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The Master of Hestviken #1
The Axe
Set in thirteenth-century Norway, a land racked by political turmoil and bloody family vendettas, The Axe is the first volume in Sigrid Undset's epic tetralogy, The Master of Hestviken . In it we meet Olav Audunsson and Ingunn Steinfinnsdatter, who were betrothed as children and raised as brother and sister. Now, in the heedlessness of youth, they become lovers, unaware that their ardor will forge the first link in a chain of murder, exile, and disgrace.
Soaringly romantic and psychologically nuanced, Undset's novel is also a meticulous re-creation of a world split between pagan codes of retribution and the rigors of Christian piety--a world where law is a fragile new invention and manslaughter is so common that it's punishable by fine.
Soaringly romantic and psychologically nuanced, Undset's novel is also a meticulous re-creation of a world split between pagan codes of retribution and the rigors of Christian piety--a world where law is a fragile new invention and manslaughter is so common that it's punishable by fine.
304 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1925
About the author
Sigrid Undset
183 books765 followersUndset was born in Kalundborg, Denmark, but her family moved to Norway when she was two years old. In 1924, she converted to Catholicism and became a lay Dominican. She fled Norway in 1940 because of her opposition to Nazi Germany and the German occupation, but returned after the end of World War II in 1945.
Sigrid Undset received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1928. Most of the praise was for her medieval novels, including the trilogy about Kristin Lavransdatter. This trilogy has been translated into more than 80 languages and is among the world’s most read novels.
Sigrid Undset received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1928. Most of the praise was for her medieval novels, including the trilogy about Kristin Lavransdatter. This trilogy has been translated into more than 80 languages and is among the world’s most read novels.
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September 20, 2020
A past dream, "recalling rocks arching up in the middle of the courtyard at Hestviken...Behind the livestock sheds...a steep wall of shiny dark stone with water trickling down its face. And tall, green thickets...a low-tide shore... across seaweed...picking up snail shells...", memories of Olav's childhood on his family estate in medieval Norway, a life abruptly uprooted.
Olav's father, Audun, had worked alongside Steinfinn, Ingunn's father both as royal retainers. Encountering each other years later at a ting, a Nordic meeting, Steinfinn reconnected with Audun bringing him and his seven year old son Olav to his estate in Frettastein. The fathers, seemingly drunk, made a pact...seven year old Olav and six year old Ingunn...a small bridal couple...a gold ring placed on Ingunn's tiny finger...the children drank to their betrothal from a drinking horn...a paternal handshake sealed the deal. Very ill and weak, Audun died but not before Steinfinn promised to raise Olav as his foster son until Olav "...was a man and could lead his bride home."
"[Olav] could no more think of parting ways with [Ingunn]...than he could part ways with himself...he would be with Ingunn forever. That was the only certainty in his life. He and Ingunn were inextricably bound to one another...like solid ground beneath his feet...truly his possession and his destiny...". Olav was 16 years old, Ingunn, 15. "...everyone and everything seemed to be warning of impending change and weighty events...so Olav found it only sensible...to give serious thought to his marriage". Steinfinn's circumstances had changed...[Ingunn and Olav] must hurry up and marry so Ingunn could claim her dowry.
Medieval legal and church codes clashed. Olav and Ingunn had acted upon their emotions, after all, they were betrothed. Ingunn's kinsmen felt differently. Upon Steinfinn's death, the young couple travel to Hamar hoping that the church would uphold their union. Are there those who witnessed the betrothal so many years ago? By assuming they were betrothed, "...in a single, heated moment [Olav] seemed to understand fully what it [meant] to possess her but also to lose her". Would their vows be upheld by the church?
"Olav Audunsson: I. Vows" by Nobel Prize winner Sigrid Undset is the first book in a new English translation of the tetralogy previously translated as "The Master of Hestviken" and published in 1925. Perhaps melodramatic in nature, it describes heathen practices of murder, revenge, shame and banishment. "Two young people bound together by an early promise-ruthlessly manipulated by conniving family members and subjected to confusing laws, both secular and religious" [as stated in the the translator notes by Tiina Nunnally]. The plight of Olav Audunsson, from his POV is described in Part I of the tome, while Part II details Ingunn Steinfinnsdatter's longings and frustrations. Beautifully written, author Unset immerses the reader completely in the controversies between kinship bonds versus the laws of the church and state in 13th century Norway. This reader would love to read the remaining three volumes of the tetralogy titled "Providence" "Crossroads" and "Winter". It is hoped that the University of Minnesota Press will release these volumes in English translation. I enthusiastically recommend this tome.
Thank you University of Minnesota Press and Net Galley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Olav's father, Audun, had worked alongside Steinfinn, Ingunn's father both as royal retainers. Encountering each other years later at a ting, a Nordic meeting, Steinfinn reconnected with Audun bringing him and his seven year old son Olav to his estate in Frettastein. The fathers, seemingly drunk, made a pact...seven year old Olav and six year old Ingunn...a small bridal couple...a gold ring placed on Ingunn's tiny finger...the children drank to their betrothal from a drinking horn...a paternal handshake sealed the deal. Very ill and weak, Audun died but not before Steinfinn promised to raise Olav as his foster son until Olav "...was a man and could lead his bride home."
"[Olav] could no more think of parting ways with [Ingunn]...than he could part ways with himself...he would be with Ingunn forever. That was the only certainty in his life. He and Ingunn were inextricably bound to one another...like solid ground beneath his feet...truly his possession and his destiny...". Olav was 16 years old, Ingunn, 15. "...everyone and everything seemed to be warning of impending change and weighty events...so Olav found it only sensible...to give serious thought to his marriage". Steinfinn's circumstances had changed...[Ingunn and Olav] must hurry up and marry so Ingunn could claim her dowry.
Medieval legal and church codes clashed. Olav and Ingunn had acted upon their emotions, after all, they were betrothed. Ingunn's kinsmen felt differently. Upon Steinfinn's death, the young couple travel to Hamar hoping that the church would uphold their union. Are there those who witnessed the betrothal so many years ago? By assuming they were betrothed, "...in a single, heated moment [Olav] seemed to understand fully what it [meant] to possess her but also to lose her". Would their vows be upheld by the church?
"Olav Audunsson: I. Vows" by Nobel Prize winner Sigrid Undset is the first book in a new English translation of the tetralogy previously translated as "The Master of Hestviken" and published in 1925. Perhaps melodramatic in nature, it describes heathen practices of murder, revenge, shame and banishment. "Two young people bound together by an early promise-ruthlessly manipulated by conniving family members and subjected to confusing laws, both secular and religious" [as stated in the the translator notes by Tiina Nunnally]. The plight of Olav Audunsson, from his POV is described in Part I of the tome, while Part II details Ingunn Steinfinnsdatter's longings and frustrations. Beautifully written, author Unset immerses the reader completely in the controversies between kinship bonds versus the laws of the church and state in 13th century Norway. This reader would love to read the remaining three volumes of the tetralogy titled "Providence" "Crossroads" and "Winter". It is hoped that the University of Minnesota Press will release these volumes in English translation. I enthusiastically recommend this tome.
Thank you University of Minnesota Press and Net Galley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
November 13, 2020
3★
“And as he grew, so did his love for the only one he felt was truly his possession and his destiny, though he barely noticed this himself. His affection for her was a matter of habit, long before his love acquired enough radiance and color that he became aware of how it had filled him. That was how things stood until the summer after Olav Audunssøn had turned sixteen in the spring. Ingunn was then fifteen winters old.”
I admit I expected something special from an author who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1928 when the author was 36. I believe the translator is also an award-winning translator, so that just whetted my appetite. This was first published in 1925, the first of a four-part saga about The Master of Hestviken.
