Women and Warriors

John's Review of The Happy Warriors

The Happy Warriors, Halldor Laxness' send-up of Icelandic literature, is a good antidote to those afflicted with an inordinate love of romantic sagas. The champion Thorgeir and his prattling poet-skald Thormod bluster and bully their way across Iceland, Europe, and Greenland, leaving a trail of destruction, death, and mutilation in their wake, all in the name of pursuing an invented heroic ideal. While frequently gruesome, there is comedic bite to their framing every act of wanton cruelty as a display of valor, even when inflicted upon the poor and defenseless.

Laxness has a masterful command of the Icelandic sagas, so language and theme flow naturally from an ancient font. What I found most interesting, however, was the role the feminine plays in The Happy Warriors. Thorgeir, Thormod, and various scoundrels hold center stage, but it is the women in their lives who shape their actions. Thorgeir's mother Thorelf “had little to lavish on her son but stories of champions of old” that continue to infect him with a twisted morality. She goes so far as to fete him for his first murder. Thormod gives up life as a Viking in exchange for the placid domesticity of his marriage to Thordis (“I am the bane of glory to hero and skald”), and then she manipulates him into leaving her to search for the killers of his oath-brother. He fails in his quest when he is seduced by an old love, shacking up with her for several years while the trail turns cold. Witches and troll-wives and queens push the action forward, sparking men to war and murder, then just as frequently pull them back from it. Thorgeir and Thormod, of course, remain oblivious to the feminine sphere of influence* and spin their own illusions of what governs the world.

The Happy Warriors is an indictment of the power of literature to sway and corrupt, while at the same using literature to make its point. Halldor Laxness must have enjoyed the irony. If you can find a copy of this book for less than fifty dollars, send it to my wife. It will justify her sway over my life.

x()()()()()()()()()()()()()x

*John declines to state whether he thinks this natural sphere of influence pertains to the sagas and Laxness, or whether it is universal. I wonder.

And I ask myself: am I "afflicted with an inordinate love of romantic sagas"? Don't have to wonder about that one, do we.

Thanks to my most special guest contributor.

Read all reviews of The Happy Warriors.

The Happy Warriors

The Happy Warriors, by Halldor Laxness. Translated by Katherine John. London: Methuen, 1958. 287 pgs.



Yes, tonight’s post features another book review challenge with Professor Batty.

I was eager to read The Happy Warriors for a number of reasons. It is one of the few English translations of Laxness that I had not yet read. Published in 1952, it was part of the body of literature for which Laxness was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1955. And the fact that it covers some of the same ground as several saga stories (Saga of the Sworn Brothers, Saga of Saint Olaf) made me anticipate it even more. Copies are few and hard to come by (and are far too expensive), so I was pleased to receive my copy via interlibrary loan. Thank you, Vanderbilt University Library.

Contrary to its name, Happy Warriors is a dark tragicomedy. At a very young age our first hero, Thorgeir, witnesses the murder of his father and vows to avenge him. Using the old warrior stories as his instruction guide, Thorgeir fashions some crude armor and weapons from materials at hand, and sets off to fulfill his destiny.

We next meet Thormod, a skald, or poet who—also at a very young age—is seduced by an old witch in retaliation for a poem he wrote about her. Thormod encounters Thorgeir, and is impressed by his singular warrior attire. As he comes to know him he is likewise impressed by Thorgeir’s single-mindedness and determination, while Thorgeir is impressed by Thormod’s gift with words. Thormod vows to compose a lay, or heroic poem, about Thorgeir once he commits a great deed. The two become “sworn brothers,” or perhaps alter-egos.

In typical saga fashion, our heroes/antiheroes fight, lust, seek revenge, compose lays, go raiding for treasure, seduce women, seek kings to fight for, and write more lays. Thorgeir and Thormod pass much of their lives apart, but their destinies are intertwined. After lots of bloody action, the psychological drama heats up when Thorgeir is killed, and his head is returned to Thormod.


After many adventures, Thormod had found an idyllic life with a loving wife and daughter. The most affecting part of the story is when Thormod’s wife, Thordis, comes to realize that he will never again be content until he has avenged Thorgeir’s death, and has immortalized him in a poem. She knows that he loves her too much to leave her. “I am so burdened with Thormod’s grief that I would give all to release him from me,” says Thordis. She sacrifices herself by committing adultery with their slave, so that Thormod will be free. And, after months of talking with Thorgeir’s salted head, Thormod sets out on his journey, leaving his life, happiness, and sanity behind him. He must search for the king worthy to bestow his heroic lay upon: the lay written to honor Thorgeir.

