From the Mouth of the Whale

by Sjón, Betty Wahl (Übersetzer), Victoria Cribb (Translation)

The year is 1635. Iceland is a world darkened by superstition, poverty and cruelty. Men of science marvel over a unicorn’s horn, poor folk worship the Virgin in secret and both books and men are burnt. Jónas Pálmason, a poet and self-taught healer, has been condemned to exile for heretical conduct, having fallen foul of the local magistrate. Banished to a barren island, Jónas recalls his exorcism of a walking corpse on the remote Snjafjoll coast, the frenzied massacre of innocent Basque whalers at the hands of local villagers, and the deaths of three of his children.

From the Mouth of the Whale is a magical evocation of an enlightened mind and a vanished age.

Genres: Fiction, Historical Fiction, Fantasy, Novels, Magical Realism, Contemporary, Scandinavian Literature

272 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2008

About the author

Sjón (Sigurjón B. Sigurðsson) was born in Reykjavik on the 27th of August, 1962. He started his writing career early, publishing his first book of poetry, Sýnir (Visions), in 1978. Sjón was a founding member of the surrealist group, Medúsa, and soon became significant in Reykjavik's cultural landscape.

Since then, his prolific writing drove him to pen song lyrics, scripts for movies and of course novels such as The Blue Fox.

Reviews

[Warwick · Rating 3 out of 5]

I get very annoyed with all those TV shows set in the Middle Ages that are full of clean bodies, white teeth, dust-free floors and brightly-lit rooms. This is not a problem that From the Mouth of the Whale suffers from. Its appeal lies primarily in the dirt under its fingernails; it revels in the mess and violence and, also, the transcendence of its pre-modern milieu. It's a novel that smells of unwashed bodies and sea-salt.

We're shown this world through the travels, visions and tribulations of Jónas Pálmason, a scholar-cum-magician-cum-natural-philosopher in seventeenth-century Iceland – ‘this unlovely splat of lava in the far north of the globe,’ as he calls it. Exiled by his political enemies to a remote uninhabited island off the coast (all islands are off the coast, Warwick), he reminisces about his life, research and the metaphysics of this worldly existence.

Importunate with his own kind, garrulous with others…So might one describe the purple sandpiper and so men describe me…

This is Jónas's voice – gruff and wordy and distinctive, marked by blurry, shifting thought processes and studded with practical knowledge, with flora and fauna, and with a worldview of almost Cabbalistic mysticism.



Jónas is a fictional creation, but the quote above, where he compares himself to a purple sandpiper, is a clue to his real-life model, Jón Guðmundsson ‘The Learned’ (1574–1651). The old name in Icelandic for a purple sandpiper is fjölmóður, which was also the name of an epic poem that Jón wrote about his life. I can't find an English translation but it seems to have included major stories from this book including the exorcism of a ghost and the coming of Basque ships to Iceland; in a sense, this may be seen as a kind of expansive novelisation of Jón's poem.

The real star of the English version of this book is its translator Victoria Cribb, who has produced something that feels natural and yet genuinely odd in all the right ways. An Old Norse scholar, she has said in interviews that she's not very comfortable translating most modern fiction and isn't sure of what the English terms are for a lot of social media or technology vocab. But here, in a world of old manuscripts, fishing traditions and magico-scientific theorising, she is clearly in her element.

Though short, it's a thick, silty book that I felt I could wade right into; at the start I loved the experience, but I did find it a little exhausting towards the end just because there is not a lot in the way of plot to give the narrative focus. Rather, it expands in different directions according to occult criteria, its chief objective, perhaps, not to give shape to a story but to find formal connections between disparate parts of the world:

The antlers of a hart, coral, spread fingers, birch twigs, a loosely knotted fishing net, crystals, river deltas, ivy, mackerel clouds, women's hair…diverse as these phenomena are, they all revolve around the invisible joints, their opposite forms touch even though they are far apart…

It's a strange, windswept, mind-expanding little book, and I'd recommend it to anyone looking for a short but bracing read.

[Henk · Rating 2 out of 5]

An arcane book, taking the reader into Icelandic exile and the belief world of before the reformation
I felt the heat of the animosity they bear towards me, the vindictive nature that drives a man to destroy his neighbour in a fire as if he were a banned book...for what is the difference? Every book is imbued with the human spirit.

Jonas the learned, is expelled in the 17th century to a remote island. The reformation has reached Iceland and Jonas and his wife don’t fit in with the changing times. From calculating the next solar eclipse with pebbles to believing stones contain spirits to exorcism as a service, Jonas is both too occult and too progressive to the liking of his compatriots.

Is this a loose retelling of the Bible, with the visions and allusions to Adam and Noah? If so I don’t feel the synergy with the story being told is particularly strong.
The quick change of fortunes and style of narration remind me a bit of Candide by Voltaire.
Basque whalers visiting Iceland is funnily something that also came back in Fathoms: The World in the Whale, a non-fiction book I recently read.