I’m sorry I don’t read Norwegian, so I have no idea how good the translation is. I found the style uneven and wooden. Too much of it sounded more like a newspaper report than a novel.
“And when the marriage ale celebration was held at Frettastein for Haakon Gautssøn and Tora Steinfinnsdatter a short time before Advent, no one from Miklebø attended. The wedding then took place just after New Year’s in 1282, and afterward the newly married couple traveled around to visit the young wife’s kinsmen, for Haakon was the youngest son of many brothers and therefore had no estate of his own in Vestlandet.”
A minor quibble, for example, is that the word “folks” was used constantly when “people” or “folk” would have sounded more appropriate. As it was, the phrasing sounded weirdly modern, but I think that’s probably the translation, not the original text.
“And if they agree with the arrangement that was made by their parents, nothing more needs to be done; they can live together as married folks.”
It's the story of two children, a daughter and a foster son who are raised together after being betrothed by both their fathers to be wed when they reach marriageable age. Ingunn and Olav are the boy and girl, both of whom are nice enough characters. There is plenty of background and history to fill us in on life in Scandinavia in the 1200s. It was cold and harsh.
There was also great beauty – of course!
“Big clouds drifted across the sky, casting shadows that turned the forest land below a dark blue, with spaces of green meadow and white fields gleaming brightly in between. And the fjord was gray with shiny dark currents on the surface that reflected slivers of the autumn landscape. Occasionally the sun would come out, and the sharp golden light would sting their eyes and bring a blazing heat, but as soon as a cloud moved in front, the sun’s warmth would quickly disappear. And the ground was cold and raw.”
That’s what I mean by uneven. Just as I would get bogged down in a rather dull recitation of facts, there would be a lyrical interlude into someone’s thoughts and imagination. I did enjoy the historical aspects – the lifestyle, the beds, where people lay side by side to visit and chat privately but innocently. There isn’t a lot about everyday life, though, as there is in some historical novels. Perhaps that’s a more modern addition, now that research is so much easier.
The children are fast friends, and as they hit their teens (in the introductory quotation) they are beginning to see each other differently. Olav realises – quite suddenly – that ingunn holds a strong attraction for him in ways that were completely new to him.
The marriage laws, the relationships, the alliances, the promises, these are all the same stuff of the royal families of Europe, but this is Norway in the 1200s. The characters represent different families – almost tribes, if you will – and the links between allies or the conflict between enemies, rule everything.
I was interested in how men (I think it was always and only men) were able to atone for their killings by paying some kind of fine, if it was acceptable to the family who had been wronged.
I was also interested in the wearing of the wimple by married women, who were required to hide their hair, much as other cultures demand. At one point, Ingunn has worn a wimple for 18 months, as she and Olav are considered ‘married’, but later, someone says well, no, you aren’t really, so take it off and let your hair down. She feels almost denuded and insists on braiding/plaiting her hair severely rather than let it flow beautifully.
[It fascinates me how people today criticise cultures where women cover their hair although their own cultures probably fostered similar restrictions in the past. Consider nuns, for example. But I digress.]
The young couple is together, thwarted, separated, reunited, separated . . . and you’ll have to read it to find out. There is romance for romance lovers and there is a bit of action and history. I read to the end, really just to see if there was a cliffhanger, but I found it too uneven to consider pursing any further volumes.
Thanks to NetGalley and University of Minnesota Press for the copy for review.
“And as he grew, so did his love for the only one he felt was truly his possession and his destiny, though he barely noticed this himself. His affection for her was a matter of habit, long before his love acquired enough radiance and color that he became aware of how it had filled him. That was how things stood until the summer after Olav Audunssøn had turned sixteen in the spring. Ingunn was then fifteen winters old.”
I admit I expected something special from an author who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1928 when the author was 36. I believe the translator is also an award-winning translator, so that just whetted my appetite. This was first published in 1925, the first of a four-part saga about The Master of Hestviken.
I’m sorry I don’t read Norwegian, so I have no idea how good the translation is. I found the style uneven and wooden. Too much of it sounded more like a newspaper report than a novel.
“And when the marriage ale celebration was held at Frettastein for Haakon Gautssøn and Tora Steinfinnsdatter a short time before Advent, no one from Miklebø attended. The wedding then took place just after New Year’s in 1282, and afterward the newly married couple traveled around to visit the young wife’s kinsmen, for Haakon was the youngest son of many brothers and therefore had no estate of his own in Vestlandet.”
A minor quibble, for example, is that the word “folks” was used constantly when “people” or “folk” would have sounded more appropriate. As it was, the phrasing sounded weirdly modern, but I think that’s probably the translation, not the original text.
“And if they agree with the arrangement that was made by their parents, nothing more needs to be done; they can live together as married folks.”
It's the story of two children, a daughter and a foster son who are raised together after being betrothed by both their fathers to be wed when they reach marriageable age. Ingunn and Olav are the boy and girl, both of whom are nice enough characters. There is plenty of background and history to fill us in on life in Scandinavia in the 1200s. It was cold and harsh.
There was also great beauty – of course!
“Big clouds drifted across the sky, casting shadows that turned the forest land below a dark blue, with spaces of green meadow and white fields gleaming brightly in between. And the fjord was gray with shiny dark currents on the surface that reflected slivers of the autumn landscape. Occasionally the sun would come out, and the sharp golden light would sting their eyes and bring a blazing heat, but as soon as a cloud moved in front, the sun’s warmth would quickly disappear. And the ground was cold and raw.”
That’s what I mean by uneven. Just as I would get bogged down in a rather dull recitation of facts, there would be a lyrical interlude into someone’s thoughts and imagination. I did enjoy the historical aspects – the lifestyle, the beds, where people lay side by side to visit and chat privately but innocently. There isn’t a lot about everyday life, though, as there is in some historical novels. Perhaps that’s a more modern addition, now that research is so much easier.
The children are fast friends, and as they hit their teens (in the introductory quotation) they are beginning to see each other differently. Olav realises – quite suddenly – that ingunn holds a strong attraction for him in ways that were completely new to him.
The marriage laws, the relationships, the alliances, the promises, these are all the same stuff of the royal families of Europe, but this is Norway in the 1200s. The characters represent different families – almost tribes, if you will – and the links between allies or the conflict between enemies, rule everything.
I was interested in how men (I think it was always and only men) were able to atone for their killings by paying some kind of fine, if it was acceptable to the family who had been wronged.
I was also interested in the wearing of the wimple by married women, who were required to hide their hair, much as other cultures demand. At one point, Ingunn has worn a wimple for 18 months, as she and Olav are considered ‘married’, but later, someone says well, no, you aren’t really, so take it off and let your hair down. She feels almost denuded and insists on braiding/plaiting her hair severely rather than let it flow beautifully.
[It fascinates me how people today criticise cultures where women cover their hair although their own cultures probably fostered similar restrictions in the past. Consider nuns, for example. But I digress.]
The young couple is together, thwarted, separated, reunited, separated . . . and you’ll have to read it to find out. There is romance for romance lovers and there is a bit of action and history. I read to the end, really just to see if there was a cliffhanger, but I found it too uneven to consider pursing any further volumes.
Thanks to NetGalley and University of Minnesota Press for the copy for review.
August 23, 2020
“It’s easy to be a good Christian, Olav, as long as God makes no more demands upon you than inviting you to church to listen to beautiful songs and asking you to obey Him while He pats you with His fatherly hand. But a man’s faith can be tested on the day when God does not want the same thing he wants. Let me tell you what Bishop Torfinn said the other day when we were speaking of your case. ‘May God grant,’ he said, ‘that the boy learns to understand over time that for a man who insists on doing what he wants to do, there will soon come a day when he sees he has done what he never intended to do.’”
