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Een vrouw in de poolnacht
In de zomer van 1934 reist Christiane Ritter haar man, die onderzoeker is, achterna naar de Noordpool. Het is hun grote droom: ze wonen een jaar lang in een primitieve hut op de afgelegen noordelijkste punt van Spitsbergen, bijgestaan door Karl, een Noorse jager. Ze hebben geen technische hulpmiddelen: behalve de natuur en de leegte is er niets. Tijdens de maanden durende poolnacht, als de mannen lange periodes weg zijn voor de jacht, komt Christiane de hut alleen uit om die na een sneeuwstorm uit te graven.
In dit reisverhaal beschrijft ze aanstekelijk hoe ze standhield in de ijzige kou en begon te houden van de overweldigende natuur en de ontzaglijke stilte – ver, ver weg van de westerse wereld.
In dit reisverhaal beschrijft ze aanstekelijk hoe ze standhield in de ijzige kou en begon te houden van de overweldigende natuur en de ontzaglijke stilte – ver, ver weg van de westerse wereld.
224 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1938
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About the author
Christiane Ritter
1 book11 followersChristiane Ritter, born Christiane Knoll, (born July 13, 1897 in Karlsbad, † December 29, 2000 in Vienna) was an Austrian painter and author.
Source: Wikipedia
Source: Wikipedia
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 807 reviews
June 23, 2025
I can’t believe this was written over 80 years ago. I’ve been reading A Woman in the Polar Night while sitting in my cabin here on Svalbard, and it’s honestly such a surreal experience. What fascinates me the most is how familiar it all feels, how we still describe this island in such similar ways, even decades later. Her reflections on the Arctic feel so close to my own, and I really loved the way she captured both the harshness and the beauty of life up here. A quiet, simple but powerful read.
One of my favourite quotes from the book:
“ You must live through the long night, the storms and the destruction of human pride. You must have gazed on the deadness of all things to grasp their livingness. In the return of light, in the magic of the ice, in the life-rhythm of the animals observed in the wilderness, in the natural laws of all being, revealed here in their completeness, lies the secret of the Arctic and the overpowering beauty of its lands.”
One of my favourite quotes from the book:
“ You must live through the long night, the storms and the destruction of human pride. You must have gazed on the deadness of all things to grasp their livingness. In the return of light, in the magic of the ice, in the life-rhythm of the animals observed in the wilderness, in the natural laws of all being, revealed here in their completeness, lies the secret of the Arctic and the overpowering beauty of its lands.”
December 23, 2019
I’m not lost for words. I can think of a hundred words to describe how I feel about this book but none of them is adequate.
Christiane Ritter, an Austrian artist, lived with her husband, a hunter in Spitsbergen, for a year. Hunters lived solitary and dangerous lives but thrived on the challenge. Christiane’s husband, Hermann, invited her to join him and another hunter because they wanted a ‘housewife’. Over the winter, she would be left on her own while they went hunting. No electricity, no facilities, no running water, nothing but a tiny stove to heat the tiny hut which was barely a bunk’s length wide and which would mostly be completely immersed in snow. This would be an adventure in contemporary, tech-driven times but this was 1934.
The translation is a bit clumsy at times and the writing lacks rhythm because of it. Usually, that would bother me hugely but it didn’t because I was so enthralled by the content. Ritter’s descriptions of the landscape, the polar night, the variations in light, the extremes of weather and cold, are richer because she is a painter.
Northern lights of incredible intensity stream over the sky; their bright rays shooting downward, look like gleaming rods of glass. They break out from a tremendous height and seem to be falling directly toward me, growing brighter and clearer, in radiant lilacs, greens, and pinks, swinging and whirling around their own axis in a wild dance that sweeps over the entire sky, and then, in drifting undulating veils, they fade and vanish.
The oppression of endless dark days in a hut with dripping wet bunks and an inch thick coating of ice on the inside walls is unimaginable. Not only is there no sunlight, there is no moonlight either. Just blackness. The ground is frozen hard as steel. The dead cannot be buried in Spitsbergen in wintertime. The hunters, to save them from the bears and foxes, keep their dead comrades in the hut right through the winter. The eggs drop like stones out of their shells and the condensed milk rattles in its tins... Unimaginable but, for Christiane Ritter, magical.
Everything breathes the same serenity. It is as though a current of the most holy and perfect peace were streaming through all the landscape. ....this stupendous and glorious world.
My partner and I have spent weeks looking at cruises to Svalbard. It’s not such an unusual choice any more. We’re drawn to the landscape, the wildlife, the excitement of the experience. We’ve decided not to go because it seems wrong. I’m not saying it’s wrong for everyone but it feels wrong for us. Looking at the convoys of cruise ships rounding Cape Horn and exploring the Alaskan fjords, we don’t feel we want to contribute to the commercialisation of once wild places and would rather leave the wildlife and wild places in peace. I’ll leave the last words to Ritter.
No, the Arctic does not yield its secret for the price of a ship’s ticket. You must live through the long night, the storms, and the destruction of human pride. You must have gazed on the deadness of all things to grasp their livingness. In the return of light, in the magic of the ice, in the life-rhythm of the animals observed in the wilderness, in the natural laws of all being, revealed here in their completeness, lies the secret of the Arctic and the overpowering beauty of its lands.
Christiane Ritter, an Austrian artist, lived with her husband, a hunter in Spitsbergen, for a year. Hunters lived solitary and dangerous lives but thrived on the challenge. Christiane’s husband, Hermann, invited her to join him and another hunter because they wanted a ‘housewife’. Over the winter, she would be left on her own while they went hunting. No electricity, no facilities, no running water, nothing but a tiny stove to heat the tiny hut which was barely a bunk’s length wide and which would mostly be completely immersed in snow. This would be an adventure in contemporary, tech-driven times but this was 1934.
The translation is a bit clumsy at times and the writing lacks rhythm because of it. Usually, that would bother me hugely but it didn’t because I was so enthralled by the content. Ritter’s descriptions of the landscape, the polar night, the variations in light, the extremes of weather and cold, are richer because she is a painter.
Northern lights of incredible intensity stream over the sky; their bright rays shooting downward, look like gleaming rods of glass. They break out from a tremendous height and seem to be falling directly toward me, growing brighter and clearer, in radiant lilacs, greens, and pinks, swinging and whirling around their own axis in a wild dance that sweeps over the entire sky, and then, in drifting undulating veils, they fade and vanish.
The oppression of endless dark days in a hut with dripping wet bunks and an inch thick coating of ice on the inside walls is unimaginable. Not only is there no sunlight, there is no moonlight either. Just blackness. The ground is frozen hard as steel. The dead cannot be buried in Spitsbergen in wintertime. The hunters, to save them from the bears and foxes, keep their dead comrades in the hut right through the winter. The eggs drop like stones out of their shells and the condensed milk rattles in its tins... Unimaginable but, for Christiane Ritter, magical.
Everything breathes the same serenity. It is as though a current of the most holy and perfect peace were streaming through all the landscape. ....this stupendous and glorious world.
My partner and I have spent weeks looking at cruises to Svalbard. It’s not such an unusual choice any more. We’re drawn to the landscape, the wildlife, the excitement of the experience. We’ve decided not to go because it seems wrong. I’m not saying it’s wrong for everyone but it feels wrong for us. Looking at the convoys of cruise ships rounding Cape Horn and exploring the Alaskan fjords, we don’t feel we want to contribute to the commercialisation of once wild places and would rather leave the wildlife and wild places in peace. I’ll leave the last words to Ritter.
No, the Arctic does not yield its secret for the price of a ship’s ticket. You must live through the long night, the storms, and the destruction of human pride. You must have gazed on the deadness of all things to grasp their livingness. In the return of light, in the magic of the ice, in the life-rhythm of the animals observed in the wilderness, in the natural laws of all being, revealed here in their completeness, lies the secret of the Arctic and the overpowering beauty of its lands.
February 24, 2023
What beautiful writing with a great story, except sometimes she writes about trapping animals for the fur trade, which I am against. Still, she doesn't go into any detail, so if you have the mind to, you can let it go over your head like I had to do.
What would cause a woman to want to go live in the Artic for a year? The young woman in this story is married to a man that is a hunter/trapper who takes expeditions to the Artic and lives in a hut on the small island of Spitsbergen. He asks her to come live with him, and that is all it took for her to leave their young child. She takes off on a boat with a mirror, a feather bed, books, camel hair clothing, spoons, and herbs. Speaking of herbs, you have to find some way to spice up the meals that they end up eating. The feather bed and books were a good idea too, but everything in the hut got damp, very damp. But I once spent the night in a jungle with a wet wool blanket, and it kept me warm, so maybe feather beds are like that, still warm when damp.
