C. S. Lewis once said that no book or cup of tea would ever be big enough for him, and by book I think he may have been thinking of 'Kristin Lavransdatter' by Sigrid Undset; proclaimed as 'the best Norwegian novel of the twentieth century.'
Although it's size is due to the fact that it is a trilogy of books containing, in my edition (Picador, 1977), 'The Garland', 'The Mistress of Husaby' and 'The Cross' all centring around the eponymous heroine of Kristin Lavransdatter and her life in the 14th Century.
As a child Kristin is talking with the monk Brother Edvin who says something frightening: 'No one, nor anything, can harm us, child, save what we fear or love.' And this sets a tone that will continue throughout the book's nine hundred pages.
What she loves seems to do the real damage to her life and his name is Erlend Nikulaussön, a man of equally reckless passion and danger. Destined to marry safe but dull Simon Darre Kristin decides to go with her heart and elope with a rootless wanderer where the consequence of such a decision dominates everything else that happens to her.
She has a tough old life with Erlend's fecklessness, immaturity and general unwillingness to behave in a manner fitting for a wife. Long suffering is a word that could be applied to Kristin or a pathological devotion to a romantic idea. The guilt from their sin is a heavy streak through this book and weighs down on her without ever ceasing.
You can't really sell this book as a feel good read but then Undset's time wasn't feel good, nor was her philosophic outlook on life. The time of publishing 'Kristin Lavransdatter' was the 1920s between the wars. It 'caused a sensation...and it was both a literary and commercial success.'
Some wondered about the historical accuracy while others claimed that the 'underlying eroticism...was both immoral and pernicious reading material for young people'. To counter this Undset wrote high quality scholarly articles about Nordic folk ballads.
She was, in short, a serious woman, almost frighteningly so. It seemed that whatever she put her mind to she did and got what she wanted. She had backbone and dedication of purpose, a decidedly uncommon talent at the best of times. But her times were not the best. Coming out of one war and slipping into another you think that a book like this was an anchor in the turbulent rivers of history, a bulwark against the chaos.
An obsessive researcher Undset, according to historians, got a lot right with the details of those Medieval times, which is a testament to both her knowledge and her imagination. The sheer amount of episodes and scenes makes one think that it's more than one life you are reading. Surely so much couldn't happen to one person. Yet if you live long enough than a lot is going to happen to you, unexpectedly and continuously without you having much say in the matter. As Pablo Neruda said: 'In little steps and large leaps life also happened to me'.
One can feel the sternness in her work as she sounds like she was in life. Though I think there is warmth there too in her if not in her prose. Really this book is a cathedral; forbidding, and coldly spirited. It is a unique thing with anguish, guilt and brief love. Her catholicism runs throughout with atonement for sin and a heavy stain on the soul. It is quite painful.
Despite her total dedication to her art winning the Nobel Prize was no sure run thing. Some of the members of the committee thought her characters were too modern.
They said: "with great admiration for Sigrid Undset indefatigable and rich narrative art, a man at least, cannot help growing weary of the stormy and complicated stories of women's lives." "It would be possible to forgo without regret a good del of the intimacy in the description." "To see how little the women even back then, in the fourteenth century, had learned from life." "I venture to say that within a short time her novels will lack any readers."
Oh yes, the greats aren't exempt from criticism.
But we do read her still, she did win the Nobel Prize, but then you can't take anything for granted. It's taken me four years to read this book, and I would spend twice that amount of time to read it again.
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