Sigrid Undset received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1928 — mostly in consideration of her Kristin Lavransdatter series which centres on the life of a headstrong woman in Medieval Norway — and now in a new English translation, her series about Olav Audunssøn (which centres on a headstrong young man in Medieval Norway and released previously as The Master of Hestviken in 1927) is evidently being rereleased, beginning with this first volume: Olav Audunssøn: I. Vows. I haven’t read Undset before and I find myself impressed by her ability to bring such a foreign time and place to breathing life without resorting to digressions on culture and customs and artefacts; everything we need to learn is organically inserted into the plot and dialogue, and it was all simply fascinating to me. The plot itself is pretty melodramatic — with murders, betrayals, seduction, and exile — but it works well to put Undset’s characters into extreme situations in order to explore Norway’s evolving religious and legal codes. This was a pleasure to read and I look forward to finding more by Undset. (Note: I read an ARC through NetGalley and passages quoted may not be in their final forms.)
That was how things stood for Olav Audunssøn, that was his fate; he would be with Ingunn forever. That was the only certainty in his life. He and Ingunn were inextricably bound to one another. He seldom thought of that evening when he and Ingunn were promised to each other, and it had been many years since anyone had mentioned the betrothal of the two children. Yet underlying everything he felt and thought, it was there like solid ground beneath his feet: the fact that he would always live with Ingunn. The boy had no kinsmen he might turn to. No doubt he knew that Hestviken was now his property, but with every passing year his images of the estate became less and less clear. They were like bits and pieces of a dream he recalled. If he imagined that one day he would return to live there, he found it comforting and right that he would take Ingunn with him. The two of them would face the unknown future together.
When Olav Audunssøn was seven years old, his dying father implored his acquaintance Steinfinn Toressøn to take his boy in as his foster son, and in a gesture of drunken goodwill, Steinfinn agreed and also bound the boy in betrothal to his own six-year-old daughter, Ingunn. Olav and Ingunn were then raised together as brother and sister, but always aware that when they were grown, they would be wed. But when Ingunn’s parents both die while she is still underage, her father’s kinsmen refuse to acknowledge Olav’s claim to the girl, and begin seeking a more advantageous alliance. Olav — only fifteen himself at this point and uncertain of what inheritance awaits him in the south of the country — will take matters into his own hands, and always believing that he is following God’s law if not man’s, will tread an honourable path that nonetheless puts Ingunn under unbearable pressure.
Olav and Ingunn are both from Norway’s noble class, and the family they are raised in are rich landholders with crops and livestock, hired servants and thralls. The people follow ancient codes of honour — revenge can involve duels and murder, with bloodprices paid out to families and fines paid out to the Church — and while the Church is attempting to enforce a new common legal code, the noblemen themselves believe, “These new laws are as effective as a fart. The old laws work better for men of honor.” The question of whether Olav and Ingunn are legally bound is interpreted differently by the Church and the kinsmen, but appealing to the protection of the Church, Olav sets off on a very long quest while Ingunn finds sanctuary with other family members:
Shivering with cold, she realized that she was nothing more than a defenseless, abandoned, and fatherless child, neither maiden nor wife, and not a single friend did she have who would uphold her right. Olav had disappeared and no one knew where he was; the bishop was gone; Arnvid was far away, and she was unable to send word to him. There was no one to whom she could turn except her old paternal grandmother, who had now retreated into childhood, if her ruthless kinsmen should decide to take their revenge on her. A small, quivering, and trembling thing, she curled herself around the only scrap of determination within her weak and instinct-driven soul: she would steadfastly trust in Olav and remain faithful to him, even if, because of him, they should torture the very life out of her.
Like I said, melodramatic stuff, but it serves to explore the crimes and consequences attributed to men (mostly involving murder), the crimes and consequences involving women (mostly involving chastity), how the rapidly changing fates of Norway’s monarchial class affected the lives of their noblemen in the sticks, and how the Catholic Church was attempting to enforce control over folks who defaulted to their own ancient codes of honour. At its heart, this is a love story, but it so completely explores the inner lives and outer realities of people from such a different time and place from me that I don’t think it could have been done half so well without the melodrama; it’s epic and I hope to eventually learn how the story ends.
March 6, 2018
It's hard to write a review of The Axe without comparing this book - the first of a tetralogy - to Kristin Lavransdatter, which I read last year and really loved. Both series are historical fiction set in the Middle Ages in Norway, and were originally written in Norwegian by the Nobel Prize-winning author Sigrid Undset. The society and customs of medieval Norway may be foreign to us, but Undset's characters are so vivid and interesting that her books act as a window into another time. They feel similar, in some ways, to Elena Ferrante's Naples tetralogy: firmly grounded in a particular time and place, but with gorgeous writing and the exploration of themes that are still very relevant to readers today.
The Axe splits its perspective between Olav and Ingunn, who are betrothed as children and raised as foster siblings. Like Kristin, this book deals very heavily in the societal strictures of the nobility, and particularly in the contract and bonds of marriage. This is a love story—Olav and Ingunn fall in love as teenagers—but the two are forced apart because of the demands of family and the law. Thirteenth-century Norway is tumultuous, with a line of kings who only reign for one year or two, and marriages for power, rather than pure wealth, are paramount for an individual family's success. Olav, as a rich but poorly connected orphan, doesn't fit the dreams of Ingunn's uncles, and they connive to invalidate the betrothal made when the two were children. Unfortunately, Olav and Ingunn take matters into their own hands first by sleeping with each other (a definite no) and then running to the local bishop to help them out of their quandary. It's a series of interlocking social norms that don't quite mesh, underscored by the tension between the rise of Christianity and Norway's pagan past. Are Ingunn's uncles honoring the contract made when the two were children, in front of witnesses? Is Olav dishonored by his foster father, who doesn't make provisions for the marriage, or does he dishonor his foster family by sleeping with Ingunn? What is the line between childhood and adulthood, and when does a marriage contract backed by men become a contract with the divine?
This is weirdly compelling stuff, underlined by the flaws of Olav and Ingunn themselves. They aren't perfect, star-crossed lovers, denied their happy ending by outside forces. More than anyone else, they prevent their own marriage, even when they don't realize it. Olav is presented as our hero, who strives for the rights granted to him, but he's also revealed to be wildly inconsistent and hotheaded, someone whose loyalty to his family or liege usually flies in the face of what's best for Ingunn. Ingunn is trapped between maiden and wife for nine (!!) years, but she isn't a paragon of constancy. She's depicted as weak, not very smart, and in desperate need of guidance, moving between obstinacy and flightiness depending on her circumstances. This isn't the world of Kristin, where you get a more female-centric view of the social structure and its effects. The Axe presents nuanced views of how men and women have to move within the boundaries, and what is and is not permitted, and how Olav and Ingunn uniquely fail the tests presented to them.
There are two other key factors that make Undset's books so good. The first is her descriptions of Norway in all its seasons. You can clearly visualize the color of the light in autumn, or how the snow changes from one hour to the next, or the differences between the fiords at Berg and Hestviken. The second is the depiction of faith. These books are deeply religious in a sincere and genuine way. Ingunn's choice at the end of the book is dramatic and captivating partially because the stakes for her, as a Christian, are so high. Of course the church is different in medieval Norway. Priests have children and the bishops are caught up in the secular power struggles of the warring kings. But faith underpins everything in the book, from Ingunn's faith that Olav will come back to her, to the struggle between the old laws and the new.
My main complaint with this book is the translation. The edition of Kristin that I read was translated by Tiina Nunnally, and feels considerably more modern. The only English translation of The Master of Hestviken, as far as I can tell, is this one, done by Arthur Chater. The characters are always saying things like "I trow" and "I ween" and "I wis." It could be worse, I guess.
