3.5 Stars
Hekla is a young woman who aspires to be a writer. She leaves home for Reykjavík, but she encounters obstacles to the fulfillment of her dreams. The male-dominated community wants its women in beauty contests or in domestic roles.
Writing is Hekla’s obsession. When her friend Isey asks her whether she wants a boyfriend or to write books, Hekla answers, “In my dream world the most important things would be: a sheet of paper, fountain pen and a male body. When we’ve finished making love, he’s welcome to ask if he can refill the fountain pen with ink for me.” Later, she tells Isey, “’Writing. It’s my lifeline.’” Whereas male writers gather in cafes to discuss writing, she devotes every free moment to actually writing. She starts a relationship with Starkadur, one of these men, and for the longest time doesn’t share that she writes, knowing that he wouldn’t understand that a woman could have a passion for writing. His Christmas gift to her is a cookery book. When she does eventually reveal her secret, he acknowledges her devotion: “’If you’re not working, you’re writing. If you’re not writing, you’re reading. You’d drain your own veins if you ran out of ink.’” She persists even when she is told, “’The world isn’t the way you want it to be . . . You’re a woman. Come to terms with that.’”
Hekla is published but used a male pseudonym. When she sends a manuscript to a publisher, he comments, “’There’s certainly a daring and fearless element in the prose, to be honest I would have thought it had been written by a man . . .’” He declines to publish and makes pointed reference to having heard that she declined to compete for the Miss Iceland title.
Men, on the other hand, “’are born poets. By the time of their confirmation, they’ve taken on the inescapable role of being geniuses. It doesn’t matter whether they write books or not.’” There are some wonderful jabs at these men who think of themselves as poets. Starkadur who claims, “’there are so few female novelists in Iceland and they’re all bad,’” has a poem accepted for publication despite the fact that it has a “line that starts with ‘assuage the wound’ and ends with ‘crepuscular gasping of mantled hopes’.” He quits his job at a library because he wants an “environment for inspiration”! Hekla’s father writes that “It’s actually quite amazing how so many poets lack physical stamina. If they’re not blind like Homer, Milton and Borges, they’re lame and can’t do any sort of labour.”
Hekla’s only real friends in the city are also trapped by societal expectations. Isey dreams of being a writer too but finds herself as a housewife married to a barely literate man who is “good at sleeping through the children crying at night”; she resorts to writing in a diary but the busy life of housewife and mother leaves her with few options; she has an opportunity to read only if “the fishmonger packs the haddock in a poem or a serialized story.” Eventually she writes to Hekla that she has “packed away my wings.” Isey serves to show what Hekla’s life could be like if she gives up pursuing her goal.
Jon John is a gay man who wants to be a fashion designer but has to take jobs on ships where he is routinely humiliated and brutalized. He compares the treatment he receives to the oppression of blacks in the United States at the time. Jon John mentions that “’The Icelandic government negotiated a deal to make sure there would be no blacks at the [Keflavík Air] base.’” Iceland also wants no homosexuals. Jon John’s is a sad story: “Men only want to sleep with me when they’re drunk, they don’t want to talk afterwards and be friends. While they’re pulling on their trousers, they make you swear three times that you won’t tell anyone. They take you to the outskirts of Heidmörk and you’re lucky if they drive you back into town.’” Society sees him as a freak: “’They consider us the same as paedophiles. Mothers call in their children when a queer approaches. Queers’ homes are broken into and completely trashed. They’re spat on. If they have phones, they’re called in the middle of the night with death threats. . . . It’s so difficult not to be scared. . . . I wish I weren’t the way I am, but I can’t change that.’”
For anyone who has visited Reykjavík, reading this novel will undoubtedly bring back memories. I loved reading the street names in the city, streets like Laugavegur and Bankastræti down which we strolled. I was reminded of the Mál og Menning bookstore in which I browsed. Visitors to the city cannot escape noticing Hallgrímskirkja, and Hekla makes reference to its being built. Mention is made to historic events like the assassination of JFK, the awarding the Nobel Peace Prize to MLK, and the Beatles’ concert in Copenhagen; these will resonate with older readers.
The style of the book can best be described as sparse and restrained. It consists of short passages which resemble vignettes. These sometimes give an impression of disjointedness. Hekla is the narrator, but the first-person narration does not include any of her thoughts. Her voice is unemotional and often feels impersonal so it is difficult for the reader to connect with her.
The ending bothered me. It is very abrupt. The entire last section entitled “The Body of the Earth” left me wondering about exactly what happened. The flashback strikes me as strange, and the last letter left me questioning Hekla’s motives. Did she really make that request?
My only experience with Icelandic literature has been crime fiction from writers such as Arnaldur Indriðason, Ragnar Jónasson, and Yrsa Sigurðardóttir, so it is great to read another genre. Auður Ava Ólafsdóttir has apparently written other novels and the quality of Miss Iceland has me convinced that I should check them out as well.
Note: I received a digital galley from the publisher via NetGalley.
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