavery with her owner. She is ransomed and returns back to her remote Icelandic island where she struggles with her identity, the harshness of her Icelandic life and the pros and cons of her religion.
A book full of folklore, wise tales, debates on religion and the hypocrisy of cultures.

[John Gilbert · Rating 3 out of 5]

A sometimes fascinating historical novel based on real events between 1627 and 1637 when 400 Icelanders were taken by Turkish pirates and brought to Algiers as slaves, where expectation was that the king of Denmark (who then controlled Iceland) would ransom their release and return.

This story was mostly based on the writings of Olafur, priest, father and husband of Asta. When Olafur was sent back to Denmark to negotiate the ransom of the captured Icelanders, the narrative is mostly of Asta's time in Algiers, followed by her return to Iceland, which is totally imagined by Ms Magnnusson.

An epic task, which is usually interesting, but often falls short of engagement of this reader. Well done, but not as fulfilling as I would have liked.

[Lady R · Rating 3 out of 5]

Hmmmm..... I didn’t get the hype with this one. There is no doubt Magnusson writes beautifully about the Icelandic landscape & the first 100 pages or so of this novel were wonderful.
After that it read a bit more like a memoir or biography of Asta and I felt the remaining characters were never fully bought to life.
Also the romantic element became a bit too chick-lit like for me!
A good debut but I was hoping for more after reading all the reviews....

[Victoria (Eve's Alexandria) · Rating 4 out of 5]

I have a thing for Iceland and a thing for pirates, so this surprisingly fluent and moving historical novel had me at hello. It opens in the spring of 1628 when nearly 400 Icelanders from the remote Western Isles are kidnapped by the renowned Algerine pirate Murat Reis. Dozens of others are murdered during the brutal and unprecedented raid. Amongst the taken are priest Olafur Egilson, his wife Asta Thorsteinsdottir and two of their children, 11 year old Egill and three year old Marta. Heavily pregnant Asta gives birth to a third child, Jon, in the dank crowded hold of the slavers ship.

It’s a captivating beginning, tightly and atmospherically told in a complicated structure of flash back and changed perspective. You would be excused for thinking that what follows will be an adventure story, but that’s not the style of Magnusson’s debut at all. Instead it is a moving account of Olafur and Asta’s response to their varied fates: Olafur almost immediately released to go and beg for ransom for his fellow slaves from the Danish King, and Asta sold into the household of a prodigiously rich Moor, Ali Pitterling Cilleby. Both are separated from home, family and the strict religious belief that has previously shaped their lives.

Asta emerges from this as a powerful and enigmatic personality, driven by her cultural identity and love of the Icelandic sagas. The novel is based on a true story, passed down to us in the biography that Olafur Egilson wrote about his own experiences. Asta is almost entirely missing from that narrative (what a big surprise) but here Magnusson writes her back in to history as a fierce and imaginative survivor.

Love is at the centre of the story, in one way or another and in all its various guises. It almost, at times, tips over into the sentimental but the atmosphere, historical delicacy and subtlety that come with it make it somehow acceptable. It reminds me powerfully in this sense of another novel of the emotions that I loved, Witch Light by Susan Fletcher. I would certainly recommend this to all readers of historical fiction.

[Steph · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a fictionalised account of a real-life historical event in the 1600s when hundreds of people in Iceland were killed by pirates or captured and taken as slaves. The story is told from the perspective of the wife of a priest from a small southern island. (As a disclaimer I should admit that since visiting several years ago, I’m a keen enthusiast for contemporary books set in Iceland. It’s an amazing place.)

Despite being set in different countries and different centuries, this story reminded me of the Good People by Hannah Kent. The heavy mood created by the cold foggy landscape, the intensity of small-town social relationships, the theme of loss and grief, the role of women in Europe several centuries ago, and the tension between Christianity and pagan mythology - both of which are tightly bound in culture - are all parallels.

However, while the Good People causes readers to feel increasing heaviness and despair as the characters get more and more trapped, the Sealwoman’s Gift has times of lightness and resolution. Both book embrace the complexity of real people and societies but with this I came out feeling like I had greater insight into humanity, rather than feeling distressed for humankind.

