Book Review: Linnea Axelsson’s “ÆDNAN”
“Man with bull reindeer” by John Savio
(1925-1938)
Ædnan is translated from Swedish by Saskia Vogel. It was shortlisted for the National Book Award in 2024 and won the August prize in 2018, one of Sweden’s most prestigious awards.
The events of this novel follow the lives of two families over the course of a hundred years in the history of the Sámi people, an indigenous group whose historical lands stretch across Norway, Sweden and Finland. The author, Linnea Axelsson, is a Sámi-Swedish writer and has experienced the conflict of her culture getting caught in the riptide of modernity. Through a variety of narrators across many years, Axelsson gives us a kaleidoscopic look at what happens to the family unit under the pressure of colonialism, like a hydraulic press upon mother, father, son and daughter.
“How long would they
keep getting away
–
With writing
our actions and
our grazing grounds
our entire cultural landscape
out of history
–
By calling
everything wilderness
and backwoods”
Even if you know very little of the Sámi people, this novel evokes true empathy for the multitude of ways that the Swedish government has disrupted their native lifestyle. We see the overreach of scientists invading homes for anthropological observation. We see the construction of a dam that puts a stranglehold on the natural resources of the Sámi people and permanently alters the frigid landscape. The dam’s power plant splinters their working culture and marginalizes the tradition of reindeer herding. Rural and urban differences slowly grow larger. Children are forced to enroll in boarding schools, robbed of their parents and their homes. Language is used as a means of control, with bans placed on a traditional Sámi yoiking, or singing. The generational divide widens when one child learns the language of their grandparents and another rejects it. But Axelsson’s approach to the subject matter feels delightfully fresh.
In the tradition of epic literature, even very large stories can feel small enough for us to carry in our pockets and in our hearts, and the epic poem is one of the oldest genres in the world for this reason. Ædnan is a wonderful example of how this form can transform the pain of domestic life into family mythology. It is written in a sparse, elusive free-verse, with no punctuation. But the length of the novel, over four-hundred (easy-to-read) pages, helps it to retain its gravity.
“How am I to
explain to them
that the ruin
is in my voice”
The author Linnea Axelson explains in an interview how the form emerged organically out of the characters’ voice. The style is informed by the narrators’ reticence to speak about traumas or, alternatively, their desire to take hold of the narrative. This internal motivation keeps the free verse from sounding contrived. Instead, it powerfully echoes the norse sagas that were once carried across icy mountains and fjords by oral tradition.
Every scene is perfectly chosen, so that even time jumps and narrative fragmentation do not alienate the reader. There are wild swings in perspective between characters that require close attention to remember whose narrative we are reading. But each moment feels fully realized, as if there is an entire life lived waiting behind each interaction. Many chapters feel tragically short and always end with a punch that leaves the reader reeling.
“A rangeland runs
from the forest snow to
the windswept shore
–
There my herd scrapes
and leads us
land to land
prying me from
your arms
–
Alone
among the lichen”
There is a confident simplicity in the imagery. It is evocative and circular, relying on what is and what was. As the narrative moves into the twenty-first century, it carries with it a sense of loss for the fells, a gray-green landscape of snorting reindeer and muffling snow. A longing is felt for the forgotten lifestyle of twentieth-century Sámi herders, both treacherous and uncomplicated. The former generation of Sámi people is contrasted with characters living in present day Sweden, attempting to deal with the memories that drip through family trees.
The third and final section of the novel begins in 2016, but each chapter flows backwards in time. It starts with a landmark case in Sweden that returned hunting rights to a Sámi village. Then, it retraces the thread of political tension within the family as they look forward to reclaiming their culture. It brings the past into direct confrontation with the future, masterfully telling a living history of the Sámi’s fight for recognition.
Elijah Kubicek is a junior at Eastern Illinois University and an intern at Bluestem. He is majoring in English with a minor in Film Studies.