In the end it’s clear that much more than ghosts and the supernatural, it’s the cruelty of men that needs to be feared and that brings Jonas in his predicament.

I feel this could have been brilliant if From the Mouth of the Whale had meandered less. You feel the cold and the medieval circumstances of Iceland while reading this book; it’s just a shame the narrative doesn’t go anywhere fast.
Hence 2.5 stars rounded down, even though I see that Sjón is a truly interesting writer.

Dutch quotes:
Jij stond aan de kant van de vermoorden tegenover de moordenaars, jij stond op tegen de verwording

Want als een ding juist is geclassificeerd, is het onder controle te houden.

[Rusalka · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book is beautifully written. It's lyrical. It picks you up and carries you along. You are swept through streams of consciousness, and through herbal medicinal books, and then through third person narrative. You switch from one to the other seamlessly. It's a masterpiece in that regard.

But I am left with one overwhelming question.

What the fuck was that all about?

I mean I get it. It's the story of Jonás the Learned and his exile. It's about the amazing things he does or witnesses before he is accused of sorcery. It is about his weird magic realism visions. It's about his wonderfully patient wife. It's about him going to Denmark. But... what's the point?

I dislike getting to the end of the book and being thoroughly confused. It's the awkward break up conversation. "It's not you, it's me. I just don't think I can see this going any where." The book is as silent as my exes on the receiving end of the speech. Which could be a credit to my exes. But you just burble to fill in the space. In the end you just convince the other person they are better off without you or your understanding, because you have just revealed yourself as being slightly insane and they feel like they have dodged a bullet. "Why doesn't this girl just shut up?!?"

But I don't like that it my reading. The book that is cute and charming enough to get you to snog it while you're a little bit drunk, and then wake up thinking "What the hell did I just do? Please tell me it's not lying next to me." The book that tells you these epic sagas and then gets to the punchline and tells you "Oh I would tell you the point but it's too existential for you." (which is an "excuse" I was given by a staff member turning up 5 hours late for a shift (shifts were 4 hours long)).

See. This makes me grumpy. It conjures up images of break ups, drunken snogs with pretty, vapid boys and horrible prats who think they are all higher plane but are just fuckwits. It takes you on a pretty journey and I don't get the conclusion. If there is one. And I just don't know why I was taken on the journey.

I really do wonder if it is a cultural thing. Do I not get it coz I'm not Icelandic or even Scandinavian? I'd hope not but I may be right. I will read another of his books. I hope it is just this book, and it is the longest of them all. But I am prepared to be completely confused again. I'm not saying don't read it, just in case it is really me.

For more reviews, visit: http://rusalkii.blogspot.com.au/

[Meike · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sjón writes postmodern novels that tell very contemporary tales while referring to history, mythology and folklore (that is, if he isn't busy writing Oscar-nominated music with his friend Björk or up to other adventures in his native Iceland). In "From the Mouth of the Whale", the real historic background is the life story of Jón lærði Guðmundsson ("Jón the Learned"), a 17th century Icelandic poet and scholar who was seen as a magician - at the time, science was often deemed sorcery. Sjón gives his main character a slightly different name though: Jónas Pálmason (Jón/Sjón/Jónas, get it?). Jónas gets exiled on charges of sorcery, and from his exile, he is taken to Denmark to work with the scholar Ole Worm, also a real historic figure.

The text is a riddle composed of literary magic and real events (for instance, the massacre of the Basque whalers also really happened), full of bleakness, but also beauty, especially regarding nature and landscapes.

It's interesting to read this book in the context of Daniel Kehlmann's Tyll, which is set during the Thirty Years' War, so during the same time period, and that deals with similar topics: Science and sorcery, the clash of the Middle Ages and the beginning of modernity. (Kehlmann wrote his text long after Sjón's was published, of course, but still.)

Sjón's literature is wild, and while this isn't his best book, it's still a very worthwhile read.

[Mai Laakso · Rating 4 out of 5]

Islantilaisen kirjailijan Sjónin uusin kirja Valaan suusta on historiallinen kertomus 1600-luvulla eläneestä Jón Guđmunddsson Oppineesta eli Jonas Pálmasonista. 1600-luku oli noitavainojen ja puhdasoppineisuuden aikaa. Noituuteen liittyviä keinoja käytettiin vielä mm. henkien manaamisessa ja parantamistyössä. Jón Oppineella oli toivomus olla kuuluisa oppinut, joten hänet sai myös manaamaan henkiä.
Pian Jón Oppinut huomasi olevansa yksinäiselle saarelle vangittuna ja harhaoppisuudesta syytettynä. Kukaan ei saanut auttaa häntä, laivat eivät saaneet ottaa häntä kyytiin, elämä karulla saarella vaimon kanssa oli syrjittyä, mutta luonnontarkkailija teki työtään, havainnoi luonnon kiertokulkua, eläimiä, kasveja, itseään, saarta, merta ja ilmaa.
Jón Guđmunddsson Oppinut eli Jonas Pálmason oli itseoppinut luonnontieteilijä, kirjailija ja runoilija, jonka julkaistuja ja julkaisemattomia kirjoituksia on käytetty kirjan lähteenä. Huolimatta ankarista luonnon olosuhteista, joissa hän joutui elämään vuosikausia, päähenkilö eli pitkän elämän.
Kirja on väritetty Sjónille tyypilliseen tapaan fantasialla, uskomuksilla, taikauskolla ja ihmeillä.

