Christiane Ritter (1897–2000)

A memoir of a year or so that the author spent living in Svarlbard in 1934, with her husband and a Norwegian man (his hunting partner). It's an extraordinary story, which alternates between descriptions of incredible beauty, and descriptions of life in their hut, including through the long polar night.

Once, while the men are indoors carving, I stand on the door sill and look southward where the sky is growing light. For days it has been hidden by cloud, but now it is lit by the most show more wonderful dawn. It is twelve o’clock midday when the sun rises. It rises half over the horizon, and then sets again and disappears. Only slowly and with a shudder do I grasp that this is the terrible moment when the sun has shone for us the last time this year.

Ritter's husband had been living in Svarlbard for some time before she came to join him, leading an incredibly makeshift life. Everything that washes up or can be trapped is put to use - and finding something like the bottom of a sachet of yeast is a triumph. It's undeniably interesting to see how little they were able to live with, and how Ritter herself got used to incredibly difficult living circumstances. She seems to have very much enjoyed her time there - personally I think they are all mad! show less

‘’Νο, the Arctic does not yield its secret for the price of a ship’s ticket. You must live through the long night, the storms, and the destruction of human pride. You must have gazed in the deadness of all things to grasp their livingness. In the return of light, in the magic of the ice, in the life-truths of animals obsessed in the wilderness...lies the secret of the Arctic and the overpowering beauty of its lands.’’

I live in a country where the sun always finds a way to shine show more its light on us, even during the bleakest wintry days. Most normal people consider this a blessing. Me, on the other hand, being the weirdo that I am, I hate it with a vengeance. I just can’t stand sunshine and heat. When I had the opportunity to visit Finland a few years ago, I experienced the winter night and it was one of the most fascinating and happiest moments of my life. I mean, give me darkness and cold and I am a happy camper. I am also mad, but that’s okay. Still, nothing and noone can possibly prepare you for the circumstances Christiane Ritter describes in her beautiful book.

What a striking title...A beautiful cover and a fascinating woman who, despite all the odds, defied conventions, ignored every risk and followed her husband to an expedition in Svalbard, right in the heart of the Arctic. Christiane Ritter, an Austrian painter who died in 2000 at the age of 103, travelled to Norway in 1934 and found a land of immense beauty, silent and primal. Her account of the year she spent in Svalbard is a beautiful homage to the special landscape of the Arctic, a land that I often call ‘’a planet within a planet’’.

‘’The conflict between the weakening light of day and the triumphing light of the moon creates bewildering contrasts in the very clear, violently bleak landscape. New scenes appear whenever the sky lightens.’’

This book contains treasure found in each page. Chrissie’s descriptions of the preparations for the coming winter, the hunting, the animals that used to be completely unknown to her, the magnificence of the fjords are fascinating but nothing compares to the chapters dedicated to the fortvilelse of the polar night, the enchantment, the bewildering and threatening glory of the night that never ends. She describes the last moment before the sun sets and the waiting for the darkness that will last for months in a chilling way, so vivid and almost ominous that brought chills even in a rather warm and humid Athenian May evening. The smoke that clinged on the floor and walls of the hut, the black landscape lit only by the whimsical starlight, Karl’s songs in the silence of the everlasting night...What setting could be more striking?

‘’Don’t go for walks alone’’, says Karl. ‘’It’s a dangerous time. Seven weeks before Christmas the graves in Svalband open.’’

It is to be expected that my favourite parts are the ones dedicated to the beautiful, mystical Norwegian folklore. Ritter narrates Karl’s stories and the legends told by the sailormen and it is no surprise that most of them are related to death and the spirits of the dead. What kind of stories could be born in a land where the long night reigns, where the shadows acquire an otherworldly colour under the glorious veil of the Aurora Borealis…

This is a haunting, beautiful account. It’s not a dry log book. Far from it. Ritter included dialogues which made the reading experience even more interesting and direct and I felt I was reading a novel of the finest quality. It is a calm, grounded narration from an immensely brave, considerate, determined woman, a striking personality who fell in love with the most beautiful spot of our planet. It is a pity she wasn’t allowed to return there...If you aren’t already in love with the Arctic and its enchantments, then this book will definitely help you come a little closer to the never-ending magic of the polar nights…

‘’...the world out-of-doors falls into deepest night. The mountains are no more than white shadows, the sea no more than a black shadow- until that too dissolves away. And then everything is dead.’’

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com show less

A Woman in the Polar Night is my favorite read of 2019. First published in 1938, its most recent incarnation is a pretty paperback published by Pushkin Press in mid-November 2019. Author Christiane Ritter was an Austrian artist who wrote of the year she lived in a remote, polar region of Finland (Svalbard) with her husband Hermann. I'm thankful to Jane Degras for this English translation.

Christiane's memoir shimmers with painterly descriptions of the bleak and ethereal polar landscape that show more enchanted her and Hermann. So many of Christiane's passages are quotable that I'm tempted to fill my review with them, but I think it better to let readers discover these treasures for themselves. Well, maybe just one:

The whole sky is deep lilac, lightening into a tender cobalt blue at the horizon, over the sea of ice. From the east a pale-yellow brightness spreads, and the frozen sea, reflecting the heavenly colours, shines like an immense opal. Where sea and land meet, and where the tidal water thrusts through to the surface around the heavy masses of ice, the colours of the sky are reflected as brightly as in a mirror.

I love it when an author describes a landscape so vividly that I can "see" it. Christiane's drawings are scattered throughout the book, and in the back of the book are photos of Christiane, Hermann, and the hut they lived in.

Christiane told of her adventures, venturing out with her husband and being left on her own for weeks at a time. Her stories impressed me with the extreme isolation and danger of the arctic climate, where physical and psychic survival is critical and miscalculations could mean losing your life or your mind. She reflected on the beauty of living simply, in harmony with nature, and the unnecessary excesses of European society. Her reflections are as relevant today as they were when she wrote them, nearly a hundred years ago.

Christiane Ritter was a hardy woman who lived to the age of 103. An example of her art is here: http://www.polarstern-ag.de/zitate/ritterbild.jpg.

I bought the paperback from Amazon. Yup, I bought a book. I pre-ordered it actually, and waited impatiently when its release was delayed. show less

One perspective from this book is the experience Christiane relates - isolated in a hunting cabin, sometimes alone and sometime with her husband & his hunting partner - which is of physical and mental privation, not to mention being cold. The story telling is delightfully understated, and makes me think of the counterpoint in contemporary YouTube thumbnail aesthetics and bombastic content. She took a decision, perhaps on incomplete or somewhat idealised information to... just go live in a show more cabin.

I have to think though that, given the steamship service and presence of other hunting huts on the island, that the mission wasn't entirely uninformed - it seems there was precedent and knowledge about the adventure. This does not take away at all from the personal strength of character required.

The second perspective it suggests then is a capacity to disengage from 'society' to an extent, and embrace nature, wildness, danger and then from that to find beauty and poetry. Incredibly, amidst the blizzards, bears, bleakness and purely functional nutrition there is barely a tone of fear, anxiety, or anger. Writing this review a while after reading might be making my recollection a bit rosy, to be sure, however there is a calmness that suits my recollection of northern winters.

A third view of course is oh my goodness, winter gear in the 1930s must have been effective, but compared to the gear being flogged in the 21st century seems itself a frightening prospect!

All in all, I'm exceptionally pleased to have found and read this volume. show less