And now for some spoilers and more comparisons to Kristin!
I would highly recommend reading Undset. Kristin Lavransdatter is the place to start, but I'm very much enjoying The Master of Hestviken and hope the next few books live up to this one.
The Axe splits its perspective between Olav and Ingunn, who are betrothed as children and raised as foster siblings. Like Kristin, this book deals very heavily in the societal strictures of the nobility, and particularly in the contract and bonds of marriage. This is a love story—Olav and Ingunn fall in love as teenagers—but the two are forced apart because of the demands of family and the law. Thirteenth-century Norway is tumultuous, with a line of kings who only reign for one year or two, and marriages for power, rather than pure wealth, are paramount for an individual family's success. Olav, as a rich but poorly connected orphan, doesn't fit the dreams of Ingunn's uncles, and they connive to invalidate the betrothal made when the two were children. Unfortunately, Olav and Ingunn take matters into their own hands first by sleeping with each other (a definite no) and then running to the local bishop to help them out of their quandary. It's a series of interlocking social norms that don't quite mesh, underscored by the tension between the rise of Christianity and Norway's pagan past. Are Ingunn's uncles honoring the contract made when the two were children, in front of witnesses? Is Olav dishonored by his foster father, who doesn't make provisions for the marriage, or does he dishonor his foster family by sleeping with Ingunn? What is the line between childhood and adulthood, and when does a marriage contract backed by men become a contract with the divine?
This is weirdly compelling stuff, underlined by the flaws of Olav and Ingunn themselves. They aren't perfect, star-crossed lovers, denied their happy ending by outside forces. More than anyone else, they prevent their own marriage, even when they don't realize it. Olav is presented as our hero, who strives for the rights granted to him, but he's also revealed to be wildly inconsistent and hotheaded, someone whose loyalty to his family or liege usually flies in the face of what's best for Ingunn. Ingunn is trapped between maiden and wife for nine (!!) years, but she isn't a paragon of constancy. She's depicted as weak, not very smart, and in desperate need of guidance, moving between obstinacy and flightiness depending on her circumstances. This isn't the world of Kristin, where you get a more female-centric view of the social structure and its effects. The Axe presents nuanced views of how men and women have to move within the boundaries, and what is and is not permitted, and how Olav and Ingunn uniquely fail the tests presented to them.
There are two other key factors that make Undset's books so good. The first is her descriptions of Norway in all its seasons. You can clearly visualize the color of the light in autumn, or how the snow changes from one hour to the next, or the differences between the fiords at Berg and Hestviken. The second is the depiction of faith. These books are deeply religious in a sincere and genuine way. Ingunn's choice at the end of the book is dramatic and captivating partially because the stakes for her, as a Christian, are so high. Of course the church is different in medieval Norway. Priests have children and the bishops are caught up in the secular power struggles of the warring kings. But faith underpins everything in the book, from Ingunn's faith that Olav will come back to her, to the struggle between the old laws and the new.
My main complaint with this book is the translation. The edition of Kristin that I read was translated by Tiina Nunnally, and feels considerably more modern. The only English translation of The Master of Hestviken, as far as I can tell, is this one, done by Arthur Chater. The characters are always saying things like "I trow" and "I ween" and "I wis." It could be worse, I guess.
And now for some spoilers and more comparisons to Kristin!
I would highly recommend reading Undset. Kristin Lavransdatter is the place to start, but I'm very much enjoying The Master of Hestviken and hope the next few books live up to this one.
June 5, 2024
Undset picked a really interesting time period in which to base her story. I was expecting a more Viking-type of tale, however late 13th century Scandanavia was a time of transition. The Viking culture was now largely a Christian based culture, but with Viking sensibilities still rooted in communities. As our main characters Olav and Ingunn come of age, this transition leads to rising tensions, particularly between the Church representatives and the nobles.
This is the first book in a tetralogy and focuses on the relationship of the story's two main protagonists, Olav and his fiancee, Ingunn. All kinds of drama pops up as the two come of age and are eager to honor their fathers' pledge to marry the two of them. This may sound kind of lame, but we have plenty of intrigue, murder, and betrayal. Olav and several others are strong characters. Ingunn is a frustrating character, but something tells me that she's going to be easy to root for in the coming books.
As to the author, I love Undset's style. Nothing flowery about the writing style, but she allows deep access into the minds of her characters. All of their emotions just pour out onto the page. It can make even a quiet scene quit stirring. I am very impressed. She won a Nobel for a reason. I am going to jump right back into book 2 today. A rating does not mean much until the entire series is read, but this a promising start and an excellent book on its own merit. Solid four stars.
This is the first book in a tetralogy and focuses on the relationship of the story's two main protagonists, Olav and his fiancee, Ingunn. All kinds of drama pops up as the two come of age and are eager to honor their fathers' pledge to marry the two of them. This may sound kind of lame, but we have plenty of intrigue, murder, and betrayal. Olav and several others are strong characters. Ingunn is a frustrating character, but something tells me that she's going to be easy to root for in the coming books.
As to the author, I love Undset's style. Nothing flowery about the writing style, but she allows deep access into the minds of her characters. All of their emotions just pour out onto the page. It can make even a quiet scene quit stirring. I am very impressed. She won a Nobel for a reason. I am going to jump right back into book 2 today. A rating does not mean much until the entire series is read, but this a promising start and an excellent book on its own merit. Solid four stars.
March 4, 2012
Sanctimonious men, denigrating women. Religion crammed down the throats of the people. Guilt, recrimination, no recourse to birth control. Then I turned off the TV and finished this book.
February 22, 2010
I'd give this five stars if it was a better translation. Unlike Tina Nunnally's recent translation of Kristin Lavransdatter, this one by Charles Chater from 1928 was a bit archaic (words like "meseems" and "I trow" kind of bug me.) Nevertheless, it was still an intense and moving story--and it's only Part I.
It's set in the late 1200s in Norway, and is the story of Olav and Ingunn's struggle to validate their betrothal. Again I'm struck by the intriguing mix of pagan traditions, Christianity, and a culture where laws are new and manslaughter common--especially as retribution for any wrong done to a family. And the characters are well-developed--both Olav and Ingunn have the best intentions, but are flawed and make mistakes. Olav struggles as an orphan to make his way in the world while Ingunn can do nothing but wait for him. The role of women is also interesting--their virtue and chastity are valued only because of the honor they would bring to a man, and Ingunn has no identity outside of being someone's daughter, wife, or kinswoman. And murder is more acceptable than a woman caught in adultery. Ingunn is treated harshly for her choices, but Olav's ending decision makes me excited to read the next volume.
It's set in the late 1200s in Norway, and is the story of Olav and Ingunn's struggle to validate their betrothal. Again I'm struck by the intriguing mix of pagan traditions, Christianity, and a culture where laws are new and manslaughter common--especially as retribution for any wrong done to a family. And the characters are well-developed--both Olav and Ingunn have the best intentions, but are flawed and make mistakes. Olav struggles as an orphan to make his way in the world while Ingunn can do nothing but wait for him. The role of women is also interesting--their virtue and chastity are valued only because of the honor they would bring to a man, and Ingunn has no identity outside of being someone's daughter, wife, or kinswoman. And murder is more acceptable than a woman caught in adultery. Ingunn is treated harshly for her choices, but Olav's ending decision makes me excited to read the next volume.