[Anna · Rating 4 out of 5]

The stream-of-consciousness style took some getting used to, but once I fell into the rhythm of Jónas’s voice, it went pretty smoothly. There’s a mix of poetry and history in here, with its trials and tragedies, of magic and nature, of science and religion. And a strong smell of sea salt. The Prelude must be my favourite, though, I read it three times and loved looking for ways in which its themes echo throughout the novel.

[Antonomasia · Rating 4 out of 5]

A pretty solid novel which - after not being particularly impressed by The Blue Fox and The Whispering Muse - gave me some understanding of all the fuss about Sjón.

It's also a satisfying read for the early modern European history buff, given that in English we don't hear much about seventeenth-century Iceland and Denmark without looking for it. From the Mouth of the Whale is based on the life-story of Icelandic autodidact Jón the Learned, here renamed Jónas, who, like many famous thinkers of his era, dabbled in a mixture of what we'd now call science and magic, and provoked the wrath of the church. (There are a few metafictional hints that Sjón feels Jón(as) and his wife to have been his intellectual ancestors.) During the course of his adventures Jónas travels to Copenhagen and works with the somewhat better-known polymath Ole Worm. Lest this sound like a book about men in doublets sitting around talking, there's more adventure than you find in the average litfic novel, intellectual pranks involving narwhal horns, and a moving account of life in a harsh landscape both physical and ideological.

It was disappointing not to hear more about Jónas's wife Sigga, an equally interesting character who began as a farmer's daughter with a natural genius for maths and astronomy, mostly self-taught following a few basic lessons from a local vicar. Decades later, after the deaths of several of their children, little or no opportunity to develop her own gifts, and following her husband around on various household moves prompted by rumours and persecution, she is a depressed, angry woman who says little more than “That's the sort of nonsense that got us here in the first place”. Given the choice to use narrative shifts between first and third person, and switches from stream-of-consciousness to standard storytelling, it's a shame Sjón didn't also include a section narrated by Sigga. As it stood, with the narrative always concentrating on Jónas, these shifts were the book's greatest weakness - most were pointless and detracted from the flow of an otherwise interesting story.

[Mihaela Juganaru · Rating 4 out of 5]

Tipul ăsta e un vrăjitor, îmi vine să caut imediat o altă carte a lui, să nu întrerup lectura asta aproape hipnotică.
E o carte atât de plină de simboluri, că mi-ar lua prea mult timp să le enumăr. O să spun că e poetică și că uneori merge greu, dar pentru mine a meritat din plin.

[Bettie · Rating 2 out of 5]

Translated from the Icelandic by Victoria Cribb
Withdrawn from Tower Hamlets Libraries

Description: The year is 1635. Iceland is a world darkened by superstition, poverty, and cruelty.

Men of science marvel over a unicorn's horn, poor folk worship the Virgin in secret, and both books and men are burnt.

Jonas Palmason, a poet and self-taught healer, has been condemned to exile for heretical conduct, having fallen foul of the local magistrate. Banished to a barren island, Jonas recalls his gift for curing "female maladies," his exorcism of a walking corpse on the remote Snjafjoll coast, the frenzied massacre of innocent Basque whalers at the hands of local villagers, and the deaths of three of his children.

Opening: A medium-sized fellow... beady brown eyes set close to his beak within pale surrounds... the beak itself quite long, thick and powerful, with a slight downward curve at the end, dark in colour but lighter at the top... no neck to speak of; a spry, stocky figure with short, tapering legs, a barrel chest and a big belly... head a dark grizzled brown, with a ruff extending from nape to mid-crown...

[Dani Dányi · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sjón remekel, Egyed Veronika fordítása pedig kiváló. a Tudós Jonas története izgalmasan kortárs és mai már főleg ahhoz képest, hogy egy 17-ik századi polihisztor, aki látnok, költő, kutató, életművész, jókeresztény, örök lúzer, hős és antihős mind egyben. Sok sötétség és szenvedés között, és mégis milyen életigenlő.
Nagyon tetszett, ahogy kibontakozik a történet, és egyre több rétege lesz időben, témában és motívumokban. Az is szuper, ahogy a mai kor társadalmi és politikai problémáira reflektál. És szuper szöveg, tényleg, élmény volt.

