I had never heard of Sally Magnusson. Apparently she’s the daughter of the late Magnus Magnusson, best-known for hosting the British TV show Mastermind. I had not realised that he was Icelandic-born, something that’s relevant to this novel, ‘The Sealwoman’s Gift’, which is about Icelanders. It’s not a book I would normally have come across, but it’s the one for this month’s Reading Group, so I bought it at the end of last year in preparation.
It’s the author’s debut novel, and what an astounding piece of writing it is. I knew virtually nothing about the history of Iceland, and had no idea that there were pirate raids in the 1600s which led to the capture and enslavement of ordinary folk from the islands. There’s an epilogue which explains the known historical facts, including some personal accounts; where people or information is unknown, Sally Magnusson has used her imagination and skill to weave fiction into the story, leaving a powerful and entirely believable story.
Asta is the main protagonist. She’s a young mother, the wife of a rather older Lutheran pastor called Olfafur. We quickly learn that they have an older daughter, Helga, who has left home before the story starts. They also have a son of about eleven, a three-year-old daughter, and an unborn baby. Indeed, we learn about the soon-to-be born infant right at the start of the book.
There’s a brief prologue, a tantalising glimpse of someone almost in despair, set in 1638. But then the action goes back eleven years, and we meet Asta, in labour in the hold of a crowded slave ship. Olafur wants her to be thankful for a sail, used as a kind of makeshift tent to give her slight privacy. And despite the horrendous situation, it’s a light-hearted opening to the book, demonstrating Olafur’s unworldliness: he has been chatting to the crew of the ship, and learning information about the length of material needed for sashes or turbans, which he wants to recount to his wife…
The description of the journey could have been turgid and depressing, full of gore and filth, as no doubt it was. But it wouldn’t have made pleasant reading. It could have been glossed over entirely. But somehow the author manages exactly the right balance: hints of the horrors which the captives go through, mention of those who don’t survive, but without any gratuitous detail. The focus is on Asta, and although written in the third person, we see almost everything through her eyes.
Those who survive the trip are taken to Algiers, and sold. Asta is more fortunate than some, in that her position gives her a certain amount of respect and even some freedom. She’s not shackled, or beaten, like some of her friends. She’s even allowed to keep her small daughter and newborn baby with her, although her 11-year-old son is taken away and we have only the barest hints of the horrific life he will be forced to lead.
Most of the story then recounts then next eight years, as Asta becomes accustomed to her fate, interacts with those around her, and brings up her two youngest children. Her husband is sent to try to get a ransom so we see a little of his travels and struggles, but the focus is on Asta and her very different life in Algiers.
The writing is excellent, the conversation and people believable, and while it wasn’t a book I wanted to read at every moment, I found it quite engaging. Some of what happened was heart-wrenching, but, again, the author just touches lightly on the emotions, leaving it to the reader to empathise where relevant, or perhaps skim over it; there’s no wallowing in misery or self-pity.
Historical fiction like this is an excellent way of learning about what life would have been like in the era, and about the realities of the slave trade in this situation. But the book also covers other themes which I’m more familiar with - that of culture shock turning into cultural adaptation, and - eventually - the realisation that the new culture offers much that the old culture lacks. When choices have to be made, they’re not always clear-cut.
All in all I thought it a very satisfying and powerful novel, with much to think about - and, I hope, plenty to discuss in our reading group next week.
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