Atómstöðin

by Halldór Laxness

When the Americans make an offer to buy Icelandic land to build an atomic war base, a storm of protest is provoked throughout the country and it is here that Laxness finds the catalyst for his story. Told by a country girl from the north, the novel follows her experiences upon taking up employment as a maid in the house of her Member of Parliament. She finds herself in a world very different to that of her upbringing and, marvelling at the customs and behaviour of the people around her, she emerges as the one obstinate reality in a world of fantasy. Her observations and experiences expose the intellectual society of the south as rootless and shallow and in stark contrast to the ancient culture of the solid and less fanciful north. The colourful, yet at times dark, cast of characters whom she meets personify the southern fantasy world. In this black comedy, Laxness has painted a masterpiece of social commentary as relevant today as when it was first written in 1948.

Genres: Fiction, Classics, Historical Fiction, Nobel Prize, Scandinavian Literature, Literature, 20th Century

276 pages

First published January 1, 1948

About the author

Born Halldór Guðjónsson, he adopted the surname Laxness in honour of Laxnes in Mosfellssveit where he grew up, his family having moved from Reyjavík in 1905. He published his first novel at the age of only 17, the beginning of a long literary career of more than 60 books, including novels, short stories, poetry, and plays. Confirmed a Catholic in 1923, he later moved away from religion and for a long time was sympathetic to Communist politics, which is evident in his novels World Light and Independent People. In 1955 he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature.

Reviews

[Meike · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nobel Prize in Literature 1955
Written in 1946/1947, this postcolonial novel offers sharp commentary on Icelandic politics: The island had just gained independence from Denmark in 1944, after being occupied first by Britain and then by the U.S. during WW II. In October 1946, the U.S. tried to persuade the Althing (Icelandic parliament) to allow an American military base to be established in Keflavík. Like many of his compatriots, Laxness was opposed to this: He was concerned that politicians were basically selling out Iceland (again), this time turning it into a military and economic commodity of the U.S. and making it a potential target in future (nuclear) wars. On a greater scale, the novel is a parable of (post-colonial) countries losing their identity and sense of community through capitalist investors and the military-industrial complex.

Our protagonist is Ugla ("owl"), a young woman from the rural north of the island. She is often described as naive, but while she does adhere to ancient cultural frames of reference (she often makes sense of people and situations by putting them in the context of the sagas), she also has strong moral convictions when it comes to loyalty and community, she is very pragmatic and a feminist striving to live an independent life. Ugla arrives in Reykjavík in order to learn to play the organ and to work in the household of Búi, an influential politician who is involved in the negotiations for an "atom station" the U.S. wants to build on the island. While Ugla is drawn to Búi, she is also very critical of his family's decadent lifestyle and longs for substance; she starts to spend time in communist cell meetings and in the house of an enigmatic organist who frequently hosts all kinds of freethinkers and anarchists. There, she meets a morally dubious policeman, and feels torn between her feelings for him and Búi. Meanwhile, the gamble around the atom station continues...

In this book about a tired and demoralized post-colonial society that is again forced to deal with foreign influence, Laxness satirized but also honored many real-life Icelanders; for instance, the organist is modeled after two of his friends, one being Erlendur Guðmundsson í Unuhúsi, while the character of the Prime Minister is an attack on Ólafur Thors. There was a considerable political backlash after the publication, but the beloved writer stood his ground and received the Nobel Prize in 1955. There is speculation that he didn't get it earlier because of his positive depiction of communist thought, but Laxness' communism is not much more than the firm believe that a country should not be ruled by money and that people should show solidarity - and who could argue with that?

In "The Atom Station", Laxness depicts capitalists trying to rule Iceland with money and others who act immorally to gain wealth - partly, it reads like a grim foreshadowing of the Icelandic economic collapse 2008-2011, the biggest systemic banking collapse in economic history (see also: Bankster). The author, a lapsed Catholic, also attacks religion - to him, people are mainly responsible for each other and their natural surroundings. But what makes the book so enchanting are the numerous passages in which Laxness ponders human nature and the witty exchanges between Ugla and some other characters - Ugla might lack formal education (apart from her intimate knowledge of the sagas), but she does not lack bravery and conviction.