Also after reading several novels in a row that seemed self-important and irritatingly meandering, this novel seemed very well-considered. Careful thought has been given to what information to include, and when or how to reveal new information. It feels like the work of an experienced author who is focussed on creating something for her audience rather than herself.

I’ve also recently read books that try to weave mythology into a new narrative, but it can feel forced or dull. In this book, it’s cleverly inter-twined so that the sagas add new dimensions and twists to the primary narrative rather than being a distraction or coming across as pretentious waffle.

Finally, the amount of research that must have gone into this novel must have been enormous. For those who like historical fiction, I highly recommend this book.

[Callum McLaughlin · Rating 3 out of 5]

In The Sealwoman’s Gift, Sally Magnusson imagines what life may have been like for the real-life Icelanders who were seized by Barbary pirates in the early 1600s and sold into slavery in Algiers. Having evidently put a lot of heart into researching the subject, she focusses primarily on the case of a pastor and his family. Though his records tell us that he would reunite with his wife, Ásta, after ten years apart, next to nothing is known of what she and their children went through in that time. This book is an imagined version of those years.

The theme that drew me to this the most, and one I enjoyed very much, is the power of storytelling. The richness of Iceland’s sagas and folk tales is the cultural link that provides comfort and keeps Ásta connected to her homeland. Beyond that, the book also explores the kind of stories we tell ourselves to keep hope alive, when the truth may be too painful to face up to.

The novel is split between two main settings: the cold, harsh terrain of rural Iceland, and the decadent, sweltering palaces of Algiers. Both are captured with equal fervour, Magnusson’s evocative prose painting vivid pictures in the mind’s eye. The disparate nature of the settings is reflected in the culture clash Ásta and the others experience. When forced to adopt a new religion on top of their whole new way of living, the very nature of what they believe and what they truly want from life is called into question. Sometimes the line between freedom and captivity can start to blur, and the confusion of this is presented very effectively.

I really appreciate that Magnusson chose to make Ásta the focus of the narrative. In historical records, she and most of the other women affected are referred to only as the wives of their respective husbands. Here, Magnusson gives a voice to a woman who outwardly had no agency, and reflects on what it really meant to always long for something more.

Given all these highlights, why the middling rating? The truth is, I went into this with very high expectations. Historical fiction set partly in Iceland that explores female agency and the power of storytelling? That could not be more firmly in my wheelhouse if it tried. The fact that this is a good novel, when I was hoping for an excellent one, is arguably not the book’s fault.

However, I do think it has its specific faults. Namely, the uneven pacing. I loved the book’s first and final quarters, but I have to concede that the lengthy mid-section dragged somewhat. Some events and ideas are explored ad nauseam, spread across several chapters. In other instances, whole years are skipped over in a mere paragraph. This felt odd to me, and stopped me from ever feeling fully invested in the characters’ turmoil. Because of this, several of the emotional beats just didn’t hit as hard as they should. It’s tricky to pinpoint more precisely than that, but something was always just stopping me from being fully hooked, no matter how much I appreciated the book’s merits.

All that said, this is a beautifully written novel that adds a big dose of humanity (and just a little dash of whimsy) to a forgotten part of history. With a little more oomph, perhaps it could have been the new favourite I was hoping for.

[Ygraine · Rating 3 out of 5]

"the old woman has strong feelings about being a seal and tires of jests. long ago her sealskin was lost under the midnight sun. she is emphatic about this, her oyster eyes liquid with sincerity. she and the other sealfolk swam ashore to dance on heimaey’s black summer sands, and there they took their skins off and laid them on the warm rocks to dry. all night long they span and they sang, their bodies lithe and golden under the unsleeping sun, until it was time to slip back into their skins and return to the sea. oddrún made to go with them, but when she looked for hers it was gone. stolen, she is sure. ‘come back, come back, don’t leave me here,’ she called to the retreating sealfolk as they plunged into the waves’ bosomy embrace. but one by one they disappeared, and oddrún was left without her skin to make a life on heimaey, never feeling quite herself. she was young then, she insists, and her body firm and slender; but if the thief were to return the pelt now, it would no longer fit a waddling old woman. this is her particular grief. this is the point in the story when she always starts to weep fat, despairing tears."

