Redhead the Whale and Other Icelandic Folk Tales

Joseph Jones is a reference librarian in the Koerner Library at the
University of British Columbia.

Each of the three people involved in creating this book has a clear and strong connection with Icelandic tradition. Miller was born of Icelandic parents in Manitoba’s interlake region, Houser received a doctorate from the University of Iceland, and Gunnars has immigrated to Canada from Iceland.

In physical appearance, the volume offers appropriate typefaces, generous margins, good paper, sewn-in pages, and sturdy boards covered with grey cloth. A less obtrusive endpaper (pink) and lettering on the spine would have been nice. Imperfections in the layout of the text are noticeable: a crooked line on page 53, irregular gaps on pages 26 and 29, and frequent deviations from the normal 36 lines per full page.

The seventeen pieces in the collection are accompanied by nine full-page illustrations in color and a dozen others, mostly smaller, in black and white. The strong lines, bright colors, and interesting composition of the pictures serve well to convey the reader into a folklore world. Some of the colored illustrations cleverly integrate detail that is spread throughout the related story. Occasional woodenness in the drawing (e.g., the skeleton rider on page 33) can almost be overlooked.

The writings range from familiar tale-types (Gilitrutt resembles Rumpelstiltskin, The Sealskin resembles The Selkie Wife) to shorter pieces (Crossroads, The Birds at Heljardalur) that seem more like bits of folklore than stories. The manner of telling is appropriately simple, direct, and conversational.

The introduction indicates that the editor has combined separate contributions from the translators, one being a retelling from oral tradition and the other a more academic translation from literary sources. This embodiment of two voices is supposed to provide depth, perspective, and narrative tension to the stories.

What I noticed more was inconsistency in the narrative voice. Gilitrutt’s once-upon-a-time world is needlessly broken into by one sentence in the middle of the opening paragraph: “When the events of this story occurred he was newly married.” Bergthor of Blue Hill is told in a simple past tense which is violated in the second paragraph by the verb “attests.” Explicitly identified narrators seem unnecessary and intrusive: “people” (p.47) and “Kristin” (p.43) and “I” (p.55) break the general pattern of an impersonal voice.

For the most part, however, the writing is as transparent as it should be. The magic of the stories is transmitted. Although collections of Icelandic tales in English are not as scarce as the “few volumes” mentioned in the introduction would suggest — I have identified nine other collections

with a superficial search — this volume is a welcome addition.