All in all, this is a book that demands from its readers to get some information about the historical context in order to appreciate the story, but then it quickly becomes apparent how timeless Laxness' writing is: Not that long ago, an American President pondered buying Greenland, thus claiming not only soil but a whole cultural identity, so "The Atom Station" is obviously still very current.

Btw: Iceland joined NATO in 1949 and signed a bilateral defence agreement with the United States in 1951. You can learn more about Iceland and NATO here.

[Warwick · Rating 3 out of 5]

Part political satire, part town-versus-country lament, and part Cold War curio, The Atom Station is not an easy book for the modern reader to get a purchase on – subplots about Icelandic foreign policy and obscure rhetorical flourishes about bohemian ‘gods’ make the early parts of the novel an uphill battle, and some strands just fail to connect. Then again, it's unlikely you'll have read anything quite like this for a while.

The plot is animated by Icelandic opposition to the establishment, by a foreign power, of an ‘atom station’ on Icelandic territory. The English translation of this term is very unenlightening – what is an atómstöð, anyway? Michael Faber, in his review for The Guardian, assumes that it's a nuclear power station, but that's surely not right – the impression is rather of an atomic military base; the US does, in fact, have a Navy airbase at Keflavík which was established during the Second World War. (The Atom Station was published in 1948; a few years later, Laxness's friend and fellow writer Þórbergur Þórðarson would also make reference in his work to ‘the buildings on Keflavík airport which are supposed to defend the world’.) Probably The Nuclear Base would be a better English title. Anyway, if you have an interest in Cold War geopolitics, this makes for a fascinating case study from the very edge of Europe, where the clash between East and West, between capitalism and communism, underlies every conversation in the book.

Into this febrile environment comes our naïve, ingenuous narrator Ugla (‘owl’ – actually a direct cognate of the English word), who has travelled to Reykjavík from the rural north to work as a housemaid for a government minister. This allows Laxness to show up all the sophisticated politics for what they really are, in her eyes – namely, hypocrisy and nonsense. But to describe Ugla as naïve perhaps gives the wrong impression. She's not worldly-wise, but she's no delicate flower either – rather, a tall, strapping country lass who gives as good as she gets. ‘Just like you northerners, to start talking to people,’ the cook chides her after she makes conversation with the minister's family. Ugla shoots back at once: ‘I am people.’

She may not know a lot about politics, but she soon has the measure of her host family – there's a sharp reference to the minister's wife sitting around in bed all morning ‘glowing with happiness that there should be no justice in the world’. Meanwhile, the artists and leftists that Ugla meets around town are struggling with the postwar environment in their own way, trying to understand what role art can have in a world coming to terms with the Holocaust and under the shadow of nuclear annihilation.

"I have seen all the pictures from Buchenwald," said Benjamin. "It is impossible to be a poet any longer. The emotions stand still and will not heed the helm after you have studied the pictures of those emaciated bodies; and those dead gaping mouths. The love life of the trout, the rose glowing on the heath, dichterliebe, it's all over. Fini. Slutt. Tristram and Isolde are dead. They died in Buchenwald. And the nightingale has lost its voice because we have lost our ears, our ears are dead, our ears died in Buchenwald. And now nothing less than suicide will do any more, the square root of onanism."

(Shades of Adorno's famous assessment that Nach Auschwitz ein Gedicht zu schreiben, ist barbarisch.) Perhaps it was ideas like this that induced Laxness to write the kind of novel he did: although it looks like a straightforward urban satire to us, it was pretty revolutionary in a country whose literature, building on the sagas, had always focused on rural life, as indeed had Laxness's own earlier works. The Atom Station is credited with kick-starting a whole new genre of Reykjavík fiction (in the process breaking many social taboos; a fairly minor treatment of an abortion in here got the author into a lot of trouble on the book's release).

This novel looks back to that rustic tradition even while moving away from it – Ugla constantly judges people and their behaviour against the example set by the heroes of the sagas, frustrated, for instance, by how much everyone keeps talking about their feelings and opinions. ‘I never knew what my father was thinking,’ she comments. ‘A man who says what he is thinking is absurd; at least in a woman's eyes.’ One wonders then why they keep asking.. She also regrets the way her native region has been romanticised by town-dwellers into something completely alien to her: ‘the countryside has turned into literature, poetry and art,’ she realises; ‘and you no longer belong there.’

