Hannes Pétursson

From Hannes Pétursson

I have never asked myself why I write poetry and prose, any more than I have asked why horses neigh and dogs bark, but not vice versa. I am an ally of the voice that took absolute control within me before I reached confirmation age. That voice was at once warm and strict, and filled me with an indescribable yearning. But at the same time it curtailed my will power and ambition, or perhaps I should say it simplified both, since after that the field of writing was the only field open to me, if I chose to be of any use at all, even a man among men. Thus I was deprived of all choice about my main course in this life. And I by no means regret that lot.

I admit I have never fully gained my bearings in the field of writing, although I have never been anywhere else for decades. Yet I feel there are certainly penalty boxes, goals and the like there somewhere. One thing I do know for certain: that the only language that matters for me in this field is Icelandic, although others are occasionally heard through megaphones. What I find worst is that I become all the more ignorant about Icelandic, the more I strive to learn it and use it presentably. It is continually growing, and grows inwards in all directions. Various people seem to believe that Icelandic lies here only in the air above the field of writing, like any other kind of wind above the football fields in Iceland. But a long time ago I began to suspect something completely different, namely that the Icelandic language might be the field of writing itself. But that needs looking into.

Hannes Pétursson, 2001.

Translated by Bernard Scudder

Conquering lands within - On the writing of Hannes Pétursson

For those who are not acquainted with the works of Hannes Pétursson it might be a good idea to begin with his prose. Pétursson published a book of short stories in 1961, Sögur að norðan [Stories from the North]; Ljóðabréf [Letters Of Poetry] is the title of short and irresistible pieces of prose from 1973 and Misskipt er manna láni is a collection of þættir [sg. þáttur or sagnaþættir, traditional historical chronicles from a certain town or discrict based on oral or written accounts] from 1982. Pétursson has a very good grasp of the latter form, sagnaþættir. Sagnaþættir are probably the most Icelandic form of prose, not only as regards their content, but also in form, style and handling of subject matter. Sagnaþættir have never been respected as high-brow culture but rather considered to belong to popular culture, in some instances they have been slighted and sneered at even though many important Icelandic writers have tackled the format. Rauðamyrkur [Red Darkness] was first published in 1973 and is in many ways archetypal for both author and format. It has recently been reissued. Rauðamyrkur is a sagnaþáttur and among the best of its kind. It sports a narrator who most of the time keeps himself to himself and conveys the material from both written and oral sources. This is a narrator whose presence is constantly felt and sometimes he steps into the light:

Drengur þessi var svo minnisgóður að nú, fjórum mánuðum síðar, sagðist hann hafa “vaknað tvisvar eða þrisvar um nóttina og þá hefði sér heyrzt Sveinn hrjóta í rúmi sínu”. Þess sér ekki stað, að sýslumaður spyrði vinnupilt, hví hann myndi svo glöggt þessa tilteknu nótt á umliðnu hausti, að hann gæti sagt til um hversu oft hann opnaði þá augun í svefnhúsinu. (48-9)

[This chap had such a good memory that now, four months later, he stated that he “woke two or three times during the night and had heard Sveinn snoring in his bed.” There is no record of the sheriff asking the boy why he remembered so clearly this specific night of the past autumn, so that he could bear witness of the number of times he opened his eyes in the sleeping quarters.]

This sagnaþáttur is about a robbery, the investigation and its repercussions. In 1871 a considerable amount of valuables were stolen from the warehouse of a certain Hafliði Jónsson, a farmhand at the farm Reykir in the valley of Hjaltadalur in the discrict of Skagafjörður [northern Iceland]. Soon suspicion fell on Otti Sveinsson, a farmhand on the neighbouring farm. He is arrested and interrogated without any evidence of his guilt. Later he escapes and disappears without a trace. Rauðamyrkur deals with a bad deed which is “sú hreyfing handarinnar sem aldrei sér botn í” [a deed with unforeseen consequences] as it says in the epilogue of the original publication. Indeed, it is not the mystery itself that makes Rauðamyrkur such an enjoyable read. It is more of a narrative carrot. The feeling for bygone times and character descriptions, the turn of phrase and the finely honed irony are the real strengths of the book. The story has characters like Madame Þóra Gunnarsdóttir whom Jónas [Hallgrímsson] wrote about in his poem ’Ferðalok’  [Journey’s End]; in this story [Rauðamyrkur] she has entered a different part of her life and her demeanour is different: “Í kvæðinu ljómar skraut í kringum hana, blóm og geislar, líkt og vafið í sveiga, en nú var allt skrautlaust” (86) [In the poem she glows ornately as if she had around her decorations with flowers and rays fashioned into a garland, but now everything is undecorated.] Her description echoes the poem and “Harla frábrugðin var hún fjallaferðinni eilífgullnu” [She was quite different from the eternally golden mountain walk]. The fall of Hólar in the valley of Hjaltadalur is another strong image where the fine irony reaches its high point. The chapter named “Á túni fornra virkja” [In the fields of former bastions] is in fact a family story with its own rise and fall within the main story. Even if the chapter is connected to the main story of Rauðamyrkur and gives it a deeper resonance it could just as well stand on its own. However, Rauðamyrkur can be recommended to all fans of sagnaþáttur. And this book is an excellent start for those who have not yet succumbed to the charms of the genre.

