The time of the sagas
For centuries, the very existence of Iceland was a legend. What was this mysterious land that Pytheas, a French explorer, saw on the horizon during his journey in the 4th century? In his memoirs, he gave it the name of the island of Thule, the object of all fantasies even today, no one knows if it was really the one we are interested in... A few centuries later, an Irish geographer, Dicuil (ca. 755-825), set about describing the world in De Mensura orbis terrae. He evokes a land where the sun shines until midnight and where mysterious hermits live, holy men, the papars. These reappear in the most famous manuscript of a Catholic priest considered the father of Icelandic literature, Ari Porgilsson (c. 1067-1148), both for the vernacular language he used, Old Norse, and for his elaborate and pleasing style. In Íslendingabók(The Book of the Icelanders), he recounts in ten chapters the colonization of the island, mentioning the first Norwegian to settle there in 874, Ingólfr Arnarson. This one would have let the gods guide him to choose the place where to build his house, wooden figures carved with their effigy would have drifted in the waters before being stranded in the current bay of Reykjavik. They were only found after three long years of searching and then the building began. It is added that Arnarson would have indeed met on his arrival Irish Christians who preferred to leave the place to him rather than to mix with pagans
Archaeological excavations, still active today, tend to confirm the existence of the papars, they attest in any case that Iceland had known Viking excursions before, certainly from the 9th century. Another legend says that Naddoddr was the first to set foot there, after being lost at sea, and that he named it Snæland (Land of Snow) And that one of his countrymen, on hearing this tale, decided to go to this distant land himself, guided by three ravens, and that after a particularly vigorous winter he changed his name to Island. This is at least what is reported in another important manuscript, the Landnámabók(Book of Settlement), certainly partly based on the work of Ari Porgilsson, at least for the genealogical part, which is extremely well documented and always fascinating
This rather original way of linking historical truth and folklore gave birth to the sagas (in Icelandic: sögur in the plural), a word derived from the verb segja which means to tell, which began to be written down as soon as the conversion to Catholicism of the country in 999 allowed the clerics of the Church to put down the oral tradition on vellum. Production certainly extended from the 11th to the 14th century but, as with the above-mentioned manuscripts, it is not always the originals that have come down to us, so it is difficult to date their writing precisely. One of the most popular is The Saga of Erik the Red, which tells of his banishment after committing a murder and his subsequent exile to Greenland. His son, Leif Erikson (ca. 970-1020) ventured even further west and discovered Vinland, which is said to be located on the present-day island of Newfoundland off the coast of Canada. He would thus be the first European to have embraced the American continent, some 500 years before Christopher Columbus. If the authors of the sagas are not always known, at least one name has reached posterity, that of Snorri Sturluson (1179-1241) who we know, thanks to the Sturlungasaga, was an important man and registered in politics at a time when tensions between the Free State of Iceland and Norway were beginning to be prevalent. The Egill Saga, a history of the kings of Norway, and above all theEdda, a manual of scaldic poetry, to which thePoetic Edda, an anthology of Old Norse poems attributed to Sæmundr Sigfússon, is closely associated, have survived. These precious manuscripts, partly integrated into the Codex Regius(King's Book), were only rediscovered in 1643 by the future bishop of Skálholt. Offered to the Danish king, narrowly escaping the fire in Copenhagen in 1728, they were officially returned to Iceland in 1971 and 1985. They are now safely housed in the Árni Magnússon Institute in Reykjavík
Gradually, the sagas gave way to the rímur, which, as their name suggests, are epic poems with a ringing metre. The oldest recorded is the Óláfs ríma Haraldssonar, an account of the life of the Norwegian king, in 65 lines, by Einar Glisson, an Icelandic poet who lived in the 14th century. This work belongs to a larger corpus, the richly illuminated Flateyjarbók(Book of the Flat Island), which is also now preserved in Reykjavik. This poetic art has survived to the present day and is sometimes expressed in the form of mansöngur (maiden song), an erotic version usually addressed to a woman. The 15th and 16th centuries were unfortunately much less enticing, as Iceland, having fallen into the hands of the Danes, had to face two plague epidemics and then the Protestant Reformation, which cost these men of Catholic faith their heads
The quest for independence