One of the first things her husband does when she gets there is to leave her alone for 12 days while he goes hunting with his male friend who also lives with them. A snow storm came up, and she spent those days shoveling snow just to be able to get in and out of her hut and to prevent being buried. Are we having fun yet?
The sweet stories in this book were the ones about a white fox adopting them, as well as a seal later on. And at least neither of these men, who were hunting for both of those animals, harmed them.
Most of the book was about their surviving the long year, and then her writing about the beauty of the place. I wish that I could see it for maybe a week.
I had my chance to live in Pt. Barrow, Alaska when my friends and I were in Juneau. We were in a restaurant when a handsome man came to our table and sat down with us. Think Tom Selleck here. He wanted me to go to Pt. Barrow to live with him because his girl friend wouldn't go. I learned that He was a pilot. He also told me that the bears eat the natives, and that the natives rape women. Maybe he wasn't sure if he wanted me to go with him, because he didn't have a great sales pitch. I told him No and added how much I liked his flannel shirt, which he gave to me to keep. If he didn't have a girl friend, if he were monogamous, and if I only knew him better. Oh, well, I will never get to see the Northern Lights.
"It was a full moon. No central European can have any idea of what this means on the smooth frozen surface of the earth. It is as though we were dissolving in moonlight, as though the moonlight were eating us up. It makes no different when we go back into the hut under the snow after a moonlight trip. The light seems to follow us everywhere."
"Northern lights of incredible intensity stream over the sky; their bright rays, shooting downward, looks like gleaming rods of glass. They break out from a tremendous height and seem to be falling directly toward me, growing brighter and clearer, in radiant lilacs, greens, and pinks, swinging and whirling around their own axis in a wild dance that sweeps over the entire sky, and then, in drifting undulating veils, they fad and vanish."
What would cause a woman to want to go live in the Artic for a year? The young woman in this story is married to a man that is a hunter/trapper who takes expeditions to the Artic and lives in a hut on the small island of Spitsbergen. He asks her to come live with him, and that is all it took for her to leave their young child. She takes off on a boat with a mirror, a feather bed, books, camel hair clothing, spoons, and herbs. Speaking of herbs, you have to find some way to spice up the meals that they end up eating. The feather bed and books were a good idea too, but everything in the hut got damp, very damp. But I once spent the night in a jungle with a wet wool blanket, and it kept me warm, so maybe feather beds are like that, still warm when damp.
One of the first things her husband does when she gets there is to leave her alone for 12 days while he goes hunting with his male friend who also lives with them. A snow storm came up, and she spent those days shoveling snow just to be able to get in and out of her hut and to prevent being buried. Are we having fun yet?
The sweet stories in this book were the ones about a white fox adopting them, as well as a seal later on. And at least neither of these men, who were hunting for both of those animals, harmed them.
Most of the book was about their surviving the long year, and then her writing about the beauty of the place. I wish that I could see it for maybe a week.
I had my chance to live in Pt. Barrow, Alaska when my friends and I were in Juneau. We were in a restaurant when a handsome man came to our table and sat down with us. Think Tom Selleck here. He wanted me to go to Pt. Barrow to live with him because his girl friend wouldn't go. I learned that He was a pilot. He also told me that the bears eat the natives, and that the natives rape women. Maybe he wasn't sure if he wanted me to go with him, because he didn't have a great sales pitch. I told him No and added how much I liked his flannel shirt, which he gave to me to keep. If he didn't have a girl friend, if he were monogamous, and if I only knew him better. Oh, well, I will never get to see the Northern Lights.
"It was a full moon. No central European can have any idea of what this means on the smooth frozen surface of the earth. It is as though we were dissolving in moonlight, as though the moonlight were eating us up. It makes no different when we go back into the hut under the snow after a moonlight trip. The light seems to follow us everywhere."
"Northern lights of incredible intensity stream over the sky; their bright rays, shooting downward, looks like gleaming rods of glass. They break out from a tremendous height and seem to be falling directly toward me, growing brighter and clearer, in radiant lilacs, greens, and pinks, swinging and whirling around their own axis in a wild dance that sweeps over the entire sky, and then, in drifting undulating veils, they fad and vanish."
November 12, 2022
This book was written in 1935 and has never been out of print in Germany. It's a different story here though, as it can be hard to find. Not available on Kindle, and most libraries don't have it. There are some copies available at used book sites.
It's very much worth the search though, because of the beauty of the writing. The author spent a year in Spitsbergen in the Arctic, with her husband and another hunter, in a tiny cabin miles away from civilization and other people, isolated by the weather and the long polar night. She's able to find the majesty in the landscape and the animals, despite the loneliness and fear when the men leave on hunting expeditions lasting for days. It was such a peaceful read, it acted as a balm, although it did not leave me wishing to experience it for myself.
Christiane was told by her husband to only pack a small knapsack with essentials. She arrived on a freighter that delivered her with a promise to return in a year to pick her up. Along with several trunks containing books, writing and art supplies, and other things important to her. My kind of woman.
Thank you, Wyndy.
It's very much worth the search though, because of the beauty of the writing. The author spent a year in Spitsbergen in the Arctic, with her husband and another hunter, in a tiny cabin miles away from civilization and other people, isolated by the weather and the long polar night. She's able to find the majesty in the landscape and the animals, despite the loneliness and fear when the men leave on hunting expeditions lasting for days. It was such a peaceful read, it acted as a balm, although it did not leave me wishing to experience it for myself.
Christiane was told by her husband to only pack a small knapsack with essentials. She arrived on a freighter that delivered her with a promise to return in a year to pick her up. Along with several trunks containing books, writing and art supplies, and other things important to her. My kind of woman.
Thank you, Wyndy.
January 25, 2020
I didn’t expect January to bring me a 5-star read, and I certainly didn’t expect to find it in the Arctic. Yet A Woman in the Polar Night enchanted me completely, giving me shivers and taking my breath away.
When her husband asks Christiane to join him for a year in Spitsbergen, Ritter imagines many days spend cooking and painting while her husband hunts artic foxes. But the Arctic is far from peaceful: normal temperatures are 25 degrees below, hunting foxes, seals, and even polar bears are vital for survival, and in wintertime the sun doesn’t rise for four months.
“In the valleys the wind howls, over the plain the snow is driven like a glistening river, but calm and unmoved the mountains soar into the star-glittering heavens.”
Ritter doesn’t only vividly describe how she adapts and changes from a housewife into a hardened, clever Artic hunter, but also the terrifying power and beauty of the polar landscape. On dark frozen days, the land becomes an intoxicating lunar landscape, the frozen sea can shine like an immense opal, and a furious snowstorm feels terrifying yet exhilarating, shaking humanity to its core.
Many nights I fell asleep with Ritter painting images in my mind of sublime, polar land. Her unbending, positive attitude makes her life a joy to follow, and her story an inspiration to read.
"Perhaps in centuries to come men will go to the Arctic as in biblical times they withdrew to the desert, to find the truth again."
When her husband asks Christiane to join him for a year in Spitsbergen, Ritter imagines many days spend cooking and painting while her husband hunts artic foxes. But the Arctic is far from peaceful: normal temperatures are 25 degrees below, hunting foxes, seals, and even polar bears are vital for survival, and in wintertime the sun doesn’t rise for four months.
“In the valleys the wind howls, over the plain the snow is driven like a glistening river, but calm and unmoved the mountains soar into the star-glittering heavens.”
Ritter doesn’t only vividly describe how she adapts and changes from a housewife into a hardened, clever Artic hunter, but also the terrifying power and beauty of the polar landscape. On dark frozen days, the land becomes an intoxicating lunar landscape, the frozen sea can shine like an immense opal, and a furious snowstorm feels terrifying yet exhilarating, shaking humanity to its core.
Many nights I fell asleep with Ritter painting images in my mind of sublime, polar land. Her unbending, positive attitude makes her life a joy to follow, and her story an inspiration to read.
"Perhaps in centuries to come men will go to the Arctic as in biblical times they withdrew to the desert, to find the truth again."
November 5, 2022
I’ve been drawn lately to books about people living off the grid. The crazier our society becomes, the more enticing an isolated existence sounds. But maybe not in the Arctic Circle. Maybe somewhere that at least has vegetation and temperatures above freezing. Maybe somewhere with individual days and nights: “For here there are no days because there are no nights. One day melts into the next, and you cannot say this is the end of today and now it is tomorrow and that was yesterday.”
