The story of Bjartur of Summerhouses, of Iceland. He is a sheep farmer who has put in 18 years of near servitude in order so secure a farm of his own and be independent. He manages to survive about 25 years before being foreclosed upon.

This man is without any compassion whatever. While keeping his farm afloat, he buries two wives, and many children without ever seeming to care at all. While the book is informational about the politics of Iceland itself, and the politics of farming, I found it to be just about the most depressing thing I have ever read! ( )

This books gives you a three dimensional fee of Iceland with its vast hills, glaciers, strong willed people, harshness and beauty. So that you would not have to reread sections, I would suggest that you look at photos of the "huts" that the people were/still living in and learn a little about the history of the Island before you start reading this incredible book. ( )

I am writing this in Iceland on a miserable, wet October day that reminds me of the feel of the natural environment in this epic novel. I'm also about thirty pages into a later book of Laxness's, "Iceland's Bell", which so far is so almost horrific in its matter-of-factness about human misery and exploitation that it makes "Independent People" almost a comedy by comparison. Other than that, I find it difficult to say much about "Independent People" as its impact on my life has been so profound, ever since the first time I read it in 1965. It's a book I frequently return to, and I envy the reader who begins it for the first time. ( )

If you want to get a view on Icelandic people and their love of good coffee and sheep - then this is for you. ( )

If you were being quizzed, how many of you, even those of you who are well read, could come up with an Icelandic author off the top of your head? I know I certainly couldn't have before being introduced to not only an Icelandic author but to THE Icelandic author, 1955 Nobel Prize winning author Laxness. This bleak, desolate novel of a poor sheep farmer ekeing out an existence for himself and his unhappy family can be a tough read. After all, it doesn't sound terribly appealing, does it? But it is far more than the plotline would suggest.

Opening the story with the recounting of a old myth, the reader first Bjartur of Summerhouses hiking to his newly purchased croft, which is reputed to be haunted by the characters of the myth. We see the measure of the man when he refuses to toss a stone on the cairn built to appease the mythic figures he disdains. And we know his hard-headed determination will not yield to anything, not to softness, kindness, foolishness, or truth. He has worked for 18 years to be able to put down a downpayment on a poor farm with only a small sod home/barn on it and a few animals but he feels richer than the richest man around. To this remote holding he brings first a wife, who gives birth to another man's child alone during a blizzard, bleeding to death in the process. Surprisingly Bjartur opts to raise the baby as his own, finds another wife (one who seemingly had little to no choice but to marry him) and fathers more children, only two of whom live past infanthood.

This is really Bjartur's story as most of the other characters are one dimensional, with the exception of eldest daughter Asta Sollilja. Life is hard and nature cruel but Bjartur continues to eke out an existence. There are great descriptive swathes spent on worms killing sheep and butchering animals and the like but somehow, they only add to the narrative. Like a homegrown sort of Odyssey, all experienced within a day or two's walk, the experiences and adventures of the bombastic Bjartur are all oriented towards a striving for home (and in Bjartur's case, of independence). Almost all reviewers have called this an epic book, and it does indeed feel epic. Echoes of poor farming settlers everywhere abound but there also seems to be something indescribable that is purely Icelandic here as well. It feels as if this must have been written under the lowering sky of sunless winters. And yet, I think it brilliant in a depressing, downtrodden sort of way. Probably not for all readers, as there is little (no?) joy to be found in the characters here. But for those who want to persevere, they will be rewarded with nuggets of truth. ( )

You're either going to love this book or hate this book. I personally loved it. It was bleak and strong and uncompromising. It describes a way of life totally alien to a 21st Century middle-class American. It is life in early 20th Century Iceland, in the most rural areas, at its most stultifying. It is fascinating and disgusting at the same time. Bjartur of Summerhouses, the hero, wants nothing more than to be an independent man, relying on nobody for anything, even emotions. He is an enigma through most of the book to me and only near the end do I begin to understand him a little as he begins to understand himself.

The only joy in his life is his daughter, Asta Sollilja, although he hides his emotions so much that even he isn't aware of his feelings for her. She, in turn, loves her Father and is more like than him than one would expect.

I can't describe the book without giving away more than is fair. The edition I have has an Introduction by Brad Leithauser, which I felt gave away too much of the book's tension and actions. In other words, it had spoilers. I only read half of it and don't recommend reading it before reading the book itself. I will read it soon.

If you like epics and the slow development of characters and events, you will like this book. It is vivid in its descriptions and takes the most minute action and imagery and invests it with majesty and dignity. I felt throughout most of the book that this was needed to outweigh the blandness and privation and bleakness of life in an Icelandic croft.

