Cultural Memory in the Icelandic Contemporary Sagas: Constructing Continuity at a Time of Transformation

Cultural Memory in the Icelandic Contemporary Sagas by Lucie Korecká is a revised version of the author's doctoral thesis, which she defended at Charles University, Prague, in 2021. This is the third volume in a new series, Memory and the Medieval North, which, as stated on the cover: focuses on cultural memory studies in relation to the extensive and varied Nordic cultural goods from, and since, pre-modern times. Its interdisciplinary monographs and essay collections analyze the roles of memory, remembrance, commemoration, and other forms of anamnesis in, and deriving from, the Viking Age and the Middle Ages in Scandinavia.Promotional material on the content of the book states inter alia: The objective of this book is to analyse the Old Icelandic sagas dealing with the twelfth to fourteenth centuries—the secular contemporary sagas and the bishops’ sagas—from the perspective of cultural memory studies. This approach foregrounds their function as sources of the late medieval Icelanders’ collective identity, shaped by the narrative tradition and the current concerns.It is not possible to approach memories from the Middle Ages—whether based on private memory or collective or shared memory—other than via written resources. Hence it is necessary to determine the age of such texts and how they were preserved before it is possible to address the question of how far they may have been based upon memory and remembrance. Secondly, it is necessary to understand how they originated, how they were disseminated, how enjoyed, and their impact in society. Thirdly, it is necessary to have knowledge of writing skills at the time of writing, in order to assess what was written down, and by whom. Korecká devotes little attention to the literary establishment in medieval Iceland. She largely follows the example of Jan and Aleida Assmann, applying their theory of cultural memory, communicative memory, and collective identity as the guiding principle of her research. The bibliography, however, fails to cite many renowned scholars who have worked with memory and remembrance in the Middle Ages. No reference is made, for instance, to Mary Carruthers, Janet Coleman, Patrick J. Geary, or Rosamond McKitterick. Paul Ricour's important research in Memory, History, Forgetting (2004) is not mentioned. While the contemporary sagas are the main focus, the author takes on a far wider range of works, as witness the long list of primary sources, which includes Íslendingabók, Landnámabók, Kristni saga, and numerous sagas of Icelanders. From this long list, and translations of Old Icelandic texts, it is evident that the author has a good command of Icelandic. The extensive list of secondary sources shows that she has made use of scholarly writings not only in English, but also in Icelandic, Scandinavian languages, German, and French; and indeed until about fifty years ago most scholarly writings about Icelandic language, medieval literature, and history were written in languages other than English. This applies not least to scholarly writings on the secular contemporary sagas. In the 1980s and 90s, many lectures at International Saga Conferences were still delivered in languages other than English. But in view of the fact that the book addresses the subject of memory and remembrance in medieval Icelandic literature, it is strange to observe that the author does not cite Carol J. Clover's landmark essay “The Long Prose Form,” Arkiv för nordisk filologi 101 (1986), which may explain how memory progressed from communicative memory to cultural memory to become collective identity, nor Theodore M. Andersson's “Long Prose Form in Medieval Iceland,” JEGP 101 (2002), which addresses the oral conservation of stories in the Sturlunga compilation.The book comprises five chapters, together with an introduction which discusses the methodology and the contemporary sagas, and a conclusion which summarizes the findings. The chapters are: “Constructing Identity: The Beginning of Icelandic History”; “Constructing Continuity: The Saga Age and the Sturlung Age”; “Continuity and Contact: Mutual Influences Between Iceland and Norway”; “The time of Transformation: Iceland's Political Integration with Norway”; “Integration and Integrity: Iceland as a Part of the Norwegian Kingdom.” As indicated by the chapter titles, the author takes the view that the contemporary sagas do not support the idea, which was long the received historical view in Iceland, that the Icelanders had submitted under duress to the authority of the King of Norway. Law professor Sigurður Líndal launched, however, a reexamination of this nationalistic interpretation of history with a wide-ranging essay in 1964: “Utanríkisstefna Íslendinga á 13. öld og aðdragandi sáttmálans 1262–64,” (Icelandic foreign policy in the thirteenth century