Lögberg-Heimskringla - 15.04.2015, Blaðsíða 5

Lögberg-Heimskringla • 15. apríl 2015 • 5
ONLINE MAGAZINE: WWW. HEIMSKRINGLOG.COM
Gýrður Elíasson: poems,
stories, and the humanistic
core of timeless writing
A soft-spoken man with
a gentle but engaging public
presence, Gýrðir Elíasson spoke
briefly in English before turning
to his poems, which he recited
in their original Icelandic before
yielding the microphone to Elin
Thordarson, who read an English
translation of each one. As the
first line of Gýrðir’s first poem
breathed across his lips, even
those who didn’t understand the
Icelandic knew that something
significant was being said, only
to have their feelings confirmed
when Elin offered the translation
– “On a vicarage lawn a horse is
eating grass.” So mundane, yet
pointing towards the profound
as such an everyday scene was
set with a curious blending of
the common and the mystical.
From that point on, not only
was the horse eating grass, but
Gýrðir’s audience was feasting
on every poem and story.
Gýrðir Elíasson is a major
poet, novelist, and short story
writer, in addition to being an
important translator of foreign
works into Icelandic, especially
stories about the aboriginal
peoples of the land Icelanders
call Vesturheimur. He won
the Halldór Laxness Prize for
Literature in 2000 and the Nordic
Council Literature Award in
2011. Born in Reykjavík, he
grew up in the northern town of
Sauðarkrókur.
Gýrðir offered half a dozen
poems during his presentation.
There is a dark wit embedded in
his poems, which are, at once,
profound, whimsical, pointed,
and forthright. Set in cemeteries
and shadowy places, the
serious and the humorous blend
together. At the end of his poem,
“In the grave,” the audience
erupted in laughter at the words,
“One either gets hit by a car or
meets a woman – nothing in
between, unless the woman is
driving the car.”
Gyrðir then turned his
attention to his short stories,
reading a few paragraphs from
two representative tales, with
Elin then reading translations, as
she had done for his poems. The
stories he selected had a surreal
quality and both might be best
described as dreamscapes.
In the first story, he spoke
of a music shop on Vesturgata,
which the narrator visits in a
dream. Aladdin’s Music Store is
the name on the sign outside and
the young shopgirl he meets says,
“we’re always open.” Inside, he
notices such musical treasures as
a copy of Beethoven’s Eleventh
Symphony and an album
featuring Mississippi John Hurt
singing songs by Neil Young.
Listening to music through
a sound machine that looks
like a Hoover vacuum with a
windpipe, the narrator observes,
“I can never see anything
without being reminded of
something else.” Elsewhere in
this mysterious shop, another
customer is listening to Oscar
Peterson on the recorder.
In a second story, “House
#451,” Gýrðir leads his readers
(and listeners) on a journey of
time travel as only an Icelander
might tell it. He describes an
ancient swing hanging from a
tree and a house where nobody
has lived for a long time. Indeed,
it isn’t certain if anyone has ever
lived there. Shifting between the
years 2010 and 2072, the story
describes a world where writing
has become obsolete, no books
are allowed to adorn the walls,
and a 200-inch television screen
dominates the room. When the
narrator’s daughter asks, “Why
is the house next door so ugly?”
he replies, “It doesn’t matter, I
have to write.” Lamenting that
“everyday something becomes
obsolete,” he remembers the
question: “Why sit down to
write if you haven’t lived?” and
he yearns to go back sixty years
in time. He imagines that he has
returned to 2012, takes out a
key, and steps inside the house
next door.
Shifting genres once more,
David Gislason then read from
Gýrðir’s scholarly essay on
Jóhann Magnús Bjarnason,
opening with the words, “Some
writers are dead long before
they die, but Jóhann Magnús
Bjarnason lives on.” Gýrðir
characterized Bjarnason’s
writings as a mirror on
humanity, noting that “good
writing consists of more than
simply clever construction.”
Declaring that works such as
those of Bjarnason have “a right
to a life longer than the paper on
which they’re written,” Gýrðir
warns that “we cannot afford to
let West Icelandic writings fall
by the wayside,” before adding
that there’s “no need to attach
‘West’ in front of that.” Gýrðir’s
essay concluded by observing
that, in all great writing, “the
humanistic core never dies if it
was there in the beginning.”
Pétur Gunnarsson on
the life and letters of
Þórbergur Þórðarson
Carrying on with the
scholarly examination of
Icelandic authors, Pétur
Gunnarsson was equally
engaging with his presentation
on Þórbergur Þȯrðarson, a
novelist, essayist and humorist
who has only recently become
known to readers outside
Iceland. Pétur recently authored
a two-volume biography of
Þórbergur.
In introducing Pétur, Birna
Bjarnadóttir characterized
him as “another key writer of
modern Icelandic literature.”
While he studied philosophy at
university, Birna noted that “his
passion for literature overran his
desire to practice philosophy.”
An award-winning novelist, he
is also a noteworthy translator of
world literature into Icelandic.
Moreover, he has written
song lyrics, plays, poetry. and
screenplays. A producer of
programs for both radio and
television, he wrote the script
for an acclaimed documentary
on Halldór Laxness.
Pétur endeared himself to
his listeners when he opened his
remarks by saying, “Icelanders
[at home] have strong feelings
for Icelanders in North
America.” He briefly described
his own pilgrimage, just the
day before, to the place in
North Dakota where his great-
grandfather lived and died.