The translation is beautifully done. I didn't feel any of the jerkiness and discord that can occur when a translator just 'doesn't get it.' The language is lyrical and evokes the beauty and desolation of Iceland and the beauty and desolation of Bjartur's soul. ( )

Hardship and frontier sagas have their own man vs. nature fan club, whose meetings I rarely attend. When you overlay the whole elemental drama with an exposition of the honest, working man’s helplessness in the face of manipulative rich people who advance capitalism and modernity, a grim sub-genre emerges. It was done perfectly with “The Grapes of Wrath” and a guild of other page-fillers have knocked out an unnecessary pile of novels that tell similar tales ad nauseum. Certainly, Laxness’ creation is distinguished by its Icelandicness; but if you aren’t dying of curiosity to experience the peculiar iteration of peasants getting screwed that Iceland has to offer and you generally don’t enjoy long, deliberate, earthbound books of this variety, keep away.

Of course, like most people who win the Nobel Prize for literature, Laxness is not a sloppy wordsmith or a bad story teller. “Independent People” occasionally distinguishes itself with unexpected invention and artful character development. The wry, paper thin humor, the farmer colloquies, a few touching and insightful glimpses into childhood imagination, the humanized animals and the description of Iceland’s response to World War One, were all well-wrought, unique and pleasurable. The articulation of the book’s lamentably stubborn protagonist Bjartur of Summerhouses as the man who thinks, “Possibly his best course would be to marry the bitch, so that he could have full leave to tell her to shut up; or at the least go to bed with her, as she herself was suggesting in her own starchy fashion;” and the man who does this: “He floundered madly about in the snow, thumping himself with all his might, and did not sit down again till he had overcome all those feelings of the body that cry for rest and comfort, everything that argues for surrender and hearkens to the persuasion of faint-hearted gods” is consistent, believable and, eventually, frustrating.

Bjartur’s tendency to self-justify with references to Icelandic hero legends and complex, traditional poetry, is also a wonderful counterpoint to his expertise in the various disgusting ailments of sheep. The jury is sort of out on this book. It is an absolute success at being what it is and the historical perspective that I gained on Iceland in its nearly 500 pages is not something I will forget; but, this isn’t my sort of book. I’d rather recommend it to my grandfather.

Somehow, I have to add that it reminds me of Knut Hamsun’s “Growth of the Soil,” (the last book I recommended to my grandfather) which is nothing like “Hunger,” which is Hamsun, the Nazi’s, most commonly read work in translation. If you enjoyed “Growth of the Soil,” “Independent People” will be a superior treat. ( )

This book had a bit of eveything - comedy, tragedy, romance and harsh reality to name but a few things. The writing is beautiful and poetic despite the often grim subject matter. Its a fairly timeless book, only becoming fixed in history towards the end with the effects of WWI on the Icelandic farming economy. Reading it in Oct 08 the parallels with the current rise and fall of the Icelandic banking industry are hard to miss. ( )

Independence is the most important thing of all in life. I say for my part that a man lives in vain until he is independent. (p. 29)

Bjartur of Summerhouses is an Icelandic crofter, having earned his independence after 18 years in service. He is a proud man who works hard and has little time for emotion: For once the crofter was rather at a loss for words, for to him nothing had ever been more completely unintelligible than the reasoning that is bred of tears. He disliked tears, had always disliked tears, had never understood them ...(p.296) Bjartur establishes his homestead, marries, and raises a family, but he is entirely focused on retaining and strengthening his independence, often at the expense of relationships. His children grow up uneducated and ill-prepared for the rapidly-changing world in the first half of the 20th century. Bjartur is conservative to the point of being reactionary, and refuses to acknowledge the realities brought on by politicians and economic conditions.

This epic novel takes place over many years, following Bjartur through good times and bad. Bjartur was not the most likeable character. His single-minded pursuit of independence and financial security meant that most of his family were unable to realize their full potential. Their emotional needs were largely unmet. And Bjartur experienced losses of his own, but It had never been a habit of his to lament over anything he lost; never nurture your grief, rather content yourself with what you have left...(p. 450)

While Independent People is sobering and often sad, I also found it moving. With its expansive scope and tough characters, it reminded me of John Steinbeck's East of Eden, which I also enjoyed. It is not an easy read, but is well worth the effort. ( )

I began this book over a year ago, and after many fits and starts just couldn't get into it. I took it to Iceland with us, and reading it there allowed the book to grab a hold of me. Independent People is quintessential Laxness. It evokes an era of Icelandic history that is past, and brings that era to life with grace and power. Visiting the area where the story takes place, in the south near Vik, it was very easy to imagine the people who eked out a living there a hundred years ago.

