Those Who Sow in Snow / Folk som sår i snö (Tina Harnesk, book review)
Hello dear readers and bloggers! I'm back with another book review by Tina Harnesk, an author I was not familiar with but have simply fallen in love with. Gosh, I love to discover new authors! In this post, I'll review Those Who Sow in Snow, a Swedish novel by Tina Harnesk, a writer of Sami descent. The novel is written in Swedish and set in Sweden, but it is deeply rooted in Sami culture. The principal characters in this novel are indigenous, and their culture and identity is actually a vital part of the novel. I don't know how much you know about Sami (also spelled Saami), but they are basically the only recognized ingenuous European people. All of us Europeans came from somewhere to Europe, but Sami were always here. Sami inhabited the the historical region of Sápmi, that encompasses present day Norway, Sweden, Finland and Kola Peninsula in Russia. Historical Sápmi lands were formerly known as Lapland, but nowadays it is considered offensive to use the English terms Lapps or Laplanders for them (instead one should refer to them as Sápmi or Sami/Saami). In my mother tongue (that would be Croatian btw), I only heard the term Sami being used. However, since I write in English, I decided to look it up, and I'm glad I did. Since this novel celebrates Sami culture, I thought this little digression necessary.
Born into a Swedish- Saami family, Tina Harnesk can be considered both a Sampi and Swedish writer. Tina is a librarian turned writer. So, someone that loves books as much as I do. She was born in 1984. We're about the same age, too! This was my first novel by Tina Harnesk, but it won't be the last. I'm so happy I discovered her! Published in 2022, Folk som sår i snö (Those Who Sow in Snow) is also translated as A Secret of Snow. I prefer the first translation, as it reflects the original better. Moreover, these is something so poetic about this expression 'people that sow in snow' or 'those who sow in snow'. It shows the connection of Sami people to the snow. A Secret of Snow as a title does not evoke such emotions, or anything really specific to my mind. It is kind of a generic title, isn't it? On the other hand, there is a secret in this novel. In fact, the plot is driven by family secrets, and one family secret in particular. So, maybe the translator (or publisher) opted for that title with this in mind. Now, let us get to reviewing this beautifully written novel.
This novel simply blew my mind. I did not know anything about the author, so I had no expectations going in. What attracted my attention to this book in Jelsa library was quite frankly the beautiful cover. As I said, it does not hurt if the cover of book is beautiful. Generally speaking, I like Scandinavian and Icelandic writers, so when I saw that the writer is from Sweden, I said why not? As soon as I started reading, I knew I will love it. It was love at first sight (or read). Sometimes books just draw you in.
I simply fell in love with the writing style of this author. It's lyrical, magical and humorous. Tina Harnesk's writing style feels both very contemporary and rooted in history at the same time. It is both modern and traditional. She brings in her modern views on life, and mixes them with tradition. Sami culture is a breathing part of this novel, as much as Scandinavian culture.
It is hard to believe that this is Tina's debut novel. She feels like a seasoned writer in some ways!
I'm really looking forward to reading more of Tina Harnesk's books. When I tried to do some research on the author, I was not able to find much expect that she still works as a librarian and lives on a mountain with her husband and kids. I do know for sure that Tina has other works published, so I'll be sure to look them up. I managed to find some information about Tina Harnesk's new novel on one Swedish site:
This year's Book of the Year winner is back with a stylishly winding story, Mödramärg.
In Mödramärg, Tina Harnesk delves into another part of Sami history and the fate of her own Lule Sami family. We follow the fates of two women in two eras. The focus is on both motherhood and the exploitation of Sápmi. Told with Tina Harnesk's warm, unique joy of language that is recognizable from her acclaimed debut and Book of the Year winner Folk som sår i snö. The present-day mining threat in Mödramärg is fictional, but right now there are several similar processes going on around Sápmi where the Sami and nature conservation organizations are fighting to protect the land.
However, let's get back to this novel! This is what the blurb says about Those Who Sow in Snow:
Máriddja is eighty-five years old and more than a little eccentric. When she finds out she has cancer, her first thought isn't for herself. It's for her beloved husband. Without children or grandchildren, Máriddja and Biera have only ever had each other. She's determined to keep her diagnosis a secret from Biera, and to find the one person who might take care of him when she's gone.
