Independent People
Ratings7
Average rating3.9
Pride. Pride has been the topic of beautiful and deep conversations with friends, some still ongoing. It's a multifaceted word, hard to talk about because of its many meanings. It's also an important and necessary part of the balance we humans must keep.
Cruelty. Not a word I'd ever associated with pride, but now I may never be able to look at pride the same way. Some may see Independent People as a book about sheep, or perhaps the Icelandic ethos, or about struggle. I found heartbreak. Some parts hurt to read. Physically hurt. Gut level. And it kept hurting more.
Bjartur of Summerhouses wants to be independent. Own his land, be indebted to nobody, be strong. This need, this pride drives him to an isolation that is especially pathetic because he isn't even aware of it. Unseeing, he drives away love and hope and promise. The dumbstruck reader is with him every cruel step of the way. And perhaps, at the end, seeing independence in a different light.
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.
This is the story of Bjartur of Summerhouses and the story of Icelandic farmers and their politics during the early-mid 20th century. Bjartur is the most stubborn of sheep farmers, valuing his independence and economic freedom above all other things. His life and the life of his family is harsh, there's death and sickness and not much kindness. Every man fights for himself, and that also applies to all members of his family. But he's also a poet and there's much poetry in his stubbornness and his dedication to his sheep and his land.
It took a while to get into Laxness' writing style, as he sometimes seamlessly morphs narration into dialogue into poesy. There's equal parts harsh-life reality and equal parts dreams and hopes in the story, and the writing manages to pass that on beautifully, giving you occasional segments that fill your heart with love for the cruel and tender relationship between man and nature and beast.
This book was a beast. Brilliant and complex, dense and bleak. I'm so glad that I had my smart and scholarly women's book club to help me unpack it. It's a masterpiece, and I'm glad I read it, but it demands a lot. This would be difficult for most readers to take on alone, but with the right group, it's revealing.