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

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.