June 27, 2021
I like Tiina Nunnally's translation of Olav Audunssøn's Vows. She makes it so readable that it seems as if Sigrid Undset was living now rather than when she wrote the story in 1902 with the first draft of Olav Audunssøn. The book stems from the two fathers of Olav and Ingunn making them bound by oath to be wed someday. Giving a ring to Olav as wedding present to Ingunn. Sigrid transforms this into something that affects the lives of Olav and Ingunn with everything that they do. It takes over 10 years to bring them together. We follow their lives with the deaths of the people who have allowed this to happen. And the people who put a stop to the union with their deaths. I was amazed how the lives of Ingunn and Olav had changed over the years and followed the story with wonder. I can see how in 1928 Sigrid Undset won the Nobel prize for this story. Many things stay the same.
February 19, 2019
This book is absolutely gorgeous! I could not put it down and it is but the first of four! I don't even know what to say about this book-- there is so much to say. I loved it-- it's one of the best I have ever read.
A favorite quote: "But a man's faith is put to the test on the day God's will is not his.”
A favorite quote: "But a man's faith is put to the test on the day God's will is not his.”
March 21, 2023
3 - 3.5 stars
Wow, these two characters, just…wow. I’m not sure if circumstances, their personal character, or the machine of societal mores are most to blame, but Olav and Ingunn go through the proverbial wringer and their story is only beginning!
Seemingly equal parts medieval saga, soap opera, historical fiction, and character study this book follows the lives of two 13th century Norwegians betrothed as children who grow up as foster-siblings and ultimately find themselves tragic lovers who seem destined by fate, and their own poor judgement, to suffer pretty much all the slings and arrows outrageous fortune has in his quiver. Olav, our hero, is forthright, brave, and steadfast. Unfortunately he’s also proud, pig-headed, and heedless in his actions. Ingunn, our heroine, is sweet, patient, and stronger than she first appears. Unfortunately she’s also lazy, flighty, and heedless in her actions. It’s a match made in medieval Norway.
I think the strongest aspect of the book, in which Undset shows a masterful hand, lies in the characterization of both Olav and Ingunn who prove to be compelling and complex characters. We may sometimes (often?) question the wisdom of their actions and decisions, but I don’t think any of them ring otherwise than true. We may struggle to understand the harsh strictures that inform their perception of themselves and the world and bemoan the seemingly self-imposed tortures to which they subject themselves as a result, but there is a stark reality to them that can’t be denied. Even secondary characters are well-drawn and fill out Undset’s depiction of a medieval world with living and breathing reality.
The book starts off emulating the style of the medieval sagas, but soon shifts closer to the modern novel in form, though that really isn’t such a far move all things considered. Both Olav and Ingunn share equal parts of the book as we observe their story first from one of their points of view then the other’s. To say I enjoyed this book might be overstating it given the deluge of misfortune that informs nearly every part of the lovers’ story, but I was certainly compelled by it and found myself carried on by the inevitable onrush of events. Ironic perhaps given that so much of the story revolves around them waiting for each other. I‘d definitely recommend it, especially if you find the sagas compelling and aren’t turned off by bad things happening to your protagonists, but don’t expect too many rays of sunshine on the fjord here.
Wow, these two characters, just…wow. I’m not sure if circumstances, their personal character, or the machine of societal mores are most to blame, but Olav and Ingunn go through the proverbial wringer and their story is only beginning!
Seemingly equal parts medieval saga, soap opera, historical fiction, and character study this book follows the lives of two 13th century Norwegians betrothed as children who grow up as foster-siblings and ultimately find themselves tragic lovers who seem destined by fate, and their own poor judgement, to suffer pretty much all the slings and arrows outrageous fortune has in his quiver. Olav, our hero, is forthright, brave, and steadfast. Unfortunately he’s also proud, pig-headed, and heedless in his actions. Ingunn, our heroine, is sweet, patient, and stronger than she first appears. Unfortunately she’s also lazy, flighty, and heedless in her actions. It’s a match made in medieval Norway.
I think the strongest aspect of the book, in which Undset shows a masterful hand, lies in the characterization of both Olav and Ingunn who prove to be compelling and complex characters. We may sometimes (often?) question the wisdom of their actions and decisions, but I don’t think any of them ring otherwise than true. We may struggle to understand the harsh strictures that inform their perception of themselves and the world and bemoan the seemingly self-imposed tortures to which they subject themselves as a result, but there is a stark reality to them that can’t be denied. Even secondary characters are well-drawn and fill out Undset’s depiction of a medieval world with living and breathing reality.
The book starts off emulating the style of the medieval sagas, but soon shifts closer to the modern novel in form, though that really isn’t such a far move all things considered. Both Olav and Ingunn share equal parts of the book as we observe their story first from one of their points of view then the other’s. To say I enjoyed this book might be overstating it given the deluge of misfortune that informs nearly every part of the lovers’ story, but I was certainly compelled by it and found myself carried on by the inevitable onrush of events. Ironic perhaps given that so much of the story revolves around them waiting for each other. I‘d definitely recommend it, especially if you find the sagas compelling and aren’t turned off by bad things happening to your protagonists, but don’t expect too many rays of sunshine on the fjord here.
December 31, 2022
This is my second Undset after reading the Kristen Lavransdatter trilogy last year. I've read it to close out the year. It's 4PM on new year's eve and tomorrow we start the Trilogy of Memory. In truth, it was a filler but I tried some modern novels and I just couldn't see wasting three days. A friend had mentioned Undset, and I thought, "oh, a quick download." As it was I risked getting caught up in the wrong trilogy! No one describes nature-the beauty of the mountains and the passing of the seasons like Sigrid Undset, and no one picks apart what goes on in our souls better than she does.
Autumn:
Early Spring:
It is well there is a book called The Art of Compassion: A Biography of Sigrid Undset(tbr.) Undset's compassion drips like an icicle in spring and it shines on every one of her pages. Her compassion to lay bare what goes on in our souls - that deep dark place where we have so little personal access-and in others no access at all. This must be why we read.
Growing up a Catholic, sin, guilt, and fear of getting caught were all we knew of morality. This was in the 50's when the means to subdue our conscience, shield our guilt, and evade our consequences were being invented-I am of the generation that succeeded in this. When I read The Axe and I turn my thoughts back to the 1200's, I think about the church-dominated Nordic Middle Ages. I think about the small manors and farmstead’s where everybody knows everything and every transgression is noted, retold and magnified 10 fold.
In that time, other than murder, there was perhaps no greater sin, nothing more impossible to hide, nothing more difficult to cover up, more impossible to escape the consequences of than a pregnancy out of wedlock. This was a picture in black-and-white: whatever light hopes and dreams and goodness the woman may have held, it would be covered by the blackness of the sin they had committed. For the woman, there was a swelling writ large of her sin. There was the crushing of her dreams and hopes for herself, the removal of anything that says what she deserved and with it came animosity by everyone who knew anything about her. They saw her weakness, they saw her faults and her sin. And every day the sign, which advertised her sin to her world, grew larger.
This is how we start a dynasty and an epic Sigrid Undset tetralogy. It will certainly be an epic burden to overcome.
P.S. Being such a natural act, how often must this have happened in the last 1000 years? And every time it happened the consequences fell on the woman. And this, except for a handful of decades, continues.
Autumn:
"Great clouds drifted across the sky, throwing shadows that turned the forests dark blue—the patches of green meadow and white cornfield showed up so strongly between. And the fiord was grey with smooth dark currents farther out, which reflected scraps of the autumnal land. Now and again the sun came out, and its sharp, golden light baked them—but the next moment a cloud came by and the warmth was gone—and the ground was bleak."
Early Spring:
The soil was almost bare here in the grove, brown and bleak, but the sun on the rocks was warm—fair-weather clouds drifted high up in the silky blue sky. But the bay, of which she could see a glimpse between the naked white birch-trunks, was still covered with rotten, thawing ice, and on the far shore the snow still glared white among the woods, right down to the beach. Here on the sunny side there was a trickling and gurgling of water everywhere, but the thaw had not yet given its full roar to the voice of spring.