I wasn't entirely won over by the novel, but if it can offer more than merely historical interest to a modern reader, it's because of the charms of Ugla as a narrator. She is a fantastically prickly and independent voice by any standards, and doubly so for being written in the 1940s by a man. Not just politics and art, but also affairs of the heart strike her as urban affectations, and after watching her employers and acquaintances fall in and out of bed with each other, she throws her hands up over the whole enterprise in a way that you wish some other fictional protagonists would do. ‘I think love is a pastime among sterile folk in towns,’ she concludes wisely, ‘and takes the place of the simple life.’

[Steven Godin · Rating 3 out of 5]

A pretty decent politically and socially sharp-witted satire set in post-war Reykjavik, that whilst somewhat laborious and puzzling at times - only 180 pages but it packs in a lot making it feel twice as long - did feature a strong-willed female narrator; a rural girl experiencing life in the city where national identity is being tested amongst the capitalists, communists, chancers and hustlers, who did become immensely likeable the more of her I read - unlike the clueless Prime Minister selling-out to the US. Biggest compliment I can give it is that I can't quite believe it was written as far back as 1948. Could have been released yesterday.

[Jan-Maat]

A young woman comes down from the North to Reykjavik to work in a wealthy household. The newly independent Icelandic Parliament is working towards committing itself to dependence on the USA by allowing them to build an atomic weapons base in the country.

The picture of the close interrelationship between political and economic power is seen from the point of view of the young woman who comes from a family whose existence is mathematically impossible and yet they survive with two cows, less than a hundred sheep and a herd of wild horses.

It would be a surprise in a small country if the network of connections between political and economic power was not dense and this is interesting in the light of Iceland's most recent financial difficulties, yet as it says in the novel a big country and a small country are only different in one way.

[Malcolm · Rating 4 out of 5]

Although it is sixty years since it was written that Icelandic satire remains a potent tale of political and class absurdity. Narrated by Ugla – a self defined “clod-hopper”, ‘crude and clumping girl from the north’ – who has moved to the city to act as housemaid for her local Member of Parliament and learn the harmonium, this tale of political and social hypocrisy centres on a decision to sell part of the country to provide a US/NATO airbase as part of Cold War anti-Soviet politics. Amid the ensuring furore, the left claims its class position while the government seems to rouse up nationalist fervour to obscure its ‘sale of the nation’.

This crude description fails to do the novel justice, as Ugla appears as both wide-eyed ingénue bewildered by the goings on around her, and the most disciplined and rational person in a world that seems irrational. Her narrator’s voice shifts between bewildered outsider, naïve observer and sharp critic, often in the same paragraph – she is sharp voice in literature and an admirable character.

The world she finds herself in piles seeming irrationality on absurdity: the political right claims to be defending the nation while selling it off, the Communists demand a world class alliance but seem obsessed with small and local issues (such as a day care centre) and the protests in the streets have no identifiable group participants. Ugla’s father’s church appears as both Catholic and thoroughly indigenous animist while the frankly dubious men who frequent the house of her music teacher seem both criminal and God-like at once. She is surrounded by absurdity and the irrational, while claiming and defending her right to subjectivity – she asserts a material existence and resists objectification in deeply profound and personal ways but seems fully in touch with a supernatural state. In short, nothing is quite as it seems – the refined culture of the city is shallow and facile, the happy bourgeois family torn apart by tensions and contradictions, and authority devoid of integrity.

At heart, though, there is a romantic aspect to the story as the unfancied and derided northern, rural, peasant life emerges as an authentic source of power and strength against the pretentions of the city and the south, while the Sagas emerge as Ugla’s constant reference point. That is not to say this is a conservative nationalist novel; Laxness unpacks power in a manner that resembles the great critical realists of the mid 20th century with Steinbeck’s sensitivity to the tales of ordinary life and Traven’s subtle politics of resistance and integrity. He is the reason that Iceland has the highest per capita number of Nobel Prize winners and this book is a marvel of satire with hints of the magic realist about it. Quite wonderful.

[Sölvi · Rating 4 out of 5]

Þetta er fyrsta bókin sem ég les eftir þennan höfund (sem ég hafði lengi heyrt mikið um) og mér líkaði þessi saga mjög vel og gæti vel hugsað mér að lesa fleiri bækur eftir hann.