this is a book of greater scope than burial rites; it too is about womanhood, freedom and the nature of myth-making, it too works to create new space in the historical narrative for the experiences and voices of women, but it grapples with a story that is geographically and ideologically bigger than burial rites. its focus is an episode in icelandic and algerian history that i was entirely unfamiliar with, the algerian raiding party that abducted a considerable proportion of the icelandic population to sell as slaves, the following ransom negotiations with the king of denmark, the return of only a handful of freed icelanders to their homes almost ten years later, exhausted, alienated and often leaving children, now converted to islam and settled in new lives, behind them. it's a book working to come to terms with the concept of freedom, with what it means to return to an old life when you feel changed beyond recognition, with what it means to have, and keep, faith, and, finally, with the ways the complexities of these feelings emerge in the patterns of icelandic and arabic myths.

and it's a book that brought me, in the final pages, to sudden, surprising, shuddering tears. surprising, because most of the book felt uneven; where burial rites, because its focus and shape is so tight, can lavish time and weight on interiority, the sealwoman's gift moves in strange jolts, is at times flat, lacking a sense of emotional reality, especially in the middle section dealing most immediately with ásta's experience as a slave, feels not entirely able to manage its own breadth. at times, it is lucid and alive with both suffering and compassion, and i want to love it for those moments alone and for the tears it called from me, but i can't quite forget my frustration with its clumsier moments.

[Sky · Rating 5 out of 5]

I read this in one day. I couldn’t put it down. I had to know what happened to Ásta and Olafur and their family and it broke my heart. I think reading it all in one sitting made the pain harder but I’m not sure.

This novel is about the faith of a woman, a family, a community. Ásta is the wife of Olafur, a reverend: so, we see a lot of ideas about the faith in Christ and god or sometimes the faith in Allah. This book is more than just about the faith in religion. It is about the faith in yourself, family, country, community and love.

The novel is based on a fictionalised event, but Magnusson has done her historical research and she writes about this time and these real people with clarity. If you like historical fiction that is accurate as can be, read this. The fictional embellishment is tasteful and fit for each situation. It’s realistic and that is the pain and excellence in this work.

The characterisation is outstanding. These people were real, and Magnusson does them a great service by giving them a second chance to tell their story. My favourite was Olafur. His determination and apparently unwavering faith and love for his wife was heart wrenching and comforting at the same time. Each character though, is multi-dimensional and I come away from this story feeling like I have a greater understanding and insight to humanity.

The weaving of Icelandic mythology into this was very fluid and not forced like other novels. Sally cleverly inserts it so that these stories entwine with the present plot and it gives a new dimension to the story and meanings.

I write this with a lump in my throat. I won’t say the conclusion was happy or sad because I’m not certain it was either, but this novel was tragic, and I still feel grief. I’m hoping that writing about it will make me feel better.

It is astounding that this novel has made me feel this upset. I finished it at 5am and couldn’t sleep. I went outside to calm myself and reflect but it didn’t help much either. This story, the lives of these people will weight heavy on my thoughts for a long time coming.

And I think that is one of the points. Magnusson wrote this to give a voice to Ásta. She did that and more, giving a voice to that community. I will not forget Ásta and her strength. Or Olafar and his dedication. Or Egill and his bravery. Or Marta and her kindness. Or Jón and his joy. These were real people who were lost to time and tragedy and I will not forget them, and I doubt anybody who reads this book will have the strength to either.

[anna marie · Rating 2 out of 5]

- the writing is really beautiful
- i love the focus on motherhood!! (& women’s voices in general i guess) the opening birth is amazing & the writing about children is so sweet
- the sexual violence in this is horrible so heads up
-& the lingering romantic plot that comes out through the middle of the book is gross & underwhelming imo
- having someone who is a slave fall in love with the person who bought her is gross, however the author chose to characterise it
- there is no explicit descriptions but extremely (imo) upsetting reference to child sexual abuse in this
- the way that sexual violence is framed historically within this novel also doesn’t make much sense but i’m too upset & tired to go into it
- the title of this book is rlly misleading & if you go into thinking there might be more elements of whimsy & folktale in reality you will be disappointed like me!!
- i think the book is marketed all wrong because it suggests it’s a lot more magical than it actually is
- the writing is so gorgeous !! it’s such a shame the book just isn’t good/doesn’t work/is exceedingly upsetting at points

[Kristina · Rating 5 out of 5]

Heartbreaking and magical. Like being bathed in a spell, in a story, in a hidden history.

