The Ritual Master It’s time to visit Norway’s library, and since everything is new to me, I decided to begin with a classic : The ice palace by Tarjei Vesaas.
First published in 1963, the novel tells the story of a short friendship between two young girls from a Norwegian village, and the interior struggle of one of them when her friend suddenly disappears. This is the only version of the plot that I can think of, that doesn’t spoil it for future readers. And while I’m saying it, I realise this sounds like a creepy novel about young girls gone missing. In fact, my perception of it was that of a modern day fairy tale for adults, and I was even surprised to read summaries on it after finishing and thinking this wasn’t the same book that I read.
My sensitivity was very receptive to the language. I read it in the French translation, but seeing quotes from the English version, I realise the poetry is intact. As with many Scandinavian authors, nature is at the heart of the story, and in this case, the descriptive passages are one of the most beautiful I have ever read. The deep dark forest and the vastness of the lake, the deafening sound of the waterfall and then the perfect stillness of its frozen state, as an intricate palace both real and imaginary… I got lost in the description, and to be honest, I didn’t want to find my way back to the action.
My reader radar has been completely shaken by this novel. The mystical aura of the writing gave me the feeling that the characters were not very developed, and yet, I felt I perfectly understood their emotion, like I was hearing their thoughts. There is something wild in the way both girls are presented, something that can be only felt and almost never explained. As if the wilderness of the nature surrounding them has permeated their very souls, making them act and feel as unpredictable as a snow fox or a deep dark lake.
It’s definitely a novel to read in winter, and with an open mind, because it might surprise you.
I’ll leave you with a quote, a simple line of words, that seem to have sound and perfume, poetry and vibration :
“The pine needles stretch their tongues and sing an unfamiliar nocturnal song. Each tongue is so small that it cannot be heard; together the sound is so deep and powerful that it could level the hills if it wished.”
― Tarjei Vesaas, The Ice Palace
Until tomorrow, savour the words !
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