A Life Worth Celebrating: Kristin Lavransdatter, by Sigrid Undset
By Marilyn Green Faulkner

This epic story tracing the life of one Norwegian woman in the fourteenth century holds a mirror up to life that reflects the timeless nature of the trials, joys and fears we all face.

It happens this way: you’re young, in love, and you cannot listen to your better judgment telling you that you are making a mistake; each passing year shows you the folly of your choice, yet you make the best of it and build a life of honor. Perhaps you are a parent, and you have a child who is the special treasure of your heart, yet she chooses to marry a man whom you cannot respect. Or you are older and your grandchildren come for a visit: they are unruly, ill mannered, and hard to enjoy, yet you watch their faces as they sleep and revel in their perfect beauty.

Maybe you have a spouse you love dearly, yet between you there are long-standing resentments that are hard to get past. Other days, the two of you feel so much joy and fulfillment in the children you have raised and the life you have built together that you wonder why those tense times must plague your relationship. As you grow older your faith in God grows, but your faith in mankind suffers. Or vice versa. Finally you lay dying, and all of the trials, resentments, fears and challenges seem as nothing to you. There is only the love between you and your spouse, your faith and your quiet joy in the lives of your children and their children.

I could be talking about moments in your life or the lives of those close to you. In reality, I am recounting moments from a remarkable trilogy of novels titled Kristin Lavransdatter, by Sigrid Undset. In an epic story tracing the life of one Norwegian woman in the fourteenth century, Undset holds a mirror up to life that reflects the timeless nature of the trials, joys and fears we all face.

Hailed by Critics

Sigrid Undset was the first woman to win the Nobel Prize for Literature, awarded to her in 1928 for this remarkable trilogy. Her heroine, Kristin Lavransdatter, was hailed by some critics as the first real woman in literature. She is a fully realized human being, with a noble heart and many flaws. We meet Kristin as the lovely, slightly spoiled daughter of a Norwegian nobleman and follow her progress through marriage, motherhood and the onset of old age. Along the way we are introduced to an unforgettable cast of supporting characters. Most memorable, to me, is the relationship between Kristin’s father and mother. Undset captures the subtle difficulties and the deep joys of a long, faithful marriage. When, after thirty-four years, Lavrans becomes ill and knows he must die, they begin to communicate without barriers, yet still with a dignified restraint, in one of the most beautiful exchanges I have ever read. (Its spare beauty, in fact, reminds me of the sweet last moments between Cordelia and King Lear.) Lavrans places on her finger his own ring, one that he had requested never be taken from his finger. Ragnfrid gazes down at her betrothal ring, her wedding ring, and now this last, to be worn after his death.

“She felt it – with this last ring he had wedded her again. When in a little while, she sat over his lifeless body, he willed she should know that with this ring he had espoused to her the strong and living force that had dwelt in that dust and ashes.Through the pitchy darkness that was coming she saw the glimmer of another, milder sun, she smelt the scent of the herbs in the garden at the world’s end.

Lavrans laid his wife’s hand back in her lap, and sat down on the bench, a little way from her, with his back to the board, and one arm upon it. He looked not at her, but gazed into the hearth-fire.

When she spoke again, her voice was calm and quiet:

“I had not thought, my husband, that I had been so dear to you.”

“Aye, but you were”; he spoke as evenly as she.” (505)

I am quoting here from the first major translation of Undset’s work, by a man named Charles Archer. Since that time another translation by a woman named Nunnally has taken precedence. Archer uses a medieval-sounding jargon for his translation that can be hard to follow at times, yet this is the translation I first read and I found it charming. Nunnally, using the theory that even medieval Norwegians would not sound medieval to each other, uses a more contemporary colloquial jargon that will be easier to read. Her translation is said to be more accurate and less precious than Archer’s.