[Leonie · Rating 3 out of 5]

I'd never heard of the pirate raid on Iceland in 1627. Intriguing story.

[Sherrie · Rating 5 out of 5]

A brilliant first novel by the author, who is half Icelandic. She had taken an incident in history and added fiction to the known facts. Iceland was raided by pirates in the 17th century and 400 people were taken as slaves in Algeria. The families in the story were real but not much is known about what really happened to them. A mixture of adventure, love, loyalty and devotion, I would recommend it, particularly for a book group.

[Jennifer (JC-S) · Rating 5 out of 5]

‘It was a fine morning. That she will always remember – how lovely dawned the seventeenth day of July in the year 1627, the day the pirates came .’

Within a matter of a few days, Barbary pirates abducted some 400 people from Iceland, including 250 (almost the entire population) from the small island of Heimaey. Among the captives sold into slavery in Algiers, were the pastor of Heimaey, Ólafur Egilsson, his wife Ásta Thorsteinsdóttir and three of their children. The raid itself is well documented, but little is known about what happened to the women and children afterwards. Women’s voices were rarely heard, their accounts of events seldom included in historical records.

In this, her first novel, Ms Magnusson has given Ásta a voice. Imagine: a heavily pregnant woman captured with her husband and two of her three children. She gives birth to her fourth child at sea. Ásta, Ólafur and their two youngest children are sold to a wealthy man in Algiers, Ali Pitterling Cilleby. Their older son Egill, is purchased by the pasha who is known to have a taste for small boys. Ásta and Ólafur are kept separately. After a while Ólafur is sent to Copenhagen to ask the Danish king (Iceland was under Danish rule) to ransom the captives.

Ásta has lost her freedom, her children, and her husband. How will she survive in this very alien culture? She is waiting to hear about the ransom, hoping to see her elder son, wanting to hold onto what she values from her own culture. Ásta has the stories, the sagas and folktales of Iceland in her head, and the opportunity to share those stories with Cilleby arises. The years pass without news from Iceland. And then, just as Ásta becomes more accustomed to her new life, news that a ransom is to be paid for some of the Icelanders is received. She is told only after the envoy has been in the city for some months.

‘She will not ask why he did not tell her this before. This is only the news some slave-woman in his house has been waiting nearly nine years to hear.’

Ásta must choose: to return to Iceland, leaving her children behind or to stay in Algiers. She doesn’t know whether her husband is still alive. She is not even sure that she wants to leave, but she feels that she must. And, for the rest of her long life she will wonder about how her life might have been had she chosen to stay.

This is a novel about survival and about the power of stories in our lives. It’s also a story about contrasting life styles and difficult choices. In Algiers, Ásta’s stories could transport her back to the Iceland of her memory, helped her bear separation from her husband and children. But the Ásta who returned to Iceland some nine years later was forever changed by her experiences in Algiers. Those stories have their own place.

‘Thus does Ásta Thorsteinsdóttir discover that there is more than one way to make a bed of stories.’

I enjoyed this novel very much, and appreciated the Author’s Note at the end which explained how Ólafur Egilsson’s manuscript (The Travels of Ólafur Egilsson) led Ms Magnusson to wonder about his wife Ásta:

‘But who was she, this woman who gave birth on a slave-ship and returned ten years later without her children?’ ‘But what happened to Ásta in Algiers and after she returned to Iceland?’

