Independent People

Independent People, by Halldór Laxness is a realist epic novel by the Icelandic author.

The novel is the engrossing story of Bjartur of Summerhouses, an impoverished sheep farmer who has managed to buy a tiny piece of land after 18 years of slavery at the local Bailiff. The central theme of the narrative is Bjartur’s struggle to stay an independent man i.e, self dependence- to be in debt to no one. To this end, he has to fight forces bigger than himself - harsh and forbidding nature, the Bailiff, whom he has to still pay the loan for another 12 years, merchants who fleece the poor and above all the Supernatural Forces that lain waste his land for centuries.

Flinty Bjartur and his family’s unending struggle is revealed in the day to day back breaking farming chores surviving on precarious food stocks. The world of Bjartur and his family is the moor on which the farm is located (children have never heard of apple it is something like a potato). The outer world events affect Bjartur’s small world – his youngest son Nonni leaves for America, the war on the continent brings unintended brief prosperity, Icelandic Cooperative Movement, high finance and eventually National politics. As Bijartur gets involved in these new and unforeseen forces he unwittingly widens the scope of his war for independence and things become difficult.

In a master stroke, the author presents this private war for independence of the poor peasant in a lively and comic manner. It is likened as a war of epic proportions. One good example is in the beginning when Bjartur approaches his land "like a general who looks over his troops ( a lice infested wormy dog) and knows that with a word he can send them to charge". He begins with a firm “No” challenging the existence of the much feared fiend Kolumkilli and evil spirit of Gunnvnor who have for centuries doomed the peasants before him. In epic style Bjartur frequently invokes the brave heroes of the Icelandic folklore.

Can the daring and fearless Bjartur rewrite the history of that tiny piece of land? What is the price Bjartur is willing to pay for his principles? At times, it is frustrating for the reader to see Bjartur losing one family member or the other for upholding his principles. In the end, is it a pyrrhic victory or does he win in real terms? This question continues to provoke the reader for long.

Independent People is a landmark novel in Icelandic literary history. It was written in 1930’s in a specific historical context. However, to a non Icelandic lay reader, unaware of this significance, the novel is an opportunity to have a deep insight in the lesser known Icelandic rural life of the early 20th century- activities on farm, living conditions, habits, mores, traditions and their beliefs, Icelandic poetic tradition and folklore. These aspects are presented in a lively and humorous manner.

The novel stands out from other social realism literature in the manner of handling of the central theme. The author does not eulogise the Bjartur for his poverty. On the contrary, the novel is written in a wry, comic and dispassionate style. Bjartur is not glorified as the wronged peasant but as a proud man who fights his private war of independence and at times is responsible for his own plight. Similarly, the class struggle is not etched out in black and white - Bailiff and his family are hypocritical but yet helpful. Bjartur himself is a mixture of contrasts proud, defiant, mean and cold. He is remarkably poetic and he knows all the rules of formal poetry. He is a good host and is capable of being moved by emotion particularly by his daughter Asta Sollilja. He is as harsh on himself as he is on his family. He is unbreakable and takes his loss in his own stride - “…No lamentations, never harbor your grief, never mourn what you have lost..”.

The novel is also known for its exploration of the complex relationship of Bjartur and Asta Sollilja- the child from his first wife (who is not his own). Asta just like her father fiercely independent, “ we are like a sovereign state..” she tells her step brother while refusing the much wanted help. Asta perhaps best understands her difficult 'father'. It is a travesty of fate that Asta Sollija has the bloodline of his enemy and yet Bjartur, in full knowledge of it, has a soft corner for her as the ‘The flower of his life’.

It has also been said that this novel is as much about sheep as the struggle for independence. For Bjartur, sheep are the means for his independence. His sheep share the same roof in the croft with the family; the main topic of conversation in Bjartur’s marriage is sheep and their infections; “..they (peasants) lived for the sheep in a way sheep and man are one..” When Bjartur breaks the news of his first wife’s death it appears that the loss of his missing sheep Gulbara was more important. With changing times and new avenues for livelihood coming up sheep get some flak, the priest thinks sheep drive humans away from God, or “…sheep’s clothing disguises a ferocious wolf..” or they are “…greater curse to Icelandic nation then foxes and tapeworm..” Other animals like dogs, cows, and horses play an important part in this unusual human story.

The novel is relevant in today’s world as well. The eternal struggle of the poor peasant farmer to come out of their sad plight is not yet over. “.. for a thousand years they (peasants) have imagined that they will rise above penury..” We need to see if the author’s prophesy that “ human life isn’t long enough for a peasant to become a man of means” holds true for Bjartur and for his modern counterparts.

The narrative of the novel is simple but the handling of the central theme gives the novel a complexity and raises it above the rigors of the genre. The characters are well developed. Not only do Bjartur and Asta get full attention, the other characters have been fleshed out realistically. The writing, (as in the translation) is lively, sardonic, witty and a pleasure to read. The author presents different perspectives. The events have been well constructed. It is remarkable how the author makes the bleak life of a tiny croft in Iceland into such an engrossing story. It is also a tribute to his artistry that a tale of suffering has been presented in such lively, humorous and yet humane terms. I put off reading the novel three times but once I persisted I ended up reading it many times.

Bought this book at a bookstore in Reykjavik while vacationing there xmas-new years 2016/7.

So so book.

Main character cannot see forest for the trees.

A very slow to develop novel - nearly 500 pages to cover about 15 years of the 25 years or so of elapsed time. Like the life of the times there, if not still so everywhere, repetitive. Very little focus on anyone but main character and that mostly as associated with his sheep and his real estate.

Many insightful comments into life by Laxness through words of characters as well as the anonymous narrator.

According to Icelandic legends, the Irish chief Kolumkill cursed the land when he and his people were driven from it by the Norsemen in the 9th century, and a bloodthirsty witch called Gunnvor, who was buried in the North of Iceland, is said to still haunt the land. The generations who have since farmed the area (frequently contrasted with the more urbanized South) half believe in the legends, and every now and then disaster strikes them in that harsh environment with its fierce winters and frequently rainy summers. Now (we later learn that it is it is the period before and during the First World War), the sheep farmer Bjarthur, a crusty, puritanical and proud man, defies the legends and is fiercely determined to live independently on his own holding, and he despises the cooperative societies which are being set up by many of the farmers at about this time. His land, much of it marshy, was mortgaged to his former employer, the local bailiff; and Bjarthur will not spend any money that could be used to pay off the mortgage (which eventually he does). He, like many other characters in the book, is also a poet.

The bailiff suggested that Bjarthur should marry Rosa, who had been in his household’s service; he did; but soon suspected that she had been made pregnant by the bailiff’s son, Ingolfur, and he turned against her. Rosa believes in the spells, but Bjarthur contemptuously will not allow her to perform the ritual to appease the spirit of Gunnvor, nor will he let her have any meat or milk that she craves for. She wilts in her marriage. But she is terrified of being left alone in the croft when Bjarthur is away, taking sheep to the market in the neighbouring town. One occasion when he is away is described in ghastly detail. In search of a lost lamb, he had left Rosa alone a second time, near though she was to giving birth. He was caught for five days in an icy blizzard. When he finally fought his way back to the croft, he found his wife dead inside, and a barely alive baby girl, whom he named Asta Sollilja. The baby’s life was saved just in the nick of time. He gets an old woman and her daughter to move into the croft to look after the baby. Although he is not Asta’s biological father, he cherishes her as “the flower of his life”, and she grows up to adore him.

We jump twelve years, and in an obscure chapter at the beginning of the second part, we gather that Bjarthur mad married again, an ailing woman called Finna, and that Asta now has three brothers: Helli, Gvendur, and the youngest, a small boy called Nonni. There is also an old grandmother, Hallbern, who mumbles most of the time (but it capable of extensive utterances, too). They are all crammed into that small croft. But the next few chapters are really weird. Some deal with Nonni’s vivid imagination; and there is a lot about a cow which, against the wishes of Bjarthur who is interested only in sheep, had been forced upon him – though the women and children loved her; and both they and the cow suffered when Bjarthur butchered her calf.

It took a long time before I could again detect a story line. That was when Laxness talks of the relationship between Bjarthur and Asta. There is a description of the two of them visiting a near-by town – the first time in her thirteen years that Asta has been allowed away from the croft. She is first delighted, then frightened by the experience, and turns erotically to her father. That moment does not lead to anything unseemly, and the episode doesn’t seem to be going anywhere; but much later in the story she is haunted by a feeling of guilt; and as she turns into a young woman, there will be a sexual tension between them.

There is a bitter blizzardy spring later on, and there was not enough food for the cow and the ewes. Bjarthur butchers to cow; perhaps it was the grief that then killed his second wife, Finna. He lost many sheep. One of them he found hanged, with no clue in the surrounding snow that anyone had done it – but he refused to believe that an evil spirit could have done it. When an even worse slaughter befell his sheep the following winter, again without any clue as to who had committed it, he did believe that evil spirits were responsible; but he defied them. The story spread in the community; the local minister was called for, and the community took part in some half-pagan ritual of exorcism. The eldest son, Helgi, disappeared in the snow and was never found alive again: once again, Bjarthur expresses no feelings about it.