[Michael · Rating 2 out of 5]

„(…) das isländische Talent aus den alten Sagas, im Spott über das zu sprechen, was ihrem Herzen am nächsten stand (…)“
(Laxness in ATOMSTATION)

Die ATOMSTATION hat gewiß literarische Qualitäten, die dem Roman auch noch eine Daseinsberechtigung geben, nachdem das Zeitgeschehen, um das es geht - Island "verkauft" sich an die USA, indem es Land zur Errichtung eines Atomwaffenstützpunktes verkauft - samt dem Kalten Krieg der Vergangenheit angehört; Friedhelm Rathjen hat dieses in einem Funkfeature 1992 schön belegt.
Meine deutlich weniger euphorische Bewertung ist rein subjektiv zu verstehen und hat damit zu tun, dass satirische Texte nicht eben meine Leidenschaft sind und ich auch vorzugsweise Romane lese, in denen der politische Bezug nicht im Vordergrund steht. Laxness ist insofern genau so ein Opfer meiner Abneigungen wie Brecht, der mir meistens auch zu dogmatisch ist.
 
Zerrspiegelig geht es los mit der Darstellung der Familie eines isländischen Parlamentsabgeordneten und der 21-jährigen neuen Hausangestellten Ugla, die hier in der Stadt auch das Harmoniumspiel erlernen will. Weder mit der Familie des Abgeordneten noch mit der Erzählerin habe ich Sympathien entwickelt, was daran liegt, dass erstere der Klassenfeind ist und entsprechend negativ dargestellt wird, während Ugla für mich als Person wenig glaubwürdig ist. Als einfaches Mädchen vom Lande, wie Laxness sie zu den Bewohnern Reykjaviks kontrastiert, ist sie doch erstaunlich selbstbewußt und aufgeklärt. Schnell findet sie über ihren Harmoniumlehrer Anschluß an kommunistische Zirkel. Ethik und Politik verbinden sich in Uglas Gedanken auf sehr plakative Weise:
"Warum haben die, die arbeiten, nie etwas? Oder bin ich Kommunistin, daß ich so frage (...)
wenn es eine Sünde gibt, dann die, nicht Klavier spielen zu können (...)
wenn es ein Verbrechen gibt, dann ist es ein Verbrechen, ungebildet zu sein."

Laxness liebt die alten islandischen Sagas und also begegnet Ugla bei ihrem Lehrer auch zwei "Göttern", überdreht-absurden Gesellen, die dadaistisch-anarchistisch für einen Aphorismus nach dem anderen gut sind. Überhaupt hat Laxness Freude daran, den Leser mit zunächst scheinbar widersinnigen Bonmots zu verblüffen, die allesamt für eine Sammlung "Lektüre für Minuten" taugen würden.

Nach knapp 100 Seiten habe ich das Buch abgebrochen, weil auf kurze Passagen, die mir durchaus gefielen, lange folgten, die mich nicht ansprkachen. Leider steht mir als Leser nicht der Sinn nach solchen Aha-Momenten und fleißiger Belehrung, und ich musste an einen Lichtenberg-Aphorismus denken:
"Belehrung findet man öfter in der Welt als Trost".
Ich wünsche, die ATOMSTATION wäre weniger aufklärerisch, zumal in einer Weise, die inzwischen auf mich etwas überholt wirkt. Und Laxness sprachliche Eigenwilligkeiten, sein Spott, sein Humor treffen einfach nicht meine Geschmack.

[Anika · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ich brauchte ein paar Seiten, um mich in diese Art der Erzählung hineinzufinden, aber Protagonistin Ugla geht es ja eigentlich nicht anders, also habe ich mich an die gehalten - und dann flutschte es so richtig. Sehr schön, wie man hier die politischen Verwicklungen der Zeit kurz nach dem 2. WK geschildert bekommt und fast nebenbei lernt. Dazu aktuelle feministische bis intersektionale Themen - ein trotz seines Alters überraschend frisches und auch sehr lustiges Buch.