Kaj is new to the village, recently engaged to the love of his life, and mourning the death of his mother. One day, he finds a box of Sámi handicrafts that once belonged to his mother, the carefully wrapped objects placed together like a crisp new set of jigsaw pieces. If he can solve the puzzle, it will unlock a secret he could have never imagined.
So, the main character is Mariddja. What a character! I loved her right from the start. Calling her more than a little eccentric is almost an understatement. Mariddja is an elderly women, but she is full of life. She's the kind of person that never fits in, but she does not care much. Now, in her eighties, Mariddja couldn't care less. The author really managed to put her creative and dynamic person to paper. Her husband is a wonderful person as well. Together they complement one another so well. This is all sounding inspirational and all, but isn't the beginning of this novel kind of tragic?
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| Jelsa (island Hvar) in the background |
Yes, it is. In fact, the novel pretty much opens with Mariddja learning about her terminal cancer diagnosis. Mariddja is not afraid to die. She has lived her life on her own turns, and she has no problem facing death either. However, she wants to do it on her own terms. Mariddja does not want to be put into some elderly home or a hospital and wait to die. The doctor telling Mariddja about her diagnosis urges her to contact a hospital, but Mariddja refuses. There's more to it than wanting to meet death on her terms.
Mariddja's husband Biera is senile in the medical sense of the world. Biera needs looking after. Mariddja wants to take care of him. She also does not want them to be separated. Mariddja is willing to do everything for them to stay together until the end. She worries about them both, but she is not going to look for help. This sound a bit extreme at first, but soon as we learn more about Mariddja, her behaviour starts making more sense. I felt like Tina Harnesk must have known someone very much like Mariddja to be able to write such a loveable quirky character. The chapters that follow Mariddja's point of view were simply a joy to read. Her unorthodox approach to life is very inspiring and interesting.
The novel is narrated in the third person, but it switches between two points on view: between Mariddja and a young man named Kaj whose mother is ill and basically on her deathbed. So, death is all around. Kaj struggles while he takes turns with his brother next to his mother's deathbed, watching over as his mother quietly slips away. This novels shows us that death is a part of life. The presence of death can really make us question our life. In Kaj's case, death of a love one is a heavy burden. In Mariddja's case, the burden is much heavier. Mariddja has to carry both the burden of her diagnosis and imminent death from cancer, as well as the burden of caring for her husband who suffers from dementia. Moreover, Mariddja's has to hide both of their illnesses from the outside world lest they be separated. Not to diminish Kaj's paint. The loss of a mother is a horrible burden. Kaj faces existential questions as he ponders his mother's life. Kaj has a feeling that his mother was hiding something away from him. So, there is a lot of complex pain mixed with his grief as well.
This all sounds terrible grim and depressive. However, Tina Harnesk mixes tragedy with comedy. Her writing style is very funny at times. This novel feels like a tragicomedy at times. It is also quite complex and profound. As I said, it is a great read. Mariddja's as a protagonist is simply brilliant. She introduces us to Sami culture in such a natural way. The Sami legends are wonderfully incorporated into the story. They feel both personal and interpersonal.
There is one wonderful moment in the novel when Biera tells a story to his nephew and Mariddja listens to it, fascinated by the power of the legend. Mariddja and Biera are a childless couple, but once there was a nephew in their lives. Mariddja often reflects on the times they spent with their nephew, and it is clear both of them miss him dearly. What has happened to him? As readers we learn more about it as the novel progresses.
What I want to mention now is that both of them wanted to share their culture with their nephew, as it is something important for both of them. The moments they shared with their nephew were important in the family (personal) sense, but also in the aspect of belonging to Sami community. By teaching their nephew Sami traditions, they were preserving Sami tradition and culture. I will now quote the prologue (that I found on a publisher's site), and you can see by yourself what I mean.
Prologue
Tell me the story about the herder who met a háldi, Uncle!”
The boy’s voice was bright and insistent, spilling across the floor like a handful of frostbitten lingonberries.
From where she was lying in the next room, Máriddja heard Biera slurp coffee through the lump of sugar between his teeth, followed by the sound of china on wood.
“Ah, you’ve heard that one plenty of times, but I’ll tell it again,” he replied with mock resignation.