He decides to leave the croft for a while to labour for someone else, so as to be able to buy new sheep; and he will leave the panic-stricken Asta in charge of the croft. While he is away, he sends the children a young resident teacher, who opens new worlds for them. He also taught them the Bible and the catechism, but was unable to answer Asta’s questions about them. One night he whispers love-poems which Asta cannot believe are about her; but they are – and he deflowered her. She had let him, then to be wracked by an agony of guilt – and so was he.

The teacher left about the time Bjarthur returns home. He finds Asta remote, taciturn, shunning her family whenever she could. When he finds out that she is pregnant, the furious Bjarthur disowns her and the child she is about to bear: they will be the responsibility of the bailiff’s family, and he drove her out of the house. We leave Asta on the moors, hoping to find the house of the teacher. We assume she does not find it, for five years later we find her in service, with a little daughter. Neither Asta nor Bjarthur are willing to forgive the other. Not till the last two pages are they reunited.

There is now only one child left in the croft, Gvendur. The imaginative Nonni had always dreamt of foreign countries he hoped one day to visit – and then an uncle who lived in America had sent money for him to go there, live with him and learn some suitable trade; and since the boy wanted to accept, Bjarthur had let him go.

The First World War breaks out, and it leads to a high demand for meat and wool, and the farmers in Iceland prosper. That’s all that Bjarthur cares about; and the issue of war is ponderously debated by the farmers. Bjarthur becomes a considerable employer and can enlarge the croft. The government built roads and bridges. The cooperatives and the savings bank flourished. Money is abundant; but the rustic life was idealized as the true life of Iceland by the press.

The war is over, and Bjarthur was building, with borrowed money, just outside the croft, a three-story house of stone and cement, but when the shell was finished, all sorts of things were missing: proper doors and furniture, because the furniture – beds, tables - in the croft was nailed into its walls and was rotten besides. And then the boom ended, and Bjarthur, who had so prided himself on his independence, was now an interest-slave because he was deeply in debt, and unable to pay for the repairs that poor workmanship on the house had made necessary. And eventually his farm was put up for sale. His ancient mother-in-law, Hallbern, had a small property elsewhere, and that is where Bjarthur now went, trying once more to live an independent life. Though he had been ruined by the capitalist system, he had no truck with socialism which, I believe, the author supported. But he realized now that Kolumkill and Gunvor might allow a deceptive period of prosperity, but that ultimately they would always once more unleash their destructive force.

The book certainly conveys the climate, landscape and way of life in Northern Iceland, but I found it much too wordy and, to some extent, repetitive: it should have been only half as long. There are some chapters in which Gvendur is so infatuated by a mysterious girl he met only once that he behaves in a quite unbelievable way. I didn’t like the way the story several times broke off for many pages at a time. Admirable though Bjarthur’s wish for independence is, I thought he was a thoroughly dislikeable character, who cares more about sheep than he does about his family. I can see why many readers see the book as an epic, but it escapes me why it was considered worthy of a Novel Prize for Literature.

Independent People is one of the most astounding books I have ever read. It was recommended to me by someone who prefers non-fiction and dark Russian novels. It was written in the 30s by the Icelandic author, Haldor Laxness who was awarded a Nobel Prize in Literature in1955. As I began reading, I was sure I wasn't smart enough for Independent People. I was intimidated and frustrated by the Icelandic names - Harekur, Gongu-Hrolfur, Bernotus Borneyarkappi, Einar of Undirhlith and Gvendur. (Not these are not typos). I was skeptical of the sometimes archaic language. For example: "Well, well old cock....so, yes. And what's fresh in your way these days?" And then about a quarter way through the book, it grabbed me and traversed me to Iceland, to the barren, smelly croft where Bjartur of Sommerhouses lives with his family, his dog and his sheep. He is determined to raise his sheep as he fiercely guards his independence. As he said, "......freedom and independence are worth more than any cattle that any crofter ever got himself into debt for."

Independent People is a book that should be read slowly, savored and studied as a fine work of literature. There is so much to be dissected - the mystical culture of Iceland, the impact of war, religion, family, politics, greed and poetry. I am not smart enough for this book (or dark Russian novels), but I loved it anyway. I'll end with one of the many passages that resonated with me. "It's a useful habit never to believe more than half of what people tell you, and not to concern yourself with the rest. Rather keep your mind free and your path your own."

Bjartur longs to be an Independent man; owing nothing and answerable only to himself. He buys a plot of land-said to be cursed by ancient spirits-and some sheep, builds a croft and thus starts life as Bjartur of Summerhouses. His family share his poverty as he strives to remain independent , then a World War comes as a godsend and enriches Bjartur and his fellow crofters, but will this ultimately lead to him losing his independence....
I recommend this copy as it is translated by JA Thompson and is regarded as the finest translation of this work.
No one would ever think a book about sheep farmers in turn of the century Iceland would make for one of the best books ever written, but 'Independent People' is just that. It catches the drudgery of rural life and topics of conversation with great humour and characters, but never sways from the question of how do poor people ever escape poverty. No matter how hard Bjartur slaves on his small holding , things-world events, nature, politics-are always outside of his control and always the more powerful in determining his fate.
A Truly great novel. My favourite character summed up in a sentence ? The Reverend Gudmunder ; "He held bigoted opinions on every subject which he immediately changed as soon as anyone agreed with them"
A magical journey into Iceland and-again- I recommend Thompsons translation. It was the only one he did and he did it out of his love for this novel and that shines through.

Utterly compelling work, set in the bleak Icelandic farming world of 1900-20.
Bjartur has just acquired his own piece of land after 18 years in thrall to the local bailiff. As he comes home to his humble croft - built on traditionally cursed ground - with his new bride, who is pregnant by another, he is obsessed by his new-found freedom. The pleasure of treating his former boss in a scornful manner; the need to increase his herd of sheep at the expense of all else, make him a seemingly hard and curmudgeonly character. And yet moments of intense emotion pepper the work: Bjartur's relationship with his wife's daughter; the occasional meetings of his wife and her father. One of the most moving parts of the book concerns the family cow...
Interspersed with this are the meetings of the uneducated country folk, reminiscent of the unintentionally comic characters in Thomas Hardy's work. Whether they're discussing worms in their sheep, the length of women's skirts or asserting that 'Easter falls on a Saturday this year', the reader feels he's present at their discussions.
Such a beautiful book, I think it'll be my number one read for this year.

This 1955 winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature is unlike any book you will ever read. It is a multigenerational tale focusing on the bleak, oppressive living conditions of rural Iceland in the early twentieth century, in particular on one Bjartur of Summerhouses, a sheep farmer who is fiercely independent. Although the book is subtitled "an epic," perhaps it should instead be titled "a depressing, satirical epic that actually makes you laugh once in a while." This is by no means an easy read. Weighing in at almost 500 pages, this dry, plodding tome spends whole chapters wading through minute details on local politics and the economy with an attentive (and infuriating) sort of calm. The story itself is almost painful to read at times, oscillating between delightful humor and black despair. It relates, for example, Bjartur's delight in rolling big rocks from cliff-tops and watching them fall (who doesn't like doing that?), while later describing the slow starvation and eventual death of his flock one spring. Our hero is infuriating, bullheaded, and stubborn, but reassuringly human at his core, allowing the reader to cheer him on, once in a while, as he blunders his way through life. Independent People is an admirable, poetic novel, by turns both masterful and agonizing on the nerves. It's the kind of book that one will appreciate having read at least once, but not plan to revisit anytime soon.

First published in 1946, this Icelandic author later won the Nobel Prize for Literature and I can well understand why. Set in the late 19th and early 20th century, this 482-page novel is as haunting as the cold and frozen landscape it describes. It was the choice of the international literature group at my local bookstore and paints a picture of the world of Bjartur of Summerhouses, a sheep farmer who is determined to live an independent life, dependent only on himself in the cruel and cold landscape of an Iceland steeped in natural beauty.

For Bjartur and his family there is nothing but hard work and disappointment. He is as cold and stubborn as the world he lives in and, after 18 years of servitude, he is determined to live an independent life, barely eking out a living as a sheep farmer in an inhospitable land.

Bjartur represses his emotion and presents as frozn an exterior as the land. There is little or no food; it is always cold; his first and then his second wives suffer from loneliness, illness and cold and his children are always hungry, half-starved and overworked. The world the author creates is cruel. The men are aggressive and hate each other; the women and children are overworked and if there is any love in this story, it is the love for the sheep rather than that for human beings.

And yet, in spite of the melancholy tone throughout, the book is a small masterpiece. The characters all suffer, but there is a strong streak of determination throughout and, in a way, an understanding of the cruelty and hardship which so shape the their lives. This is not a pleasant book to read. But it is certainly worthwhile and well deserves all the accolades that make it a classic.

Laxness, an Icelandic author, won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1955 for his ability to create epic tales. This is certainly one of them. It's the story of Bjartur, an Icelandic sheep farmer who is set like a mountain in his ways. He stubbornly bears the loss of family members, attacks on his sheep, political corruption and the changing world around him, set on his goal to live independently and build his home and farm, Summerhouse.