The story features an irascible sheep farmer, Bjartur of Summerhouses. He is short-sighted when it comes to the people around him, yet has a strong and unyielding vision regarding his place in the world--his place as a man who owns land and sheep, a man who is dependent upon no one. Unfortunately this vision is battered time and time again by circumstance. Iceland at the beginning of the twentieth century is a hard, unforgiving land, and social equity is not on close terms with the poor. Despite the tragic undertones inherent in the plot, the characters are drawn with great originality and humor in true Laxness fashion.

Bjartur is fearlessly direct in his dealings with the people who make up his world, whether they be rich or poor, honest or shams. Bjartur is "determined to meet everything with equanimity." The Bailiff, who is a man of much stature in the community, responds to Bjartur's plain language by saying, "Yes, old boy...you always would have your little joke, wouldn't you?" Yet Bjartur doesn't dissemble or trifle with others; he shows very little evidence of humor. He is single-sighted in his pursuit of maintaining his independence and caring for his beloved sheep, and when he sacrifices everything--including his family-- in pursuit of these goals it is hard not to despise him. It is a credit to Laxness' skill that he draws Bjartur so finely that you can't hate him as you want to, because you understand him. Most authors buy your allegiance to their characters by allowing them to change, to become more as you might want them to be. Not so Bjartur! One is never disappointed by seeing him be less than true to his nature.

Delicate, tiny mosses grow in Icelandic lava, if you look closely. You will find some little beauty in Bjartur as well, beauty that is colorful, varied, subtle.

Has Halldor Laxness written a book that is less than perfect? How beautiful is his language? Try this:

"It was the shortest day. The sky grew overcast during the morning, with low clouds, snow-charged and threatening, hanging half-way up the mountain slopes. No wondrous gleam lit soul or landscape; there was only a little midday no sooner come than gone, yet how much darkness was needed to wrap it round!" ( )

Muy recomendable ( )

Halldor Laxness published Independent People in 1946 and later went on to win the prestigious Nobel Prize for Literature in 1955 - largely because of this novel. The author has created a sprawling, generational saga revolving around Bjartur of Summerhouses - a stubborn Icelandic sheep farmer who is determined to be free and independent after spending 18 years as an employee to a wealthy landowner. Bjartur purchases land from his former employer and quickly marries the tragic Rosa. Tough, spirited and wholly dedicated to his sheep and worm-infested dog, Bjartur fathers several children including a daughter - Asta Sollilija (translated “Beloved Sun-lily). The relationship between Bjartur and Asta is tender and heartbreaking and is what drives the narration of the novel. Bjartur stubbornly follows his path toward independence and refuses to mourn his losses as the years slip by. Only when he finally succeeds in achieving his dream of building a house (and discovers the dream is empty), does Bjartur recognize all he has lost through the years.

Thematically the novel explores freedom and independence within the context of Icelandic politics and agricultural progress. Entwined in this idea of independence at all costs are moral questions about our connections to others. Where does the search for independence and freedom from others’ influence become loneliness and isolation? At what point does a person’s quest for autonomy interfere with his ability to establish and nurture relationships? Bjartur’s dream to become self-sufficient is marred by the rigidity of his definition of independence.

Laxness fills his novel with complex and multi-layered characters living in a harsh and desolate countryside. They all seek their dreams, stumbling through their lives with their eyes on an uncertain future. Little Nonni - Bjartur’s youngest son - clings to his mother’s dream that he will ’sing for the whole world.’ Asta dreams of love. Bjartur sees the construction of a real house as the ultimate sign he has become independent.

Independent People is the story of one man, but in many ways is a universal tale. Laxness writes with an eye on scene, describing the vast moors of Iceland in such a way as to place the reader there. His language is poetic, touching and authentic. Although at times the novel seems to drag, Laxness always redeems it by bringing the reader back to the soul of his characters - individuals who I found myself wanting to get to know better, who I wanted to see succeed despite their failings. ( )

For anyone bracing themselves for long cold winter nights, Halldor Laxness's Independent People makes good reading. I actually read this book in December 1999, outside on the deck of our home in suburban Maryland, late at night with a pipe and snow falling all around. This is probably the optimal method for reading a book set in the isolated frozen wastes of Iceland.

Independent people is the story of an obstinant Icelandic sheep rancher's struggle for independence against time, the elements, family responsibility, and an evolving economic system. For Bjartur, nothing is as important as his land and the sheep upon it, for in his thinking, the land represents true freedom. Wives die, children are lost, and eventually the ranch itself comes to ruin as a result of Bjartur's inability to see beyond the tip of his nose. As with most pioneers, there is a certain insanity in him, and a mad touch of the heroic.