Laxness does some very interesting things with this story. He shows the consequences of pursuing youthful idealism without ever sacrificing it to maturity. His characters demonstrate the futility of being driven by obsession, the senselessness of war and violence, the results of ruling with nothing but power and ulterior motives.

Laxness’ retelling has many details which portray how ludicrous the heroes’ actions are, what misfits they are, and how incapable they are of seeing themselves as others perceive them. This telling is heavy with sarcasm. There are light moments too: the crazy Vikings go to fight the French King, and learn some unpalatable news. In order to fight, plunder, and obtain riches they must first bathe, delouse themselves, and—insult to injury--get baptized!

Part of the appeal of the ancient sagas is that they are bare-bones tales: much of the charm is in what isn’t said. As Laxness delves into the sagas to bring forth a modern version, his story lacks the simplicity and the droll, laconic dialog that I have come to love in the “originals.” And, this translation has an awkward, old fashioned feel to it. But there are always those “Laxness moments”--as when Thordis, Thormod, and the slave have an oblique discussion about a crowing rooster: this is simply masterful writing.

Few authors can match the singular talents of Halldor Laxness. But truly the same can be still be said of Snorri Sturluson and the anonymous saga writers—900 years later.

Let’s see what Batty has to say about this, shall we? And, check out my revised Laxness personal ranking.

St. Olaf

Warriors next-to-last Chapter

I couldn't help myself. I read The Happy Warriors again. Writing about the book, and thinking it over allowed it to start growing in my head. On this second, more careful reading I found that I could appreciate the rhythm of the book and its subtleties. There is more character development than in the sagas, and the characters' motivations are more transparent. Those who are familiar with early English history will likely find the many historical figures in the book fascinating.

This book was quite a departure for Laxness. Was it an exercise? Was it successful? I think yes, on both counts. It takes the saga structure, or formula, and expands it. While I am partial to the bare-bones style of the sagas, I do find Laxness' version seductive. Many of the political situations and people in power have a disturbingly contemporary feel to them.

The book is more humorous than I first perceived. I found myself counting how many times Thorgeir is called "stupid" to his face--by my counting, at least five times. He should have been born in another era--you know, the earlier one--and has no conception of how obsolete he is.

One particularly delicious passage relates how Thorgeir is the only one left after a battle in Normandy. All of his fellow warriors flee. It is apparent that they cannot win, having been set upon by villagers who throw boiling piss on them and ensnare them in fishnets, among other humiliations.

...[Thorgeir] stood his ground calmly...'I am an Icelander,' said he, 'and I do not remember hearing in tales of old that true fighting-men ever fled in battle.'

(The crowd of peasants laughs at him.)

...the more he was seized with berserk rage, the merrier grew these peasants...Thorgeir Havarsson thought he had fallen into a bad dream.

(The crowd of peasants takes away his weapons.)

In the weeks since I finished my second reading, the characters continue to re-enact events in my mind. Isn't that a mark of great literature? Abstract and ambiguous writing, if it's good, tends to stick with one.

Thank you, University of Kentucky Library. And, thanks to our inter-library loan intermediary. Way to go, girl!

Next up: John reviews Happy Warriors.

More Warriors

My second interlibrary loan copy of The Happy Warriors arrived from the University of Kentucky Library. On the first page of the text, penciled close to the inside margin of the page is the information that this 1958 edition was added to the library collection on 7/6/59, and that it cost $2.52. Unfortunately, there is no way to tell how many times the book has been checked out over the years--wouldn't I love to know! Still, it's something to think that this book has been in use for 50 years now.


I had requested another interlibrary loan so that I could include a few of my favorite quotes. An added benefit is that, after having read my review (below), John decided he would like to read the book. This one has a longer due date and is renewable, so we can look forward to his response to Happy Warriors right here at Icelandic Fever.

Early in the story the Oath Brothers, Thorgeir and Thormod, are shipwrecked in the Westfjords. Frozen and hungry, they come upon a remote farmstead and a woman answers the door to ask what they want.

"We ask nothing of any," said Thorgeir. "But we will have food to eat and fire to thaw our clothes and a place to sleep. And if you deny us these, let a proper man of your household, or more than one, come out and do battle with us."