[Mark Staniforth · Rating 5 out of 5]

From the raw, volcanic landscape of early seventeenth century Iceland, with ancient myths of mermen and unicorns tumbling from its fissures; a land of endless nights, burning snow and whales the size of mountains; Sjon has crafted an extraordinary novel, which has been deservedly longlisted for the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize.
'From The Mouth Of The Whale' conjures a precipitous landscape upon which early Lutheranism has taken a violent hold, making the population paranoid of old pagan rituals such as those supposedly employed by Jonas Palmason the Learned, an insatiable scholar who combines medicinal practices with his vast knowledge of the properties of his nation's plants and animals: coral, for example, of which it has been proved that 'if [it] is heated until it glows, then quenched in warm milk, and afterwards drunk by the man who has no appetite or a gripe in the guts, he will be cured. Some claim that coral must be what the ancients referred to as the work of mermen or dwarfs.'
Convicted of heresy, Jonas is banished to spend the rest of his life in exile on a rocky islet, from where he reveals his shocking, yet curiously life-affirming story.
Jonas recalls his famous exorcism of a walking corpse at Snjafjoll, the deaths of his children and, in the book's most disturbing and unforgettable passage, the massacre of a band of Basque whalers. In doing so he poses crucial contemporary questions about the corrupting power of religion, and the inherent fraility of humanity.
In another memorable scene, Jonas is shipped to Denmark in order to plead for his freedom: there, he meets the doctor and natural philosopher Ole Worm, with whom he takes great delight in exposing some of the very myths which he has been punished for allegedly perpetrating.
Upon being presented with a specimen believed by great-and-good Danes to be a unicorn's horn, Jonas 'began to laugh and could not stop. His short legs buckled under his quaking body and he dropped to the floor, where he lay hooting as if he were in tears.' The specimen is, in fact, nothing more than a narwhal tusk.

'The Icelanders had first encountered these horrid beasts when they founded a colony on Greenland around the year 1000 Anno Domini and soon began to export the tusks, labelling them as 'unicorn horns' according to the latest fashion. The Greenlanders and their middlemen in west Iceland grew fat on the profits of this secret commerce, which ensured the Greenlandic colony an advantageous balance of trade with foreign lands as well as laying the foundation for the wealth of the most powerful families in Iceland.'

Jonas soon finds himself billeted back on his islet: his wife now dead, he is condemned to see out the rest of his days alone. It is no surprise to find him cynical about human nature - 'the dead generally possess more fortitude than the living, as is clear by the way they lie still in their graves'.
The beauty of this book lies in the author's splendid excavation of Icelandic history and legend; in his evocation of his nation's untamed natural wonders; in his damning indictment of religious doctrine; in his heady blend of hallucination and tumultuous picaresque. It is a book of stunning originality and profound oddity, such that its flawless translation from its original Icelandic is no mean feat: for that achievement, Victoria Cribb deserves special mention and enormous praise.
This is a book worthy of winning any prize. Its judges can rest assured that they would never pick another winner quite like it.

[George Ilsley · Rating 2 out of 5]

Perhaps at another moment in my life I could read this and view it as a masterpiece. However, I found it impossible to get into it.

Re-imagining Biblical scriptures is a narrative device which has been done many times, and this reader has been over-exposed to this overdone device, so any writer which attempts to do so now is facing a steep challenge. But surely that's just me.

This writer is very popular in Iceland and elsewhere.

[Meaghan · Rating 2 out of 5]

I received a free copy of this book from LibraryThing's early reviewers program.

I feel completely unqualified to review this because I've never read anything like it before and I didn't understand half of it. It was difficult for me to piece a time line together or separate fact from fantasy or figure out even the basics of what was going on -- all the more so since the book had very few paragraphs and also, for the most part, lacked proper sentences. Most sentences ended with an ellipsis instead of a period. Apparently a sizable number of people who read this book thought it was wonderful, and it won an important literary prize, but it just left me bewildered.

[Kuszma · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sjón előző regénye, a Macskaróka a maga nemében tökéletes volt, egy tartalmilag és terjedelmileg szűk keretek közé szorított misztikus szöveg, minden ízében izlandi mese: csupa Észak-fok, titok, idegenség. Most megkísérelte kiterjeszteni prózája határait úgy, hogy erényeit is megőrizze közben, és azt hiszem, ezt sikerrel abszolválta is. A cethal gyomrában, ha azt vesszük, tőről metszett történelmi regény, a XVII. századi Izland társadalomrajza, némi kitekintéssel egy korabeli világvárosra, Koppenhágára. Az író az egyik legnehezebb utat választotta: belebújt főszereplője, Tudós Jónas Palmersón* bőrébe, és az ő belső monológját használja fel tükörként, amiben korszakot vizsgálhatjuk. Mindehhez egy késő középkori ízű nyelv-imitációt teremtett meg, ami elég jelzésszerű ahhoz, hogy ne nehezítse az olvasást, de segít minket a Jón elméjébe való becsatlakozásban.