In his poems Hannes Pétursson is never far from national traditions. He seeks to reconcile tradition and modernistic innovations, both in meter, subject matter and his handling of the material: he uses alliteration, uses the tradition without losing his grip on modernism, or vice versa. In the poetry there are many allusions to Icelandic folk belief, folk poetry, folk stories and Nordic mythology with a strong European flavour. Pétursson’s work is based in part on Icelandic tradition and in part in modernity where, in his own words, men put “framtíð, þetta orð/í ósýnilegar gæsalappir” [future, this word/into invisible quotation marks].

Pétursson’s first book of poetry was published in 1955. At that time the first extensive changes in literary form in Icelandic poetry had recently taken place in the shape of the modernist poets named atómskáld [poets of the atomic age]. Things were on hold. It was not possible to go back to the old ways and a gap had developed between the poets and their readers; there was a state of uncertainty, a longing for a time of unbroken traditions where poems shared something with the common man. Tradition was in upheaval, but the innovations could not break through the barrier.

In his introduction to the recently published Ljóðasafn Hannesar [The Collected Poems of Hannes] entitled ’Ferðin heim’ [The journey home] Njörður P. Njarðvík recounts how Péturson’s first book of poems was eagerly awaited. This was mostly due to seven poems that had been published in a collection of poems entitled Ljóð ungra skálda 1944-54 [The Poems Of Young Poets 1944-54]. In the introduction to that book Magnús Ásgeirsson states that the future of traditional Icelandic poetry depends on “takist að sætta hina nýju stefnu við ízlenska hefð.” [the success of the consolidation of the new way with the Icelandic tradition.]. The poet Snorri Hjartarson had already made progress in that direction. Magnús said of Hannes Pétursson that he was “þegar framarlega í röð fullveðja skálda” [already at the forefront of mature poets]. Kvæðabók was well received and sold well, which was (and still is) a rare thing when it comes to the first work of young poets, in fact not many things gave away the fact that this was the effort of a beginner. Here, the author is not searching for a tone, he has already found it and it is fully formed.

The best known poem from this book, “Bláir eru dalir þínir” [Blue are your valleys] is a good example of the general flavour of the book.

Bláir eru dalir þínir
byggð mín í norðrinu
heiður er þinn vorhiminn
hljóðar eru nætur þínar
létt falla öldurnar
að innskerjum
-hvít eru tröf þeirra.

Þöglar eru heiðar þínar
byggð mín í norðrinu.
Huldur býr í fossgljúfri
saumar sólargull
í silfurfestar vatnsdropanna.

Sæl verður gleymskan
undir grasi þínu
byggð mín í norðrinu
því sælt er að gleyma
í fangi þess
maður elskar.

Ó bláir eru dalir þínir
byggð mín í norðrinu.

[Blue are your valleys
my home in the North
clear your sky in spring
silent your nights
waves fall easy
on the near skerries
– their fringes white.

Silent are your heaths
my home in the North.
Spirits live in waterfalls
sowing the sun's gold
into silver chains of drops.

How happy to forget
under your turf
my home in the North
for happiness is forgetting
in the arms
of the one you love

Oh! Blue are your valleys
my home in the North.]