Mehr zum Buch in unserer ausführlichen Besprechung @ Papierstau Podcast: Folge 250: A Song of Ice and Land

[Philippe · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Atom Station is a scathing satire of the political mores in a very isolated society. Laxness makes bitter fun of the upper classes' petit-bourgeois snobbery, the blatant opportunism and short termism of the country's leadership, the backstage dealings, the unhealthily close alliance between business and politics. That was in the late 1940s. Sixty years later Iceland does not seem to have been able to escape that predicament. Laxness writes about the phony businesses with impressive front ends, befuddling investors and customers with hot air: "F.F.F.: in English, the Federation of Fulminating Fish, New York; in Icelandic, the Figures-Faking-Federation. One button costs half an eyrir over here in the west, but you have a company in New York, the F.F.F., which sells you the button at 2 kronur and writes on the invoice: button, 2 kronur. You make a profit of 4000%. After a month you are a millionaire." This is a prescient account of the basic mechanics behind Iceland's recent meteoric rise and equally dramatic economic collapse, leaving the country at the mercy of its international creditors. Today, Keflavik's US air base - the "atom station" in Laxness' novel - is no more. The Americans pulled out a couple of years ago. But the issue of Iceland's sovereignty is not of the table. It's not about being a forward base in the Cold War anymore, but the prize has now become the country's significant reserves of hydro-electric power. The Icelandic government's policy of selling off these reserves to the lowest (!) bidder, i.e. to extremely energy intensive industries such as aluminium refineries, is as controversial today as the establishment of a US air base was in the 1940s. Andri Snaer Magnason "Dreamland - Self-Help Manual for a Frightened Nation" (sadly only available via amazon.co.uk) is recommended reading to understand the deeper ramifications of this dispute. It is amazing how politics in such a small country continue to be driven by deeply atavistic reflexes. So Laxness' satire is still as topical as when it was written.

[Ryan · Rating 5 out of 5]

A-mazing. Icelandic Beat style meets the native heroic poetic. Favorite quotes (that aren't so odd you'll still understand them):

"That's just like you northerners, to start talking to people," said the cook when I returned to the kitchen.

Rebellion stirred in me and I replied, "I am people."

----

"We prised up one of the planks of the lid with a crowbar, and I groped among the packing for the contents; and what did I pull out but a small tin, about 200 grams in weight, wrapped in semi-transparent paper? I recognized the merchandise quickly enough from my pantry work in the south: Portuguese Sardines imported from America, that fish which the papers said was the only fish which could scale the highest tariff walls in the world and yet be sold when ten years old at a thousand per cent profit in the greatest fish country in the world, where even the dogs walk out and vomit at the mere mention of salmon."

[Patryx · Rating 2 out of 5]

Un libro pieno di interessanti occasioni di riflessione ma terribilmente noioso. L'Islanda, dopo settecento anni, è di nuovo uno stato indipendente ma il governo ha già intenzione di cedere parte della sovranità nazionale agli Stati Uniti che vogliono costruire una base atomica. Siamo, infatti, in piena guerra fredda e la contrapposizione est/ovest è sia il fulcro attorno cui si muove la politica internazionale sia la categoria mentale utilizzata dalla gente comune per valutare e giudicare quanto accade nella politica nazionale.


Nel 1941 le truppe statunitensi sostituiscono le forze canadesi e inglesi di stanza in Islanda. Gli americani ebbero un grande impatto sulla cultura, la politica e la storia islandese influendo sullo sviluppo urbano e la modernizzazione del paese a discapito dei valori tradizionali.

L'Islanda sta acquisendo benessere e le persone si arricchiscono; questo miglioramento materiale è controbilanciato dalla perdita dei valori tradizionale (rappresentati dal nord agricolo abitato da contadini poveri ai limiti della sussistenza) che ormai non sono più in grado di guidare le persone nelle loro scelte. In questo contesto incerto si muove la protagonista del romanzo, Ugla, trasferitasi nella capitale per lavorare come cameriera in una ricca famiglia e imparare a suonare l'organo; quello che scoprirà è un mondo fatto di contraddizioni e ipocrisie, dove i giovani non hanno nessuna guida nei loro genitori (o negli adulti in generali), essendo questi alle prese con la loro realizzazione personale.


Disordini contro l’entrata dell’Islanda nella Nato (1949)


Unico punto di riferimento è l'organista che le dà lezioni, uomo saggio che sa andare oltre i luoghi comuni e individuare punti di vista alternativi. Ugla scopre anche la politica: il comunismo, con le sue richieste di diritti sociali (per le donne in particolare) le appare come la strada da seguire per ridurre il divario tra ricchi e poveri, per ridare dignità a quanti non la possiedono secondo i canoni della società perbenista dei ricchi e degli affaristi.