Ami némiképp zavarba ejtő, hogy bár történelmi regény, de A cet gyomrában, mint szöveg, valamiképpen mégis a semmiben lebeg. Nincsen klasszikus értelemben vett története, csak jelenetek követik egymást néhol tisztázatlan ritmusban, ezen felül nem oldja fel a szereplők konfliktusait, és maguk a szereplők is helyenként mintha csak kísértetek lennének a megtestesülés reménye nélkül. Sjón (alighanem tudatosan) feláldoz mindent a koherens atmoszféra kedvéért, de ez az atmoszféra engem meg is ragadott. Szinte kitapintható ebben a könyvben Izland, a föld, amit a teremtés második napján félbehagyott az Úr. Ebben a világban a tudomány és a babona még összefonódik: a partfutó és a birkát termő cserje egyaránt a valóság része, és amikor Tudós Jón megpróbál új rendszert alkotni belőlük, közössége zsigeri kegyetlenséggel reagál rá, mert retteg mindentől, ami a megszokottól elütő. Ez a kegyetlenség (a természet és a társadalom kettős kegyetlensége) adja ennek a különös regénynek az alaphangját** – sivár, kemény szöveg. Szerettem.

* Akinek előképe egy létező személy, Jón Gudmundsson (1574-1658). A vezetéknév első „d” betűje helyett tessék egy áthúzott szárú „d” karaktert elképzelni, mert az izlandi betűkészlet nem kompatibilis az én billentyűzetemmel.
** Bár a könyv végén Sjón mintha visszarettenne attól, hogy Jónt elvigye a vigasztalanság legvégső pereméig, és az utolsó percben, némiképp szövegidegenül megadja neki a feloldozást. Mégpedig egy olyan „eszköz” által, ami a kötet címét egy csapásra az irodalomtörténet egyik legnagyobb spoilerévé teszi.

[Betty · Rating 5 out of 5]

The author chose a difficult subject, four years of the early seventeenth century Iceland before Icelanders are limited to trade only with the Danes. Catholicism in its ritual and its charity has been superseded by Lutheranism. The former is secretly practiced but lack of avenues for charity worsens unfortunate years. Black arts (sorcery) is condemned yet scientific practices and views by contrast to superstitious beliefs are considered suspect. The surrealism and stream-of-consciousness narrative is what Sjón excels at, especially in the main character of Jónas the Learned, an observer and collector of nature's specimens and a book learner and practitioner of medicine, a polymath overall and a chronicler and commentator of his day (slayings of whalers). His character's based upon the historical figure Jón the Learned. A character of independent thinking and of lively imagination, Jónas's scientific views remain limited by his era. It's fun for the reader to imagine along with him the easy transition between what can be imagined and true belief (a woman bringing forth a cat and a scribe drawing monsters with diverse limbs and parts) as if those were a real possibility. The best part for me is the author's ability to make the spiritual palpable as in the strange Preface set in a busy palace of Seventh Heaven and in Jónas's visions (suspended reality, as when he travels underwater like a fish). Besides the imaginative narrative, the story is an historical novel, portraying historic people and events, and an intellectual history, imbuing the novel with the dominant beliefs of the era.

[Chihoe Ho · Rating 2 out of 5]

Call it Sjón-fatigue, I found myself having a really hard time getting through "From the Mouth of the Whale." Granted, it is a longer novel than "The Blue Fox" and "The Whispering Muse," but reading three books of his back-to-back was probably not such a great idea.

As with the previous two, the story is captivating so the fault doesn't lie here. In fact, I'm not sure if it's possible to pinpoint an exact 'fault' since all the elements were in place but they just didn't gel as well as I hoped it would. Sjón weaves an intricate story of an exile and his journeys through land and time, the memories of his family, and his dabbles in the natural, the philosophical, the religious, and the supernatural world. Through the being of this outlaw, 17th-century Iceland and her surroundings are described vividly, evoking every characteristics of the Dark Ages. And while I have taken a liking to Sjón’s style, I find that it can sometimes be a hit or miss - it can either position itself as avant-garde and unconventional, or, it can come across as indulgent and overdone (i.e. the excessive use of ellipsis). This is perhaps why the novellas of "The Blue Fox" and "The Whispering Muse" sit better with me; Sjón's train of thoughts and lyrical literary style flow better in a shorter format where the discernible concision and fluency make reading them less confusing.

I somehow liken "From the Mouth of the Whale" as the written version of the movie "The Tree of Life." It clearly requires a leap of faith from the reader/audience, and has the marks of a brilliant mind. Yet, it is really dependent on the mood of the undertaker to grasp some of the descriptive scenes, and if there is a lack of openness towards the abstract depictions, the appreciation is lost. And as "The Tree of Life," I'm a hundred percent positive "From the Mouth of the Whale" will leave its mark in my mind as one where I go back and forth between liking and not.