His wife knew he loved to tell stories. He had inherited that from his parents, who had themselves inherited it from those who’d walked life’s path before them. It was their way of remembering, a way for a people without words on paper to leave a mark on an Earth they did their best not to change.
If you have a look at this passage, you'll understand what I mean by saying that this novel is lyrical. Take a look at this sentence: "The boy’s voice was bright and insistent, spilling across the floor like a handful of frostbitten lingonberries.". Isn't that the most poetic comparison?
I also like how the writer stresses how much important it is to tell stories, for it is a way of keeping their idenity:
" His wife knew he loved to tell stories. He had inherited that from his parents, who had themselves inherited it from those who’d walked life’s path before them. It was their way of remembering, a way for a people without words on paper to leave a mark on an Earth they did their best not to change."
Who are the people who did the best not to change the Earth? They are of course, the indigenous people! Telling stories is their way of remembering.
I think it's also worth explaining what a háldi is! For that, I'll need to quote an encyclopedia:
"As is common among many of the peoples of the arctic and sub-arctic regions, the earliest Sami economies were based on hunting and fishing. Consequently, their most important rituals revolved around the hunting, killing, and burial of animals. They developed an elaborate conceptual, mythical, and ritual world in which animal spirits and divinities, that is supernatural beings whose zoomorphic forms and features have been taken from the animal kingdom, figure prominently.
The Sami in Finland called these spirits haldi (from the Finnish haltija, derived from an old Germanic word meaning "to own, to control, to protect"). They believed that all animals, as well as certain important geographical locales such as lakes, had their own protective haldi, and that people were obliged to show their respect for these spirits through such tokens as sacrificial offerings.*
....
The Sami notion that animals have guardian beings that must be respected by humans is based on the idea that every living being has at least two souls: a corporeal soul and a "free" soul. The free soul can manifest itself outside the body, and is regarded as a guardian spirit and a manifestation of a dual personality. Animals are regarded as the equal of humans and are treated as such. In dreams or in trancelike states such as ecstasy, the human free soul can leave the body and assume a concrete form."
* https://www.encyclopedia.com/environment/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/sami-religion
Let us get back to the Prologue for it is beautifully written and really sets the tone for the book!
.....
"More than anything, Biera loved telling stories to the boy, who was perched on the cushion atop the storage bench in the kitchen, eyes eager yet weary, spinning the birch bark sugar bowl on the table between them.
Máriddja tugged at the pillow beneath her cheek, adjusting her plait so that she was lying comfortably in the darkness.
She closed her eyes.
She loved his stories, too, especially the ones that were drawn out of him like this: at a child’s request.
She loved his stories, too, especially the ones that were drawn out of him like this: at a child’s request.
Lying there, she could just picture the distant look in his eye as he searched for the words inside himself, trying to find the young reindeer herder.
When Biera eventually managed to locate him, his voice belonged to someone else.
It fumbled through the glow of the stove in the kitchen and made its way out into the darkness on the other side of the window.
His voice was soon reverberating through the shadows in the room, summoning figures out of the gloom.
Máriddja listened as Biera conjured the sound of thudding hooves, reindeer moving across the open landscape, wind tugging at their fur and caressing their muzzles.
And there was the herder boy, constantly but silently communicating with his dog, practically running to meet Biera’s audience.
His lasso swung as he moved across the rocks, his knife smacking against the side of his leg."
What is true of this prologue is also true of the book. It makes you feel like you are there with the characters. It transports you to another world, where you can feel the icy wind on your skin and marvel at the beauty of nature. You can also feel what the characters are feeling. Those Who Sow in Snow is a novel that does not only convey a place and a time, but also the soul of its protagonist. As Mariddja listens to her husband's voice narrating a supernatural tale, she finds herself transported to another world and we as readers go there together with her. This usage of frame narrative is wonderfully employed here. We can feel the boy (Biera's and Mariddja's nephew) identifying with the young man in the story that Biera narrates. We can see both the boy's and Mariddja's reaction to it. Finally, we also see how Biera reacts when the boy asks him a question. Biera thinks hard before he answers, because any question that the boy might have is important. Biera is teaching him the culture and the beliefs of his ancestors, creating a link before then and now.
“There once was a young reindeer herder…” Biera began, his voice as rich and heavy as a church bell.