"Yes, it was a good man indeed who could stand immovable as a rock in these times, when everything around him, including money and views of life, was afloat and swirling in perpetual change; when the strongest boundary walls between men and things in time and place were being washed away; when the impossible was becoming possible and even the wishes of those who had never dared to make a wish were being fulfilled."

The most interesting conflict though, better than Bjartur's conflict with the world, is his stubborn feud with his equally strong-willed daughter, Asta Solilja. The pig-headed way in which Bjartur disowns his daughter and refuses to make amends makes you hate him, but in the end, as he is weighted down by debt and loneliness and finally begins to admit regrets, it's hard not to feel for Bjartur. For his entire life, he has been principled to a fault, but principled nonetheless. It is then, as he looks over Summerhouse, ruined by poor financing and poor construction, that he writes:
"For what are riches and houses and power
If in that house blooms no lovely flower?"

Independent People is a book that at times feels like it is being endured, much as Bjartur endurs the harsh northern winters. While there are moments of action, sharp conflict and shocking surprise, much of the novel is concerned with the various diseases that infect the sheep, descriptions of the weather and landscape, the politics of socialism and the poems that Bjartur enjoys writing and reciting. It's rewarding in the end, but is a slog to get through. It has been compared to Tolstoy. The story at times also reminded me of Gabriel García Márquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude, though I would be quicker to recommend that book. As frustrating as it is at times, by recommending Independent People to someone, I'd worry that they might return and throw the book at me.

PART THREE-- "It's a useful habit never to believe more than half of what people tell you, and not to concern yourself with the rest."
At one point Bjartur goes away and leaves his children at home, during which time a man comes to stay with them, claiming Bjartur asked him to stay with them as their teacher. He has a profound impact on the futures of Bjartur's entire family. The teacher asks what wishes the kids each want to come true. Ásta's constant need for love and approval from father figure lead her to wish for love, which she believes she receives when she and the teacher start an affair together, which makes her feel scared but loved. She feels she is sinning, but the teacher replies, "Sin-sin is God's most precious gift." When the teacher leaves, and Ásta is left confused, there is a telling scene between Ásta and her brother, Nonni, when Nonni tries to understand Ásta's sadness. "This was the first time that he has ever looked into the labyrinth of the human soul. He was very far from understanding what he saw. But what was of more value, he felt and suffered with her. In years that were yet to come, he relived this memory in song, in the most beautiful song this world has known. For the understanding of the soul's defencelessness, of the conflict between the two poles, is not the source of the greatest song. The source of the greatest song is sympathy."
When Ásta is to be baptized, finally, in the church, it is discovered that she is pregnant, and Bjartur, at this point, is heartbroken. Being the strict man that he is, he cannot forgive her and shuns her for life. Ásta is also heartbroken. The one important person in her life has left her at a time when she needed him most. Bjartur denies that he is even Ásta's father, claiming that Ásta's mother had had affairs with other men, so Ásta should seek out her real family.
No matter what biology might have to say, after Ásta leaves, she is still Bjartur's daughter through and through. Later in life, when Bjartur's son Gvendur is leaving for America, he tries to give his sheep to Ásta as a gift, and Ásta, now with her daughter Björt (the feminine form of Bjartur) states, "My little girl and I are independent people also, you see; we also are a sovereign state. Björt and I love freedom just as much as our namesake does. We would rather be free to die than have to accept anyone's gifts." Ásta does not lead an easy life from this point on, but Bjartur does not care... at least not until the end.
Bjartur lives by the notion that nothing is worse than eating other people's bread. Literally and figuratively speaking. "Other folk's bread is the most virulent form of poison that a free and independent man can take; other folk's bread is the only thing that can rob him of independence and the one true freedom."

It is incredibly and somewhat strangely satisfying for me, an 20 yr. old Icelander, to read foreign people's almost unanimous praise upon this masterpiece by my countryman Halldór Laxness. I found, like many other reviewers, the book to have a profound and lasting effect on myself. It is a beutiful book, no matter how harsh or unconventional it may be. To those who find it boring I want to say this: If you cannot fathom the meaning of Sjálfstætt fólk, its uniqueness and wonderful insight into human nature (which is of course not at all restricted to where and when the book takes place), then the reason (blame?) probably is to find within yourselves - not Laxness. Laxness is forever implanted into Iceland's "national soul" as the author who changed and corrected our understanding of our past and present history. With Gerpla, he rewrote one of our loved sagas (Fóstbræðra saga). He shattered the glorified image of our ancestors and portrayed them in a manner that was unprecedented at the time. He showed them not as the blond-haired, eagle-eyed justice-seeking heroes that our independence fight in the 19. c. had envisioned but portrayed them as stubborn, dark and almost barbaric hoodlums with questionable morals, to say the least. And thus made them more believeable, human and interesting than ever. Many narrow minded and arrogant people of the time were shocked and appalled and he was even criticised for what was seen as "lack of patriotism". Since then, historians have have come to the conclusion that his portrayal was much closer too the truth. Laxness was very controversial early in his lifetime (in the USA, the fact that he was a communist did not exactly do him well in the 50's or even onwards) although in the past decades he has rightfully been given his due as the genious he truly was. I will not elaborate further on the subject, although I could go on for (p)ages but urge people to read more of Laxness' work, especially Íslandsklukkan. In my opinion, it stands with Sjálfstætt fólk as his greatest work. If Íslandsklukkan has not been translated into English, I suggest that transscribers pull up their sleeves... quickly.

In <Independent People>, Halldor Laxness demonstrates that he is a master in the use of an artistic device that has succeeded for centuries--the juxtaposition of a rugged, immutable landscape with the drama of human experience. An obdurate or bleak landscape, especially one with an inhospitable climate, can bring into high relief the fragility and transience of human existence. Laxness contrasts an unforgiving Icelandic glacial valley with characters whose existence is defined by their struggle to survive in it. One reflection of his genius in this novel, however, is that he is not simply content to use this artistic device in a straightforward way, for he also draws the <similarities> between the geological stage and the human drama.
This is most evident in his portrayal of Bjartur, the principal character. This rugged sheep farmer often seems to us just as hard and cruel as the landscape in which he hacks out an existence. His obsession with independence leads him at times to value the lives of animals over those of his family. He actually seems to <be> part of the landscape against which his family perpetually struggles. His granite personality heightens our sense of the humanity of others in the book and leads us to empathize more with them, even if we do hope often for his success. He is a boulder, they are people.
But the landscape is not always cold and dark. It teases us with a short, warm and green summer, and throughout the book we see fleeting signs of warmth in Bjartur as well. In the towering crags surrounding his farm a single flower can sometimes survive and grow, and we want the seed of empathy to find root in this hard man. Our tension steadily grows as we wonder whether he will be able to overcome his seemingly immutable nature and nourish such a little flower.
Bjartur is large as a figure in an Icelandic saga, and this adds to the epic and heroic qualities of the book. The frustrating predictability of his character is a source of both tragic and comic elements. Numerous themes of opposition, contradiction and relativism reinforce the landscape/humanity contrast and add complexity to the novel--e.g., religion vs. superstition, religion/superstition vs. logic/science, the benefits that flow from the evils of war, capitalism vs. socialism, the insensitivity of civilization, etc. Other characters in the book are well developed, especially Bjartur's daughter, who plays a principal role in the theme of male-female contrast. Throughout, Laxness demonstrates keen psychological awareness, and he keeps us guessing and surprised.
These and other qualities make this one of the best books I have ever read. When I reached the last page, I wanted to begin again. It is as timeless as its landscape.

There are some novels that captivate you but there are others, far rarer, that both captivate you and leave you changed as a result. "Independent People" is of the latter. The reader emerges edified, emotionally challenged, and left with the experience of being immersed in a foreign world. Laxness is uncompromising, like Joyce. You accept him on his terms alone. His characters are common folk, difficult, itinerant, headstong, sometimes unlikeable, very often unappealing at the very least, yet at the same time they are archetypal and you grow to care about them almost in spite of yourself. If one has read the Icelandic sagas, Njal's Saga, for example, the tone will seem somewhat familiar. "Independent People" is, like Njal's Saga, peopled with plainspoken and thorny characters, abject in many ways, but who are capable of surprise and subtlety as well. Its main character, Bjartur, is in some ways like Njal of the sagas; he's a man who lives by his own code and who prides himself on avoiding the entanglements brought by others, but who is drawn in despite himself. One of the techniques Laxness uses which is curiously absent from much modern fiction is that his characters don't always know what their next moves will be, and just when you think you've anticipated them, Laxness throws you a curve. But he doesn't do so in an expository fashion; often, it is only in the action or thoughts of others in reaction to the principal characters that the reader realizes someone has changed their mind, or acted differently than we'd expected. Laxness prompts the reader to engage in the sometimes chaotic lives of his protagonists, and to pay attention. So, what is it about? Superficially, it's about rural homesteaders in turn-of-the century Iceland. That may sound unpromising, but if you take the chance, you'll find this highly rewarding.