[Nigeyb · Rating 3 out of 5]

A confusing book. I read it for my book group without any idea what to expect. So far as I can recall this my first foray into the world Icelandic fiction. I say fiction, ‘From the Mouth of the Whale’ is a historical novel and is based on the life of Jón the Learned here renamed Jónas Pálmason.

The Prelude is a variation on the story of the fall of Lucifer. Then follows part 1 Autumn Equinox, 1635, and through to part 4, Spring Equinox, 1639. Through these four years we find out about Jónas' reminiscences of his eventful life and adventures, many of which are quite hallucinatory and obtuse. Jónas is a self taught healer and thinker who embraces a mix of folk remedies, superstition, Catholicism and witchcraft. Predictably he is viewed with suspicion by many and makes numerous powerful enemies, consequently he spends many years exiled to a tiny island off the coast of Iceland.

Jónas’s world is one marred by natural disasters, violent ghosts, people driven mad by the sight of a solar eclipse, murder, and a society living in fear, all revealed though the mind and tragedy-strewn memories of Jónas. Parts of the book are very interesting and enjoyable, others more rambling, incoherent and boring. One section in Copenhagen, where Jónas works with a polymath called Ole Worm, is wonderful. Funny and insightful but - sadly for Jónas - short lived.

It feels like a credible rendering of life in Iceland in the 17th century complete with superstitions and folklore all mixed in with Christian belief but, despite being a short book, I could frequently only manage short bursts before I got bored. Given the laudatory comments on the cover from writers I admire this says more about me than the merits of ‘From the Mouth of the Whale’.

2.5/5

[Charles Dee Mitchell · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sjon's first novel to be translated into English was The Blue Fox. It was a spare eighty pages long and took the author two years to write. In an interview he said of the process

The first year was more or less spent researching 19th century Iceland and reading about the different subjects that make up the story, such as fox hunting, accidents at sea, avalanches, burial rites, the care or abuse of mentally handicapped people, opium smoking, cravats and bow-ties (late Byronesque or otherwise).

Sjon, who is also an award winning lyricist, can pack a lot into a narrative. The Blue Fox involves an elaborately worked out revenge and ends with a priest freezing to death while debating a dead fox on the diabolical nature of electricity.

Compared to The Blue Fox, this second novel is long at 250 pages. A list of topics addressed in From the Mouth of the Whale would include eclipses, natural history, the Icelandic trade in unicorn horns, exorcism, toxic ignorance and married love. Jonas Palmason, known as "The Learned," receives an eccentric education from his father's fragmented library, but in 17th Iceland it makes him both admired and shunned in the communities where he lives. Although his medicine is learned from books, as a child he becomes expert in diagnosing women's ailments by feeling their bodies under their clothes. They like this more than they can admit. He can draw anatomical charts and maps, both of which are in high demand, but the Protestant reformers that have taken over the land find cause to brand him a witch for the research he does into the ancient customs of Iceland. For the rest of his life, he will be either on the run or imprisoned or living among the educated classes of Denmark as an admired equal. But for the most part he will suffer at the hands of those who fear his knowledge, knowledge that is very much a part of his time. The novel is interspersed with his comments on natural history, and modern readers will find them to be equal parts scientific observation and folklore.

Jonas narrates the story from his final island prison. He has returned from Denmark expecting all charges against him to be dropped, only to find himself again in the hands of his enemies. When they agree to send him back to the island rather than to a dungeon, he looks forward finding his wife waiting for him there. Instead he finds only her bones. The story of their first meeting, which occurs during a funeral interrupted by an eclipse, captures the innate ignorance and savageness of their society.

I was as bewldered as the dogs that howled, the cats that hissed, the ravens that crawled along the ground, the cows that wandered dazed in the fields. I was as unfortunate as the rest, as unmanned by the dread of what catastrophe this eclipse might bring, what terrible tidings it might portend, what loss of life, what pestilence would now wash up from the sea on to our rock, what heresies, what insanity; indeed, I was as confounded as those that ran weeping round the yard or pressed their faces to the muddy paving slabs, tore off their clothes and any hair they could get hold of, many vomiting in mid-prayer...[T]hree men burst out of the front door carrying the old man's body. They swung the corpse's mottled limbs back and forth until it appeared to be raising its wizened arms to heaven...It did not take a great physician to realise that the old man was as thoroughly dead as he had been but a short time before. People now began to crowd around the threesome with their pathetic puppet...lifting it so it appeared to be proceeding in little hops to its intended destination, which was the roof of the living quarters.

During this event Sigridur, Jonas's future wife, explains the means of predicting eclipses, science she has worked out for herself through observation and a natural inclination for math. They are in love.