The second book, Í sumardölum [In summer valleys] published in 1959, was the cause of some disappointment at the time, possibly because some of the poems were considered too political; although Pétursson has never been considered a political poet, except in the sense that he always takes a critical stand point. Here two social realist poems were placed side by side, “Kreml, 1956” and “Líkbrennsluofninn í Dachau, 1956” [Kremlin, 1956 and The crematorium at Dachau, 1956]. Later in Innlönd [Inner lands] he repeated the juxtaposition of two critical poems side by side: one about the United States of America and the other about the leftist truth. Despite the warmth in the title of the book Í sumardölum there are signs of dark things afoot, as can be seen in the poem “Geimflaugar” [Space rockets]: in the first half of the first stanza we can see the harshness of the rebuke and also the lyrical warmth in the latter half. The next two stanzas are like a repetition and an afterthought to the first one.

Þær eru geltandi hundar
sem geysast í veg fyrir tunglið:
fölgyllta sylgju næturinnar
fornvin þeirra sem elska.

Þær eru krepptur hnefi
kynslóðar minnar
sem hún slöngvar út í tómið
í togstreitu sinni við guð.

Þær eru floti Kólumbusar
á fagurbúinni siglingu
burt frá jörð
út til blikandi stjarnanna.

A powerful series of poems called “Söngvar til jarðarinnar” [Songs dedicated to the earth] at the end of Pétursson’s second book caught people’s attention. The subject matter is death, modern times, the human race; the first lines of a few of the poems describe the atmosphere of the series: “Maðurinn kjúkuberi sem eltir mig orðalaust” [The bony man who follows me silently] (VII) “Undarleg ó-sköp að deyja” [Death is a strange de-creation] (VII), “Handan við lífið bíður ekkert, ekkert” [Beyond life awaits nothing, nothing] (X). Pétursson’s poetry was heading for new directions.

Pétursson’s third book of poetry, Stund og staðir [Time and places], published in 1962, begins with a famous series of poems called “Raddir á daghvörfum” [Voices at dusk], the subtitle is “Tilbrigði við tíu þjóðsögur” [A variation of ten folk stories]. Stund og staðir marks a change of direction. The subject matters are different. A European atmosphere is more pronounced than before, as can be seen in the chapter “Staðir” [Places] poems the author wrote on his travels. One poem is called “Við gröf Rilkes” [By Rilke’s grave] and is indicative of the influence of the German poet Reiner Marie Rilke on the poetry of Pétursson: “Þú/sem gerðir mér steinana/byggilega.” [You/who for me made the stones/inhabitable]. The subject matter of the first half of the series of poems entitled “Stund einskis, stund alls” [Moment of naught, moment of all] is a common one: Poetry itself, against a loud world, its voice is weak, the powerlessness of the words, regret.

Hvers mega sín orð ljóðsins?
Stálið hefur vængjazt
og flýgur
langt út fyrir heimkynni arnarins.
Hvers mega sín orð þess?

Brostið net ljóðsins?
gert af kattarins dyn
bjargs rótum.

Ó dagar
þegar heimurinn var fiskur
í vörpu ljóðsins.

Next, Innlönd was published. Many regarded this as the best of Pétursson’s books, solid and purposeful; of all his books, Innlönd is the one that gets a strong hold of its readers and has become a reference, a literary landmark. The poems have all the best aspects from his previous work; and yet there is a certain difference in emphasis. The title does not only allude to the innlands of Iceland which form the setting of the book but also to innlands figuratively speaking. Innlönd is an introspective book, it forms its own world; “Sjá, það er hér!” ["See, it is here!"] he writes. This book is more intimate than the previous ones; the themes are not unfamiliar but the search is as pressing as ever; here the thought is turned to “þeim dyrum augans sem inn á við snúa” ["the door of the eye that is turned inwards"]. “Farvegir” [Channels] is a good example of the union of man and nature and memory, characteristic of the book.

Utan þessa dags
bak við árin og fjallvegina
steyma fram lindir mínar.

Ef ég legg aftur augun
ef ég hlusta, ef ég bíð
heyri ég þær koma
eftir leyningunum grænu
langt innan úr tímanum

hingað, hingað úr fjarska.
Þær hljóma við eyru mér
þær renna gegnum lófa mína
ef ég legg aftur augun.