and the background to the Covenant 1262–64), Úlfljótur 17. Lucie Korecká takes the view that the sagas indicate a continuous progression from the dispersed power of goðar (chieftains), which became concentrated in the hands of a small number of clans, who then sought the support of the Norwegian king in their pursuit of power. The author presents her findings thus in a promotion of the book: It is argued here that the intertextual relations between the Old Icelandic historiographical texts extend beyond the literary level and influence the perception of the past itself. The accounts of events from the settlement to the fourteenth century form a coherent narrative that acknowledges the historical development but accentuates the themes and values that continued to define the collective identity. Within this framework, the book presents a detailed analysis of how this function of the narrative shaped the sagas depicting the time when Iceland was gradually integrated into the Norwegian kingdom. As such, it contributes to a more nuanced understanding of how this culturally significant period of medieval Icelandic history was perceived when the memory of it was still crossing the boundary between common knowledge and foundational history.The author bases this conclusion upon her analysis of the composition of the sagas, grounded principally in two narrative patterns put forward by Theodore M. Andersson and Joseph C. Harris in the 1960s and 70s—feud pattern and travel pattern. In the book, however, the author places far more emphasis on travel narratives, within sagas of bishops and in secular contemporary sagas—not least to Norway—than on narratives of feuds in Iceland. She concludes: This integration into the Norwegian royal court is not depicted as the Icelanders’ loss of their individuality but it may have motivated a redefinition of the individuality through the narrativization of stories that could serve as sources of collective identity. The present study has shown that the main concern pervading these narratives is not the question of political independence, but rather the Icelanders’ increased awareness of their marginality within the North, both in geographical, economic, and social terms. Thus, another central theme of the contemporary sagas, alongside the Icelanders’ active approach to political contact, is the deconstruction of Iceland's cultural and social marginality—as the geographical and economic aspects could not be changed. (241–42)By discussing all the contemporary sagas, and even many sagas of Icelanders, Íslendingabók, Landnámabók, and Kristni saga, the author can point out many similarities in narrative—but the analysis becomes too uniform for such a range of literature—the distinctions between individual works, times of writing, and places of conservation are lost. As Brian Stock has pointed out, the textual community of medieval writers is of great significance for interpretation of their works, in his book The Implications of Literacy: Written Language and Models of Interpretation in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries (1983).Kirsten Hastrup wrote in her essay “Text and Context: Continuity and Change in Medieval Icelandic History as ‘Said’ and ‘Laid Down’,” in Continuity and Change: A Symposium (1986), as concluding remarks: “it is very much a side effect of literary genre and style of writing whether continuity or change is stressed. In medieval Icelandic history as ‘said’ a timeless conceptual structure conveys continuity. In the history ‘laid down’ in the laws it is discontinuity that is communicated.” (p. 23)Perhaps it is because Lucie Korecká pays little attention to law in her book that she downplays the changes that took place in governance in Iceland when the authority of the goðar under the Old Commonwealth came to an end, to be superseded by royal authority. But Hastrup stresses that it is the “task of scholarship . . . to give room to both dimensions in a comprehensive reflection upon the past” (p. 23). Sverrir Jakobsson did so in his historical overview Auðnaróðal: Baráttan um Ísland 1096–1281 (2016). He writes: At the beginning of this period there was no state apparatus in the country: no public body with the power to collect taxes and enforce laws. All power relationships were informal and personal—with the possible exception of administrative districts run collectively by their farmers. The power of those who undertook to enforce verdicts and implement resolutions made at assemblies must in the nature of things have been grounded in their personal powers, and the respect in which they were held by others; what modern political scientists call prestige. By the end of this period Icelandic society had undergone major change, with the advent of a government, with officials and an executive branch. (p. 12)From a historical viewpoint, this would be a more accurate account of developments than