In 1934, at age 36, Christiane Ritter, an Austrian painter and housewife, agrees to join her trapper husband in Spitsbergen (Svalbard), Norway for one year. This area is solitude and remoteness like no other place on the planet. “Chrissie” has no survival training and no real travel experience. A Woman In The Polar Night is a collection of her poetic reflections on that year - the days, weeks and months filled with beauty, danger and courage, howling winds and crashing ice floes, arctic ptarmigan and polar foxes, northern light and profound darkness. I highly recommend this German classic to anyone who enjoys reading detailed descriptions of the natural world and our tiny place within it. Ritter lived to be 103 years old, so maybe a year immersed in an Arctic landscape with nothing but nature for companionship is worth consideration after all.
“And suddenly I realize that civilisation is suffering from a severe vitamin deficiency because it cannot draw its strength directly from nature, eternally young and eternally true. Humanity has lost itself in the unnatural and in speculation. Only now do I grasp the real meaning and the world-transforming element in the saying: “Become as the peasants, understand the sacredness of the earth.”
Wise words written more than 80 years ago by a brave woman who deserves more notice.
In 1934, at age 36, Christiane Ritter, an Austrian painter and housewife, agrees to join her trapper husband in Spitsbergen (Svalbard), Norway for one year. This area is solitude and remoteness like no other place on the planet. “Chrissie” has no survival training and no real travel experience. A Woman In The Polar Night is a collection of her poetic reflections on that year - the days, weeks and months filled with beauty, danger and courage, howling winds and crashing ice floes, arctic ptarmigan and polar foxes, northern light and profound darkness. I highly recommend this German classic to anyone who enjoys reading detailed descriptions of the natural world and our tiny place within it. Ritter lived to be 103 years old, so maybe a year immersed in an Arctic landscape with nothing but nature for companionship is worth consideration after all.
“And suddenly I realize that civilisation is suffering from a severe vitamin deficiency because it cannot draw its strength directly from nature, eternally young and eternally true. Humanity has lost itself in the unnatural and in speculation. Only now do I grasp the real meaning and the world-transforming element in the saying: “Become as the peasants, understand the sacredness of the earth.”
Wise words written more than 80 years ago by a brave woman who deserves more notice.
January 14, 2025
Gadiem sekoju Cecilijas Blohmdal, dāma, kas šobrīd dzīvo Svālbārdā ar savu puisi un suni, vlogam, tāpēc, kad Grāmatu klubā dzirdēju par grāmatu, kur aprakstīta sievietes dzīve Svālbārdā pirms 90 gadiem, nebiju grūti pierunājama lasīt šo gabalu. Vajadzēja tikai sagaidīt ziemu. Secinājums viens - dzīve pirms 90 gadiem Svālbārdā bija daudz grūtāka, vide tik pat skaista, un cilvēki, kas tur dzīvo, tik pat dīvaini iemīlējušies šajā maģiskajā vietā, kas ir reizē brīnumaina un nāvējošu briesmu pilna.
Kristiāne Rittere ir māklsiniece savā dvēselē, viņas poētiskie apraksti par dabu, krāsām un trāpīgie novērojumi par cilvēkiem ir pārlaicīgi. Lasot, par viņas piedzīvoto gada laikā, var izjust arī pārmaiņas viņas personībā. Šeit var apskatīt, kā šobrīd izskatās tā pati būdiņa, kurā dzīvoja Ritteri ar savu biedru norvēģi Karlu!
Ritteres gleznojumi Svālbārdas muzejā - virtuālā izstāde
Kristiāne Rittere ir māklsiniece savā dvēselē, viņas poētiskie apraksti par dabu, krāsām un trāpīgie novērojumi par cilvēkiem ir pārlaicīgi. Lasot, par viņas piedzīvoto gada laikā, var izjust arī pārmaiņas viņas personībā. Šeit var apskatīt, kā šobrīd izskatās tā pati būdiņa, kurā dzīvoja Ritteri ar savu biedru norvēģi Karlu!
Ritteres gleznojumi Svālbārdas muzejā - virtuālā izstāde
February 4, 2020
(4.5) In 1934, Ritter, an Austrian painter, joined her husband Hermann for a year in Spitsbergen. He’d participated in a scientific expedition and caught the Arctic bug, it seems, for he stayed on to fish and hunt. They shared a small, remote hut with a Norwegian trapper, Karl. Ritter was utterly unprepared for the daily struggle, having expected a year’s cozy retreat: “I could stay by the warm stove in the hut, knit socks, paint from the window, read thick books in the remote quiet and, not least, sleep to my heart’s content.” Before long she was disabused of her rosy vision. “It’s a ghastly country, I think to myself. Nothing but water, fog, and rain.” The stove failed. Dry goods ran out; they relied on fresh seal meat. Would they get enough vitamins? she worried. Every time Hermann and Karl set off hunting, leaving her alone in the hut, she feared they wouldn’t return. And soon the 132 straight days of darkness set in.
I was fascinated by the details of Ritter’s daily tasks, but also by how her perspective on the landscape changed. No longer a bleak wilderness, it became a tableau of grandeur. “A deep blue-green, the mountains rear up into a turquoise-coloured sky. From the mountaintops broad glaciers glittering in the sun flow down into the fjord.” She thought of the Arctic almost as a site of spiritual pilgrimage, where all that isn’t elemental falls away. “Forgotten are all externals; here everything is concerned with simple being.” The year is as if outside of time: she never reminisces about her life back home, and barely mentions their daughter. By the end you see that the experience has changed her: she’ll never fret over trivial things again. She lived to age 103 (only dying in 2000), so clearly the time in the Arctic did her no harm.
Ritter wrote only this one book. A travel classic, it has never been out of print in German but had been for 50 years in the UK. Pushkin Press reissued the English text in 2019 with a foreword by Sara Wheeler, a few period photographs and a hand-drawn map by Neil Gower.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
I was fascinated by the details of Ritter’s daily tasks, but also by how her perspective on the landscape changed. No longer a bleak wilderness, it became a tableau of grandeur. “A deep blue-green, the mountains rear up into a turquoise-coloured sky. From the mountaintops broad glaciers glittering in the sun flow down into the fjord.” She thought of the Arctic almost as a site of spiritual pilgrimage, where all that isn’t elemental falls away. “Forgotten are all externals; here everything is concerned with simple being.” The year is as if outside of time: she never reminisces about her life back home, and barely mentions their daughter. By the end you see that the experience has changed her: she’ll never fret over trivial things again. She lived to age 103 (only dying in 2000), so clearly the time in the Arctic did her no harm.
Ritter wrote only this one book. A travel classic, it has never been out of print in German but had been for 50 years in the UK. Pushkin Press reissued the English text in 2019 with a foreword by Sara Wheeler, a few period photographs and a hand-drawn map by Neil Gower.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
January 28, 2024
What marvellous fun. I've been meaning to read this for years (I love me a good off-into-the-frozen-wilds real-life adventure story), but I'd been putting it off because I'd gotten it in my head that it would be a serious, grim account of survival in those frozen wilds, and instead it's...well, the words that kept coming to mind as I read were things like marvellous, delightful, plucky, and smart.
Ritter was an Austrian painter, and this is her only book—an account of the year she spent with her husband on the island of Spitsbergen, which is far, far, far north in Norway. It was the 1930s, and this was the sort of adventure that was acceptable for men (her husband had been in Norway for several years at that point) but not for women. Pretty much everyone she knew advised her against going, but her own expectations were perhaps a bit...rosy:
The little winter hut appeared to me in a more and more friendly light. As housewife I would not have to accompany him on the dangerous winter excursions. I could stay by the warm stove in the hut, knit socks, paint from the window, read thick books in the remote quiet, and, not least, sleep to my heart's content. (loc. 145)
Her husband writes, devoid of irony:
It won't be too lonely for you because at the northeast corner of the coast, about sixty miles from here, there is another hunter living, an old Swede. We can visit him in the spring when it's light again and the sea and fjords are frozen over. (loc. 153)
And so off to Norway she goes, and is swiftly disabused of her original romantic notions.
I look round for a bed. I am seized by a secret horror of the two bunks with their hard straw mattresses. Who knows what wild hunters last slept there.
"Where is the boudoir you promised me in your letter?" I ask my husband.
"It's not built yet," he replies. "First we have to find planks. The sea sometimes throws them up." (loc. 454)
But for every moment of well-bred horror that she has, she finds many more moments of beauty and awe. There's the fortnight when she's left alone in the hut and the first big storm comes, and she finds herself digging the hut out day after day, hoping that her husband is safe and trying not to think too much about the alternative—and she gets on with it, because what else can she do? There are the mildewed clothes that she finds under a mattress and, after investigating their provenance, chucks into the sea. There are the months of unending darkness, and the weeks when they wait and hope for the ice conditions to change to improve hunting. If she despairs, she rarely lingers in it, and instead dives back into new experiences and new lessons and the beauty of their frozen isolation.