It is well there is a book called The Art of Compassion: A Biography of Sigrid Undset(tbr.) Undset's compassion drips like an icicle in spring and it shines on every one of her pages. Her compassion to lay bare what goes on in our souls - that deep dark place where we have so little personal access-and in others no access at all. This must be why we read.
Growing up a Catholic, sin, guilt, and fear of getting caught were all we knew of morality. This was in the 50's when the means to subdue our conscience, shield our guilt, and evade our consequences were being invented-I am of the generation that succeeded in this. When I read The Axe and I turn my thoughts back to the 1200's, I think about the church-dominated Nordic Middle Ages. I think about the small manors and farmstead’s where everybody knows everything and every transgression is noted, retold and magnified 10 fold.
In that time, other than murder, there was perhaps no greater sin, nothing more impossible to hide, nothing more difficult to cover up, more impossible to escape the consequences of than a pregnancy out of wedlock. This was a picture in black-and-white: whatever light hopes and dreams and goodness the woman may have held, it would be covered by the blackness of the sin they had committed. For the woman, there was a swelling writ large of her sin. There was the crushing of her dreams and hopes for herself, the removal of anything that says what she deserved and with it came animosity by everyone who knew anything about her. They saw her weakness, they saw her faults and her sin. And every day the sign, which advertised her sin to her world, grew larger.
This is how we start a dynasty and an epic Sigrid Undset tetralogy. It will certainly be an epic burden to overcome.
P.S. Being such a natural act, how often must this have happened in the last 1000 years? And every time it happened the consequences fell on the woman. And this, except for a handful of decades, continues.
April 12, 2024
So far might be better than Kristin. Certainly more exciting. I might say a high-brow Romance novel, but that sounds like a criticism. Certainly the only "Romance Novel" I would *want* my teenagers to read. On to the next volume....
August 16, 2020
Olav Audunssøn: I. Vows was an engaging read on many levels. The characters and their situation caught my interest from the start, and I enjoyed Undset's saga-like storytelling style. This book is split into two parts, with the first section told from Olav's POV and the second from Ingunn's. I liked Olav in the first section; however, I turned against him a little in the second. This, though, comes from looking at the story and judging his actions with a modern eye; his actions would have been completely acceptable for the time period in which the story is set. I don't think this book has quite the magic of Kristen Lavransdatter, but I would be keen to read on in the tetralogy nonetheless, to find out what will happen to the characters. As far as the translation is concerned, the text flows nicely, with no jarring rhythms. This was a solid 4-star read for me.
I received this book as a free eBook ARC via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
I received this book as a free eBook ARC via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
January 16, 2021
It was okay. Altogether I found the setting fascinating. The reader gets to learn about the everyday life, customs, cultures and laws. The writing is beautiful and you get a good sense of the time period, but I struggled with the pacing and found myself bored after 30%. We follow Ingunn and Olav and their goal to marry. They find lots of stones in their path and I found myself wanting them just to get on with it.
There's lots of back and forth and the story felt like it was stalling.
I can recommend this to anybody who likes "hard-core" historical fiction, but beware about a slower pacing and plot.
I don't believe I'll be continuing on with this particular series.
Thank you Netgalley for providing me with a free copy in advance for an honest review.
There's lots of back and forth and the story felt like it was stalling.
I can recommend this to anybody who likes "hard-core" historical fiction, but beware about a slower pacing and plot.
I don't believe I'll be continuing on with this particular series.
Thank you Netgalley for providing me with a free copy in advance for an honest review.
October 19, 2009
I previously read Kristin Lavrandatter, a trilogy set in medieval Norway written between 1922 and 1924, and thoroughly enjoyed it. The Master of Hestviken is a tetrology (4 volumes) written between 1925 and 1927. Undset won the Nobel prize for literature in 1928.
MoH seems darker to me with more personal anguish, "psychologically and romantically nuanced." It meticulously recreates the Norwegian world split between pagan coldes of retribution and Christian piety. Law is a new invention. Heavy but compelling.
MoH seems darker to me with more personal anguish, "psychologically and romantically nuanced." It meticulously recreates the Norwegian world split between pagan coldes of retribution and Christian piety. Law is a new invention. Heavy but compelling.
October 29, 2009
This is the first of a tetrology by Nobel Prize winner Sigrid Undset. I dove into it and quickly ordered all three of the other books. I expect to love them as much as I love Kristin Lavransdatter. This period of time is fascinating to me and her characters are alive. I care about them and enter their lives while I read about them. I think about them when I'm not reading! Can't recommend these too much!
March 25, 2022
When I saw that cover, and this being Undset, I knew I was in for some serious soul-flaying and flagellation. I am eager to read the rest of the books though only the first 2 are published thus far.
I don't know why is it that someone born in 1882, can write believable medieval characters while the younger HF writers of 21st century, who are exposed to far more data about Middle ages, can only come up with anachronistic caricatures.
I don't know why is it that someone born in 1882, can write believable medieval characters while the younger HF writers of 21st century, who are exposed to far more data about Middle ages, can only come up with anachronistic caricatures.
August 1, 2012
more to my liking than Kristen Lavransdatter - opening book is a great start - wish there was a decent English biography of Sigrid Undset - Inside the Gate: Sigrid Undset's Life at Bjerkebæk, translated by Tiina Nunnally, looks promising but as of yet I have been unable to locate a copy -
May 18, 2017
This is the first book in a multi-volume family saga set in 13th century Norway. This book focuses on the marriage of a young couple amid scandal.
October 1, 2020
Set in idyllic Norwegian countryside, Olav Audunssøn is not just a story about two people but exploration of inner lives of families associated closely to monarchy. Olav is arranged to be married to Ingunn by their fathers and Ingunn's father promises to raise Olav as his foster son. With this knowledge set, Olav and Ingunn grow up with the knowledge of being sort-of betrothed in northern parts of country and thus begins the first part of the quartet.
Undset foreshadows sufferings for young couple from the very beginning, setting the tone of the novel. Her pragmatic writing is captivating and the melancholic prose is without judgment. There is a lot of restraint Undset shows as a writer to allow the characters to speak, behave and perform as they would in early medieval Norway when the lives of people was severely judged by faith and religion. Both faith and religion influence the characters greatly, their actions and the presumption of consequences of their actions in the eyes of God alter their motivations in accordance.
Amidst religious faith, laws of kinsmen and laws of the land, Olav finds himself at odds with his foster father's kinsmen following complications in familial relationships and vows made by his father. Lives change drastically following this and Olav leaves Ingunn for greater part of decade. This is where the narration shifts from Olav to Ingunn. The lovely tender younger years are seen through the eyes of young Olav, who is naive and slightly brash. He is adamant on executing his father's vow to Ingunn's father and that incubates well into his adolescence. When he is bound to leave, exiled from the land to go abroad, Ingunn is devastated and retires in an isolated castle with her aunt and grandmother.
Narration seamlessly shifs to Ingunn's perspective, the prose gets poignant as the character is now a young woman watching the world with weary eyes and missing the man she is promised to marry. She longs for him, sees the world around her move on, grow, change and Undset sets up circumstances and lets its play out with morals of the time the story is set in. This is a time where women were vilified and held to different standards and Undset presents her readers to the various reactions to the said situation, without making an judgments along the way.
I personally enjoyed Ingunn's point of view, as her actions changes the course of rest of the story and her views provide a fascinating look into societal values as set by the Church, the practice of the land and her developing sense of morality. This is a lovely book with a lot of melodrama involving too many caveats that sounds simple in modern standards but plays out as intricate drama given the time its set in.