Ms Magnusson’s wondering has delivered a powerful novel. Highly recommended.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

[Andy Weston · Rating 4 out of 5]

In 1627 a raid by North African pirates on the Icelandic coast and islands killed and kidnapped more than 400, mainly women and children. They were taken back to Algeria and Morocco and sold into slavery. As Magnusson describes in her appendix, this was a huge incident in Icelandic history, with their population at that time only about 40,000. Her meticulous research tells the story of the raids and particularly that of one woman who returns to her homeland ten years after her abduction, without her children, her ransom having been raised and paid, by whom it is uncertain, but her older husband most likely, who had journeyed to Denmark to petition the king for his help.
With the fascinating historical aspects aside, Magnusson’s story is a compelling one of loss and resilience, of storytelling (engrained in the Icelandic tradition) and belonging. Her skill is pay homage to the past and still bring it alive, to capture the feeling of place and time in such a powerful way.

[Tracy Excell · Rating 5 out of 5]

Intrigued from the first page and not wanting it to end by the last . Such beautiful, rich writing intertwined with the folklore and history of Iceland - having visited several times it perfectly depicted the wonderful landscape and stories for me . I had heard of the piracy of that time, but this book really brings it alive and the turmoil and plight of the people taken . In contrast to Iceland , the chapters in Algiers are vibrant with colour and wealth and full of menace ,mystery and temptations . Highly recommended and shall definitely be reading more by Sally Magnusson as a result .

[em · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Love and suffering, as you may recall from your catechism, are what all worlds are founded upon."

I don’t think I can accurately put into words myself how complex and emotional this book was, the story was so powerful and told with such beautiful detail that I don’t think any words I use would fully do it justice. (But I urged people to read my liked reviews as they seemed to have found the words which I couldn’t).

“The woman who has come back seems more knowing, less compliant. She has a confidence that holds itself tight and aloof. Thinking it over, it will appear to him extraordinary that someone who was dragged from her home a captive should return with such a sense of owning herself. She has felt much: that he can tell here and now.”

[Emma · Rating 4 out of 5]

First of all, I'd like to thank Netgalley and the publisher for providing me with an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.

The Sealwoman’s Gift is an absolute gem of an historical novel, and evokes the atmosphere, struggles and joys of a bygone era with rare elegance and authenticity. It is clearly a labour of painstakingly researched love - in fact, I was astounded to realise just how much of the novel was based on pure historical fact when reading the author’s note at the end - which makes the fact that this novel deliberately sets out to give a voice to those who have been almost entirely erased from history even more poignant. This is always one of my absolute favourite kinds of fiction, and this novel pulls it off beautifully. It tells the story of Ásta, an Icelandic woman who really was kidnapped from her remote island and sold into slavery in Algiers in the early 17th century - but of whom almost nothing else is known, even though her husband Ólafur’s book about the raid is the most comprehensive surviving historical account of the event. This novel takes it upon itself to fill in the gaps in the historical narrative, painting a vivid picture of some of the women and children that male authors throughout history never thought worth mentioning in detail.

One of the novel’s great strengths is the life it breathes into everything. Ásta is a marvellous protagonist, brimming with life, wit and heart, and I was surprised by how much I came to care about Ólafur, too. He’s not the kind of character I usually warm to, but his compassion, curiosity, gentleness, and the gradual softening of his stern principles eventually won me over. I also found the relationship between them very compelling, as were Ásta’s relationships with all of her children, all of which were beautifully nuanced and different. Honestly, that’s a particularly impressive feat, because I tend to find it very difficult to relate to fictional depictions of motherhood.

However, I really felt that most of the other characters who appeared in the chapters set in Algiers could have been fleshed out a bit more - even the ones who were focused on most heavily never felt particularly compelling to me. This section - which takes up a considerable chunk of the novel - does a wonderful job of conveying the culture shock Ásta is experiencing, and there is a lot to be said for the way it portrays the agony of loss and the turmoil of doubt and guilt. However, the narrative always seemed a little bit more detached in these chapters, which I think was maybe a deliberate choice on the author’s part to reflect the feeling of alienation that comes with being uprooted from one’s home so violently (or I may have been imagining it, because I admittedly didn’t have as much free time while I was reading that section, so I mostly got through it in tiny bursts when I had a few moments to spare). Whatever the reason, I just didn’t feel as emotionally connected to those chapters and the characters they focused on, which is the main reason I knocked a star off this review (as well as the way the narrative often switched perspective from one paragraph to the next, which is a style I’m REALLY not fond of).