The chirping of small birds was stilled, the baying of the dogs was silenced, the people on the turf roof ceased shaking the corpse, a hush descended on the countryside and I felt suddenly cold. High above the Earth the disc of the moon completed its shape on the orb of the sun and in the same instant something was completed inside me. Neither Sigridur nor I looked up when the gable gave way with a loud crack beneath the weight of the corpse-bearers.

Jonas's story will also involve the successful exorcism of an angry ghost and the tragic tale of massacred Basque whalers at the hands of ingnorent Icelandic villagers manipulated by their venal community leaders. It's hard to imagine that Sjon will become a beloved voice of Icelanders, but his unflinching vision of meanness and ignorance goes beyond a critique of his homeland's history. He opens his novel with a scene placed in heaven. Lucifer has returned from a successful hunt to find the heavenly household in disarray.

...the stench that now tainted the air in His palace was the stench of blood and urine, sweat and sperm, mucus and grease...I looked at the Father, who was lounging at ease on his throne...He examined something small in His palm...there you lay in His hand, with your knees tucked under your chin, breathing so fast and so feebly that you quivered like the pectoral fin of a minnow...the Father...addressed me in an affable but commanding tone..."Lucifer, behold Man! You must bow down before him like your brothers..." I looked at you a second time and in that instant you released a stream of slimy black faeces. Quick as lightning, you shoved your hand under your buttocks, fetched a fistful of whatever you found there, and raised it to your mouth.

I've noticed than when I really like something, I tend to quote a lot.

[Tim · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the most fascinating novels I've read in some time. From the Mouth of the Whale is the meeting-place of surrealism and paganism, very Icelandic. It's the story of the exile of an alchemist and exorcist, of his understandings of the strangeness of the world.

Central to that understanding is the interconnectedness of all things. But this wholeness isn't just that "All is One" kind of New Age epiphany (or even Emerson, for that matter). It becomes a rationale (without being didactic) for a surrealist way of seeing the world. Since everything is connected, the world is inherently and ubiquitously strange but always familiar. Interconnectedness makes for the chimerical, the hybrid, the grotesque.

"Let the sword turn into an adder and the adder a salmon and the salmon a birch twig and the birch twig a sword and the sword a tongue...Let it all run together so swiftly that it cannot be separated again..."

So everything is strange, grotesque, holy. And God is the gaps that connect everything.

But in praising this lyrical panentheistic novel the way I have, I've done it a disservice, because it's also personal, human-scale, poignant. You care about the protagonist. You care about his wife. You care about their children. You care about the son who reclaims his father.

From the Mouth of the Whale is a gorgeous novel.

[Sana Abdulla · Rating 3 out of 5]

The story of Jonas the learned. Living in Iceland in the seventeenth century. In his quest for knowledge and fame as a doctor, chemist, exorcist, he makes enemies, and loses loved ones.
The book is an excellent translation, and it covers his life as an exile on a deserted island mainly among other events. Some parts are lucid and others are mixed with imaginary situations. It's very well written but somehow I am reluctant to give it 4 stars.

[Brynjólfur · Rating 5 out of 5]

Reynið þið bara að skrifa svona bók, gungurnar ykkar. Reynið það bara!

[Birgitta Guðmarsdóttir]

Virkilega skemmtileg lesning

[LRn · Rating 5 out of 5]

A történet a 17. században játszódik – abban az izgalmas időszakban, amikor a tudomány és a hiedelem (sőt, mágia) még nem vált el élesen, de a folyamat már elkezdődött. Az emberi kíváncsiság már nem elégszik meg a mitologikus történetekkel, egyre nagyobb igény van a tudományos, bizonyítható világmagyarázatokra – de ehhez még nem mindig van meg a szükséges eszköz és tapasztalat.

Tudós Jónas Pálmason tudásanyagában is keveredik az empirikus tapasztalat és a népies-mitologikus hagyomány. A történet során bepillantást nyerhetünk az általa írt könyv szemelvényeibe is, ahol állatokról, növényekről és természeti jelenségekről ír ismertetőket (mik ezek, mire használhatóak). Emellett életének fejezeteit követhetjük nyomon a patchworkszerű narratívában: nem lineárisan, hanem kicsit össze-vissza, lazán kapcsolódva váltogatják egymást az események, amelyekből végül kirajzolódik Jónas története: aki a bibliai Jónás mellett – bennem legalábbis – még erősebben idézi meg Jób történetét.

Szívesen olvastam volna többet Siggáról – a feleségről, aki megjövendölte a Nap- és Holdfogyatkozásokat, s kettejük kapcsolatáról, amely nagyon meghatározó volt Jónas életében. Szerencsére így is sokat adott a történethez a feleség szerepeltetése, hozzá kapcsolódóan a nőiség ábrázolása is cizelláltabb lett a kötet elején szereplő, bajaikat kúráltató kétszínű asszonyok ábrázolásához képest.