Independent People is the Nobel Prize (for Literature 1955) winning book written by the "undisputed master of contemporary Icelandic fiction". It is a wonderfully written book, although by no means a happy book. The plot is at times dark, but casts an intriguing look at human nature, relationships and a way of life. Laxness covers a multitude of issues and themes that are relevant even today and it is amazing to think that this book was written in the late 1940s. The story is the life of Bjartur an independent person, his family and his farm, Summerhouses. He is a farmer, raising sheep, facing similar difficulties and harsh realities as farmers face today, but his connection with the animals sets him apart from contemporary farmers. Bjartur's complex relationships with his family and the landed members of society and his straightforward relationship with his animals allows for a twisting plot and surprising turn of events. Although the book was of particular interest to me, having traversed Iceland on horseback recently (the horse that Bjartur owned has the same name as one of the horses I rode), but it does not preclude people who have never been to Iceland to feeling the same way as I did. Laxness somehow manages to engulf the reader, making one want to read on and on. The reader is hooked by him creating an interest, as well as concern or care towards Bjartur and his family. Most of the story is seen through the eyes of Bjartur, but by changing briefly to the point of view of the daughter and son, gives the story a smooth rounded feeling. This allows the reader to understand the complex feelings of the children, as well as conceptualize how they see and feel about their surroundings and life. The writing is fluid and the story and events unfold easily. I would categorize the writing style to be minimalist in areas, as Laxness leaves things unsaid or just uses one word to describe an incident. Allowing the reader to get involved by using their imagination. Because of this strong writing style, it is hard to believe that the book is a translation. It makes one wonder what the Icelandic version must be like. The only disappointment of the book is the introduction by Brad Leithauser. It is frustrating to see that he was unable to write an introduction to the book without divulging some of the key aspects of the plot. Not only is that unnecessary, but very unprofessional. I, therefore, recommend reading the introduction after finishing the book.

What an amazing discovery--this beautiful and heart-rending novel by Iceland's great literary magnate, Halldor Laxness! It seems as if the country's whole heroic and terrible history is somehow encapsulated in this story of one family's doomed (but not meaningless) struggle to emerge from feudalism... The time is the early 20th Century; yet, as I began the book, I was convinced I was reading about the Middle Ages, and was only gradually undeceived...

The chief character, the deeply flawed and exasperating Bjartur, is a poet of the heroic spirit, his imagination shaped and limited by his country's ancient ballads and oral legends. A pagan with no belief in the soul, he scorns softer emotions and makes a religion of independence, endurance, and identification with nature in its harshest aspects. He exemplifies the pride that makes no room for compromise. Two wives and a number of children are pitiably sacrificed to his intransigence.

Some beautiful and terrifying incidents (short stories really) are contained within the whole of this saga. One involves a reindeer ride which may or may not have been halucinatory; another a portentous trip to town with the fragile Asta Sollija, Bjartur's favorite child; a third a son's aborted love affair and collapse of his plan to escape to America. It is interesting and gratifying to note the humor the author can inject into sometimes horrendous material. He also reveals a touching love for animals and interest in imagining their feelings. Without undue sentimentality, he communicates convincingly the poor, lice-ridden dog who worships Bjartur, the sheer joy of a cow when released to a pasture after having been cooped up all winter, and her sorrow for her slaughtered calf.

In the manner of Victorian novelists, Laxness can editorialize on occasion. For instance, he is not embarrassed to inform us that the aforementioned cow suffers from "depression." And at one point he observes that "there is nothing so tragic as two human beings trying to understand each other." Amen.

Plaudits galore for this one!

What an amazing, overlooked, unexpected treat this book turned out to be. Halldor Laxness (who won the Nobel Prize in 1955) has performed the impossible: he's written a multi-generational saga centered about Bjartur of Summerhouses, a stubborn, foolish, often detestable curmudgeon, and he has somehow transformed this unlikely hero into a thoroughly likeable oaf. The result is nothing short of a miracle, both comic and tragic--and never predictable.

In his introduction to this edition, Brad Leithauser reports on his meeting with the author in Iceland in 1986, when he tells Laxness, then an octogenarian, how much he admired Bjartur. Laxness responded, "Oh, but he's so stupid!" Leithauser's reply: "Oh, but he's so wonderfully stupid!" Exactly. Bjartur is an uneducated sheep rancher who has spent 18 years in servitude with one simple goal: to own his own land and live as an "independent man." His philosophy is derived entirely from Icelandic sagas he memorized as a child; his politics are based wholly on the principle of sovereignty; his social skills are those of a loner.

The resulting adventures are both hilariously mortifying and tragically doltish: within his first year, he is lost in a blizzard searching for a sheep that he believes has gone missing but that his malnourished wife has surreptitiously slaughtered and eaten. He returns to find his wife dead after giving birth to a daughter who is still barely alive. All that and more occurs in the first 100 pages, and to tell you much more is too give too much away. (Indeed, Leithauser's excellent introduction divulges too much of the plot and should be saved for the end.)

Although Bjartur eventually remarries and raises sons, the story henceforth centers around the unlikely and uneasy bonding between father and daughter. In addition, Laxness weaves in the social and political changes transforming the country and victimizing any rancher who is caught up on the wrong side of the divide, which swings between capitalist financiers and cooperative societies. World War I brings untold wealth to the inhabitants of neutral Iceland, so "that the passion for building was exceeding the bounds of good sense, and that many children were returning home from school both hurriedly educated and over-educated." Mutton and wool were suddenly all the rage and "peasant culture had suddenly become the great gospel" of the national authorities. All this is too much for the simple-headed Bjartur, whose blind devotion to pastoral traditions and to hermitic self-sufficiency works against him as often as it works in his favor.

The translation by J. A. Thompson is startlingly fluent; it's often hard to believe that Laxness didn't write this book in English. Considering how funny, sad, heartwarming, trenchant, and topical this satirical epic is, even in translation, it's inexplicable that Laxness isn't better known--and it's incontrovertible that "Independent People" is a masterpiece of twentieth-century fiction.

If military brats can identify with "the great Santini", I had a similar experience with Bjartur. My father was an only child, a Jutland farm boy whose mother died as a result of his birth. He was raised about the time frame of this book by housekeepers in a thatched roof farmhouse with a barn at one end. (This is all similar to portions of the storyline, although it happens to differing characters and in Iceland rather than Denmark.) He came to the US alone at age 18 and his father refused to communicate with him for years afterward. As with Bjartur, once you leave, you leave. Until Bjartur started acting differently toward the end of the book, I knew what his every move was going to be. Just as Bjartur thought he needed to be totally independent to survive, and was sometimes cruel (and stupid) in behaving that way, my father thought similarly; though they both meant well. From a sociological standpoint, through this book, I discovered some of the bases for my father's psyche. The translation is very readable. The poetry is better incorporated in the story than the verses in Dos Passos' U.S.A. trilogy. It is a pleasant experience reading poet's prose, be it, Nelson Algren, Jorge Borges or Halldor Laxness. I recommend it.

There are multitudes of underlying themes in INDEPENDENT PEOPLE that it almost demands a second reading to fully appreciate this novel. Halldor Laxness created an enriching tale of Bjartur, a hardheaded sheep farmer who is fiercely loyal to the concept of remaining self-sufficient. After spending 18 years as a laborer he finally saved an adequate amount of money to purchase his own plot of land. Unfortunately, Bjartur's new land happens to be haunted with evil spirits that he is determined to ignore and discredit. He cares more for his sheep than for his family and remains stubborn as Iceland embarks on a socialist platform. Will Bjartur be able to modify his allegiances before he is left behind in the new Icelandic markets? More importantly, will he learn to accept the choices and faults of his children?
Laxness paints a picture of the bleakness of rural life in Iceland in the early 20th century. The reader receives a feeling of the climate and land as well as rural Icelandic society. Laxness' portrayal of the dales and moors very often results in a sad picture of humanity. On top of all that, the hard life of the sheep farmer makes for a very sad story. The absurdity of life really shines through. For these reasons many people will assess INDEPENDENT PEOPLE as being too grime and depressing as it is definitely not a "feel good" book, but at the same time there is a hidden quality that brings beauty to Bjartur's life on the dales. If you're able to uncover that beauty as I have then you many just enjoy INDEPENDENT PEOPLE as much as I have. And don't forget the subtle humor involved. I simply could not help laughing at Bjartur's stubbornness. Bravo!