It's worth noting that one of the major points of this Arctic adventure was to trap and hunt for fur—something that has fortunately gone out of fashion. I've been vegetarian since I was four and cannot imagine hunting, especially for something under so much threat as polar bears; the attitudes toward hunting have to be taken within the context of the book's time. But it says something about Ritter's writing that by the end of the book even I (well, part of me) was hoping(!) for a polar bear for Ritter and her husband.
The book has never been out of print in Germany, and someday I'd like to try a reread in the original German. 4.5 stars.
How varied are the experiences one lives through in the Arctic. One can murder and devour, calculate and measure, one can go out of one's mind from loneliness and terror, and one can certainly also go mad with enthusiasm for the all-too-overwhelming beauty. But it is also true that one will never experience in the Arctic anything that one has not oneself brought there. (loc. 1297)
Thanks to the publisher for providing a review copy through NetGalley. Quotes are from an ARC.
Ritter was an Austrian painter, and this is her only book—an account of the year she spent with her husband on the island of Spitsbergen, which is far, far, far north in Norway. It was the 1930s, and this was the sort of adventure that was acceptable for men (her husband had been in Norway for several years at that point) but not for women. Pretty much everyone she knew advised her against going, but her own expectations were perhaps a bit...rosy:
The little winter hut appeared to me in a more and more friendly light. As housewife I would not have to accompany him on the dangerous winter excursions. I could stay by the warm stove in the hut, knit socks, paint from the window, read thick books in the remote quiet, and, not least, sleep to my heart's content. (loc. 145)
Her husband writes, devoid of irony:
It won't be too lonely for you because at the northeast corner of the coast, about sixty miles from here, there is another hunter living, an old Swede. We can visit him in the spring when it's light again and the sea and fjords are frozen over. (loc. 153)
And so off to Norway she goes, and is swiftly disabused of her original romantic notions.
I look round for a bed. I am seized by a secret horror of the two bunks with their hard straw mattresses. Who knows what wild hunters last slept there.
"Where is the boudoir you promised me in your letter?" I ask my husband.
"It's not built yet," he replies. "First we have to find planks. The sea sometimes throws them up." (loc. 454)
But for every moment of well-bred horror that she has, she finds many more moments of beauty and awe. There's the fortnight when she's left alone in the hut and the first big storm comes, and she finds herself digging the hut out day after day, hoping that her husband is safe and trying not to think too much about the alternative—and she gets on with it, because what else can she do? There are the mildewed clothes that she finds under a mattress and, after investigating their provenance, chucks into the sea. There are the months of unending darkness, and the weeks when they wait and hope for the ice conditions to change to improve hunting. If she despairs, she rarely lingers in it, and instead dives back into new experiences and new lessons and the beauty of their frozen isolation.
It's worth noting that one of the major points of this Arctic adventure was to trap and hunt for fur—something that has fortunately gone out of fashion. I've been vegetarian since I was four and cannot imagine hunting, especially for something under so much threat as polar bears; the attitudes toward hunting have to be taken within the context of the book's time. But it says something about Ritter's writing that by the end of the book even I (well, part of me) was hoping(!) for a polar bear for Ritter and her husband.
The book has never been out of print in Germany, and someday I'd like to try a reread in the original German. 4.5 stars.
How varied are the experiences one lives through in the Arctic. One can murder and devour, calculate and measure, one can go out of one's mind from loneliness and terror, and one can certainly also go mad with enthusiasm for the all-too-overwhelming beauty. But it is also true that one will never experience in the Arctic anything that one has not oneself brought there. (loc. 1297)
Thanks to the publisher for providing a review copy through NetGalley. Quotes are from an ARC.
February 3, 2025
Interesting and enjoyable enough, a bit like the non-Moomin Jansson stuff; but even for 200 pages, it grows repetitive. You really have to worry about vitamins when you're out in the polar night.
October 15, 2021
Blöder Titel, hässliches Cover, und man muss es wohlwollend lesen, um über das Frauenbild der Autorin wegzukommen, es geht immer wieder mal um Hausfraulichkeit und "weibliche Koketterie" (dabei kann sie schießen und kommt entspannt klar in ihrer kleinen rußigen Hütte). Aber dann ist es lustig, und vor allem geht es überhaupt nicht um Wichtigtuerei mit Gefährlichen Tödlichen Lebensgefahren, sondern darum, dass man am Polarkreis ein unkompliziertes Leben umgeben von Schönheit führen kann. Das habe ich noch nicht oft gelesen, und wenn es anderswo mal kurz um Schönheit geht, dann oft nur in Form einer Gefährlichen Tödlichen Schönheit, die auf männliche Weise bezwungen werden muss.
September 7, 2017
This is one great tribute to the uniqueness of the Arctic and the power of living simply.
In 1934, the author spent a year in Spitsbergen Island, several hundred miles north of Norway in the Arctic. In a tiny hut shared with her husband and a young trapper they endure the cold, hunger and isolation with great love of their little world. While the life is harsh and daunting, the author reflects on how a simple life is so much better than the complexity of modernity and on the beauty of the Arctic landscape.
In 1934, the author spent a year in Spitsbergen Island, several hundred miles north of Norway in the Arctic. In a tiny hut shared with her husband and a young trapper they endure the cold, hunger and isolation with great love of their little world. While the life is harsh and daunting, the author reflects on how a simple life is so much better than the complexity of modernity and on the beauty of the Arctic landscape.
March 9, 2023
Man tā īsti nav vārdu, šis bija brīnišķīgi. Iespējams, ka labākā atmiņu/ceļojumu literatūras grāmata, ko esmu lasījusi.
Pēc grāmatas pabeigšanas jūtos kā Kristiāna, kurai jādodas prom no Špicbergenas - sāp. Arktika ir mežonīgi nežēlīga un arī mežonīgi skaista.
Pēc grāmatas pabeigšanas jūtos kā Kristiāna, kurai jādodas prom no Špicbergenas - sāp. Arktika ir mežonīgi nežēlīga un arī mežonīgi skaista.
December 2, 2022
I am exhilarated after reading this memoir of the author's one year living in Spitsbergen Island, several hundred miles north of Norway in the Arctic. My head is spinning with the profoundness of the arctic experience and of Christiane's humor, reflections and revelations of her year in Spitsbergen. The author's husband had been living for a few years on the island, hunting and fishing, and had been encouraging her to come spend a year with him. She says on the first page of the book.
Then gradually the diaries that arrived in summer from the Far North began to fascinate me. They told of journeys by water and over ice, of the animals and the fascination of the wilderness, of the strange light over the landscape, of the strange illumination of one’s own self in the remoteness of the polar night. In his descriptions there was practically never any mention of cold or darkness, of storms or hardships.
She agrees, leaving her small daughter with family in Germany and ignoring pleas about this being a "hairbrain" scheme. She arrives in August and she does indeed live for a year with her husband and, as an added bonus, his hunting partner, Karl, a Norwegian. I wondered how she felt when she found, with no warning, that she would be living in a 10x10 hut with not just her husband but a strange man! Her writing is both matter of fact and lyrical, with never a mention of complaint. I think she survived through her good humor and through discovery - the "strange illumination of one's own self" and of seeing the world anew.
How varied are the experiences one lives through in the Arctic. One can murder and devour, calculate and measure, one can go out of one’s mind from loneliness and terror, and one can certainly also go mad with enthusiasm for the all-too-overwhelming beauty. But it is also true that one will never experience in the Arctic anything that one has not oneself brought there.
I have so many lasting impressions from her writing, as if I were there with her. She creates vivid pictures of the midnight sun and of the "dead" polar night of not just darkness, but no signs of life beyond the three humans. In December in the dead of darkness, the mist lifts and the full moon rises to illuminate a surreal black and white vista. I also feel deeply what it was like to live with sensory deprivation, being trapped in a hut with storms raging outside, worrying if your husband would return from one of his many trips hunting for food. At one point all three were trapped in the hut for days on end. I thought "they need a deck of cards"!
The hut is a covered hollow, without which we would freeze; the primitive food must be eaten, for it keeps us alive. And we can even play with sooty cards, although hearts and diamonds are as black as spades. They help us to pass the time of darkness, and that is their value.
I kept wondering how her year in Spitsbergen would be experienced if it were done today. I'm certain she would have a satellite link and be blogging and tweeting about it. My thought is living in the polar night today would remove one from actually experiencing it the deep way that Chrissie, as she was called by her husband did. I searched for Spitsbergen and saw awe-inspiring photographs of the dramatic landscape I had just read about. I also saw that it is the location of the Global Seed Bank, something I have read about with interest over the years. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Svalbard... And I see they have cruises in the summer when there is open water. I thought for few minutes about taking one, but . . .