[Steffi]

Völlige Ratlosigkeit angesichts eines überwiegend gut besprochenen Werkes eines Nobelpreis-ausgezeichneten Autors. Die Charaktere (gewollt holzschnittartig) überzeugen nicht, eingeschobene Diskurse erscheinen oft willkürlich, die Polarisierung zwischen reich/kapitalistisch/korrupt/konservativ und einfach/kommunistisch/avantgardistisch ist so vorhersehbar, belehrend und öde, dass man nicht weiterlesen mag. Man erkennt das Gewollte: Die Stereotypen, das Parabelhafte, das Satirische – aber die Umsetzung ist so wenig gelungen, dass ich beim Lesen zunehmend genervt war und nach 72 Seiten nicht weiterlesen wollte.

Eine Bewertung mag ich gar nicht abgeben: Weil ich das Buch nicht zu Ende las, aber auch weil ich fürchte, es könnte andere Ursachen für meine Abneigung geben: Würde ein gründlicheres Wissen über den Autor den Zugang erleichtern? Würde eine bessere Kenntnis der isländischen Gesellschaft und Literatur ganz andere, interessante Blickwinkel eröffnen? Wie viel Atmosphäre ging bei der Übertragung ins Deutsche verloren?

Bedauerlich an diesem Ausflug in eine mir bis dahin neue Nationalliteratur: Ich benötige immer einen starken Anreiz, die mehr oder weniger vertrauten Gefilde der deutsch-, englisch-, französischsprachigen Literatur zu verlassen. Ein Buch wie dieses fördert nicht gerade meinen Mut, Neues auszuprobieren.

[Shankar · Rating 3 out of 5]

I happened to find this in an unexpected place - a bookstore in an airport. The book is a translation which why I was attracted to it. Also the fact that so many reviews spoke highly of Laxness.

It’s a serious book requiring context of the country’s history. But there are some great pieces of prose which sounded very philosophical and relevant. The sequences are about how in some races in the world men don’t own the children they seed in their wives ( or significant other). About drunkenness, growing up and role of women in general.

Initially the story started well and I thought I was able to appreciate the translator’s interpretation of what Laxness may have meant. Later I realised that while this was going on the story itself took a turn ....

Laxness has a strange way of articulation. Then again I guess driven by the Icelandic environment. I did not know what to make of the story so rated a 3 star. I think the author does a great job of bringing in snippets of life that make you stay the course. I really thought I would just stop somewhere in the middle. I think I will look for his other books.

It’s a serious read and requires determination and some patience with no expectations of reward. So should I recommend ???!!

[Nadia Karlikova · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Атомна база" на носителя на Нобелова награда за литература Халдоур Лакснес е блестяща сатира, разказваща за следвоенна Исландия. Повод за написването на романа става реално събитие - решението на Алтинга (Исландският парламент) да предостави на американците терен за въздушна база край Рейкявик. Почти по същото време, за да замажат деянието си и да отклонят вниманието на народа, политиците решават да пренесат от Дания в Исландия костите на основоположника на исландския романтизъм Йоунас Хадългримсон. Сред най-върлите противници на буржоазното правителсво е именно Лакснес.
Именно тези събития са представени са пред погледа на главната героиня Йогла, дошла от далечния север и уж неука, но всъщност много схватлива, на члена на парламента и неин господар Буй Аурланд, на министър-председателя, който повлият от алкохала изрича онова, което не би казал открито от парламентарната трибуни и на органиста, който е непресъхващ извор на мъдрост. Именно той е прототип на реална личност и близък приятел на Лакснес, чийто дом е отворен за всички несретници. Такъв е и органистът от "Атомна база".
Романът е писан през 1948 г., но звучи толкова актуално и днес. Така е заради хлъзгавата политика, забравилите се отрочета на буржоата, които всъщност са нещастни, нищо че се къпят в пари, липсата на детски ясли, финансовите пирамиди. И не на последно място с манипулирането на общественото мнение, което понякога е толкова лесно, че е необходимо едно действие да бъде описано по различен начин и всичко е ОК. Достатъчно е да кажеш, че ще правиш не "база за нападение и отбрана ва една атомна война", а че тази баща ще бъде "отправна точка за евентуални благотворителни експедиции за облекчаване страданията на европейските народи".
А всъщност, квинтенсенцията на целия роман е още в първите страници. Когато готвачката в къщата на господаря критикува новата слугиня Йогла, момичето от севера гордо изрича: "И ние сме хора".