Independent People is not a book for everyone. It is a long, slow and sometimes punishing read. Laxness paints the sheep farmer's life in bleak tones. Think of Solzhenitsyn's Siberia or Rolvaag's Dakota prairie. So dismal is the mood at times that the reader feels the imminent onset of seasonal affective disorder. But Independent People also contains moments of pure, distilled beauty so arresting they seem to stand out from the cold landscape like stars in the ink of darkness. Bjartur of Summerhouses is a true epic hero. As Monte Christo is to vengeance, Bjartur is to self-determination. His emotional intransigence and the suffering he visits on all those close to him is balanced only by the enormity and brute force of his will. Asta Sollilja, his daughter, is the only possible counterweight to his obstinacy, in both emotional and literary terms. She is strong and sensitive, beautiful and grotesque, half Bjartur, half anti-Bjartur. Her duality provides the story's central drama and the book's over-arching metaphor. Masterfully constructed of vignettes woven into small books, Independent People is seamless. Laxness's voice is clear and lyric, never showy. The writing is fresh and modern, yet seems to be channeled from Iceland's mythic past. This is a land populated by many dark spirits and one never feels quite free of their presence here. Certain images from Independent People are indelibly etched on my consciousness. A man violently and accidentally riding a reindeer. A girl longing by a window for a stranger she's met just once. A young man seduced back to the home he has left by a siren on horseback. There is something more to why I love this book. I spent a week in Iceland in July 1998, and was transfixed by its rugged, austere beauty. The feeling I had while reading Independent People was the same feeling that possessed me the entire time I was in Iceland. It was the cold, astonishing sensation of stepping outside your self and gazing on the topography of your own heart.

"Independence" is a word thrown around a lot, especially here in America where we think we have some kind of freehold on it. For much of its history, Iceland was a desperately poor land of sheep farmers and fishermen with a very small class of large landowners and merchants (often Danish) who kept the others in thrall. Halldor Laxness lived and wrote in the times when this age-old society was changing. He helped bring in the change, supporting a better life for his long-suffering countrymen, supporting socialism. If he had a slightly too rosy a view of Russian communism, he didn't, at least, have to live under a system so arbitrary and cruel. But what of a poor Icelander from "the back blocks" as the Australians say, who worked and struggled all his life to make a go of it, fighting the elements, predatory landowners, and supernatural enemies as well ? INDEPENDENT PEOPLE is the epic story of such a man, known as `Bjartur of Summerhouses', who remains aloof from every enticement, every trend or opinion. He refuses to side with the cooperative movement, he refuses to kowtow to the local powers as well. To eat someone else's bread is the worst fate he can imagine. To avoid that, he will let his wives and children die, lose the surviving children to emigration or urban poverty, live his life in a leaky hovel, and refuse all help from whatever quarter. Above all, he isolates himself from his stepdaugher Asta Sollilja, who craves his love. He denies any feeling for her, or for anything except his sheep. Yet he will not be defeated. Stoic survival at last breaks to reveal the feelings Bjartur suppressed for years so that he could carry on. If you don't choke up at the end, you haven't got an ounce of emotion. He might well be Iceland itself---a tiny nation as the world counts nations--but always itself, always choosing its own path, no matter what the consquences.

INDEPENDENT PEOPLE is one of the great novels of this world. If Laxness had not written other great books like "Salka Valka" and "The Fish Can Sing", his reputation would have been settled forever with just this one book. Pathos, love, courage, childhood, the beautiful but harsh landscape, the cries of marsh birds in the vast silence, the lives of rural Icelanders in the first quarter of the 20th century and their struggles for change---everything is portrayed by a master. How could you not read it ?

Halldor Laxness’s masterpiece, Independent People, won the 1955 Nobel Prize in Literature for its “vivid epic power which has renewed the great narrative art of Iceland.” Both accessible and luminously written, this book will transport you to early Twentieth Century Iceland. You will feel its biting cold, its isolation, and see the stark beauty of a land that is both friend and foe to the people who dwell there.

Bjartur of Summerhouses is a sheep farmer whose steely determination to achieve independence, despite the forces against him— nature and the economy— is both heart wrenching and darkly comic. Bjartur buys a small farmhouse and some sheep after working eighteen years as a lowly servant, and wants only to raise his family and flocks without debt or obligation to any man. He finds his stubborn match in his daughter, who seeks her own independence, and their epic battle of wills is moving and illuminating. This rewarding read will not be forgotten; it will live forever in your heart.

At the beginning of this edition of "Independent People" is a patch of thin ice onto which you must not--must not--venture. It is Brad Leithauser's forward, which should really be an afterward (and it would be a very good one, indeed). Unfortunately, Leithauser's essay gives away the plot in ways that no introduction ever should. Should you fall into this before reading such a wonderful novel, you will be very very sorry.

Once past this danger, prepare to give this book your full attention and to lose yourself in another time and place. There are many summaries of this novel in other reviews, so rather than repeat them, I'll just mention two things, and I won't give away anything. First, enjoy Laxness's rendering of the farm talk among these Icelandic crofters when they come together at weddings and funerals. It's specific (sheep maladies, taxes, straying children, straying sheep), bleak, colloquial, and often comic. If you live in a rural area, you can hear a version of the same thing at the feed store or a church supper. Second, get ready to be astonished at the sheer complexity of all of the characters, even minor ones, not just the central characters, Bjartur the crofter and his daughter, Asta Sollilja. There is, for instance, Madam Myri, the local well-to-do poetess who makes pronouncements on the virtues of rural life. There is Hallbera, the muttering grandmother who lives longer than almost anyone else, like a candle (as the narrator says) that can't be snuffed. You will not be able to forget any of them.

This is not an easy novel to recommend to others. A novel about an Icelandic sheepherder, you say? A novel about a man so conservative, so principled, so stubborn, and so independent that he expects nothing from anyone (including the government) and can scarcely accept a gift proffered freely? Is Bjartur a man for our times?

Don't fail to get your hands on this great novel so that you can decide for yourself.
M. Feldman

He who keeps his sheep alive through winter lives in a palace.
A free man can live on fish. Independence is more important than meat!

This is a great and large novel about the American Dream.
Stop, sorry, let me rephrase:
This is a great and large novel about the Icelandic Dream: be independent!
The ultimate `small government' novel!

Bjartur of Summerhouses, a miserable but free crofter, made it to freedom from his hated boss. After 18 years of `slavery', he bought his freedom and started his own sheep business.
His daughter makes it to freedom from her bossing father. Their relationship is one of the main themes of the novel.
The only main character who has mostly other things in mind is Titla, the bitch, who loves nothing better than being a sheep dog. Her communication with her boss is one of the chief pleasures of this gorgeous, funny, dramatic, poetic tale.

Bjartur is one of the great characters of 20th century literature. Congratulations if you don't know him yet! You are in for a treat! He is not just legally and physically independent from his evil old boss, but also mentally from the curses of Iceland's witches and their black magic. Not that they give up easily. And more, he is independent of other superstitions (which, on second thought, might more or less rule him out as a genuine American hero.)

Surprisingly, Bjartur is also a poet and a connoisseur of poetry. (Is that a normal affliction of shepherds? Iceland may be special, after all.) Another poet is the wife of his boss, who is not held in much esteem though. She is fond of praising poverty (poor people have fewer worries, they just work a little longer), while the crofters prefer to discuss tape worms and lung worms.

It is a book about sheep and about a lot else. It is not always politically correct by our standards of today. (Women are even more to be pitied than ordinary mortals.)
It is a pity that the editors did not find it necessary or did not take the time or trouble or expense to provide a glossary. That would have made some parts of the tale easier on us sheepless creatures.

P.S. I like the book so much that I could not wait until I finish it but needed to post the review halfways. While it is not likely that I change my mind, I may find additional things to add.
Like this one: Bjartur is so proud of his independance that he even praises his sheep for theirs: they don't need man!
By the way, if you don't know Laxness at all and are wondering what he could be compared to: I would say he is closest to Steinbeck and his Salinas stories, both in style and content and humor. Looking at other Scandinavians, you may be surprised at another comparison: some chapters, when he describes the world from Bjartur's kids' perspective, are from the H.C.Andersen school of marvels. And there is a definite touch of Hamsun in the dialogues.

In 1954, the Nobel Prize for Literature was awarded to one Ernest Hemingway; his successor the year following was a considerably lesser known Icelander named Halldor Laxness. Yet Papa Hemingway would no doubt have felt both admiration and kinship with Laxness's stubbornly comical, almost tragic hero Gudbjartur Jonsson, in INDEPENDENT PEOPLE. Bjartur, as he is called, is undoubtedly one of literature's great single-minded characters, a Don Quixote of Iceland's punishing sheep country, a Candide devoted to the seemingly simple concept of personal independence. Unlike Sartre's spineless seeker of freedom, Matthieu Delarue (THE AGE OF REASON), however, Bjartur has both guiding principles and a backbone, although probably too much of both.

