* Copy courtesy of Pan Macmillan *
Always Home, Always Homesick is a memoir by bestselling Australian author Hannah Kent, focussing on her relationship with Iceland and the writing of her bestselling novel, Burial Rites.
Hannah Kent first visited Iceland straight after high school at the age of 17 when she participated in a Rotary exchange student program for a year. Living with different host families, learning the language and adapting to the culture and wildly different landscape was a life changing experience for the author.
Occasionally she mentions differences in language and culture that made me laugh out loud. One of those was her description of eating whale blubber for the first time and her response when asked by her foster family whether she liked it:
"It's like..." I hesitate. "Like biting into a lipstick. Made of fish." Page 74However, buried deep within the travelogue and culture shock is the genesis of Burial Rites. I read the historical fiction novel Burial Rites in 2014 and was incredibly moved by Agnes' story. Agnes Magnúsdóttir (daughter of Magnus) and a farmhand by the name of Fridrik were convicted of murdering two men in March 1828. Agnes was the last person to be executed in Iceland and was beheaded in January 1830. Hannah came across the site of Agnes' execution while visiting Iceland and later became consumed with the case.
In 2013, Hannah Kent was featured in a piece called No More Than A Ghost on Australian Story where she described her writing and research process for Burial Rites. She revealed that many bizarre and weird coincidences took place throughout the writing process and it was this I was hoping to learn more about.
Thankfully I didn't have to wait long, and Hannah disclosed the following very early on:
"I come from a line of women who sometimes do dream things that are other and strange and not quite dreams at all, and there have been times in my life when my sister and my mother and I have known things, avoided things, warned of things dreamed. We don't usually speak of it outside of our tight trinity. It spooks people. But we three know the feeling of these not-dreams and I recognise it in that northern sea, in the boom of its crashing waves and their spray against my face, and the hidden river running to meet it. I lick my lips and anticipate salt. I wait for a greater understanding." Page 2The first half of the memoir is Hannah's experience as an exchange student and it did take a while before this element re-surfaced. During this period I was moved by the connections she was able to make, largely due to her dedication to learning the language. Just as in Burial Rites, the writing is evocative, introspective and enlightening and raised many points for the reader to reflect on.
It wasn't a surprise to read she was homesick for her Australian home in the early months, but years later Hannah found herself homesick for Iceland, leading to the title Always Home, Always Homesick.
Other than the whale blubber and hákarl (rotten shark), the descriptions of Icelandic food made my mouth water and I'd love to try the kleina (donut) and the porridge made from fresh cow's milk. Trying to recreate some of the recipes in her home kitchen in Australia years later, the author reflects:
"But the truth is that all this cooking is an act of grief. I am engaging in ritual, locating a place and people I miss deeply, trying to create a little of the culture I miss." Page 151The second half of the book moves into Hannah's life beyond the year of exchange, into her studies, PhD and research about Agnes. I was amazed to learn the full extent of her research, including more time living in Iceland and the reference material she was able to dig up in the archives and by meeting and engaging with the locals.
It was here that the author began to mention Agnes' presence and guiding hand although I had the sense there was a lot more going on than she felt comfortable sharing in this memoir. Perhaps it was dialled back out of fear of isolating the reader or perhaps the publisher suggested it be toned down, but the mere fact that others Hannah met during her research (like the actress Maria Ellingsen who played the character of Agnes in a 1995 movie about the case) had their own interactions with Agnes makes me believe that an intuitive person like Hannah would have experienced more than she shared on the page.
As an example, in 1995 an Icelandic medium was urged by Agnes to guide a team to the burial location of two heads from the day of Agnes' execution so that they could be relocated. The remains were previously thought to have been buried in consecrated ground at a church but in truth were hastily disposed of near the site of her execution 165 years earlier.
Hannah's connection to Iceland has deepened over the years and she stayed in touch with her host families and friends and watched new generations born while time marched on in her own life too. Now married with children, the author manages to convey the importance of literature, storytelling and reading in Iceland and it's easy to see how this would have been a magnet to a young poet and writer from Australia.
I was also impressed to learn about Iceland's insistence on linguistic purism which extends to the naming of all babies born in Iceland. The Personal Names Committee must approve all baby names and if a name isn't included on the approved lists and if approval is sought for a name that doesn't reflect Iceland's structural and spelling conventions they're rejected by law. While this may sound rigid and inflexible to some, I can't help but admire a culture committed to protecting their heritage and ensuring their language is preserved generation to generation as the world continues to shrink.
All in all, Always Home, Always Homesick by Hannah Kent was a reflection on the trials and tribulations of being a writer, the wonder of language and our connection to the past. Containing next level nature writing - recommended for fans of Robert Macfarlane - in an almost square format that was a delight to hold in the hand, it's also about daring to step beyond your limits and the transformative discoveries and lasting bonds that can emerge as a result.
Hannah's connection to Iceland has deepened over the years and she stayed in touch with her host families and friends and watched new generations born while time marched on in her own life too. Now married with children, the author manages to convey the importance of literature, storytelling and reading in Iceland and it's easy to see how this would have been a magnet to a young poet and writer from Australia.
I was also impressed to learn about Iceland's insistence on linguistic purism which extends to the naming of all babies born in Iceland. The Personal Names Committee must approve all baby names and if a name isn't included on the approved lists and if approval is sought for a name that doesn't reflect Iceland's structural and spelling conventions they're rejected by law. While this may sound rigid and inflexible to some, I can't help but admire a culture committed to protecting their heritage and ensuring their language is preserved generation to generation as the world continues to shrink.
All in all, Always Home, Always Homesick by Hannah Kent was a reflection on the trials and tribulations of being a writer, the wonder of language and our connection to the past. Containing next level nature writing - recommended for fans of Robert Macfarlane - in an almost square format that was a delight to hold in the hand, it's also about daring to step beyond your limits and the transformative discoveries and lasting bonds that can emerge as a result.