Jónas története gyönyörű, profetikus nyelven szólal meg (köszönet a fordítónak), ez a szuggesztív stílus különösen hatásos szöveget eredményez, a költőiség és a naturalisztikus nyersség keveredik benne, nem fogom elfelejteni egyhamar ezt az erős, átható hangulatot. Kreatívan, de tisztelettel kiszínezett történelmi regény Jón Guðmundsson költő ihletésére, amely karcsúsága ellenére is súlyos és sűrű.

[Lee · Rating 4 out of 5]

I had no idea what to expect from this, but knew that the author was an award-winning lyricist who worked with Bjork.

You occupy the mental space of an Icelandic poet and healer in 1635, and you will not always know what he's going on about so feverishly. The book does an excellent job of recreating the feeling of picking up a strange artifact you have no hope of fully understanding, and there were times when I almost gave up, alienated...but Jonas is plucky and earnest, peppering the narrative with notes on the medical uses of various plants, the habits of local animals, and how to exorcize your common village ghost. The book is not plot-driven, you won't rush through the pages, and Sjon doesn't so much cater to the reader as you may be used to, you may not 'identify' with anyone. You become the reader-as-would-be-historian; sift through this precious, solitary account for what must be preserved.

The book opens with a strange folkloric Christian story that is never revisited or explained; it may still be my favorite part of the book.

[Jovi Ene · Rating 3 out of 5]

În Islanda secolului 17, chiar dacă nu există Inchiziție (și catolicii sunt priviți drept eretici), oamenii de știință sunt priviți drept practicanți ai magiei și exilați. Jonas este cel care citește, descifrează rune și compilează cărți despre fauna, flora și medicina epocii, iar aceste lucruri îi aduc surghiunul pe o insulă pustie. Prilej pentru a-și rememora viața și a ne-o înfățișa.
Sjon impregnează romanele sale cu multe mituri, unele islandeze (și, de aceea, poate, mai puțin apropiate cititorului din alte țări), altele aparținând religiilor cunoscute, precum creștinismul și iudaismul. Tocmai de aceea, romanele sale nu curg ca o poveste propriu-zisă, ci au dese întreruperi în care autorul dorește să le explice sau să ofere o transpunere poetică acestora.

[Anna · Rating 4 out of 5]

Gyakorlatilag olyan élmény volt, mintha egy részletgazdag fesményt néztem volna napokon keresztül. Egészében és részleteiben is jól megmunkált, talán a vége fulladt kicsit homályba, de azt betudtam az utolsó jelenetek körülményeinek. Így aztán meglepetésként értek a szövegutók.

Újra és újra rácsodálkoztam a fordításra: gördülékeny, természetes, az esetleges szójátékokat és fantáziaelemeket találékonyan ülteti át magyarra. Köszönet érte Egyed Veronikának, reménysugár ez számomra, élmény volt elidőzni egy-egy megoldáson.

[Iryna Chernyshova · Rating 4 out of 5]

Історія життя ісландського самоука-книжника 17 ст. Трохи хтоні і фольклорних елементів. Вражаюче про побиття бакских китобоїв, якось на думку не спадало, що вони туди можуть допливати, бо просто поруч умовно.


Upd. Послухала, можливо колись буде український переклад.

Треба подивитися ютуб з перекладачем з ісландської Кривоносом про творчість Сйона, може там буде щось і про цю книгу. Але поки що з трьох прочитаних найбільше сподобалась про Скуґґа-Балдур, весь час забуваю українську назву.

[Anna Kuhl · Rating 3 out of 5]

I am not philosophical enough for this book, and yet . . . It was strange and sad and I enjoyed it.

[Dane Cobain · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sjon is an Icelandic author who I’ve read before, though only once (with The Blue Fox). He’s known for his collaborations with Bjork and it’s easy to see why they’d make for a good combination, because both of their stuff is nuts.

This one reads like a sort of mixture between historical fiction, magical realism and religious text. It’s also interesting because it was originally written in Icelandic, and I always find it interesting to see how translated fiction retains some of the flavour of its source language. Perhaps that’s also why big chunks of this book are in super long paragraphs that stretch out over three or four pages.

It’s actually one of those books that’s kind of ephemeral, and where most of the joy of reading it comes from the beautiful way in which it’s written. Even while I was reading it, I couldn’t have told you what the plot was. Now that I’ve finished, all that’s left is the way it made me feel. But I think if you can remember the way a book made you feel, and if it made you feel good, then I think you can safely say that it’s worth reading.

Now I’m left hungry for more, and I’m sure I’ll pick up some more of Sjon’s books in the future. Surprisingly, I’ve been able to pick up two of them so far from charity shops and perhaps I’ll be able to get some more. Awesome.

[Therése Åström · Rating 3 out of 5]

2,5⭐ I liked this book, but I also think I missed out on half of what it was about because of how it was written. I don't like feeling stupid when I read books, but with this one I did, and still I enjoyed it. Weird.