The plot lines are surprisingly minimal for a book of nearly 500 dense pages. After eighteen years of working as a sheep-herder for the local (and wealthy) Bailiff, Bjartur scrapes up enough money to purchase a scrabbly piece of boggy land and a few sheep from his former employer. The land is rumored to be cursed, but Bjartur disdains these superstitions and resolutely forges ahead, optimistically naming his homestead Summerhouses. Refusing to assume debt or even ask for help in order to preserve his cherished independence, Bjartur of Summerhouses builds a sod house (the sheep live downstairs, the humans upstairs), slowly expands his flock through birthing, and marries a woman (Rosa) who dies alone in childbirth; Bjartur is out in a violent snowstorm searching for a sheep that he doesn't know his dead wife had cooked and eaten. The infant (named Asta Sollilja - Beloved Sun-Lily) only survives thanks to the body warmth of Bjartur's dog. Later, Bjartur marries again and fathers three boys (Helgi, Gvendur, and Nonni), as well as several stillborn children. His second wife dies, but Bjartur and his children eke out an existence that suddenly improves with the increase in price in Icelandic wool during World War I. Of course, this newfound wealth brings its own set of curses, luring Bjartur and his farming colleagues into building new, more modern houses. The intrusion of worldly affairs into Summerhouses also threatens the solidarity of Bjartur's family and results in breakup and tragedy, but also in a certain degree of good fortune. By the end of the story, Bjartur and his much-reduced family and flock are forced to set out for new land even further into the rugged north, recalling nothing so much as the ending of Mary Shelley's FRANKENSTEIN.

Plot and story is not really what INDEPENDENT PEOPLE is about. Laxness has penned a great satire of Icelandic mores and customs, turning Bjartur into the sort of close-minded, impossibly stubborn farmer who, the more he strives for independence, the greater and tighter are the shackles that bind him. Bjartur is surrounded by a colorful group of supporting characters, from the equally stubborn Asta and romantic Nonni to the other sheep farmers, the odd and slovenly Bailiff Jon, the politically ambitious Ingolfur Arnarson Jonsson (the Bailiff's son), the old grandmother Hallbera, and perhaps best of all, the Bailiff's wife, the Mistress of Rauthsmyri. The Madam Myri is a satirical triumph, an incessant worshipper of the noble peasants and their lifestyle while she lives in magnificent comfort and even complains of the burdens and unhappiness of being rich.

Nearly everything is the subject of satire in INDEPENDENT PEOPLE. World War I becomes an insane exercise to kill ten million people over some guy named Ferdinand. The economics of socialization (rural cooperatives) versus capitalism (the merchants) becomes nothing more than the replacement of one set of heartless thieves bleeding the farmers with another set, both sets caring only about money and little about the farmers' lives. Modernization in the form of roads and bridges become just another way to help the rich get richer and to distract the young with dreams of the big cities and foreign lands. Even America is satirized as the distant land of impossible dreams, so that the word America becomes a pejorative for the young who leave their families to discover their own America. Of all these symbols, however, America appears to be the one with a positive side - youngest son Nonni leaves for America because he has been prophesied to be a great singer, one who will sing a song for the whole world to hear. We see little of Nonni after he leaves Summerhouses, but we can guess that he perhaps represents Laxness himself.

INDEPENDENT PEOPLE is rich in its sense of place, drawing unforgettable pictures of the northern Icelandic sheep-farming countryside. Laxness's depictions of Nature are captivating, and his tales of struggle against the elements make the reader feel a part of the fight for existence. One scene, in which Bjartur nearly dies attempting to capture an elk during a snowstorm, is truly memorable. For all that, however, Laxness writes in a style that many readers will find slow and dense, reminiscent of authors like Thomas Hardy, George Elliot, or Charles Dickens. First published in 1945, this book shows its old-world, European novel roots. Nevertheless, patient readers will be amply rewarded; those expecting Grisham-style pacing will doubtless be unwilling to persevere. I highly recommend this book to anyone who loves classical literature, looks for novels with a serious message and point of view, or simply wants to meet and savor a memorable story with classical pacing and an unforgettable cast of magnificently-drawn characters.

The old sagas describe the voyages of discovery and Icelandic settlement in long, poetic passages. Laxness's work is a fitting descendant of the saga tradition. Laxness describes the efforts of he main character, Bjartur, to navigate the difficult Icelandic terrain, cold winters, challenging political situation, and deep poverty. Much of Bjartur's philosophy is communicated in rich passages that verge on poetry. Bjartur is not a lovable character, but he is an interesting one. This book is not for someone who wants a quick, light read, but it will reward someone who is willing to spend the time on it. Rarely is language used so well - and I read the English version, not the author's original Icelandic. I highly recommend the book, especially for someone who has visited or intends to visit Iceland.

In this formidable saga about the conquest of individual independence Halldór Laxness exposes his outspoken views on mankind, politics, economics and literature.

Vision on man and woman
For Halldór Laxness's protagonist, `it is freedom that we are all after. I say for my part that a man lives in vain, until he is independent. For desire for freedom runs in a man's blood, as anybody who has been servant to another understands.'
But, isn't the life of the independent man, in its nature, not a flight from other men who seek to kill him?
His respect of women doesn't go further than `from my experience of women folk most of them want to be raped, more or less.'

Conquest of independence
The protagonist has `the heroic spirit of the first settlers`. It is `a man who had broken new soil; a man who also had faith in his country, and who showed it in his deeds.'
But his search of independence is a terrible struggle against a harsh climate, against the economy's short booms and long busts and against debt: `Is their freedom worth as much as the worms that feed from eternity to eternity on the bags of skin and bones they call their sheep?'
Doesn't the independent man sow his enemy's field all his life, day and night? Are those who are struggling for independence not far better off, more independent, in prison?
The Lord's Prayer of the independent farmer sounds as follows: `Our Father, which art in Heaven, yes, so infinitely far away that no one knows where You are, almost nowhere, give us this day just a few crumbs to eat in the Name of Thy Glory, and forgive us if we can't pay the dealer, and our creditors and let us not, above all, be tempted to be happy.'

All too relevant vision on economics and politics
Pure capitalism is not the solution. The few steal everything from the many. `I hold that people aren't big enough criminals to live under this system. Folk, the masses, aren't big enough bloody rogues ... and we aren't armed either.'
What we need is organized solidarity: the lone-worker will continue to live `in affliction as long as man is not man's protector, but his worst enemy.'
What makes a politician `a great man is first and foremost his ideals, his unquenchable love of mankind, his conviction that the people need improved conditions of life and better facilities of cultural advancement, his determination to mitigate his follower's sufferings by establishing a better government, instead of a helpless puppet in the hands of oppressors.'

Literature
The protagonist is also a bard, bawdy and outspoken; not one of those who `crawl around licking a woman's feet, like these love poets do nowadays'; and not one of those `cheap poets and misanthropists and liars (who) write books full of sunshine and dreams to fool, ridicule and insult (their readers).'

With such moving and unforgettable scenes, like the birth of the first child, the funeral of his first wife, the boy's awakening, the first night out of the daughter with her `father' or the reuniting of the `father' and `daughter', Halldór Laxness wrote a formidable and poignant masterpiece.

This novel is an immense literary highlight and a must read for all lovers of world literature.

I first read "Independent People" in 1996 after reading Brad Leithauser's essay in the "New York Review of Books." Leithauser's praise of the book and the author were so intriguing that I went to the library that day and found an earlier edition. I recently had the opportunity to read the book again, with Leithauser's essay serving as an introduction. A single reading cannot exhaust this outsize, obscure novel by the 1955 Nobel-prize winner from Iceland.
On a simple level, "Independent People" deals with the lives of the poor sheep grazers in Iceland early in the 20th Century. The hero is a farmer named Bajartur of Summerhouses who, after 18 years of working for another, the baliff, earns enough money to buy his own small farm. Bajartur's goal is to be independent and self-sufficient, to take what he earns and not take or give to others. In addition to this simple economic credo for independence. Bjartur is an "independent person" emotionally in his relationships with his wives -- he is twice married in the book -- his three sons and his daughter -- actually his first wife's daughter but not Bjartur's -- whom Bjartur names Asta Sollija the "beloved sun -lily" whom he refers to as his soul's "one flower." Much of this long, multi-faceted book involves Bjartur's relationship with Asta Sollija -- their estrangement and ultimate reconciliation.
Bjartur and Asta Sollija and their relationship frames but hardly exhausts this book. There is a picture of Iceland -- or of modernizing society in general with its conflict between farmer and town. There are long discussions of poetry and literature, of war, of politics, and particularly of philosophy and religion, see below. For all its length and seriousness, much of the book is funny, almost satirical in tone in the way it pokes fun at Bjartur and his intellectual and emotional limitations. The reader still comes to admire Bjartur for his fortitude and stubborness.
The book is timeless in character and the chronology is blurred. World War I plays a pivotal role in the middle of the book but the times before and the times after seem to be endless and undefined. There is something that is prototypical and archetypical about this book -- it is hardly an exercise in the realistic novel.
From a subsequent essay about Laxness by Brad Leithauser, I learned that Laxness was the kind of person generally called a seeker. This made me admire him and this book all the more and informed greatly my second reading. Growing up in a small, isolated nation, Laxness read exhaustively and put something of himself into his readings. He changed his mind many times during his life, being at various stages entirely secular, a socialist with perhaps communist leanings, and an adherent of various forms of Christianity. He took a rare delight in important ideas and showed an openness and fluidity to them that I find reflected in the themes of "Independent People." Most obviously, their is Bjartur's character with its emphasis on economic self-sufficiency and laissez-faire. This attitude leads to Bjartur's heroism but also his poverty, and it is contrasted artfully with the cooperative movemement and, implicitly, with a socialist approach to society in the early 20th century.
The book is pervaded by a strong spiritual tone. Bjartur for most of the book represents a position of independence and utter skepticism, but at key moments he does things not fully consistent with his stated beliefs. The book is framed by old Icelandic pagan legends and by spirits who are said to continue to haunt Bjartur's farm. We see various Christian ministers who in general are satirized in the course of the novel. But I was most impressed with the following erudite, and well-taken reference to Zoroastrianism, the religion of good and evil,which is alluded to many times during the course of the book and frames its story. In a moment of irony, Laxness puts the following speech early on, at Bjartur's first wedding, into the mouth of the bailiff's wife.
"I don't know whether you are aquainted with the religious beliefs of the Persians. This race believed that the god of light and the god of darkness waged eternal warfare, and that man's part was to assist the god of light in his struggle by the tilling of the fields and the improvement of the land. This is precisely what farmers do. They help God, if one may say so; work with God in the cultivation of plants, the tending of livestock, and the care of their fellow men. There exists no calling of greater nobility here on earth. Therefore, I would direct these words to all husbandmen, but first and foremost to our bridegroom of today: You sons of the soil whose labour is unending and leisure scanty, know, I bid you, how exalted is your vocation. Agriculture is work in co-operation with the Creator Himself, and in you is He well pleased." (p. 25)
I am intrigued by the repeated references to the "religion of the Persians" and to its appropriateness for the story. This quote,and its irony, reminds me of the sermon in "Moby Dick", a book which shares in its obscurity and in its questing character many of the qualities of this one. The speech shows the author's ability to adopt material from little-known traditions into his own ideas and work, and to make them live for the reader. It was one of the qualities that leapt out at me in my second reading of "Independent People."
This book remains a little-known masterpiece. It will reward those readers willing to take the time with it.