One feels that Bjartur survives a harrowing ordeal in the frozen wasteland (as his wife is dying in childbirth at home) not by heroism, but by the fact that he is so single-mindedly obsessed with his dream of independence that he simply does not consider the fact that he should not be able to live through the night. The tale is a tragic one - for all its simplicity, Bjartur's dream is crushed in the end by his inability to adapt to a changing world. The other characters, especially the girl Asta Sollija, are drawn with depth and care. There is a touch of the comical in this novel, but there is mostly - almost unbearable in parts - tragic sorrow in the life of this man and those he dominates.

I was fortunate to find and read an English translation of this book some years ago. I see that a more recent edition is now available. Pleased to know that it is back in print.

This is one of the most enjoyable books I've read in a very long time. It's as good as Knut Hamsun's 'Growth of the Soil,' which is the only book I can think of to compare it to.

Brad Leithauser's foreword should have been an afterword because he gives away every key scene in the novel. Do yourself a favor and read it last. ( )

Translated from the Icelandic, a family saga that begins with magic then grounds itself in a landscape where milk from a cow is a luxury, and the cow itself worthy of love.
A haunting book. The story focuses on a hard-hard-bitten father, an "Icelandic pioneer," and his children, especially (I think), his daughter. The winter section is unforgettable—long, destitute, smoky ... "the monotony of horizonless winter days." Then a change in the seasons, and a change in the political weather, brings money to the village. This doesn't turn out well. ( )

I picked this book up on my first trip to Reykjavik in March of this year when I found a bookstore to indulge my practice of trying to find local authors to read. I asked what Icelandic authors were available in English and was directed to Laxness who, I discovered to my surprise, won the Nobel Prize for Litereature in 1955! I try not to be swayed by cover blurbs, but the fact that this one had strong endorsements from Jane Smiley and E.Annie Proulx seemed a good sign. I recently met an Icelander and confessed that I had not heard of Laxness before; he said that I should not feel badly because when Laxness won the Nobel Prize, the headline in the Le Monde was "Irish Writer Wins the Nobel Prize"!

This is a remarkable book: an "epic" in the sense that one sees very little of these days. Epic not in the placement of the story; it pretty well all takes place on the small sheep croft of Bjartur of Summerhouses, with brief forays into the local town, but it is epic in its examination of simple, yet complex, human emotions and relationships. Bjartur himself is no ordinary person. He is obsessed with achieving indepedence as a sheep-herder when, after eleven years of working off debts, he is able to purchase a small croft and start on his own. This admirable quality, however, is also his greatest weakness because the principle of independence, as Bjartur defines it, becomes the prism through which he lives and interprets all aspects of his life. On a less-important level, this makes him an uncompromising person to be with because he is suspicious of the motives of others and takes pride in not being beholden in any respect: social as well as financial; on another level, it leads him to think of emotions as weaknesses not only to be avoided, but to be positively and actively repressed, and so he drives everyone away from him, including his only daughter, only to be reconciled at the end of the book when all material gains are lost, and Bjartur learns that there are other, more important things in life. Bjartur is an heroic figure for this mixture of great strengths and great weaknesses; he suffers more physical and material setbacks than could seem possible, and yet he never wavers, he never cries over spilled milk, and he never tries to rise above himself in a certain sense. His one effort to do so--to build a proper two-story house--is a failure with the house standing empty for quite a while, and then is uninhabitable with ice forming on the inner walls in winter. Most poignant, even more so than driving his daughter away because she has become pregnant, is his relationship with a woman who has come as a farm-helper, housekeeper (after he has buried two wives) and whom he recognizes to be a wonderful worker, a fine cook, and a good housekeeper, in addition to being a woman of some independent means (all things are relative in this story). She is clearly attracted to Bjartur, and he even admires her strong body watching her undress one night, but the day she comes home from town with some "extravagent" purchases that she made with her own money (coffee, some spices, sugar, flour), is the day she has to leave because to Bjartur this is an affront to his independence and a comment on his ability to sustain himself.

The story is set in the period just before, during, and after WWI, though the decription of life on the croft in the sod hut with people living above the animals, and the backbreaking year-long work, with starvation often only just around the corner, could have come from a period centuries earlier. Life was unbelieveably hard, and yet there is joy in the spring, the fresh grass, the days of summer, and joy and sorrow in the stirrings of adolescence in Bjartur's daughter and her unformed attempts to establish some sort of contact with the strange man who is her father.

The story is also a short history of the cooperative movement which grew up in Iceland as a revolt of the sheep-herders against the control by middlemen of finances and access to supplies. It is a history of the boom period of WWI when the price of mutton and wool rose dramatically and brought unheard of prosperity to the island. Such that, as Bjartur and his friends agree, the men on the continent can continue to slaughter themselves for as long as they like as long it keeps the prices up. But the war ends, and with it the newfound prosperity that brings Bjartur down to the point where he loses his land