Rímblöð [Pages of rhyme] is the name of the next book and keeps the promise given in the title. Even if this was not to be expected after Innlönd. Ferhend smákvæði [Four handed small poems] is the subtitle. Here one finds snapshots and fleeting images, speculations and reflections, clever and original images in rigid form, as in the poem “áramót” [At New Year], where fireworks are likened to jewellery shops fired up into the sky. The poet allows himself to do things not heard of in his poetry up to that point; some of the poems are pure comedy, as for instance in “Draugur"  [Ghost]:

Með höfuð sitt í handarkrikanum öðrum
og hægra eyrað í brjóstvasanum (sem klút)
í jakkahorninu annað augað (sem merki)
opnar hann forstofudyrnar og gengur út.

Heldur svo að heiman frá sér í bankann.
Þar heilsar hann vissum mönnum og fær sér smók
leggur því næst inn hausinn á hlaupareikning
hælbeinin, aftur á móti, á sparisjóðsbók.

Rímblöð is a good starting point into the Pétursson’s poetry. “Óður um Ísland” [Ode to Iceland], is a series of poems from the celebrations of the eleven hundred years of settlement in Iceland in 1974, and shows in a concise way one of the characteristics of Pétursson’s penmanship: a twofold vision. One encounters on the one hand the raven of Flóki flying “yfir sögulausan stað” [over a place without history] and the lyrical “I” (vér) [(we)] on the other hand in an aeroplane. The course is set for “landnáms hið innra” [conquering lands within]. Which way is the poet of the mountains gazing on one of the most famous photographs in all of Iceland’s history? This is a question from the first poem of Ýmis kvæði [Some poems], a series of single poems which has also been published in a collection of poetry. A few of these poems have the flavour of things to come in the next book of poetry, Heimkynni við sjó [A home by the sea]. Heimkynni við sjó is one of Pétursson’s major works and is in many ways on par with Innlönd although the books are inherently different. The poems are numbered from 1 to 60 and form a strong whole; the scene is the seashore, it is the framework of the book and also forms its frame of reference. Walks along the beach, [wave] greetings to the seals, exchanging glances with the oystercatcher [wading bird; Lat. Haematopus ostralegus]. Number 40 gives a taste of the atmosphere:

Kjalrák í grjóti.
Kvika. Már yfir djúpi.
Þönglar og söl.
Svalvindur untan af Flóa.

Í mýrum fyrir ofan
sjást moldargarðar við skurði.
á túnum fyrir ofan
er taðan sólþurr í flekkjum.

Sjávarströnd!
Stundirnar líða
bláar eins og hafið
brúnar og grænar eins og sveitin.

Þessar fjörur sem ég geng
eru Furðustrandirnar mínar.

The seashore theme is not constant, two poems are a social commentary, opposites and parallels of other places, cities, “Dag og veg” [The day and the road], the words of the poem are trodden underfoot “í stórkallalegu þusi” [in boisterous jabberings]. In poem 41 the narrator has made his home in “úrleiðis/í Eintalsins vopnlausa turni” [a remote/ unarmed tower of soliloquy] which is despised “af talsmönnum Athafna” [by entrepreneurs]. “Eitt skáld” [One poet] in poem 55 has “vaxið frá því að tala. / Það stuðlar lit við lit/og ljós við myrkur” [grown away from speaking. / It alliterates colour with colour/ and light with darkness]. “Myndir þess kurla/ móskaðan glerhimin vanans” [Its images pulverise/the dirty-grey glass sky of habitual routine]. Above that sky there is, I believe another clearer one. Heimkynni við sjó sets a new course, a new search; the format is freer than before, the tone is new, the subject matter, or rather the processing of the material, is different. The follow up were 36 poems which all are the natural continuation of Heimkynni við sjó. Memory pictures is what Njörður P. Njarðvík calls these poems, “þátíðarlausar stundir/og þó liðnar hjá” [Moments without the past tense/still they have passed] it says on the dedication page. “Þegar ungur ég var” [When I was young] is a typical poem for this book:

Vegarslóði forn
út vallþurran bakka.

Við ríðum í hnapp.
Hófatakið glumrar.

Sunnanblær, júlí
og syngjandi menn!

Faxið á hesti mínum
er fagurhvítt og þykkt.
Höfuð mitt sem liggur þar
er lítið egg!
lítið egg í hreiðri
hlýju og miklu

í föðurlegu hreiðri
sem færist úr stað, er þó kyrrt.