Each word was clear, filled with the memories of his people.
It was impossible to say whether he had been possessed by the force he had invoked, or whether it was Biera himself who possessed that force, the reindeer herder—all of them alive in that moment.
Even the old clock on the wall seemed to be holding its breath as he read aloud from a book of stories that had never been written down.
“And that reindeer herder and his dog were out in the mountains one summer, alone with their herd. It was hard work, and they were both tired when they lay down to sleep in the lavvu he’d pitched. The fire had died right down, but hot embers were still smoldering between the rocks. Sleep had almost caught up with the young herder as he lay with his eyes closed and his head on his bag. That was when he heard a scraping sound against the outside of the tent. He opened his eyes, squinting in the half-light, and saw something push against the fabric. The reindeer herder sat up. He could hear bubbling laughter, soft voices—spoken in girls’ teasing manner—and as he listened, he saw three silhouettes emerge outside. They were squabbling, and he saw the outline of a body fall against the hide of the tent. A voice said: ‘You’ve been peeping from a distance all day. Go and get a proper look!’
The reindeer herder realized that the voices outside must belong to háldi girls, for there wasn’t another soul for miles. Everyone knew that these secretive creatures were always close by, living side by side with humans, yet only visible to those with the gift. There were countless stories about the vitterfolk—that is what we Sámi call our mysterious cousins—and the young herder had heard every tale passed down through his family. He knew there were ways to make contact with them, to persuade them to stick around.
“The reindeer herder’s dog had woken, and was staring tensely in the direction of the three girls. A low growl rumbled from his throat, but he settled down when the herder stroked his raised fur. The young man reached for the knife on his belt, gripping the antler handle and pulling out the sharp steel blade without making a sound. The next time the háldi’s body fell against the side of his lavvu, he was ready. He pricked her gently in the buttock, making a small flower of blood bloom across the tent’s hide.
“Outside, silence fell, as though a thick fog had descended over the mountain. The wind held its breath, the brook stopped singing, and the soft crackling of the embers hushed, as though frozen.
“That was when the heavy hide was pushed to one side and a figure leaned in through the opening. Moving slowly, she sat down on the other side of the fire and looked up at him. The háldi’s eyes were as deep and dark as a mountain tarn, and she held the herder’s gaze until he felt like he could no longer breathe.
“She spent a long time studying him like that, as though she was searching for his very essence. Then she smiled. In a musical voice, she said: ‘You wanted to hold me. Now let’s see if you can keep hold of me.’
“She spoke in an old-fashioned dialect, but her voice was calm and steady. She went on, ‘I shall be your wife, and you shall receive my entire herd as a dowry; I will give you healthy sons and strong daughters, and we will be happy together. But you must promise me one thing.’
“The reindeer herder’s heart was racing. All he could do was nod, overcome with joy and anticipation.
As we listen to the story, we can feel the reindeer's herder excitement. His meeting with the haldi is as exciting as it is intense. He is joyous, but will the young reindeer's herder happiness last? While reading this part, I could imagine all the three of them captured by the power of the story that blends tradition and belief.
....
You must never tell anyone how I became yours or what I am. You must never call me by any name that does not belong to your world.’
“The young herder cleared his throat and made a solemn, eager vow to do as she said. He then went to his family’s sacred rock, their siedi, as the girl had told him to, and he squinted out into the bright summer night. Not even the mosquitoes seemed to stir at that hour.
“That was when he heard the reindeer approaching, lots of them. With his lasso in his hand, he followed the movements of a powerful white bull, just as the girl had told him to do. He cast his rope. And when he managed to catch the strong, proud reindeer, the herd split in two, with half following him. Necks outstretched, the animals seemed to automatically flow in the direction of the dominant bull, moving toward the young man.
“And everything happened just as the háldi girl had foretold. They married, but throughout the ceremony they both moved counterclockwise and his siida’s shaman read the Lord’s Prayer backward. The powerful elder no doubt saw what the bride was, but he knew better than to say a word. In the years that followed, the couple welcomed one child after another, and they grew rich from her substantial herd. Life went well for them, and they had great fortune with their reindeer.”
A sudden silence filled the kitchen. Biera idly turned the coffee cup in his hands, gazing down into it with a seer’s eyes.
“But then what happened?” asked the boy.