The next two centuries were not much better, with Denmark imposing drastic restrictions and one natural disaster after another. Yet literature revived, perhaps even out of anger, as Arngrímur Jónsson (1568-1648) was known as the "rebellious scholar". Annoyed by the mockery and rumours about his country, he took up his pen and slashed the slander. His apology was doubly effective, since it had the merit of introducing Europeans to his island and awakening a nationalist sentiment among his people, which soon became confused with the desire to regain their independence. The awareness of a national identity is also revealed in the collection of old manuscripts to which the famous librarian Árni Magnússon (1663-1730) devotes himself, and in the work of cartography and study of the island that the naturalist Eggert Olafsen (1726-1768) carries out in Reise igiennem Island (Journey through Iceland). In 1811, a man was born whose birth date - 17 June - would rhyme with the proclamation of the republic in 1944. For the time being, Jón Sigurdsson devoted his life to the peaceful movement for independence, of which he was a leader. His literature responds to the commitment of the man who is in love with it, and becomes romantic, while retaining a strong nationalist appeal in the evocation of the splendour of Icelandic nature and in the praise of its glorious past. It is in the magazine Fjölnir that these two approaches are combined. It was founded by four poets - the best known being Jónas Hallgrímsson, the author of Heidlóarkvædi and Ég bid ad heilsa, which, when set to music, became patriotic songs - and was published only from 1835 to 1838, but it made a deep impression. A decade later, in 1850, Jón Thoroddsen published a love story set in the rural countryside, Piltur or stúlka (Boy and Girl), considered the first modern Icelandic novel. The sequel, Maour og kona (Man and Woman
), was only published posthumously in 1876, as the writer died prematurely at the age of 49 in 1868.The way seemed to be opening up for writers who, while not abandoning their political aspirations, allowed themselves to explore other stylistic research and other aesthetic perspectives, such as Einar Benediktsson, who mixed his love of French symbolism with a certain mysticism while following the precepts of scaldic poetry in Sögur og kvædi (1897). Those who are curious can obtain Les Elfes des falaises: regard sur la poésie islandaise, available in French from L'Harmattan. Jóhann Sigurjónsson (1880-1919) also referred to folklore, but he transposed it to the stage, notably in his best-known play, Fjalla-Eyvindur
, inspired by a traditional tale, which was adapted to film with great success by Victor Sjöström in 1918.Finally, the century ends with the birth of Gunnar Gunnarsson (1889-1975), whose very fine Zulma publishing house has republished a very small text, albeit one with a great deal of humanity, The Shepherd of Advent. Prolix and much loved in the northern countries since his first novel, The Borg Family Saga, published in 1911, Gunnar Gunnarsson has been announced several times as likely to be awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. This did not happen, but the supreme distinction was instead awarded to one of his fellow citizens, Halldór Laxness, in 1955. Raised in the town to which he owes his family name - this notion does not have the same meaning in Iceland as it does in Europe - he opens up to the world by travelling, and to questions by becoming in turn a Catholic, a Communist and then a Taoist. Inspired by Knut Hamsun, Laxness decides to depict the life of the peasants, this axis will evoke the destiny of a simple man who will oppose the directives of the king of Norway and who will prevent the emissary of this one to melt the bell of the village to make a cannon. This novel, The Icelandic Bell, is certainly his major work and is published by Flammarion. However, it will not make us forget his fertility - his texts are counted by the dozens -, nor his humour which is revealed in The Saga of the Proud-Arms
that Anacharsis had the excellent idea of translating into French. Independence, finally gained in 1944, confirmed a new opening to the world, and the attraction is reciprocal, since no French bookseller can now deplore the absence of Icelandic writers in his shop. They have found their place in the detective fiction section - which is quite a feat for a country that has so few homicides - thanks in particular to the success and talent of Arnaldur Indridason, born in 1961, who has had a knack for maintaining suspense since his first opus(The Sons of Dust) was published in Iceland in 1997 and the following year in France, by Métaillié. In the same niche, Árni Thórarinsson(Treize Jours, Le Crime, etc., published by Points) promises some great sleepless nights. In literature, the choice is just as wide since Zulma had the good idea of publishing Audur Ava Ólafsdóttir's Rosa Candida in 2010, which became a bestseller. The female voice is also carried by Kristín Marja Baldursdóttir, who, with Karitas, painted a portrait of a free woman, an affinity for unforgettable characters shared by Elma Már Guomundsson, who in The Kings of Iceland (Zulma, 2019) offers a magnificent portrait gallery. What this new generation has in common is indeed their desire to give us a glimpse into their world, and the encounter to become intimate through the grace of Sigurjón Birgir Sigrdsson, incidentally Björk's lyricist and better known by the pseudonym Sjón, who, in The Boy Who Didn't Exist (Rivages, 2016), he doesn't hesitate to summon his own family, or that of Jón Kalman Stefánsson, who made a name for himself with his family chronicles(À la mesure de l'univers, D'ailleurs les poissons n'ont pas de pieds, published by Folio).