Thank you University of Minnesota Press and Net Galley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Undset foreshadows sufferings for young couple from the very beginning, setting the tone of the novel. Her pragmatic writing is captivating and the melancholic prose is without judgment. There is a lot of restraint Undset shows as a writer to allow the characters to speak, behave and perform as they would in early medieval Norway when the lives of people was severely judged by faith and religion. Both faith and religion influence the characters greatly, their actions and the presumption of consequences of their actions in the eyes of God alter their motivations in accordance.
Amidst religious faith, laws of kinsmen and laws of the land, Olav finds himself at odds with his foster father's kinsmen following complications in familial relationships and vows made by his father. Lives change drastically following this and Olav leaves Ingunn for greater part of decade. This is where the narration shifts from Olav to Ingunn. The lovely tender younger years are seen through the eyes of young Olav, who is naive and slightly brash. He is adamant on executing his father's vow to Ingunn's father and that incubates well into his adolescence. When he is bound to leave, exiled from the land to go abroad, Ingunn is devastated and retires in an isolated castle with her aunt and grandmother.
Narration seamlessly shifs to Ingunn's perspective, the prose gets poignant as the character is now a young woman watching the world with weary eyes and missing the man she is promised to marry. She longs for him, sees the world around her move on, grow, change and Undset sets up circumstances and lets its play out with morals of the time the story is set in. This is a time where women were vilified and held to different standards and Undset presents her readers to the various reactions to the said situation, without making an judgments along the way.
I personally enjoyed Ingunn's point of view, as her actions changes the course of rest of the story and her views provide a fascinating look into societal values as set by the Church, the practice of the land and her developing sense of morality. This is a lovely book with a lot of melodrama involving too many caveats that sounds simple in modern standards but plays out as intricate drama given the time its set in.
Thank you University of Minnesota Press and Net Galley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
March 23, 2020
Be still my beating heart!
This is the first of four books that make up The Master of Hestviken, the story of Olav Andusson and Ingunn Steinfinnsdatter, set in medieval Norway.
I loved Kristen Lavransdatter. Sigrid Undset writes so much emotion into her stories that is intense and honest and complex:
"The boundless pain and distress in her poor eyes - it was that which drew his soul naked up into the light. Away went all that he had thought and determined - he knew right well that they were great and important things that now dropped from his mind, but he had not the power to hold them fast. He was left with the last, the inmost cruel certainty - that she was flesh of his flesh and life of his life, and this could never be otherwise, were she never so shamefully maltreated and broken. The roots of their lives had been intertwined as long as he could remember - and when he saw that death had had hold of her with both hands, he felt as though he himself had barely escaped from being torn to pieces. And a longing came over him, so intense that it shook him through and through - to take her in his arms and crush her to him, to hide himself with her."
Whew!!
This is the first of four books that make up The Master of Hestviken, the story of Olav Andusson and Ingunn Steinfinnsdatter, set in medieval Norway.
I loved Kristen Lavransdatter. Sigrid Undset writes so much emotion into her stories that is intense and honest and complex:
"The boundless pain and distress in her poor eyes - it was that which drew his soul naked up into the light. Away went all that he had thought and determined - he knew right well that they were great and important things that now dropped from his mind, but he had not the power to hold them fast. He was left with the last, the inmost cruel certainty - that she was flesh of his flesh and life of his life, and this could never be otherwise, were she never so shamefully maltreated and broken. The roots of their lives had been intertwined as long as he could remember - and when he saw that death had had hold of her with both hands, he felt as though he himself had barely escaped from being torn to pieces. And a longing came over him, so intense that it shook him through and through - to take her in his arms and crush her to him, to hide himself with her."
Whew!!
July 17, 2013
I love this writer! She writes wonderful historicAl fiction! The thing I like most about this book is that even though it's set in medieval Norway with if different cultural and religious mores, the story is ageless. The conflict between the two main characters, their families, the church and community could be retold anywhere and at any time. This makes the story timeless. At the same time, the historical setting makes the story unique.
October 17, 2020
შუა საუკუნეების ნორვეგია, თითქოს საგის სტილში მოთხრობილი სიყვარულის, იმედგაცრუების, თავდადების, რწმენის, ცოდვის და დიდსულოვნების ამბავი. ნამდვილი წიგნი, ნამდვილ ცხოვრებაზე. ნორვეგიის ულამაზესი ბუნების და ძველი ადათ-წესების სამყაროში დატრიალებული ორი ადამიანის დიდი, ტკივილიანი და უბედური სიყვარულის ისტორია.
January 9, 2023
It's been almost two years since the rich, profound, and unsettling experience of reading Kristin Lavransdatter, so I thought I was emotionally ready to read another Sigrid Undset saga.
Apparently I still can't read Sigrid Undset slowly and moderately, and I still can't prevent myself from reading late into the night, beginning another chapter again and again, but perhaps that's just how things are going to be with this author.
Undset herself judged The Master of Hestviken tetralogy the finer work than her earlier trilogy (so says inside flap of my library dustjacket), and although I'm not yet sure I agree, I've found this a compelling idea to ponder as I've read.
Less rambling and with a tighter plot than KL, Book 1, The Axe, has two focal points, the hero and heroine pair who were raised as foster siblings, betrothed as children, and now try formalize their marriage and navigate the adult world as it crumbles around them. This dual approach works very successfully, and it makes for quite a different narrative than KL, which is so singly focused on its titular character. (One of the most heartrending aspects of the trilogy is how psychologically distant Kristin's husband typically is, both from her and from the reader. We see half the story from the husband's perspective in The Axe, so that particular anguish isn't part of this story.) The book is divided into two halves, the first named for Olav and the second for Ingunn, and Undset thereby prompts us to consider parallels between the two of them: how their own situations, sufferings, and sins echo, reinforce, and counterbalance each other.
The thing I find most thrilling about a Sigrid Undset novel is her portrayal of the Church. She doesn't present it as a wholly blameless institution, but she does paint a picture of a living, active, vibrant, exquisitely beautiful Christendom, a community ready and equipped to come alongside those who suffer and to offer life-giving physical, emotional, and spiritual aid. I also love the way her characters grapple with the implications of their faith rather than with the question of faith itself -- which I suppose might be a more catholic than protestant approach -- not "do I believe???" but "of course I believe...so what does this mean for the situation I find myself in?" For charting the strange and surprising paths of spiritual growth in minute and poignant detail, I find Sigrid Undset absolutely sui generis.
Apparently I still can't read Sigrid Undset slowly and moderately, and I still can't prevent myself from reading late into the night, beginning another chapter again and again, but perhaps that's just how things are going to be with this author.
Undset herself judged The Master of Hestviken tetralogy the finer work than her earlier trilogy (so says inside flap of my library dustjacket), and although I'm not yet sure I agree, I've found this a compelling idea to ponder as I've read.
Less rambling and with a tighter plot than KL, Book 1, The Axe, has two focal points, the hero and heroine pair who were raised as foster siblings, betrothed as children, and now try formalize their marriage and navigate the adult world as it crumbles around them. This dual approach works very successfully, and it makes for quite a different narrative than KL, which is so singly focused on its titular character. (One of the most heartrending aspects of the trilogy is how psychologically distant Kristin's husband typically is, both from her and from the reader. We see half the story from the husband's perspective in The Axe, so that particular anguish isn't part of this story.) The book is divided into two halves, the first named for Olav and the second for Ingunn, and Undset thereby prompts us to consider parallels between the two of them: how their own situations, sufferings, and sins echo, reinforce, and counterbalance each other.