There's not much I can say about "Independent People" that hasn't already been written here. It's an extraordinary read, full of complex characters, striking detail, and a wintry, desolate setting that is at once oppressive and alluring.
It's not a perfect book. When the subtitle claims the novel is "an epic," it's not kidding. According to Miriam-Webster, an epic is something "extending beyond the usual or ordinary especially in size or scope." In every sense of the word, this book is an epic. At times, the book travels into unnecessary spaces, gives us plot lines and characters that really don't go places. It's long. Very long. The prose is epic, too.
But you know? The book is awesome because of its flaws. Its epical nature fits the story, the time, and the place. Perfect. Sublime. A definite reader's read.

Amid the bleak frozen wastes of an Icelandic winter, Bjartur of Summerhouses tends his sheep. After 18 years as a hired hand, Bjartur has acquired his own lease, a small croft named Summerhouses, in a reputedly haunted valley. Here the indefatigable Bjartur experiences the deaths of two wives, attacks on his sheep, the vagaries of weather and international wool and mutton prices, and the loss of most of his children.

Bjartur is inherently conservative and fiercely independent and accepts neither assistance nor charity. In Bjartur's mind, independence is a singular virtue, and independent people are apparently invincible. I loved this book but I did not find it easy to read: I found the unremitting struggle of Bjartur and his family depressing. But the words! The prose was beautiful and Laxness's description of Bjartur's world kept me engrossed even though I was not comfortable in it.

`And the wheel went on spinning through time's expanse.'

This is a saga about fate, fortune, family and the politics of life.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

Bjartur of Summerhouses, is a sheep farmer and in Independent People Laxness has written what he describes as an 'epic' about Bjartur's life-long struggle for independence from the grip of his freezing and humble Icelandic background. In his struggle to gain financial independence Bjartur loses so much, a son who deserts him, two wives and even his favourite daughter or "Sun Lily" as he calls Asta Sollilja is ultimately disowned.
To relieve his struggle Bjartur attempts to write poetry and even when lost in the bitter cold of his Icelandic trail searching after his lost sheep in the middle of the night, it is poetry to which he turns to retain his sanity and to comfort him for all that has sunk so low in his attempts to raise a happy family.
If there is a moral to the story then it's that only by sacrificing all that he has earned does he find what he most values.
I think that the integrity of the author goes without question but at times I lost sympathy with Bjartur for seeming to be more concerned about losing his sheep than losing his boy. I concede that this only makes Bjartur the more individual and its greatly to Laxness's credit that he is very far from any self-conscious attempt to produce a stereotypical 'likeable' character in Bjartur on a 24/7 basis. Would anyone who wasn't a fiction qualify ?

I was drawn by the "Nobel Prize in Literature" designation of Mr. Laxness.

And, I think, this book came recommended to me as somewhat of a commentary on the industrialization effect on a somewhat pristine environment (i.e., a landscape / agriculture as yet un-impacted by industrialization...even as recent as the 20th century). Regardless of the reason for finding it, this is a GREAT book. Some reviewers say "too long", some say "dull and boring" in parts; yes, some parts don't give the immediate satisfaction of "character development" as, say, a SITCOM, but when did we lose our perspective? A good book needs character building. A good book needs plot and contextual development. A SITCOM, without qualification, needs one-liners to grasp the short attention span of the audience. Hence, a great book, as this one is, must do both of those things, character building & plot development exceptionally well. As another reviewer mentioned, with all its ups and downs, and as engrossing as it is, it's hard to believe this book was not originally written in English. Take the time - read a book, especially this one. This one is on par with whatever you consider a literary classic.

After learning by happenstance that Halldor Laxness was the first (and only) Icelander to win the Nobel Prize for literature, I impulsively purchased his magnum opus, Independent People. Delving into the harsh, unforgiving world of an isolated Icelandic shepherd, Bjartur of Summerhouses, I was overcome by the coldness of the nordic winters and the romance of those hardy flowers--the souls of people and sheep alike--that bloom in the omnipresent darkness. Not having much time to read, I was forced to put the book down temporarily until I actually went to Iceland on a family vacation, incidentally unrelated to my interest in Laxness. I read on as we drove through Iceland's countryside, a cold and treeless yet magnificent place where some people still believe trolls live in the uninhabited interior, glaciers creep towards the low fjords, and moss and lichen cling to the sharp lava flows--assertions of independence in themselves.

Indeed, Independent People is the story of obstinacy at odds with obstinacy--Bjartur stands on the precarious ledge of self-sufficiency, supported only by his own obdurate nature. But his family and countrymen are no different--independent in their own way; a root of self-satisfaction to be sure, but more often a source of strife and divisiveness. But overlying this theme is the obstinacy of nature, the unyielding and unforgiving solvent that harbors snow, darkness, disease, and hunger with no care for Bjartur's philosophy or struggle. Bjartur's epic path through Independent People is tragic and beautiful, an immensely satisfying journey into a world where infinity independent souls are perched atop the same precipice and only the toughest will remain.

This novel harkens one back. Back to the times before. The times when the knowledge was common and the rites were all in place. The story is touching. The use of much older hymns within the book is terrific. Highly recommended.

Laxness has created a true hero in Bjartur Jonssen of the Summerhouses, a man determined to overcome the hardship of raising sheep in the Icelandic hills in order to maintain his independence. In the process he sacrifices his family in order to stay true to his quest. One by one family members succumb to his obsession and Bjartur himself pays a high price for his pride. Laxness has written a lyric story, painting a picture of life on the harsh Icelandic moors where it often rains 200 days of the year and winter can last for 10 months. He is truly a worthy recipient of the Nobel Prize and in Independent People provides a tale for the ages

Having just read INDEPENDENT PEOPLE, I feel as though I have been drawn into the vortex of some great hurricane and am being carried around the globe by it, high above the surface, trapped in its gravity.
This story has captured me and will not let me go. It is above all the heroic struggle of a Viking farmer to be free and his refusal to grieve in loss and defeat that grip me. He never grieves. Why then did I continually grieve for him? And why am I grieving for him still?
The answer must be that my character is weak in comparison. Laxness may have spoken for all survivors everywhere. "Never mourn what you have lost."--"rather content yourself with what you have left, when you have lost what you had."
Some people learn Russian to read Pushkin. I want to learn Icelandic to read Laxness.
As for politics and ideologies, not to worry. They are just a little dust here and there on the floor of the croft, at times a little distraction. The story unfolds outside and above and all around them and in its enormous weight little concerns them.
Could this book possibly have been written just for me? To enjoy it most, a reader should probably have lived at least a thousand years.

Jean F.Leotard once said that a great author strives to write the book that can not be written and Independent People is such an outstanding book. It is a book rich in contrasts and humanity and yet written with the mastery of some minimalism. It is a very tough story yet tender and poetic; tragic and hopeful; melancholic and very funny; Bjartur is so wise and so dumb at the same time. Sometimes Laxness stretches the story a bit too far as when Bjartur is more devastated by the loss of a sheep than the loss of his boy... Yet, even that somehow adds to the consistency of Bjartur's character and I consider Bjartur to be one of the most memorable characters ever captured in print. The Independent People will be cherished by any reader who enjoys the strength and excellent perception into human nature of Gabriel Garcia Marquez, John Steinbeck and Ernest Hemingway.