“Ah, lad, you surely know. One evening, as the man ran his hands through his wife’s black hair, he whispered in her ear. ‘My darling wife, my love… my háldi…’ And his wife froze. As slowly as a cloud drifts over the sun, she turned away from him, gathered her children, and they strode silently through the flap in the lavvu without once looking back. To his horror, the man watched as his family—and the herd of reindeer grazing nearby—grew fainter and fainter, eventually becoming one with the first rays of sunlight.”
Máriddja shuddered where she lay beneath the covers, waiting for the spell to break, the way it always did when Biera finished his story. She heard the snap of the snus pot opening, his calloused fingers pinching a wad of the loose tobacco to push beneath his lip. The boy sat quietly for a moment, and then he asked:
“But why did she go? If she loved him, why couldn’t she and the children stay?”
Biera seemed to consider his answer carefully before he spoke. “Deep down, even though she loved him, I think she probably missed something else. I don’t think a person ever stops longing for the place where they belong. No matter who we become or where we end up, our hearts have a root.”*
“The young herder cleared his throat and made a solemn, eager vow to do as she said. He then went to his family’s sacred rock, their siedi, as the girl had told him to, and he squinted out into the bright summer night. Not even the mosquitoes seemed to stir at that hour.
“That was when he heard the reindeer approaching, lots of them. With his lasso in his hand, he followed the movements of a powerful white bull, just as the girl had told him to do. He cast his rope. And when he managed to catch the strong, proud reindeer, the herd split in two, with half following him. Necks outstretched, the animals seemed to automatically flow in the direction of the dominant bull, moving toward the young man.
“And everything happened just as the háldi girl had foretold. They married, but throughout the ceremony they both moved counterclockwise and his siida’s shaman read the Lord’s Prayer backward. The powerful elder no doubt saw what the bride was, but he knew better than to say a word. In the years that followed, the couple welcomed one child after another, and they grew rich from her substantial herd. Life went well for them, and they had great fortune with their reindeer.”
A sudden silence filled the kitchen. Biera idly turned the coffee cup in his hands, gazing down into it with a seer’s eyes.
“But then what happened?” asked the boy.
“Ah, lad, you surely know. One evening, as the man ran his hands through his wife’s black hair, he whispered in her ear. ‘My darling wife, my love… my háldi…’ And his wife froze. As slowly as a cloud drifts over the sun, she turned away from him, gathered her children, and they strode silently through the flap in the lavvu without once looking back. To his horror, the man watched as his family—and the herd of reindeer grazing nearby—grew fainter and fainter, eventually becoming one with the first rays of sunlight.”
Máriddja shuddered where she lay beneath the covers, waiting for the spell to break, the way it always did when Biera finished his story. She heard the snap of the snus pot opening, his calloused fingers pinching a wad of the loose tobacco to push beneath his lip. The boy sat quietly for a moment, and then he asked:
“But why did she go? If she loved him, why couldn’t she and the children stay?”
Biera seemed to consider his answer carefully before he spoke. “Deep down, even though she loved him, I think she probably missed something else. I don’t think a person ever stops longing for the place where they belong. No matter who we become or where we end up, our hearts have a root.”*
* Quoted from
https://www.simonandschuster.ca/books/The-Secret-of-Snow/Tina-Harnesk/9781668028230
As you can imagine, I found this story very interesting. How could I not immediately warm to a novel that has such a well written Prologue! I was always fascinated by mythology. Another thing that captured my attention in this háldi story (that the Prologue opens with) was the similarity between the mythological háldi and mermaids. Now, the legends about mermaids and sirens differ from country to country, but basically they are mythological creatures that posses certain powers. In different mythologies, sirens and mermaids look and act different, but usually there is one prevalent motif: a strong connection to the sea.
In Croatian oral tradition, beings similar to mermaids/sirens are referred as 'sea women'. They are not sirens in the sense that they have fish tails, but rather they are beings that come from the sea, and often it is implied they are seals. What is interesting that seals are also known as 'sea human' in Croatian. Literally translated, a seal in Croatian was known as 'sea man or sea human' that is 'morski čovik/čovjek'. So, there is this link between seals and sirens in Croatian legends and oral tradition. In many legends and myths, a sea woman (that is a seal) marries a man and live on land only to return to sea for various reasons. It is also often implied they must return to the sea because that is their true home.