The thing I find most thrilling about a Sigrid Undset novel is her portrayal of the Church. She doesn't present it as a wholly blameless institution, but she does paint a picture of a living, active, vibrant, exquisitely beautiful Christendom, a community ready and equipped to come alongside those who suffer and to offer life-giving physical, emotional, and spiritual aid. I also love the way her characters grapple with the implications of their faith rather than with the question of faith itself -- which I suppose might be a more catholic than protestant approach -- not "do I believe???" but "of course I believe...so what does this mean for the situation I find myself in?" For charting the strange and surprising paths of spiritual growth in minute and poignant detail, I find Sigrid Undset absolutely sui generis.
May 24, 2024
“The axe” depicts an interesting portrait of Norway in 1200.
Still, the plot is not very exciting, consisting of the main characters waiting to finally get married, and the prose drags on.
Most of all, however, I was appalled by the female main character (Ingunn). She is described as an half-wit, childish, weak and lazy girl. I would expect a book character to be at least likeable, to have one quality or something interesting. When she was a kid, she even abused animals, cruelly killing two kittens with no apparent remorse. Our heroine is “neither handy nor bold, but weak, quick to give up and take to tears when their play grew rough or the game went against her”. “Ingunn, such as she was and not otherwise, weak and obstinate, short of wit, alluring and tender and warm”. “Weak she was, even now when she had her health, and she had never liked to have to do anything that demanded hard work or continued thought”. The author even clarifies that she doesn’t work because she doesn’t want to, not because she is unable: “her aunt saw that she could work when she chose—she was by no means so incapable when she took herself in hand”.
Everyone keeps treating her in a condescending way, which is incredibly irritating, but how to blame them? Here is what the male lead thinks of her: “She had little more understanding than a child or an animal, poor thing—nay, he had often thought her like a gentle, timid beast—a tame doe or a young heifer, so fond of endearments and so easily scared”. Charming. The male lead’s (inexplicable) fondness of her is described as “half pity” and “half pride”: “With a burst of fervour he felt a tenderness that had in it both pity and a touch of pride”. A very weird concept of love, even in 1200.
I went on, hoping it would get better: surely she would grow and have more character development. Well, she doesn’t. Possibly, she gets worse. And the book keeps getting worse as well, being narrated from her point of view. I cannot help but wonder at all the great reviews this book has…
Still, the plot is not very exciting, consisting of the main characters waiting to finally get married, and the prose drags on.
Most of all, however, I was appalled by the female main character (Ingunn). She is described as an half-wit, childish, weak and lazy girl. I would expect a book character to be at least likeable, to have one quality or something interesting. When she was a kid, she even abused animals, cruelly killing two kittens with no apparent remorse. Our heroine is “neither handy nor bold, but weak, quick to give up and take to tears when their play grew rough or the game went against her”. “Ingunn, such as she was and not otherwise, weak and obstinate, short of wit, alluring and tender and warm”. “Weak she was, even now when she had her health, and she had never liked to have to do anything that demanded hard work or continued thought”. The author even clarifies that she doesn’t work because she doesn’t want to, not because she is unable: “her aunt saw that she could work when she chose—she was by no means so incapable when she took herself in hand”.
Everyone keeps treating her in a condescending way, which is incredibly irritating, but how to blame them? Here is what the male lead thinks of her: “She had little more understanding than a child or an animal, poor thing—nay, he had often thought her like a gentle, timid beast—a tame doe or a young heifer, so fond of endearments and so easily scared”. Charming. The male lead’s (inexplicable) fondness of her is described as “half pity” and “half pride”: “With a burst of fervour he felt a tenderness that had in it both pity and a touch of pride”. A very weird concept of love, even in 1200.
I went on, hoping it would get better: surely she would grow and have more character development. Well, she doesn’t. Possibly, she gets worse. And the book keeps getting worse as well, being narrated from her point of view. I cannot help but wonder at all the great reviews this book has…
September 21, 2022
Excellent start to The Master of Hestviken. Oh my goodness. There is such detail in the lives of those in this book, set in 13th century Norway. This first book follows Olav and Ingunn who were betrothed as children and raised as siblings. They both always knew they were destined to marry and were committed to each other from the start.
As in all lives, things do not always work out. Much angst and death and political intrigue and church intrigue. I loved it. I am waiting on the second book. I can't wait to see what happens next.
If you liked or loved "Kristin Lavransdatter," you will love this.
As in all lives, things do not always work out. Much angst and death and political intrigue and church intrigue. I loved it. I am waiting on the second book. I can't wait to see what happens next.
If you liked or loved "Kristin Lavransdatter," you will love this.
June 25, 2019
Like all of Undset's work, this is a story of human passion that goes wrong and must struggle to right itself. Her clear, compassionate insight into the human soul never ceases to amaze me.
June 17, 2024
4.75 / 5
April 4, 2024
Incomparable Sigrid Undset! But, the translation has problems. The title of the older translation, The Axe, is much more gripping and appropriate than Vows. There are also some awkward contemporary phrases that cannot have been in the Norwegian original, such as a reference to an unborn child as a fetus.
October 4, 2020
trigger warning
It is with good intentions that Olav and Ingunn are betrothed as children, and Olav is taken in by his future father-in-law as a foster child as his own father lies dying.
No one senses what troubles will come of this.
You see, the trouble was that the adults didn't think the children would remember while the children grew up in the knowledge they would spend their whole life together. Insert a bit of misfortune and complicated politics, and it gets dramatic quick.
This was not at all what I thought it would be though it fits the blurp exactly. One setback was that I did not realise as I requested this arc that this book is set after people in Norway became Christian and I was excited for the Norse mythology featuring as a backdrop to this, which didn't happen.
And teenagers doing stupid stuff really, really, really annoy me.
The book starts with a short introduction by the translator, who outlines that this is the first book of a tetralogy that hasn't been newly translated in over 100 years and it's been overdue, that Sigrid Undset was the child of an archaeologist and an artist who both inspired her.
We also get footnotes that explain terms that refer to certain things found in scandinavian medieval times. Sadly, in my version the footnotes are at the back of things so I mostly ignored them as jumping back and forth in a digital copy is no fun. I much prefer the annotations to be at the bottom of the page.
The characters are very three dimensional and especially the depiction of trauma, grief and dementia were superb. Also, this one is character driven, there is no real plot. And I don't do well with those books in the most cases, so it's safe to say that this one simply isn't for me.
The arc was provided by the publisher.
It is with good intentions that Olav and Ingunn are betrothed as children, and Olav is taken in by his future father-in-law as a foster child as his own father lies dying.
No one senses what troubles will come of this.
You see, the trouble was that the adults didn't think the children would remember while the children grew up in the knowledge they would spend their whole life together. Insert a bit of misfortune and complicated politics, and it gets dramatic quick.
This was not at all what I thought it would be though it fits the blurp exactly. One setback was that I did not realise as I requested this arc that this book is set after people in Norway became Christian and I was excited for the Norse mythology featuring as a backdrop to this, which didn't happen.
And teenagers doing stupid stuff really, really, really annoy me.
The book starts with a short introduction by the translator, who outlines that this is the first book of a tetralogy that hasn't been newly translated in over 100 years and it's been overdue, that Sigrid Undset was the child of an archaeologist and an artist who both inspired her.
We also get footnotes that explain terms that refer to certain things found in scandinavian medieval times. Sadly, in my version the footnotes are at the back of things so I mostly ignored them as jumping back and forth in a digital copy is no fun. I much prefer the annotations to be at the bottom of the page.
The characters are very three dimensional and especially the depiction of trauma, grief and dementia were superb. Also, this one is character driven, there is no real plot. And I don't do well with those books in the most cases, so it's safe to say that this one simply isn't for me.
The arc was provided by the publisher.
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