This is a great novel. The story is engrossing and the characters are convincingly human. However, I would recommend that the reader find out something about Iceland before tackling it. It is very helpful to have a feel for the Icelandic landscape and a little bit of knowledge of the country's history before picking up this book. It also helps to read a few of the Icelandic sagas first. "Egil's Saga", "The Burning of Njal", and/or "Hrafnkel's Saga" would be good ones to read. They are readily available in English translation.
If I hadn't read several of the sagas first, and found out a bit about Iceland, I would miss a lot of what Laxness is talking about in this novel.
The book needs a better translation. The translator's use of archaic and uncommon English words is distracting. For example, the word "bigging" is used on the first few pages to denote the ruins in the valley. Merriam-Webster dictionary defines this as an "archaic" word meaning "building." It comes from the Old Norse and is close to a Modern Icelandic word meaning 'settlement, habitation'. Maybe the translator chose 'bigging' because it was close to Laxness' original Icelandic word. He also uses 'ling' instead of the far more common word 'heather'. 'Ling' is another word from Old Norse which is probably close to Laxness' original Icelandic, but most English readers won't understand it. Bad choice for the translation.
There is a man called "the Fell King" (Most English readers wouldn't know that Fell = mountain. I wonder why the translator didn't call him "the Mountain King".)
There are probably many other significances to the names of people and places which I never caught on to. Some of these could be relayed to the reader by the translator.
The book needs a fresh English translation to make it more accessible to the average reader.

Haldor Laxness, the Nobel laurette and Icelandic genius, creates one of the most satisfying books with "Independent People." It is of such epic proportions and yet so earthy that one is continually struck by the dichotomy. The hero is a simple, poor farmer; he is not great, he will never be great (unlike Achilles who was great all his life). The landscape is so expansive and beautiful that it is hard to imagine a more magnificent scene, and yet this is also a land of hardship and famine and cold death. The book operates on so many levels that all one can do is bathe in its beauty and try to absorb as much as possible; whether the names (Asta Sollilja is exquisite), the land shapes, the farmers life, the love, the hate, the passage of time, the pressure of living an independent, free life, all of this deeply impress you upon reading the work. It is something I enjoyed, enjoy, and hope to read every year hence, so that I may enjoy the epiphanic revelations it provides.

In 1955 Laxness got the Nobel prize for literature mainly for this book that describes the unequal fight of an Icelandic small farmer against the elements....
After 18 years as the servant of a big farmer, Bjart is able to buy his own piece of land for a good price because everybody is convinced that that particular spot is bewitched. He build his own hut, marries a servant from the household of his former boss and becomes and Independent Person.
What follows is a chain of unfortunate events and misery: his first wife dies when giving birth, his second wife dies when he slaughters her favorite cow, most of his children die, the whole family os constantly hungry, the sheep have diarrhea or worms or both and in the meantime it does not stop raining.
Despite everything Bjart struggles on. And then WW 1 starts and everybody wants to buy Icelandic wool and mutton. Finally the farmers get a decent price for their sheep. And then Bjart finally pushes his luck and the books ends like it begins: with a moving to a new house.
An interesting theme and the book is at times very nice to read, but at other times it is enormously long-winded and the discussions between the small farmers are at times completely incomprehensible.

Laxness weaves a tale over a generation with the trials and tribulations of being a sheep herder on a haunted clearing in the near Arctic. Although I didn't relate exactly with the period and geography, the theme of independence and the politics of trade associated with the story were facinating. Bartjur, the shepherd, loves his independence more than his family and life itself.
In the end, his lessons are learned by his children who each take to heart the father's ways, but all in their own ways. Can we ever truly be completely independent? Or are we inextricably linked to family, community and society?
A very well written tome, with much vivid imagery, every bit as classic as Margaret Mitchell's GWTW.

Finally finished Independent People today.

I wonder how many times I read some version of Bjartur's statement of his
philosophy: "Independence is the most important thing of all in life." (p.31)

Independent man struggles to survive in Iceland in the early part of the 20th century. Recommended.

I read Independent People after visiting Iceland this summer, and having that context was great. Great writing and scope. It's difficult to understand the motivations of the main character, and I think the writing of the Sagas (so I'm told) and how they depict events is similar. But the description of life on the farm is worth the read. Also interesting is the role of debt in Icelandic life, which reminded me of the recent financial crisis and how things haven't changed that much (at least in that regard!). If you're interested in Iceland, this is a great book for you.

I bought Independent People after spending two weeks in Iceland this summer. It's a fascinating and moving account of a traditional farmer's life, and provides a nice complement and further insight to the folk museums that I visited. The protagonist, Bjartur, is at times frustrating and cruel, but I still feel sympathetic toward him and his unwavering desire to be an independent man. (I can't stand books in which I end up hating the main character!)

As much as I'm enjoying the book itself, the Kindle version of Independent People has some problems, as has been noted in previous reviews. Perhaps many of the typos have been fixed since the earliest version, but I am still noticing typos and inappropriate italicizing every few pages or so. I purchased this book for $15.34, comparable to the print version, so it is disappointing to see these interruptions in flow.

I didn't email the store about this or demand a refund because it's not that bad, but hopefully Kindle versions of Independent People and other older books can be improved.

This is perfection in every sentence. Nothing more to say. Except that if your edition contains a foreword by Brad Leithauser, don't read it until after you've finished! It will reveal too much of the story, and it will also influence your perception and your expectations. And while you may disagree with some views in the foreword, certainly you will agree with the claim that this is one of the best books ever. Unless you think that a good book should have hobbits in it.

Independent People
I gave this book 4 stars only because it's a fairly tough read. The author's prose and poetry is absolutely beautiful. Truly, his writing is magical. However, the story itself can be frustrating - the main character just doesn't move forward in life - he's doomed by his own independence. If you are a reader who loves really well written books, read on, but if you are someone who wants to "feel good" after reading, you might stay away from Independent People. One other note, in the new release, the introduction is basically a "Cliff Notes" of the book. I would not recommend reading this until AFTER reading the entire book.

I notice that many reviewers have labelled this a tough read, or depressing, or a great book about Iceland, for god's sake. If you love literature, by all means READ THIS BOOK. Yes, it has depressing moments, but it is also laugh-out-loud funny (I swear). Bjartur is a man for the ages, a noble and maddening blockhead. The prose is lovely--it's hard to believe it is a translation. And the themes of family, independence, wealth, class and power are timeless. Don't be intimidated. You're an independent person, right?

I found this most unusual book by accident. Simply put, Laxness should be much more widely-known. His writing is spare and beautiful. Independent People is depressing, but in a good way, the way that makes you feel you've learned something about life. Highly recommended.

Anse Bundren (As I Lay Dying) and Bjartur of Summerhouses were soul brothers, or at least cousins. Though Bjartur invests much more energy in his pigheadedness, the similarities between the two characters make me want to think more about what Mississippi and Iceland have in common.

A truly great book, wonderfully written, with many dramatic moments. Unfortunately the introduction is written by a bore who gives away most of the best moments. If you want to truly enjoy this book as written by the author save the introduction for last (if at all).

Independent people is very good book. The author describe the despair and the joy of Bjartur í Sumarhúsum. I think this book remarkable and i can see the persons behind som grey montain in my country. I'll never forget this book.

Independent People, which I heard about like many wonderful books through NPR, is hands down the best novel I've read. I can't add much to what the other on-line reviewers have said about the major characters and relationships except to mention Laxness' writing about the family cow...Bjartur's resistence to the idea of a cow, the breathtaking description of its being let out after being confined all winter, and its fate are all handled masterfully. Wow! What a great book!

In the introdution, the author is quooted as saying that he thought the hero of this srory, Bjartur, was stupid. I have to agree with him. He ios also very proud. Proud and stupid makes for a very bad story and I decided yo rea it thorugh. I wanted to becuae the intro as so adulatingx of it and tjh author is the only Nobel prize winner from Iceland., but it is not intersting enough.
Bjartur is doing what he can to make a life for himself on a homestead that is way out in the boonies and may be haunted, but it was what he could afford after working eighhteen (18) yeas to save for it. As far as I got, he had made a good gfo of it. He was not getting rich, but he was holding his own.
What galled me was that he kept harping on how he was an independent person, as was his wife. But he was not independent of the mechants who bought his wool, or the people who helped him, and he helped them, gather in the sheep for the winter or in other things. Philsosophically, a persons independence is always bounded by social, economics and nature. Independence only goes so far and then yuou have to tow the line like everone else.

Independent People is one of the finest literary novels to be written. Thompson's English translation is superb, retaining Haldor's poetic flow flawlessly. The story predicted Iceland's recent collapse with intellectual conciseness.

This book would make a great, sweeping television mini-series. I have read all of the books by Haldor Laxness that have been translated into English and this one stands out by far as one of the best to me.

I stopped reading this half way through, because it was too depressing and slow.

I've though of it several times since though, especially when my Mom mentions something about geneaology, etc. This gave me a very strong emotional and visual impression of what it was like to be a lonely homestead farmer in the late 1700s in Iceland.

The main character though is one of my least favorite people ever imagined (what a grump!) and while it was an interesting read, it never put me in a good place or was that enjoyable.