If you look at Scandinavian mythology, you'll find similar stories. In Scandinavian mythology, there are stories of 'seal wives', basically seals beings (spirits, not sure what to call them) who married men and stayed with them. Ireland's concept of mermaid known as 'selkie' is similar to this tale. After reading this háldi story, I definitely see a strong connection. A being (be a shapeshifter or supernatural spirit) marries a man, but ultimately she has to return to her home. Even the famous story about The Little Mermaid explores such a theme, even if the little mermaid does not marry the man, there is still this mythological aspect to the story.
Back to the novel in question. The more I learnt about the novel's protagonist- the strong willed Máriddja, the more I loved her. I especially loved the tales from her childhood. Even as a little child, Máriddja was filled with restless energy. Her rural community criticized Máriddja and her parents' supposed liberal upbringings. The community suspected her of this and that, but Máriddja remained her true self. Perhaps that even cemented Máriddja's strong character, not to say stubbornness. It is also stressed that Máriddja was raised in a loving family, and I think that's a bit part of why she is so strong mentally and emotionally. A healthy childhood can really set a person on a right path. It is a shame that many do not get that. Anyhow, if Máriddja childhood was ideal her life was anything but. As I learnt more and more about what Máriddja had to deal with in her life, I admired her more and more. A part of immense difficulties enfolds in front of our eyes as readers- and it does get worse.
I think that tales of Máriddja's childhood serve to show there is always something positive we can hold onto. One of the tales that stayed with me is how a child Máriddja escaped with a goat onto an island. She claimed to have been put up to it by the goat. Eventually, because of the strong currently, she had to be rescued by the men from the village, but the whole episode just seemed so her. Máriddja has always loved goats. There is also an episode where adult Máriddja argues with a bus driver because he did not allow her to drive with a goat in a bus. I could really picture that scene. I also like the symbolism. Goats are often portrayed as unruly and strong willed animals. From my experience, goats are often very intelligent and up to mischief. So, it makes sense that goats and Máriddja are perfect partners in crime.
While I was reading about Máriddja's childhood, I also wondered whether she was neurodivergent. She is described as very hyperactive as a child, so I was thinking maybe ADHD. She does have an unique way of looking at the world. She is very creative and free spirited. Máriddja often thinks and acts in unusual ways. Her heritage is part of what makes her unique, but it is not only that. I feel like she could possibly be neurodivergent.
I said that things do get worse for Máriddja. At times that seems like an understatement. Máriddja is dying, and she is having to not only take care of her demented husband, but also hide her illness from him and everyone. Máriddja does not give up. She has a plan and she will do what it takes. At times it is not certain what Máriddja is doing or why. However, there always is a method to Máriddja's seeming madness. Even at the worst of times, Máriddja keeps her strong spirit.
As her story develops into a tragedy, there are more and more comic moments to combat the sadness or perhaps to balance it. One of them that stayed with me is when Máriddja gives an original excuse for her unpredictive behaviour. You see, her neighbours are starting to worry about her erratic behaviour. As readers, we also worry at times. However, we know more than neighbours. There was something sweet about how the neighbours cared for her and Biera but also wanted to respect their independence.
Anyhow, when one of them (the son) finally confronts Máriddja about her behaviour, she tells him that she is doing drugs. She says it with utmost certainty: "you know sometimes you have to treat yourself". I'm sure I laughed out loud when I read that part because I could clearly imagine it. Anyhow, there are many other comic scenes involving Máriddja and the members of her small community. Máriddja and Biera live a reclusive, isolated life but the isolation is not complete. There are people who inquire about them, especially after some of Máriddja's extreme actions. At some point, the police gets involved.
We also learn about the first neighbours. As Tolstoy wisely said, every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. The neighbour's son has a problem. He is straight, but his mother has told everyone that he is gay, and she is very proud of his gayness. She has her own motives for wanting him to be gay. So, the son has to have a very serious 'coming out' conversation. However, he has to come out as a straight man. His mother is heart-broken by his straightness. The mother of the neighbour has already built up her identity as a mother of a gay man, and she is reluctant to let go of it. As funny as this episode was, there was a serious message to it. Yes, the reverse expectation factor makes it funny, but there is some food for the thought there. Sometimes we are not aware of how we influence others, or force or put people in molds. Sometimes we force others to become something they are not or to pretend to be something they are not. Sometimes people pretend to be something they are not because they do not want to hurt us. We all need to be aware of the influence we have one over another. We often have more power over others than we realize, and we need to use it carefully.