No, the Arctic does not yield its secret for the price of a ship’s ticket. You must live through the long night, the storms and the destruction of human pride. You must have gazed on the deadness of all things to grasp their livingness. In the return of light, in the magic of the ice in the life-rhythm of the animals observed in the wilderness, in the natural laws of all being, revealed here in their completeness, lies the secret of the Arctic and the overpowering beauty of its lands.
I'm glad I was able to vicariously live through the long night through Ritter's memoir.
Then gradually the diaries that arrived in summer from the Far North began to fascinate me. They told of journeys by water and over ice, of the animals and the fascination of the wilderness, of the strange light over the landscape, of the strange illumination of one’s own self in the remoteness of the polar night. In his descriptions there was practically never any mention of cold or darkness, of storms or hardships.
She agrees, leaving her small daughter with family in Germany and ignoring pleas about this being a "hairbrain" scheme. She arrives in August and she does indeed live for a year with her husband and, as an added bonus, his hunting partner, Karl, a Norwegian. I wondered how she felt when she found, with no warning, that she would be living in a 10x10 hut with not just her husband but a strange man! Her writing is both matter of fact and lyrical, with never a mention of complaint. I think she survived through her good humor and through discovery - the "strange illumination of one's own self" and of seeing the world anew.
How varied are the experiences one lives through in the Arctic. One can murder and devour, calculate and measure, one can go out of one’s mind from loneliness and terror, and one can certainly also go mad with enthusiasm for the all-too-overwhelming beauty. But it is also true that one will never experience in the Arctic anything that one has not oneself brought there.
I have so many lasting impressions from her writing, as if I were there with her. She creates vivid pictures of the midnight sun and of the "dead" polar night of not just darkness, but no signs of life beyond the three humans. In December in the dead of darkness, the mist lifts and the full moon rises to illuminate a surreal black and white vista. I also feel deeply what it was like to live with sensory deprivation, being trapped in a hut with storms raging outside, worrying if your husband would return from one of his many trips hunting for food. At one point all three were trapped in the hut for days on end. I thought "they need a deck of cards"!
The hut is a covered hollow, without which we would freeze; the primitive food must be eaten, for it keeps us alive. And we can even play with sooty cards, although hearts and diamonds are as black as spades. They help us to pass the time of darkness, and that is their value.
I kept wondering how her year in Spitsbergen would be experienced if it were done today. I'm certain she would have a satellite link and be blogging and tweeting about it. My thought is living in the polar night today would remove one from actually experiencing it the deep way that Chrissie, as she was called by her husband did. I searched for Spitsbergen and saw awe-inspiring photographs of the dramatic landscape I had just read about. I also saw that it is the location of the Global Seed Bank, something I have read about with interest over the years. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Svalbard... And I see they have cruises in the summer when there is open water. I thought for few minutes about taking one, but . . .
No, the Arctic does not yield its secret for the price of a ship’s ticket. You must live through the long night, the storms and the destruction of human pride. You must have gazed on the deadness of all things to grasp their livingness. In the return of light, in the magic of the ice in the life-rhythm of the animals observed in the wilderness, in the natural laws of all being, revealed here in their completeness, lies the secret of the Arctic and the overpowering beauty of its lands.
I'm glad I was able to vicariously live through the long night through Ritter's memoir.
May 15, 2020
It took a while for me to get in to this book but as soon as the woman arrived in the polar night I found it hard to put down and the last couple of chapters left a lump in my throat. A Woman in the Polar Night is the story of a year in the life of Austrian housewife, Christiane Ritter, who accepts the invitation of her researcher husband Hermann to spent roughly twelve months living with him and a hunter friend Karl living in a tiny hut on a remote island in the Norwegian Arctic. The year is 1934 so there are no modern appliances or modern anything. The shack has a wood stove for cooking and heating, and that's it. They are hundreds of miles from civilization and their closest neighbor is a man living in a similar hut 60 miles away. The people on the ship Christiane sails to to meet Hermann on the Arctic island can't believe she's going to attempt this, and try to talk her out of it.
Christiane envisions being curled up next to a fire, reading, and relaxing for twelve months but when she arrives she is shocked how desolate the landscape is and how spartan her living conditions will be. Once winter arrives, the real fun begins. Temperatures are brutally cold every day, the lakes freeze over, the animals leave, and the regular snowfalls in time completely cover the hut. Eventually the sun sets and doesn't rise again for months, and as their food reserves dwindle they rely on their rifles to provide sustenance.
Christiane writes in a spare and straightforward manner. She is very descriptive of the landscape, animals, weather, and the three's activities such as hunting, cooking, meals, going on hikes. You feel like you are right there with them in this isolated winter world. It was fun to read how her attitude towards her arctic home changed over the course of the year.
I read this at the perfect time, with the sun here starting to feel warm, high temperatures are above freezing, and our heavy snow-pack is finally starting to melt. I think if I would've read this in November or December with the long winter ahead it would've been depressing, knowing what was ahead of me every time I stepped out the door of my house. Not to compare central MN to the Arctic, but we deal with our share of winter brutality.
My copy of the book contains a number of quaint little drawings by Christiane and three neat black and white photos of Christiane and Hermann, the shack in summer, and the shack in winter with just the stove pipe sticking out of the snow. This book was short and a quick read, and I just loved it.
Christiane envisions being curled up next to a fire, reading, and relaxing for twelve months but when she arrives she is shocked how desolate the landscape is and how spartan her living conditions will be. Once winter arrives, the real fun begins. Temperatures are brutally cold every day, the lakes freeze over, the animals leave, and the regular snowfalls in time completely cover the hut. Eventually the sun sets and doesn't rise again for months, and as their food reserves dwindle they rely on their rifles to provide sustenance.
Christiane writes in a spare and straightforward manner. She is very descriptive of the landscape, animals, weather, and the three's activities such as hunting, cooking, meals, going on hikes. You feel like you are right there with them in this isolated winter world. It was fun to read how her attitude towards her arctic home changed over the course of the year.
I read this at the perfect time, with the sun here starting to feel warm, high temperatures are above freezing, and our heavy snow-pack is finally starting to melt. I think if I would've read this in November or December with the long winter ahead it would've been depressing, knowing what was ahead of me every time I stepped out the door of my house. Not to compare central MN to the Arctic, but we deal with our share of winter brutality.
My copy of the book contains a number of quaint little drawings by Christiane and three neat black and white photos of Christiane and Hermann, the shack in summer, and the shack in winter with just the stove pipe sticking out of the snow. This book was short and a quick read, and I just loved it.
February 8, 2024
An extraordinary memoir of an artist who agreed to spend a year with her husband, Hermann, in Spitzbergen, a remote island in the Arctic Circle. Initially she thinks it will be a cost year of isolation allowing her to read and paint, but the realities of life in such a harsh environment quickly settle in. She very soon learns to love the place, and we get beautiful descriptions where she paints it with an artist's eye.
*Many thanks to Netgalley and the publishers for a review copy in exchange for an honest opinion.
*Many thanks to Netgalley and the publishers for a review copy in exchange for an honest opinion.
September 12, 2024
Hermoso libro de una viajera en un mundo en el que, allí donde estaba, no tenía más que a sí misma.
Es sobre una mujer alemana del 1900 que sigue a su marido a los fiordos noruegos para pasar allí un año, en un refugio pequeño y sin comodidades. Me hizo valorar mucho más las comodidades de cada día, desde el agua potable hasta el pan al desayuno. Además de una escritora sensible, Christiane Ritter tiene una mirada estética sobre el paisaje, es muy interesante cómo va cambiando su valoración de lo que ve cuanto más se va "asilvestrando" (como su marido y los hombres que eligen vivir en esa zona tan alejada de la urbanidad y el confort). La belleza de la inmensidad es casi corpórea; la autora establece una silenciosa conversación entre la naturaleza y su interioridad.
Es sobre una mujer alemana del 1900 que sigue a su marido a los fiordos noruegos para pasar allí un año, en un refugio pequeño y sin comodidades. Me hizo valorar mucho más las comodidades de cada día, desde el agua potable hasta el pan al desayuno. Además de una escritora sensible, Christiane Ritter tiene una mirada estética sobre el paisaje, es muy interesante cómo va cambiando su valoración de lo que ve cuanto más se va "asilvestrando" (como su marido y los hombres que eligen vivir en esa zona tan alejada de la urbanidad y el confort). La belleza de la inmensidad es casi corpórea; la autora establece una silenciosa conversación entre la naturaleza y su interioridad.