However, that’s my only major criticism! For the most part, I found the characters and their relationships highly compelling, the plot well-paced, and the setting gorgeously rendered. It almost feels as though you could step into 17th-century Iceland or Algiers at any moment - I absolutely adored how much this novel felt like a window into the past. Plus, I was tremendously moved by the last few chapters of the novel, which more than made up for any emotional distance in the earlier chapters.

Also, I’m not usually a fan of novels which feature religion as a major theme, but the way it was explored here was nothing short of wonderful, focusing on the little concessions and doubts that creep into everyone’s mind over the course of their lives and showing all the ways that different belief systems can be alike, compatible, overlapping, and yet distinct, and what that means for the people who find themselves caught between two or even three worlds (or who simply care about other people whose beliefs don’t quite match up with their own). It could maybe be best summed up as an unpretentious exploration of what personal faith means, and I found it surprisingly lovely.

Of course, that goes hand in hand with one of my all-time favourite themes - the power and importance of stories (and, in this case, the extent to which they can coexist with religious doctrine). Folklore and memory are the cornerstone of this novel, which revolves around the ways that all of our lives are built on stories and draw on our own histories, while also reminding us just how many people have been erased from those narratives.

And finally, I just want to say that I was utterly charmed by the way the story incorporated elements of fantasy; normally I find it immensely irritating when they’re used sparingly, because it often feels like the author is afraid of committing to the story they really want to tell (and, sidenote, the main criterion I use when rating a book is “how close I think it comes to being the book it’s trying to be”), but in this case, the little touches of magic around the edges felt perfect. In the end, this isn’t a story about magic: it’s a story about finding your own understanding of the world, and it just so happens that this novel’s understanding of the world includes a sprinkling of myth and magic.

[Overbooked ✎ · Rating 4 out of 5]

The novel is based on a true story, it’s a blend of historical fiction with a touch of magical realism.
In 1628, during a raid on a small and remote Westman island, off the southern cost of Iceland, a band of Berber pirates abducts more than 400 inhabitants, carrying them off to Algiers to be sold at the slave market. Among the abducted is a Christian Luteran pastor, Olafur, his wife, Asta, and their children. Asta and Olafur are bought by the same wealthy slave owner, but are separated soon after. Olafur, is sent to the Danish king in order to plead and raise the ransom to free his kidnapped subjects. In the meantime, Asta, employed as a seamstress, find herself and two of her children in the harem of her Muslim kind master, Cilleby.

The author’s prose has a strong sense of place. Realistically evoking the landscapes of the cold windswept islands of the north, with their grassy slopes, pebbly beaches, big skys, high cliffs and rugged coastlines, and later transporting the reader to faraway places, of exotic white cities, tinkling fountains, sunny climates that smell of oranges, jasmine and mint.

The narration takes in different POVs, but mainly it is Asta’s story, whose experiences will test the strength of her faith and family bonds. In Algiers, she will need to adapt to a different culture and religion, be prepared to lose her children, and question her marriage. Storytelling is a main theme of the novel, steeped in the magic and adventure of the Icelandic folklore, sagas and fairy tales echoing the one thousand and one nights stories.

This novel reminded me of a recent read, The Wreath similarly dealing with religion, folklore and complex relationships. What I liked most of the Wreath was its evocative language, here the writing is equally vividly descriptive and I’m happy to say that I enjoyed The Sealwoman's Gift story a lot more. This was a charming read for me, so good that I wish there were a sequel. A very strong 4 stars.
I listened to the audiobook narrated by Phyllida Nash, which I would also recommend.

Fav. Quotes:

Here are people who were preserved from going mad by convincing themselves that their children could pray the wrong way and still go to heaven. People who have come close themselves to surrendering to a different creed. People who have asked whether churchmen are always right about everything. People who wonder yet if there might be more to heaven and earth than even Martin Luther knew.

We cannot live in two worlds. And in lamenting too long what belongs in the other we will bring upon ourselves and others only destruction.