I did not speak much about Kaj in this review. I only hinted at his sorrows. Not to say that Kaj's life story is not interesting or well written. As smitten as I was with our eccentric elderly couple, I also enjoyed learning about Kaj and his wife. There is a age contrast here. Kaj and his partner are young, whereas Máriddja and her husband are an elderly couple. However, they face many of the same struggles and blessings that come with being part of a couple. Moreover, there are some similarities. Both Kaj and Máriddja are battling many of their sorrows alone, afraid to share with their partners for a number of reasons. I think with Kaj a bit problem is that he has problem understanding where the void inside of him comes. Kaj does not understand his problems, he is in emotional pain, but it is a bit more complex than grief. Still, I did not write much about Kaj and I think I'll leave it at this. The main reason I refrained from mentioning Kaj much in this review is because I wanted to avoid spoilers. In general, I did my best to avoid spoilers in this review. I don't think it's a spoiler that Máriddja is dying from cancer. The novel practically opens with this news of Máriddja's terminal cancer. Some blurbs online have more spoilers than this review of mine.
And now it is time for my conclusion. I explained how the novel is quite sad at times. However, towards the end there was one extremely sad scene. I cried my eyes out reading that one because it was only then that I realized the extreme conditions Biera and Máriddja were living in towards the end. You tend to forget it, driven by the incredible will power and strength of our protagonist- Máriddja. Her strong personality at times really takes over. However, this does not make her position any less difficult. That touch of realism at the end really destroyed me. Still, there is a sort of light at the end of the tunnel when it comes to the book's ending. I'm not going to say whether it is sad or happy. I suppose it really depends on a personal interpretation. Every reader might perceive the ending differently. Nevertheless, I think it can be argued that the ending was well written. A family secret is revealed. Some readers might anticipate it, some might be surprised by the ending. Personally, I was surprised and I think it was because I was concentrated on Máriddja that I did not even try to solve the mystery.
So, there is that. I highly recommend this novel. I have fallen madly in love with it! However, if you are still not convinced, here are a few praises I liked the most out of those I found online:
It was called 'a magnificent story ' by Norrbottens-Kuriren ( a daily Swedish newspapers):
“This is a magnificent story and reading experience. Told with love and a language so vividly beautiful it almost makes the eyes of an old journalist and editor tear up. The phrasing is elegant and accurate, the language so colorful that you – even without any Sami connection – are unfazed by the Sami words and expressions and can truly see these people and places in your mind’s eye while reading.”
—Norrbottens-Kuriren
—Norrbottens-Kuriren
I couldn't said it better Norrbottens-Kuriren! I'm glad to read that an old journalist and editor spilled a tear over this one. So, we are on the same page. I agree that the people in this novel really come to life.
This is a story about culture and identity and about fighting to keep your memories while being robbed of your history, but it's written with a warmth and humor that never leaves the reader alone on the journey. When Swedes describe winters in the north we often talk about the incredible contrast between the compact dark from above and the snow reflecting all light from beneath. That's how her writing feels.”
—Fredrik Backman, #1 New York Times bestselling author of My Friends
—Fredrik Backman, #1 New York Times bestselling author of My Friends
Fredrik emphasis the culture in his praise, and it is a good point as culture is an important aspect of this novel.
“A must-read. Balancing humor and darkness with remarkable grace, this story and its characters found their way into my heart. To everyone who hasn’t yet read it—congratulations, you have a wonderful reading experience ahead of you!”
—Lisa Ridzén, author of When the Cranes Fly South
—Lisa Ridzén, author of When the Cranes Fly South
Lisa noticed how this novel balanced humour and darkness, something I could not agree with more. Many reviewers commented on the humour in this book. Yours truly did not miss it either.
More praise (all quoted from the publisher's site and verified online):
“Well-written, hysterically funny – and thought-provoking.”
—Dagbladet (Norway)
“What a gem of a debut novel! … Told with verve and filled with anecdotes, myths, humor, and gravity.”