January 29, 2021
Ein Buch mit faszinierenden literarischen Bildern, allerdings muss ich wieder einmal feststellen, dass solche Reise-/Abenteuerberichte einfach nicht meins sind ... Für mich bleiben die Emotionen einfach zu fern und die literarische Tiefe mit dem Zauber der Natur kommen in diesen Berichten für mich persönlich nicht in einen Einklang, der mich berührt.
December 4, 2021
Toto bola krásna, intenzívna kniha. Neuveriteľne silná osobnosť musela byt autorka a odhodlanie, humor a pokora, ktoré preukazuje počas tejto výpravy - prezimovania v loveckej chate daleko na západnom pobreží Spicberg - sú obdivuhodne. Výborne sa to čítalo, je to vtipne, pekne aj poetické, a najmä to svojou izolovanosťou od okolitého sveta pôsobí v súčasnej spoločensky únavnej dobe ako balzam.
Velmi zaujímavý je aj doslov prekladatelky Violy Somogyi, v ktorom sa podrobnejšie píše o živote jej aj jej manžela - a že sú to zaujímavé osudy.
Velmi zaujímavý je aj doslov prekladatelky Violy Somogyi, v ktorom sa podrobnejšie píše o živote jej aj jej manžela - a že sú to zaujímavé osudy.
January 18, 2020
A Woman In The Polar Night is a fascinating memoir, one woman against and with nature, in an extremely inhospitable landscape takes a journey of self discovery. Her writing is present and insightfully real and I was completely immersed throughout.
I can’t imagine doing this myself- I love my home comforts way too much- although Christiane also didn’t expect just how harsh this life may be, she came to embrace it and we, the reader, get to go on that journey too .
The descriptive sense of this is simply wonderful, every nuance of the good and the bad is in here and you can see, sense and feel the chilly arctic through the words the author uses.
I loved it. It made me think about things bigger than myself, as indeed living through it gave Cristiane Ritter food for thought, I highly recommend it if you want knowledge of experiences you’ll likely never have during a time we won’t see again. Chilly and warming all at the same time.
I can’t imagine doing this myself- I love my home comforts way too much- although Christiane also didn’t expect just how harsh this life may be, she came to embrace it and we, the reader, get to go on that journey too .
The descriptive sense of this is simply wonderful, every nuance of the good and the bad is in here and you can see, sense and feel the chilly arctic through the words the author uses.
I loved it. It made me think about things bigger than myself, as indeed living through it gave Cristiane Ritter food for thought, I highly recommend it if you want knowledge of experiences you’ll likely never have during a time we won’t see again. Chilly and warming all at the same time.
January 31, 2021
Our book club: 16
(Scott's pick)
5 reasons why I HATED this book:
1. Sexism - okay so it was written in the 1930s blah blah blah, I can still be fuming about the clear mistreatment of women. The men have absolutely no faith in her, and when they leave her alone for a week (about the only chapter I could stomach) she literally excelled and sorted everything without thinking twice. Then the 'Hunters' (ew) come back and she's like 'oooo thank goodness I can feel safe again and I must make them their morning coffee and flit about like a useless woman'. The men were absolutely vile, I hated them both. The language was almost unbearable to read. She would refer to people as 'men' on almost every page, refer to herself as the housewife and at one point 'himself' (whaaaat?!?!?). They also would stop her doing almost anything, at one point she says that they actually put her on 'house arrest'...controlling and abusive!
Just some quotes that made me fume:
'i feel I have been reprimanded, like an ill-behaved, stupid child'
'just think, stupid!'
'He swears at women in the Arctic, their frivolity and obstinacy, which are quite out of place here considering how inexperienced they are.'
2. Dull as ditch - so I hated the sexism correct but also I found this book to be MIND NUMBINGLY boring - there was absolutely zero insight in to any of the people and their back stories, which therefore left me not caring about any of them. It was set up like a fictional diary, which I felt made it lack so much depth. It was just: we did this. Then we did this. There was a storm. We shot a fox. I also found the philosophical moments she had, utterly meaningless and frankly incredibly boring to read.
3. Layout - so on top of being bored to tears with the subject, I actually didn't understand a lot of her writing. Most of the time I had no idea where she even was, she referred to every stopping point as 'the hut' which had me totally lost - taking me yet further out of the story. And I felt she almost wanted her writing to be so 'beautiful' that she never actually got to the point, it was just descriptive words.
4. Them - as mentioned above, I didn't like any of them, I didn't care what experiences they went through or how they felt about it, but above all, I couldn't stand they sense of self entitlement that came with their experience. That they felt they were better than others because they had lived in the Arctic. It also pained me that they felt there was absolutely no wrongdoing in going to that part of the world for absoultely no reason, other than their own self exploration and to kill innocent wildlife.
5. The concept - I was actually really intrigued to read this book at first as it thought it would be fascinating to learn about life in the Arctic (I should have just stuck with the David Attenborough documentaries!) Turns out...I would never do this in a million years, so didn't actually want hear about how freezing and depressing it is - oh but don't worry, she'll tell you on the next line that it is truly the best experience of her life and she can't imagine ever leaving. For the most part I was left feeling cold and incredibly sick at 'seal blubber'.
If you've made it this far, you'll have understood how enraged this book made me - but just to clarify, I would not recommend. Although the other members of bookclub seemed to lap it up so you'll probably love. I however, will steer well clear!
(Scott's pick)
5 reasons why I HATED this book:
1. Sexism - okay so it was written in the 1930s blah blah blah, I can still be fuming about the clear mistreatment of women. The men have absolutely no faith in her, and when they leave her alone for a week (about the only chapter I could stomach) she literally excelled and sorted everything without thinking twice. Then the 'Hunters' (ew) come back and she's like 'oooo thank goodness I can feel safe again and I must make them their morning coffee and flit about like a useless woman'. The men were absolutely vile, I hated them both. The language was almost unbearable to read. She would refer to people as 'men' on almost every page, refer to herself as the housewife and at one point 'himself' (whaaaat?!?!?). They also would stop her doing almost anything, at one point she says that they actually put her on 'house arrest'...controlling and abusive!
Just some quotes that made me fume:
'i feel I have been reprimanded, like an ill-behaved, stupid child'
'just think, stupid!'
'He swears at women in the Arctic, their frivolity and obstinacy, which are quite out of place here considering how inexperienced they are.'
2. Dull as ditch - so I hated the sexism correct but also I found this book to be MIND NUMBINGLY boring - there was absolutely zero insight in to any of the people and their back stories, which therefore left me not caring about any of them. It was set up like a fictional diary, which I felt made it lack so much depth. It was just: we did this. Then we did this. There was a storm. We shot a fox. I also found the philosophical moments she had, utterly meaningless and frankly incredibly boring to read.
3. Layout - so on top of being bored to tears with the subject, I actually didn't understand a lot of her writing. Most of the time I had no idea where she even was, she referred to every stopping point as 'the hut' which had me totally lost - taking me yet further out of the story. And I felt she almost wanted her writing to be so 'beautiful' that she never actually got to the point, it was just descriptive words.
4. Them - as mentioned above, I didn't like any of them, I didn't care what experiences they went through or how they felt about it, but above all, I couldn't stand they sense of self entitlement that came with their experience. That they felt they were better than others because they had lived in the Arctic. It also pained me that they felt there was absolutely no wrongdoing in going to that part of the world for absoultely no reason, other than their own self exploration and to kill innocent wildlife.
5. The concept - I was actually really intrigued to read this book at first as it thought it would be fascinating to learn about life in the Arctic (I should have just stuck with the David Attenborough documentaries!) Turns out...I would never do this in a million years, so didn't actually want hear about how freezing and depressing it is - oh but don't worry, she'll tell you on the next line that it is truly the best experience of her life and she can't imagine ever leaving. For the most part I was left feeling cold and incredibly sick at 'seal blubber'.
If you've made it this far, you'll have understood how enraged this book made me - but just to clarify, I would not recommend. Although the other members of bookclub seemed to lap it up so you'll probably love. I however, will steer well clear!
September 28, 2020
Ich bin so froh, es als Hörbuch genossen zu haben, denn beim Lesen hätte ich bestimmt am Schreibstil zu knabbern gehabt. So konnte ich mich einfach fallen lassen und mit der Protagonistin die Polarnacht durchleben und staunen. Ich weiß nicht, woher diese Faszination für Bücher, die im ewigen Eis spielen rührt, aber ich bin jedesmal wieder hin und weg.