The woman replied: "It has never been the way in these fjords that spent folk had to fight the peasants for shelter. You must be a stupid man."

And how about our friend Olaf Haraldsson/Olaf the Stout/St. Olaf, pictured in the previous post?

Olaf had come aboard that night...He expressed himself as those do who are in the habit of talking for many ears, and it was commonly thought that what he lacked as a fighting-man and in other manly parts he made up in eloquence and insinuating address.

Olaf talks of Duke Richard:

Out of fear he would now throw open his lands to you, and give you leave to harry French kings and crush them at pleasure, and of the land's wealth have what you choose, princesses and queens and other high-born dames gratis as desired. But that you may give yorselves up unblamed to all the sport that lies in victorious war, with slaughter, fire-raising, plundering and rape, Richard asks only this trifle in return, that you should receive baptism and the Holy Ghost and become Christians.

As I've reflected on this book it has grown on me more and more. I think I'll read it again, while I have the opportunity. It's a good thing that Laxness' books glow ever brighter on second and third readings (and so on), since I'll soon be out of English translations. If there are any readers out there with the means to fund new translations, I feel certain that the folks at Gljúfrasteinn would love to talk to you!

Halldór Laxness Day

52 years ago today, Halldór Laxness was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. Today is the day that Professor Batty and I chose for posting our personal rankings of our favorite Laxness novels. You, our reading audience, can be assured that we have not collaborated on or discussed these rankings ahead of time...I will be as surprised as you when I read PB's post tomorrow!

Here is my list:

1. The Fish Can Sing (1957)
Álfgrímur's coming of age. Iceland's greatest singer. A house called Brekkukot in Reykjavík at the beginning of the 20th century. My favorite book ever.

2. Independent People (1934)
Sheep, and the frustratingly stubborn Bjartur of Summerhouses.

3. Iceland's Bell (1943-46)
The Loveliest Woman in Iceland and an irascible criminal.

4. World Light (1937-40)
The Poet, Ólafur Kárason of Ljósavík.

5. Under the Glacier (1968)
The Emisary of the Bishop (Embi) investigates strange things at Snaefells.

6. Salka Valka (1931-32)
A poor fisher girl who is big, strong, and very generous.

7. Paradise Reclaimed (1960)
Steinar gives his white pony Krapi, the finest horse in Iceland, to the King of Denmark, and goes to live with the Mormons.

8. Great Weaver From Kashmir (1927)
Steinn’s quest for perfection, and his desire to avoid the sins of the flesh. Humanity and Divinity. The nature of redemption.

9. Happy Warriors (1952)
Sworn brothers Þormódur Bessason and Þorgeir Hávarsson have the souls of saga warriors. But they are misfits in their world, and don’t even realize it.

10. Atom Station (1948)
A girl from the north country encounters city ways, and learns about human values. Another Strong Woman steals our hearts.

11. The Honour of the House (1933)
Honour and pride, and what it does to a family.


I think it's interesting that many of Laxness' novels were published in separate volumes and parts over the course of several years. I also think it's interesting (although I don't expect anyone else to) that Laxness was awarded the Nobel Prize the same year I was born. His acceptance speech (audio and text) can be found at the Nobel site.

I'd love to hear from other Laxness fans about their favorites. If you'll send me your personal ranking I'll be glad to post it! And don't forget to check out Professor Batty at Flippism is the Key to see what he has to say about our favorite Icelandic Author.

To conclude, an excerpt from my Iceland diary, July 19, 2006:

Today we are going to visit Gljufrasteinn, the home and museum of author Halldór Laxness. Thingvellir, Gljufrasteinn, and Drangey Island are the top three personal shrines on my Iceland list.

Halldór Laxness (1902-1998) won the Nobel prize in 1955, in part for his book Independent People. In an introduction to this book Brad Leithauser says:

When I tell people I meet that my favorite book by a living novelist is Halldor Laxness's Independent People and am asked what it's about, my reply is, "Sheep."

...My reply is actually less facetious than might first appear, for while the book does keep large issues constantly in mind (the largest: mortality and memory and love and duty), it is also very much about...[sheep].

We come close to hitting a herd of sheep on the road, one at a time. In case you're curious, sheep are not too smart. They exhibit that irritating characteristic common to squirrels and deer: it's impossible to predict which way they will dash when they panic--or they might just freeze. It's safer not to honk the horn, and just wait for them to amble off.