Lucie Korecká presents in her book.Subchapter 3.2.4, under the title “Íslendinga saga: Þórðr Sturluson as the Perfect Peaceful Chieftain,” addresses the image of the chieftain presented by his son Sturla in his saga. The saga presents highly variable images of the brothers Þórðr, Sighvatr, and Snorri, sons of Sturla the elder. The difference is especially evident with respect to their deaths. Þórðr fell ill and died in his bed, and that narrative may be seen as some kind of resonant textual fragment in Íslendinga saga, in the manner interpreted by Lucie Korecká. The context of Íslendinga saga is illuminated in its detailed operations by the moves made in the text. It gives us insight into the type of meaning production available in the culture of Sturla Þórðarson's time and place. It is precisely when the text is about itself, or it changes code, that it best reveals how the subject matter is encoded, and the ideas behind the narrative. The deathbed scene of Þórðr Sturluson is an example of such a case. It draws the audience's attention to the saga's narrative schemes and its composition and values, not least because it contrasts so starkly with the saga of conflicts and bloody skirmishes as a whole.In order to resolve disputes and achieve reconciliation, men like Þórðr Sturluson were needed. Lars Lönnroth defined some of the main character types that take part in feuds, in his book Njáls saga: A Critical Introduction (1976). Korecká takes the view that peaceful chieftains represent the key values that define the medieval Icelandic collective identity. She maintains that “the immanent key figure of the compilation Sturlunga saga is the character type of the peaceful chieftain, which embodies the cohesive social forces and morally positive personal qualities” (p. 179). She appears, on the other hand, to assume that the peaceful chieftain's story is a specific narrative pattern, and in that category she includes Hrafns saga Sveinbjarnarsonar. That saga is mostly concerned with disputes between the chieftain Þorvaldr Snorrason of Vatnsfjörður and Hrafn Sveinbjarnarson of Eyri as they vied for power in the West Fjords. In those disputes, Hrafn is depicted as peaceful and willing to compromise, while Þorvaldr is bellicose and vengeful. It is, however, something of a stretch to count Sturla Þórðarson the elder of Hvammur among the “peaceful chieftains.” Hitherto all scholars have seen him as a slippery character in the saga, as witness Bishop Brandr Sæmundarson's judgement of Sturla: “Engi maðr frýr þér vits, en meir ertu grunaðr um gæzku” (No man challenges your intelligence, but your benevolence is the more questionable). And while Þorgils saga skarða takes Þorgils's side, he can hardly be regarded as one of the “peaceful chieftains” in the Sturlunga compilation.Íslendinga saga comprises the backbone of Sturlunga compilation. That saga devotes little space to foreign travels and more to disputes and divisiveness in Iceland. The major events are the battle of Örlygsstaðir and the burning of Flugumýri. Burning people to death was deemed a disgraceful act, and the fire at Flugumýri is recounted in terms of an atrocity. The saga is said to have been compiled by Sturla Þórðarson, who is also reputed to have compiled the sagas of King Haakon Haakonsson and King Magnus the Law-Mender. Only a fragment of Magnúsar saga survives, so we know little about it, but Else Mundal has conjectured that the saga of this peaceful king would have been much shorter than Hákonar saga (see “Sturla Þórðarson og soga om kong Magnus Lagabøte” in An Icelandic Literary Florilegium: A Festschrift in Honor of Úlfar Bragason 2021, p. 214). Hákonar saga presents a rosy image of King Haakon, and indeed it was composed at the royal court, under the aegis of his son Magnus the Law-Mender. While Sturla Þórðarson was a participant in the disputes and divisiveness of the Sturlung Age and sought more power than he had inherited from his father, he had never been to Norway until he was compelled to go there to meet the king in 1263, and he had never looked for royal support.Sturlu þáttr recounts his visit to the royal court and his reconciliation with Magnus the Law-Mender. The king made Sturla his official historian and later appointed him to the office of Law Man in Iceland. Sturla's life story as recounted in the tale thus provides evidence that the saga writers did not only wish to address continuity, but also change.The book, which is published in English, is clearly intended for a wide readership, and not only those who are familiar with medieval Norse-Icelandic literature. It is informative, though a little repetitive. The book has been well produced, with a subject index and name index in addition to the bibliography. It is pleasing to see that in the bibliography the author follows Icelandic custom with regard to Icelandic names, with the personal name preceding the patro/matronymic.