Lieblingszitat: "Man muss allein sein in der Arktis, um sie wirklich zu erleben. Es gibt da Überraschungen in der Weltferne und der langen Dunkelheit, denen man in solcher tiefgründigen Eindeutigkeit sonst kaum begegnet. Unter anderem – wer weiß es, dass der Mensch in der totalen Einsamkeit, wo die Anregungen und der Widerhall durch den Mitmenschen fehlt, schließlich an das Ende des eigenen Ichs gerät? Wo beginnt der Mensch, wo hört er auf? Wo ist das Leben? Keine Antwort, nichts. Mit Entsetzen ohnegleichen schaut er in seine eigene abgrundtiefe Leere. Vielleicht muss sie fühlbar werden, diese letzte Verlassenheit, damit der Mensch zu Kreuze kriecht, um dann das Eigentliche zu erleben."
Lieblingszitat: "Man muss allein sein in der Arktis, um sie wirklich zu erleben. Es gibt da Überraschungen in der Weltferne und der langen Dunkelheit, denen man in solcher tiefgründigen Eindeutigkeit sonst kaum begegnet. Unter anderem – wer weiß es, dass der Mensch in der totalen Einsamkeit, wo die Anregungen und der Widerhall durch den Mitmenschen fehlt, schließlich an das Ende des eigenen Ichs gerät? Wo beginnt der Mensch, wo hört er auf? Wo ist das Leben? Keine Antwort, nichts. Mit Entsetzen ohnegleichen schaut er in seine eigene abgrundtiefe Leere. Vielleicht muss sie fühlbar werden, diese letzte Verlassenheit, damit der Mensch zu Kreuze kriecht, um dann das Eigentliche zu erleben."
September 23, 2025
V čom tkvie čaro tohto jednoduchého rozprávania ženy, ktorá nechala svojim rodičom doma malú dcérku a na rok sa vybrala za svojim mužom v roku 1938 na Špicbergy?
V naozajstnosti. V kráse zachytávania každodenných momentov mimo civilizácie, v tme, v snehovej búrky, v mraze, v ľade, v snehu a bez čerstvého jedla. V súcite so živými tvormi, v kráse zachytávania zmien krajiny bez stromov, kríkov, trávy a porastu počas jedného roka. V radostiach z maličkostí. V úzkosti zo samoty, tmy a neznáma.
Čaro rozprávania ženy, ktorá prišla na rok robiť iba akoby spoločnosť svojmu mužovi a inému lovcovi líšok na ďaleké Špicbergy je v autentickosti, krehkej poetike slov, ktoré sa nesú ako polárna žiara nad osamelou chatou na konci sveta. Čaro tohto príbehu je v autorkinej schopnosti vtiahnuť aj nás, čitateľov, do sveta, v ktorom má človek radosť z teplej kávy, upečeného čerstvého mäsa, z krásneho dňa bez víchrice, z možnosti vidieť alky, tulene a polárne líšky v ich prirodzenom prostredí a vedieť, že keď sa človek vráti späť do civilizácie, nebude už mnohé veci nikdy brať ako samozrejmosť.
V naozajstnosti. V kráse zachytávania každodenných momentov mimo civilizácie, v tme, v snehovej búrky, v mraze, v ľade, v snehu a bez čerstvého jedla. V súcite so živými tvormi, v kráse zachytávania zmien krajiny bez stromov, kríkov, trávy a porastu počas jedného roka. V radostiach z maličkostí. V úzkosti zo samoty, tmy a neznáma.
Čaro rozprávania ženy, ktorá prišla na rok robiť iba akoby spoločnosť svojmu mužovi a inému lovcovi líšok na ďaleké Špicbergy je v autentickosti, krehkej poetike slov, ktoré sa nesú ako polárna žiara nad osamelou chatou na konci sveta. Čaro tohto príbehu je v autorkinej schopnosti vtiahnuť aj nás, čitateľov, do sveta, v ktorom má človek radosť z teplej kávy, upečeného čerstvého mäsa, z krásneho dňa bez víchrice, z možnosti vidieť alky, tulene a polárne líšky v ich prirodzenom prostredí a vedieť, že keď sa človek vráti späť do civilizácie, nebude už mnohé veci nikdy brať ako samozrejmosť.
February 26, 2024
Sieviete, mājsaimniece, dodas pie sava vīra uz Spitsbergu, un piedzīvo polāro nakts savvaļas dzīvi.
Stāsts par izdzīvošanu skarbos apstākļos. Vīri iet medībās, sievas gaida mājās, ar mielastu un siltu namiņu. Medības var ilgt vairākas dienas, un tad sievai jāprot izdzīvot vienai pašai, neatkarīgi vai ir sals, sniega vētra, vai tuvumā ir lācis.
Daudz laika vienatnē ar dabu, un savvaļas dzīvniekiem. Kaimiņus var neredzēt vairākus mēnešu. Arī dienas gaisma ziemas mēnešos nav pieejama.
Galvenās uzturvielas tiek iegūtas no nomedītiem dzīvniekiem. Vitamīni , Vitamīni un vitamīni. Par vitamīnu trūkumu grāmatā tiek runāts ļoti daudz.
Stāsts par izdzīvošanu skarbos apstākļos. Vīri iet medībās, sievas gaida mājās, ar mielastu un siltu namiņu. Medības var ilgt vairākas dienas, un tad sievai jāprot izdzīvot vienai pašai, neatkarīgi vai ir sals, sniega vētra, vai tuvumā ir lācis.
Daudz laika vienatnē ar dabu, un savvaļas dzīvniekiem. Kaimiņus var neredzēt vairākus mēnešu. Arī dienas gaisma ziemas mēnešos nav pieejama.
Galvenās uzturvielas tiek iegūtas no nomedītiem dzīvniekiem. Vitamīni , Vitamīni un vitamīni. Par vitamīnu trūkumu grāmatā tiek runāts ļoti daudz.
July 31, 2020
Both a period piece and a travel memoir, in 1934, Ritter travels to Svalbard, the Norwegian Arctic, to spend a year with her husband in a tiny hut. She thinks she will spend the year relaxing, drawing, sleeping and reading, and isn't prepared for the daily struggle to stay alive. In the late summer and autumn, Ritter, her husband, and their friend, the hunter Karl, live well, eating eider ducks and duck eggs, seals and foxes they shoot, and wandering on the shore in the beautiful landscape. Then the snows begin to fall, and the sense of utter aloneness overtakes Ritter. For many weeks, they are in complete darkness, and it's not safe to leave the hut. The walls inside their hut are covered in frost and ice, and they depend on a tiny, cantankerous stove for warmth. Yet, Ritter also appreciates the beauty of the landscape: the colours of the sky reflecting on the ice, the Northern lights, the mysterious beauty of the distant, snow-covered mountains and fjords, the moonlight and clear air. She captures the majesty feels as she wanders in this place and learns the moods of the seasons, and the beauty of the terrain. She celebrates when spring comes in late June, and the eider ducks, seals and polar bears return, and she doesn't want to return to Europe.
Unlike a more modern travel book, Ritter doesn't focus much on psychology or internal landscape. She doesn't discuss her young daughter, who she has left in Austria. When she joins her husband in Svalbard, she hasn't seen him for some years, and she doesn't talk about how this separation felt, or whether she's glad to see him again. We know being out in the polar night does makes her feel frightened and alone, but we don't get much sense of Ritter's character. She seems happy to act as a housewife to the two hunters, her husband and Karl, and celebrates their courage and manliness. These attitudes can make the book feel too simplistic, and a bit dated. She also doesn't really comment on how she feels about the fur hunting that is central to their reason from remaining in Svalbard. However, this is an intriguing account, and captures both an extremely unusual place, and a very new life experience. I would recommend it if you have any interest at all in the subject matter.
Unlike a more modern travel book, Ritter doesn't focus much on psychology or internal landscape. She doesn't discuss her young daughter, who she has left in Austria. When she joins her husband in Svalbard, she hasn't seen him for some years, and she doesn't talk about how this separation felt, or whether she's glad to see him again. We know being out in the polar night does makes her feel frightened and alone, but we don't get much sense of Ritter's character. She seems happy to act as a housewife to the two hunters, her husband and Karl, and celebrates their courage and manliness. These attitudes can make the book feel too simplistic, and a bit dated. She also doesn't really comment on how she feels about the fur hunting that is central to their reason from remaining in Svalbard. However, this is an intriguing account, and captures both an extremely unusual place, and a very new life experience. I would recommend it if you have any interest at all in the subject matter.
October 10, 2024
Published in 1938, this book is Christiane Ritter’s memoir of spending a year (1934-1935) on Spitsbergen (now Svalbard), part of a Norwegian archipelago in the Arctic Ocean. Ritter journeys to this remote island north of Norway at the request of her trapper-hunter husband. He advises her to bring only a rucksack. She is unprepared for what awaits her:
”The hut stands in the middle of a small promontory, whose banks drop steeply down to the sea. It is a small, bleak, square box, completely covered in black roofing felt. A few boards, nailed higgledy-piggledy over the felt, provide the only light touch in all the blackness. A solitary stovepipe rears up from the roof into the misty air. Chests and tubs, sleighs, oars, old skis, lie against the walls, and around lie the bones of mysterious animals.”