Gljúfrasteinn is nestled in a large, lovely valley with imposing mountains nearby, across the road from Laxnes horse farm. Laxness's name, a pseudonym he took in 1923, means "of Laxnes."

First we walk around through the gardens to the back of the house, and have our picnic lunch on a bench in an alcove shaded by small birches and wildflowers. The nearby stream tumbles over smooth boulders and forms myriad small waterfalls.

The house itself is elegantly plain: medium sized, white plaster with lots of windows. It isn't a showplace; it's a house meant to be lived in. The orginal furnishings, art, music and books are still in place, so it's very easy to imagine Laxness and his family living here. The audio tour is excellent: it is less obtrusive than a tour guide, and the recording includes the voices of Laxness and his wife. You can stand in his study, see the desk he stood at to write, look out the window at the very view that he saw daily. You can enter his bedroom, and see the art and objects he kept close to him. You can see his Steinway piano--the very same one that Bill Holm has played. When I see the grandfather clock in the hallway--ticking E-TER-NI-TY---(the one that the clock in The Fish Can Sing was modeled on) my throat closes up and I choke back tears.

The Atom Station

The Atom Station, by Halldór Laxness. Translated by Magnus Magnusson. Sag Harbor, N.Y.: Second Chance Press, 1982. Originally published as Atomstodin in 1948; first English translation 1961. 202 pgs.




I didn't save The Atom Station for last because I thought it would be my favorite Laxness. But I enjoyed reading it very much, and liked it more than I had expected. For one thing, the title put me off (with apologies to my nuclear scientist friend, Reed). I thought that the novel might be more about communism, or socialism, than about human nature, or love. What was I thinking? Laxness always writes about human nature, and love!

The story is narrated by Ugla, a young woman from a very rural area in the north. She is unschooled and unrefined, and she has come to Reykjavík to work as a maid in the home of The Member of Parliament, Dr. Bui Arland. The family is wealthy, the wife feels her social significance deeply, and they, like most government officials, are vociferously anti-communist. Ugla finds herself immersed in the class struggle, and falls in with a bunch of artsy, musician types who are very strange.

The plot is fairly straightforward. Ugla comes to the city with a peasant-like, non-judgmental view of the world. She is exposed to new people, new ideas and prejudices, and finds that life can be much more complex and confusing than she is used to. In the course of the story she discovers her potential.

Whether I was kissed or not kissed, a peson's mouth was a kiss, or at least half a kiss.

The novel is named for an "atom station" that world powers wish to situate in Iceland, raising the question of whether the country is about to be "sold." Ugla's allegiances are tested, as the political situation affects the people she works for, and the country as a whole. The atom station represents the power of self-destruction, while Ugla is drawn toward creation, creativity, humanity. She seems to embody an heroic ideal of the eternal mother. She is a physically large young woman, and is portrayed in a way that reminds me of monumental art. While the country may be sold, Ugla would sacrifice herself rather than sell herself.

The selling of Iceland resonates today, over fifty years following the publication of this book. The collapse of the banking system and the controversial aluminum smelter in eastern Iceland highlight themes that are not new. The conflicts that concern Ugla are universal. Here are words of Ugla's that we could live by today:

I was taught never to believe a single word that is written in the papers, and nothing except what is written in the Icelandic Sagas ...

Ugla also speaks words that clearly come straight from Halldór Laxness himself:

That is why I am not going to say how it happened or what it was, I can only tell you the external causes until it ceases to be a story.

Atom Station was written after Laxness had already firmly established himself as a formidable author, with Salka Valka, Independent People, and World Light already completed, among other major works. Happy Warriors and Fish Can Sing were to follow this work. Atom Station seems unique to me, somewhat of an anomaly, or perhaps experimental. John described this novel as "absurdist," and it does border on that. Laxness fans will recognize much in the book, and yet find it differently flavored as well. You won't want to miss it!

For now, it is over. There are no more Laxness books available in English translation for me to read. Some stories and plays, biographies and autobiographies, yes, but for now, no more books. I hope that this situation changes soon, for I am very sad.

On a more cheerful note, there are more reviews to read! Check out Batty's perspective, as well as my revised Laxness ranking. I can confidently proclaim, and I know our fellow Laxness fans agree, that any Laxness book is a good book, an exceptionally good book.