This is a book that invites you into another world, yet leaves you with many insights about your own. One woman summed up her experience with the novel in this way:

“I read the Kristin Lavransdatter trilogy the first time because I liked the cover – I admit it. At first I thought, what does a woman from the Middle Ages in Norway have to do with me – a woman in the 1970’s in Orange County, CA and then I discovered my Kristin. She still feels like an old friend. I have re-discovered her many times, as a new wife, a new mother, and now as I am entering my 40’s. I see something different in her and discover something different in me – with each read.”

I don’t know anyone who hasn’t loved this book – I speak of it as one book because my old hardbound version has all three novels bound together as one – and I have recommended it to many. One critic called it “the finest historical novel our 20^th century has yet produced,” and another claimed that “as a novel it must be ranked with the greatest the world knows today.” A reader commented, “Times may change, but through the ages women face the same trials, heartbreaks, and responsibilities that are unique in our roles as daughters, mothers and wives. Reading this book, I received insight into my own life and future.”

As does any good historical novel, Kristin Lavransdatter immerses us in the details of life in another age. We know what’s for dinner, how it is eaten and what the room looks like where it is served. We come to understand the church, and the strange combination of pagan superstition and Christian faith that guided the people of that day. Kristin’s weaknesses, joys and sorrows are so deftly shown through dialogue and inner monologue, that we begin to feel that we know her intimately, and cannot help but love her as others do. We move from political intrigue to the most mundane details of rural life, from deep spiritual insights to moments of selfishness and stress. In other words, we share a whole life, not the varnished version of a life presented with a hidden agenda. There is a power in the goodness of her parents and in her upbringing that emerges in Kristin and enables her to face the consequences of her youthful impetuousness. In the meantime, we are enriched, entertained, and inspired by her love of life.

Kristin Lavransdatter is the October selection for the Best Books Club, a gathering of readers who share a love for classic literature. Join us on our website at www.thebestbooksclub.com, or send your comments on this or any other novel to [email protected]. After Kristin we’ll need something light, so our selection for November is the delightful romp down the Thames, Three Men in a Boat, by Jerome K. Jerome. You will love it. Either of these great books would make a perfect holiday gift! Enjoy.

* * * * *

Our discussion last month of Lost Horizon drew several comments about Utopia:

I haven’t read the books mentioned, and these comments are based solely on my reactions to the article in Meridian.

The term ‘Utopia’ means ‘no place’ and was coined to mean just that. To search for a ‘Utopia’ is to search for something that does not, cannot exist. The blandness of the book mentioned in the review gives us an additional hint — who was it that wanted a ‘vanilla pudding’ existence for us? He will eventually be placed in that ‘no place’ — namely, outer darkness.

We see the ultimate need to be ‘some place’, and that place is defined by contrasts to the ‘no place’ of an imagined Utopia. We want to return home to the comforts of Father, having suffered through the trials of mortality, and certainly we expect more than a ‘vanilla pudding’ blandness for our efforts against the horrors of mortality. The offer of a ‘vanilla pudding’ existence is another of those false blandishments we so strongly struggle against.

The ‘Problem of Sin’ the philosophers struggle with? Nay, it is the ‘Necessity of Sin’ to give us sharp contrast to provide the clarity of our vision. Without it, we are as a hog on ice, nothing to push against, and we are then ‘no where’, Utopia.

Utopia? No thanks, don’t want it.

Tracy

—–

More profound is his book, RANDOM HARVEST. Do you agree?

Linda

—–

I agree that the concept of utopia is essential to Latter-day Saint theology. Central to our hope is to return to our Heavenly Father, and to acquire His state of existence, godhood. Many descriptions of our Heavenly Father exist, but several seem to come to the fore. He is love. He doesn’t merely possess love for His children, and His creations. His nature is love. He is a creator, and The Creator. His works never end, His words never end. His children never end, hence the scripture “My work and my glory is to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man”. As Latter-day Saints our goal is to perfect ourselves to attain godhood, return and live like our heavenly parents and live in a state of utopia!

Charlotte