Ritter's writing contains evocative descriptions of the landscape, capturing both its beauty and ruggedness. It also sheds light on the psychological challenges of lasting through the polar night in isolation and darkness. Ritter spends time watching their hut while her husband and their friend Karl go off hunting together. They are often gone for long stretches, and she has no way of knowing what is happening to them or when they will be back. In the meantime, polar bears are a threat, in addition to the unpredictable weather.
The book chronicles her transformation from novice to a capable veteran, able to survive on the Arctic tundra. The author's growing appreciation for local flora and fauna is a central theme. Ritter details the practical aspects of survival, from hunting to maintaining shelter to preparing unusual dishes.
I tend to devour books about survival in the extreme cold, and it was nice to get a female perspective for a change. Unlike many of these types of accounts, it is more a story of personal growth rather than one of conquest or discovery. While on Spitsbergen, Ritter developed a deep connection to nature, so often missing in today’s world. It will appeal to readers interested in adventures in harsh cold environments. I am surprised it is not more widely known!
”The hut stands in the middle of a small promontory, whose banks drop steeply down to the sea. It is a small, bleak, square box, completely covered in black roofing felt. A few boards, nailed higgledy-piggledy over the felt, provide the only light touch in all the blackness. A solitary stovepipe rears up from the roof into the misty air. Chests and tubs, sleighs, oars, old skis, lie against the walls, and around lie the bones of mysterious animals.”
Ritter's writing contains evocative descriptions of the landscape, capturing both its beauty and ruggedness. It also sheds light on the psychological challenges of lasting through the polar night in isolation and darkness. Ritter spends time watching their hut while her husband and their friend Karl go off hunting together. They are often gone for long stretches, and she has no way of knowing what is happening to them or when they will be back. In the meantime, polar bears are a threat, in addition to the unpredictable weather.
The book chronicles her transformation from novice to a capable veteran, able to survive on the Arctic tundra. The author's growing appreciation for local flora and fauna is a central theme. Ritter details the practical aspects of survival, from hunting to maintaining shelter to preparing unusual dishes.
I tend to devour books about survival in the extreme cold, and it was nice to get a female perspective for a change. Unlike many of these types of accounts, it is more a story of personal growth rather than one of conquest or discovery. While on Spitsbergen, Ritter developed a deep connection to nature, so often missing in today’s world. It will appeal to readers interested in adventures in harsh cold environments. I am surprised it is not more widely known!
August 7, 2020
Published in 1938, ‘A Woman in the Polar Night’ by Christiane Ritter based on the author’s experiences in the remote Arctic island of Spitsbergen is considered a cult classic with the original German book translated into over seven languages, never going out of print over the years. The author is no self proclaimed or experienced explorer and that makes this book all the more interesting. There is no insight given to readers as to what makes her take up her husband’s offer of joining him for a year in the vast desolation except a vague fascination about the beauty of the wilderness that her husband writes to her about.
The writing is part memoir and a travelogue of sorts that does not keep its arc or sights on geographical indicators. Rather, it is a brisk yet deeply philosophical look at nature, the bonds between human and animals, the way human comfort can be stripped down to the barest essential when faced with the existential crisis of survival and the way, the human mind and spirit can wax, wane and make small steps to start all over again when nothing familiar exists except your own solitary self. It is a slim book that carries within valuable insights of how the desperate search for food means having to let go of sentimentality or how the need for human company can be fraught. Ritter's wry commentary over house duties, the depth of her contemplations on life and social ties, her emotional bonding to the animals she grows familiar with, the way she takes to life in sub zero temperatures on her own, all make for a compelling read.
The translation into English by Jane Degras with a foreword by Sara Wheeler and cover design by Anna Morrison makes this a terrific all women combination! The mini sketches by Ritter who is also an artist adds charm to this book. I loved this one.
The writing is part memoir and a travelogue of sorts that does not keep its arc or sights on geographical indicators. Rather, it is a brisk yet deeply philosophical look at nature, the bonds between human and animals, the way human comfort can be stripped down to the barest essential when faced with the existential crisis of survival and the way, the human mind and spirit can wax, wane and make small steps to start all over again when nothing familiar exists except your own solitary self. It is a slim book that carries within valuable insights of how the desperate search for food means having to let go of sentimentality or how the need for human company can be fraught. Ritter's wry commentary over house duties, the depth of her contemplations on life and social ties, her emotional bonding to the animals she grows familiar with, the way she takes to life in sub zero temperatures on her own, all make for a compelling read.
The translation into English by Jane Degras with a foreword by Sara Wheeler and cover design by Anna Morrison makes this a terrific all women combination! The mini sketches by Ritter who is also an artist adds charm to this book. I loved this one.
May 22, 2020
Spitsbergen Phobia. Ritter had it, and she's passed it to me.
I finished the book an hour ago and have spent the hour working out how and when I can get there..
Her transformation from the excitement of arriving on the island, which reads like an Enid Blyton style adventure of the day (1930s), to a fear of what she has let herself in for as the sun goes down in October, not to rise until February, is perfectly described. That bright Blyton style descends into a dark cerebal tone; the mental toughness necessary for survival is evident.
The savage magnificence of the landscape carries the book for me, but the interactions between Ritter (an Austrian artist), her husband and a young Norwegian adventurer, are cheerful and sincere, and also a highlight.
Few books leave you with such memorable images. Her description of the full moon, the arctic light, says so much, "..as though we were dissolving in moonlight... one’s entire consciousness penetrated by the brightness; it is as though we were being drawn into the moon itself." In her days alone while the men are away hunting she writes so well about "the terror of nothingness". And her story of the encounters with an Arctic Fox, cakes made from eider duck eggs, and, on departure, the simple promise to write to each other for the rest of their lives (she lived until she was 103).
I finished the book an hour ago and have spent the hour working out how and when I can get there..
Her transformation from the excitement of arriving on the island, which reads like an Enid Blyton style adventure of the day (1930s), to a fear of what she has let herself in for as the sun goes down in October, not to rise until February, is perfectly described. That bright Blyton style descends into a dark cerebal tone; the mental toughness necessary for survival is evident.
The savage magnificence of the landscape carries the book for me, but the interactions between Ritter (an Austrian artist), her husband and a young Norwegian adventurer, are cheerful and sincere, and also a highlight.
Few books leave you with such memorable images. Her description of the full moon, the arctic light, says so much, "..as though we were dissolving in moonlight... one’s entire consciousness penetrated by the brightness; it is as though we were being drawn into the moon itself." In her days alone while the men are away hunting she writes so well about "the terror of nothingness". And her story of the encounters with an Arctic Fox, cakes made from eider duck eggs, and, on departure, the simple promise to write to each other for the rest of their lives (she lived until she was 103).
January 20, 2020
A Woman In The Polar Night is a fascinating memoir, one woman against and with nature, in an extremely inhospitable landscape takes a journey of self discovery. Her writing is present and insightfully real and I was completely immersed throughout.
I can’t imagine doing this myself- I love my home comforts way too much- although Christiane also didn’t expect just how harsh this life may be, she came to embrace it and we, the reader, get to go on that journey too .
The descriptive sense of this is simply wonderful, every nuance of the good and the bad is in here and you can see, sense and feel the chilly arctic through the words the author uses.
I loved it. It made me think about things bigger than myself, as indeed living through it gave Cristiane Ritter food for thought, I highly recommend it if you want knowledge of experiences you’ll likely never have during a time we won’t see again. Chilly and warming all at the same time.
I can’t imagine doing this myself- I love my home comforts way too much- although Christiane also didn’t expect just how harsh this life may be, she came to embrace it and we, the reader, get to go on that journey too .
The descriptive sense of this is simply wonderful, every nuance of the good and the bad is in here and you can see, sense and feel the chilly arctic through the words the author uses.
I loved it. It made me think about things bigger than myself, as indeed living through it gave Cristiane Ritter food for thought, I highly recommend it if you want knowledge of experiences you’ll likely never have during a time we won’t see again. Chilly and warming all at the same time.
April 27, 2020
This was such a pleasure to read over Christmas. Loved the writing style, loved the utter stoicism of Christiane Ritter. There's so much lovely stuff in here - days and days without sunlight, being stuck in a shed surrounded by snow, the weird sounds in the Arctic - so it seems likes someone is speakijg right next to you when they are miles away, being awed by nature and having that realisation that the fox fur coveted back in 30s Austria actually comes from a fox. Remarkable.
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