It was “emotional to stand at
his grave,” he said. His great-
grandfather had left Iceland
in 1890, leaving Pétur’s great-
grandmother behind to raise their
children, although he sent money
home for their care. Overall, it
was a dramatic family story.
“Halldór Laxness and
Þórbergur Þȯrðarson are giants
of Icelandic literature,” Pétur
declared, while lamenting
that “Þórbergur Þȯrðarson is
practically unheard of outside
of Iceland,” with only portions
of his autobiographical novel
having been available in
English. More recently, two of
his works have been translated
and published in English – The
Stones Speak and Of Icelandic
Nobles and Idiot Savants.
Þórbergur was brought up
under Vatnajökull in a district
called Suðursveit, which was
cut off by glacial rivers that
were unbridged until 1974 –
the year of Þórbergur’s death.
It was a poor but completely
self-sufficient existence and
Þórbergur experienced his
departure from Suðursveit as
a “paradise lost.” Yet he was
totally averse to working on
the farm, which he considered
“a certain road to perdition.”
So he departed for Reykjavík
– a town of just 10,000
inhabitants at the time – in
1906, when he was 18. His
sense of the future was vague,
though he speculated that he
might become the captain of a
schooner. He took work aboard
French schooners and his three
years on board opened up the
closed world he had known in
Suðursveit. Indeed, it inspired
his vocation to become a writer.
“I came off the schooner an
indigent and left it a beggar,”
Þórbergur wrote. “The struggle
against reality became my lot.”
Þórbergur enrolled in
teachers’ college in Reykjavík
and, for the first time in his life,
at 21, he found himself sitting
on a school bench. He expected
to learn more than he did. As a
student, he fell in love with an
inhabitant of the house where
he hung out. Unable to gain
admittance to the secondary
grammar school in Reykjavík,
he found himself overcome
by poverty and debt. He lost
the girl; the householder lost
his patience; and, in the end,
he was starving. “I longed for
nothing, desired nothing, did not
wish for anything, was utterly
indifferent about the sunshine or
happiness.”
Þorbergur’s Bréf til Láru,
published in 1924, marked
the beginning of modernity in
Icelandic letters, yet he didn’t
write fiction again until 1938. By
then, Halldór Laxness had come
to dominate the literary scene
with a new book every second
year. Þórbergur himself took
up yoga and socialism during
this period. He set to work on
a six-volume memoir of Séra
Árni Þórarinsson, an old pastor
with whom he identified deeply,
going so far as performing as
Séra Árni, which became a
popular form of standup.
In the mid-1950s,
Þórbergur published
Sálmurinn um blómið (The
Psalm of the Flower), an
imaginative biography of a
young girl. This book tells
the story of a newborn who
comes directly from God, but
who is affected by the world
as time goes by. (Þórbergur
himself loved to tease the
children in his neighbourhood
– in contrast to Laxness, who
was more concerned with his
public image. Children would
gather around him, calling,
“Þórbergur, bring out the
water spirit” – and he would
then pour water over them.)
Throughout Sálmurinn um
blómið, the narrator keeps
pausing to say he’s not writing
a novel, but if he were – and
then he then launches into
parody of Laxness.
In one of his two recent
novels to be translated into
English, The Stones Speak,
Þórbergur seeks to recreate the
South County of his youth.
Þórbergur died at 86 in
1974, yet his audience may be
larger today than it was in his
own lifetime. Pétur observed
wryly that “writers sometimes
become trapped in purgatory
following their deaths” and
“some stay forever in hell,
but Þórbergur Þórðarson has
progressed far better.” His
birthplace, a six-hour drive
from Reykjavík, is now home
to a museum that received
120,000 visitors last year.
Pétur Gunnarsson closed
his fascinating presentation
by observing that Þórbergur
Þórðarson believed in
reincarnation and his belief is
coming true, in a sense – at least
where his writing is concerned.
Rubbing shoulders with
the authors
When our visiting authors
had concluded, PJ Buchan
presided over a brief question and
answer period – astonishingly
brief, since those in attendance
had mostly been charmed into
silence and reflectiveness.
One questioner asked Pétur
Gunnarsson if he sew parallels
between the Norwegian Nobel
laureate Knut Hamsun and
Þórbergur Þórðarson. Pétur
indicated that Hamsun’s book
Hunger is widely read in
Iceland and it is possible to see
parallels between that work and
Þórvaldur’s Icelandic Nobles
and Idiot Savants. However, the
period of hunger in Þórbergur’s
book is limited to two or three
chapters, whereas the hunger
carries on throughout Hamsun’s
book.
The evening concluded
with attendees joining the
visiting authors for robust
conversation over refreshments
in the meeting room, which
lingered long into the evening.
This year’s Páll Guðmundsson
Lecture Series had proven to
be a wide-ranging and deeply
satisfying adventure through
modern Icelandic literature.
THE ICELANDIC FESTIVAL OF MANITOBA invites you to submit previously
unpublished poetry (three entries per person limit) and/or a short story (one
entry per person). Prize money will be awarded and successful entries will be
published in the festival booklet. Categories are as follows:
POETRY AND SHORT
STORY CONTEST
SHORT STORY
POETRY
POETRY
POETRY
Open
Open
Intermediate (13-18)
Junior (12 and under)
Submissions which contain material reflecting Icelandic interest or Icelandic
culture will be given preference. Entries will not be returned.
Email or mail your material before May 25, 2015 to:
Shelley Narfason, Executive Director, Íslendingadagurinn
Mail: Icelandic Festival Writing Contest, #107 94-1st Ave. Gimli, MB R0C 1B1
Email: Icefest@mts.net
Visiting Authors
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