In 1993 Eldhylur [Fire Pit] was published and received the Icelandic Literary Award. Again the tone is new; this time it is mysterious in places, and religious. Three of the longer poems have what could be termed a prologue, prose that is an opening to the poems or an introduction for the narrator who then gives the poem a voice. “Klukkukvæði” [Clock poem] is thus framed by such texts, the narrator is a clock mentioned by the reverend Jón Steingrímsson [1728-1791] in his autobiography. There are also comments of hitherto unknown force directed at the present times: the country’s last ravens sit “heyrnarlausir á öxlum/herklæddra manna/fituþungir/ – fóðraðir á þrastareggjum” [deaf on the shoulders of/men in military dress/flabby with fat/ – fed on the eggs of thrushes]; thus spoke the “náttúruskoðarinn” [the observer of nature] who steps out of his own statue in the poem “Vorgestur” [Spring visitor]. The observer of nature is Jónas [Hallgrímsson]; the overweight birds of prediction whisper no news in the ears of the men in military wear. The goings on of modern times is put forward in a few concise and strong brush strokes in “Á hafströndu” [On an ocean beach], where the “hlymja ísabrot Sögunnar” [icefloes of History crack loudly]; the history of the world is breaking free. The next poem is called “Stígur í snjó” [A path in the snow] and could possibly be read in the same context as the one before it. The side of a mountain which the narrator asks the reader to tread gingerly is possibly not the one recognised at first glance:

Enn að nýju
er allt stórfennið varasamt.

við fjallseggjar bíða
bláhvítar hengjur átekta
- brimfaldar af snjó
bundnir torskildum fyrirmælum.

Í hlíðarfæti standa
hús góðra vina.

Öskrum ekki!
Enginn sér fyrir hvað gerðist
við högg hljóðbylgjunnar.

Fetum af gát
þessa fjallshlíð sem er okkur kær.

Öskrum ekki!

The development in the poetry of Hannes Pétursson has in many ways been characterised, as explained above, by breaks, by constant rejuvenation and by a search. In almost every new book there is a new search “til landnáms hið innra” [for conquering lands within]. The final poem in Eldhylur is cloaked in mystery, “Talað við Einhyrning” [Conversation with a Unicorn] but the unicorn is a well-known symbol for Christ. “Þig ég missti” [You I lost] are the last words of the poet who has seen the apparition of the unicorn, “og þín er ég að leita, sífellt...” [and it is you I keep looking for, constantly...]

© Hermann Stefánsson, 2002.

Translated by Dagur Gunnarsson.

Criticism

Neijmann, Daisy L., ed. A History of Icelandic Literature
University of Nebraska Press, 2007, pp. 329, 333, 335, 344, 483-4, 487

On individual works

Heimkynni við sjó Knutsson, Inge: “Hannes Pétursson. Heimkynni við sjó”
Gardar 1981, vol. 12, pp. 87-88

Kvæðafylgsni Hughes, Shaun Francis Douglas: “Pétursson, Hannes. Kvæðafylgsni”
Scandinavian studies 1980, vol. 52 (number 3, Summer), pp. 320-321  

2012 - The Jónas Hallgrímsson Literature Prize

1993 - The Icelandic Literature Prize: Eldhylur (Fire Pit)

1991 - Honorary member of the Icelandic Writer’s Guild

1990 - The Knight’s Cross of The Order of the Falcon 

1983 - Honorary Artist’s Salary, given by Icelandic Parliament, Alþingi

1975 - The Henrik-Steffens Award

1973 - The Silver Horse, The Reykjavík Newspapers’ Literary Award: Ljóðabréf (Letter of Poetry)

1964 - The National Broadcasting Service’s Author’s Fund

1961 - The Gunnar Gunnarsson Literature Prize

1959 - The Literature Prize of Almenna bókafélagið

Nominations

2006 - The Icelandic Literature Prize: Fyrir kvölddyrum (At Night’s Door)

1985 - The Nordic Council’s Literature Prize: 36 ljóð (36 Poems)

1982 - The Nordic Council’s Literature Prize: Heimkynni við sjó (A Home By the Sea)

1970 - The Nordic Council’s Literature Prize: Innlönd (Inner Lands)

1964 - The Nordic Council’s Literature Prize: Stund og staðir (Times and Places)