Защо никога нямат нищо ония, които се трудят?

Ако се разбъбрим, можем да бъдем криво разбрани или нещо, което е по-лошо, да бдем правилно разбрани, опазил ни бог!

- Той действително е много честен - продължи господарят, - поне когато е пийнал. Всъщност никой не е честен, когато е трезв.Не бива да се вярва на приказките на един трезв човек.

Дребните крадци никога не получават ордени - обясни органистът. - Ордени получават само едрите разбойници. За да се докопаш до властта, трябва да имаш зад гърба си милионер.

Няма морал н нищо, има само утвърдени обичаи. Онова, което е престъпление за един народ, е добродетел за друг. Едно престъпление в една епоха и добродетел в друга. Нещо повече: в един и същ народ по едно и също време онова, което се счита за престъпление от едно съсловие, минава за добродетел пред друго съсловие.

Иска ли човек да краде в едно общество на крадци, трябва да краде в съгласие със закона, най-добре като сам кове законите. Затова му повтарях непрекъснато, че трябва да влезе в Алтига.

Наказателните закони са предназначени да закрилят престъпниците.

[Robin · Rating 1 out of 5]

..."But it is always possible to kill someone," said the god Brilliantine.
The other replied, "Yes, if one has an atom bomb. It is both intolerable and unseemly that a divine being like me, Benjamin, should not have an atom bomb while Du Pont has an atom bomb."
"I shall now tell you what you ought to do," said the organist, and placed before him a plate containing a few curled-up pastries and some broken biscuits. "You should compose a ballad about Du Pont and his atom bomb."
"I know what I'm going to do," said the god Brilliantine. "I'm going to divorce my wife and become a success. I'm going to be a political figure. I'm going to become a Minister and swear on oath; and get a decoration."
"You two are slipping," said the organist. "When I first knew you, you were satisfied just to be God; gods."
"Why may we not achieve a little success?" said the god. "Why may we not get a decoration?"
"Petty criminals never get decorations," said the organist. "Only the lackeys of the big ones get that sort of thing. To become a political success a man needs to have a millionaire. And you two have lost your millionaire. A petty thief does not become a Minister; to be a petty thief is the sort of humiliation which can only happen to gods, such as being born in a manger; people pity them, so that their names do not even get into the papers. Go to Sweden for the millionaires and offer your territorial waters, go to America and sell the country; then you will become a Minister, then you will get a decoration."
"I'm ready at any time to offer the Swedes the territorial waters and sell the country to the Yanks," said the god Brilliantine.
"Yes, but it does you not the slightest bit of good if you have lost your millionaire," said the organist.
"So you think I shouldn't bother to divorce my wife?" asked the god.
"Is there any reason for divorcing wives unless they themselves wish it?" asked the organist.
"But at least it will be all right for us to shorten Oli Figure by a head?" said the god.
"It all depends," said the organist. "Have a biscuit."

I think to love this novel you need these four things:
1. A deep appreciation for the absurd.
2. Extensive knowledge of the Icelandic sagas.
3. An enthusiastic interest in post-WWII Icelandic politics and history.
4. Terrible taste in novels.

[Calzean · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ugla is an uneducated, but intelligent, 20 year old from the North of Iceland. She comes to Reykjavik to work as a maid in the house of her local Member of Parliament. She is surprised to find herself in a home of a nice guy who becomes smitten by her but his wife lives in fear of Communism, and their children are out of control newbie rich kids who drink, fornicate and destroy public property with no fear of arrest. She meets a cadre of strange friends who are a mix of philosophers, a hustler, musicians, policemen, a prostitute and idealistic communists.

The writing at times is quite strange but otherwise it paints a picture of Iceland in 1948, grappling with the cold war, the impact of consumerism, and the move away from traditional values. It could be read as being cynical but I thought Laxness was just telling the truth through a great, strong female character and her conversations. It also gives great respect to the Sagas, writers and people of the past.