—Finnmarken (Norway)
“An incredibly moving and well-written family saga with an extraordinary old woman at its heart.”
—Litteratursiden (Denmark)
“A truly wonderful novel that evokes both tears and laughter.”
—DBC (Denmark)
“An enchanting mix of warmth, humor, and dazzling storytelling.”
—Maailman Kirjat (Finland)
“I have been reading, laughing, and crying. This is a debut novel, but that word almost sounds cliché. The author is part of the story, the dialect, and the Sámi memories. . . I am so glad that this story has been written.”
—Dast Magazine
“Tina Harnesk plays with language and lets the details speak. . . Instantly charming, melancholic, and poetic. . . bringing forth images of life rooted in the Sámi spiritual nature. It is often wild and hilarious. . . but the absurd is interlaced with realistic portrayals of defiant bodies, minds, and hearts. A brilliant debut.”
—Aftonbladet Söndag
—Dagbladet (Norway)
“What a gem of a debut novel! … Told with verve and filled with anecdotes, myths, humor, and gravity.”
—Finnmarken (Norway)
“An incredibly moving and well-written family saga with an extraordinary old woman at its heart.”
—Litteratursiden (Denmark)
“A truly wonderful novel that evokes both tears and laughter.”
—DBC (Denmark)
“An enchanting mix of warmth, humor, and dazzling storytelling.”
—Maailman Kirjat (Finland)
“I have been reading, laughing, and crying. This is a debut novel, but that word almost sounds cliché. The author is part of the story, the dialect, and the Sámi memories. . . I am so glad that this story has been written.”
—Dast Magazine
“Tina Harnesk plays with language and lets the details speak. . . Instantly charming, melancholic, and poetic. . . bringing forth images of life rooted in the Sámi spiritual nature. It is often wild and hilarious. . . but the absurd is interlaced with realistic portrayals of defiant bodies, minds, and hearts. A brilliant debut.”
—Aftonbladet Söndag
Well, I think that's praise enough!
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| Split in the background (Žnjan) |
On my blog, I often write about sustainable fashion and sustainable (local) travel. In this post, I wore the same outfit on two different (local to me) locations, so I guess I ticked both boxes with this one. I did not mean to wear the same outfit, it kind of happened on its own. As for the locations, that is obviously deliberate. I choose to be a tourist in my own country- or countries. Regular readers know that I actually have two countries. Anyhow, one location is Jelsa on island Hvar, a little village (you can also call it a little town even if it does not have the town status officially) and the other is Split city (my home city).
The pink and turquoise winter pattern cap
This one was a gift and I don't think it's branded. Checking my blog, I realize I had it for years.
See how I wore it for the first time here- A CAMEL COAT PAIRED WITH A PRINTED DRESS AND A FUN BEANIE !
See how I wore it recently:
https://modaodaradosti.blogspot.com/2026/02/friday-fashion-illustration-new-sage.html
the black faux fur leg warmers (no sense) :
https://modaodaradosti.blogspot.com/2018/12/winter-accessories-how-to-stay-warm-and.html
https://modaodaradosti.blogspot.com/2018/02/how-to-dress-feminine-in-winter-even.html
....
Upon closer inspection, I noticed that I wore a dusty pink skirt and a blue top under my puffer coat for my Split outfit, and a black sweater dress for my Jelsa outfit.
As for shoes of my choice, I wore the same pair of biker boots with both of my outfits. I have a couple of biker boots in my closet. I think I bought this pair two years ago. The blog archives seem to agree.
Black biker boots
https://modaodaradosti.blogspot.com/2025/02/fashion-illustration-friday-9-ways-to.html
https://modaodaradosti.blogspot.com/2025/01/happy-new-year-2025-plus-recap-of-year.html
....Here is some of my recent posts in Travel With My Art series. A lot of my art is inspired by Croatia (in particular Split city and island Hvar).
https://modaodaradosti.blogspot.com/2025/01/happy-new-year-2025-plus-recap-of-year.html
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| A little reminder that I paint! |
....Here is some of my recent posts in Travel With My Art series. A lot of my art is inspired by Croatia (in particular Split city and island Hvar).
I used my old photographs as a reference. I took these two photograph last year while I was walking through this park.
......
Thank you for visiting!
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