Reykjavík Grapevine - 05.12.2014, Side 30

30 The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 18 — 2014LITERATURE
F O R O N L I N E B O O K I N G S - W W W . S B A . I S
LAKE MÝVATN WINTER TOUR
DISCOVER THE NORTH
Photos Hörður Sveinsson
“When ‘all the lights have gone out’ we will be left with our
stories. At least we can keep doing that when we make
our way to the end,” Sjón says near the edge of our con-
versation. And then he jumps: “You can say that I am the
happy nihilist.” When we speak, Sjón is fresh off the plane
from Denmark, where his most recent book, ‘Mánasteinn—
drengurinn sem aldrei var til’ (“Moonstone—The Boy Who
Never Was”), has just been released in Danish. His novels
have been published in over twenty countries; he has been
translated into over thirty languages, and is up to the neck
in literary awards. Sjón has plenty to be happy about.
Sjón,
Happy Nihilist
Words Parker Yamasaki
The author at the edge of
conversation, at the end of
the world
He also has plenty of reasons to be nihil-
istic. Minutes into our conversation, Sjón
has already reached the assertion that
“we are possibly facing our own extinc-
tion soon, the human kind is possibly not
going to be here much longer.” We face
a looming environmental meltdown. We
are creating and confronting technolo-
gies that could contribute to our own de-
mise. Social unrest pops like fireworks
across the globe and politics carries on,
glassy-eyed, watching them burst. These
are problems so immense that they are
nearly impossible to see from up close.
Like one of those images made out of
lots of tiny images. Nevertheless, it is the
responsibility of the journalist, the author,
the social critic to respond. Relying on the
repetition of history and mimicking the
enduring tales of the past, Sjón has found
a way to keep his distance while remain-
ing relevant.
Return, return
The best view of the past is from the pres-
ent. This is common knowledge. Sjón has
realised what fewer have: that perhaps
the best view of the present is from the
past. “It is always really difficult to un-
derstand what is going on in your own
time,” Sjón admits, which is partly why
‘Mánasteinn’ is set in 1918. “It is set in
the days of the Spanish flu, the Katla
eruption, when Iceland became a sov-
ereign country from Denmark,” he ex-
plains. “All of this happened in 1918. But
it is really a chain of events that mirror
ourselves today: we have the fear of epi-
demics, we have the endless discussion
in Iceland about what it is to be an inde-
pendent country, and the main character
in the book is a gay sixteen-year-old kid
who is obsessed with cinema.”
To this end, his historical settings
provide more than just a rich plot. They
are a tool for examination. “None of us
have been there [the past], so we all
have a chance to read ourselves into
these stories. Through tales from the
past we are able to reflect on where we
are now.” Sjón provides the reader a
platform in the past from which we may
observe our present.
Paradigm shift
Naturally, Sjón’s his-
torical interests play
a part in his process.
Though he describes
himself as a “cultural
omnivore,” he does
admit a penchant for
periods of conflict. “I
am drawn towards
moments in history
when we are faced
with paradigm shifts.
When two times come
together when the old and the new face
off in a way, when there are huge changes
with what is possible, and what is accept-
able,” he explains.
It is understandable, then, why Sjón
would be so excited about our own great
moment in history.” We are torn,” he says.
“On the one hand we have created tech-
nology which demands we use our poten-
tials more fully, and on the other hand we
have used technologies to devise our own
demise.” The theme of the extinction of
the human race lurks throughout our con-
versation like a hunter stalking his prey.
Albeit less quietly, like an unseasoned
hunter, crashing through the woods rau-
cously, swinging a machete and scream-
ing. But the idea is no less intense than it
is real. Which is precisely why Sjón turns
to the fantastic. Specifi-
cally, to the myths.
“Myths are always
about the ‘big’ realities
we are facing. All the
‘big’ questions can be
found in mythology,”
he says. They are yet
another tool that Sjón
wields in the face of
the “here and now,” an-
other platform to stand
on and observe things
in their entirety. He
elaborates: “The myths
allow us to think about
these things on the scale they really are.
They place man in the universe, they bring
us down to scale. For an author, the myths
are really an amazing tool to work with.”
Man of myth
To say Sjón is working with the myths
might be a bit misleading. “I don’t use the
myths, the myths use me,” he tells me,
“they are using me to be re-told.” Then the
myths breach personification and become
nearly possessive: “Myths exist within all
of us. We are somehow all born with a
sense of a pantheon, which reflects both
the enormous scale of the world and also
common fundamentals of human society.
The myths are within us, they just want to
be heard.”
Many of us may be familiar with myth-
ological story-lines, even specific charac-
ters, without realising it. We speak about
the various manifestations of the myths in
contemporary times. Sjón references the
latest Avengers film, noting its clear par-
allel to Ragnarök, a series of apocalyptic
future events that appear in the Eddas. “It
was really Loki [a super-villain who by no
sheer coincidence shares a name with a
Nordic god in the original myth] who was
bringing the end of the world,” he notes,
“and the question presented to us: what
can we do about it?”
“I think the myths always look for the
maximum audience,” Sjón decides after
contemplating the modern myths and
gods for a bit. Sjón is here to provide that
audience.
In an age that values rapid change,
Sjón has chosen one of the most enduring
acts of human expression: the act of story-
telling. His historical content holds a mirror
to the present. His use of myth allows us to
grapple with what we see. In this way, his
stories are histories—tales that have been
told and will be re-told in dizzying circular-
ity. Amidst our ever-changing realities, one
may find some comfort in this rare consis-
tency. Even “when ‘all the lights have gone
out’ we will be left with our stories. At least
we can keep doing that when we make
our way to the end,” Sjón says near the
edge of our conversation. And then he
jumps…
“I am drawn towards
moments in history
when we are faced
with paradigm shifts.
When two times come
together when the old
and the new face off
in a way, when there
are huge changes with
what is possible, and
what is acceptable.”
INTER
VIEW