[Jazzy Lemon · Rating 5 out of 5]

I didn't want it to end!

[Rosamund Taylor · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ulga is from a small hamlet in northern Iceland: she travels to Reykjavik in order to work as a maid in the house of a politician. Ulga also wishes to learn the harmonium, so she can play in the church her family is saving to build for their community. Learning to play music introduces Ulga to a whole cast of peculiar characters, including two men who think that they are gods. This is my third Laxness novel, and the strangest I have read so far. Many of the conversation are very absurdist, putting me in mind of Beckett, while other elements of the novel are concerned with very practical issues, like abortion or alcoholism. This is also a Cold War novel: America wants to "buy" Iceland, or at least be allowed to build an atomic base there, in order to be closer to the USSR. The characters feel that they are on the brink of losing their country, their sense of self, and of annihilation in a time of nuclear war. This pushes them to strange mental spaces, such as thinking of themselves as gods, or feeling completely detached from the people around them. Ulga doesn't share this conviction: she grounds the novel, as she cares about practical matters, as well as her own personhood and her attachment to the north of Iceland. But I found the final section of the novel confusing and elliptical, and Ulga's perspective seemed to shift so we lost the sense of her as an individual. This made me lose my connection with the story. I think Laxness is trying to do a lot of interesting things in a very small space, and juggling a lot of different themes: at times this is very beautiful, and at times it doesn't really pay off. However, he remains a stimulating and original writer.

[Kuszma · Rating 4 out of 5]

Az előszó majdnem elvette a kedvem. Lutter Tibor mindent megtesz, hogy szegény Laxnessből hithű sztálinistát csináljon, aki máson sem rugózik, mint az amerikai kapitalisták bűnein, akik meg akarják venni Izlandot, hogy atomtámaszpontot csináljanak belőle. (Kíváncsi vagyok, Lutter úr fejében megfordult-e, hogy azok a büdös amcsik legalább le akarták fizetni szerencsétlen szigetieket, ellentétben a mi szovjetjeinkkel, akik inkább vitték a pénzt, és még a nyakunkon is maradtak.) Tobzódunk a drámai jelzős szerkezetekben és hasonlatokban, van itt „pokol kazánfűtői”, meg régmúlt, „amiben a nép talán több vért és borzalmat látott, de korántsem sújtotta a megalázás annyi tüzes korbácsa, mint most, a tőkés világban”… Hát igen, nagy dilemma… vágjanak fejbe fejszével, vagy sértsenek meg azzal, hogy egy rakás dollárt a zsebembe tömködnek… És ez még ugye csak az előszó.

Amúgy kár volna tagadni, valóban van ebben a könyvben egy jó adag kapitalizmuskritika, de ez csak jogos bírálat, elkeveredve a kor értelmiségétől nem szokatlan farkasvaksággal, ami a Szovjetunió valóságát illeti. Ám a lényeg nem ez, hanem a fejlődéstörténet, aminek elbeszélője Ugla, a messzi Északról érkező egyszerű, tiszta parasztlány, aki szembesül a város sokrétű romlottságával. Ennek következtében megkezdődik Ugla és a város kölcsönös egymásra hatása – hogy a város lesz tisztább Uglától, vagy Ugla lesz romlottabb a várostól, azt majd mindenki eldönti magának. Amúgy Uglát nagyon szerettem, árad belőle valami természetes erkölcsi fény, bár időnként olyan monológokat rittyent elénk, hogy az ember rájön: valójában nem is parasztlány ő, hanem maga Laxness, női ruhában meg szőke parókával. Ami a regény abszolút erőssége, az a friss, dinamikus, a konvenciókon túllépő nyelvhasználat, ami megidézi kissé a sagák szellemét, valamint a gunyoros humor, ami találóan bök oda az olyan társadalmi anomáliáknak, mint a korrupció, az álszentség vagy a nemzetieskedés. Színesek, szerethetőek a figurák is, még azok is, akik Lutter univerzumában főgonosznak minősülnek – bezzeg a két kommunista fiatal velük ellentétben kifejezetten sótlannak bizonyul. Mondjuk nem is fecsérlődik rájuk sok szó. Ha nem is a legemlékezetesebb Laxness-regény, amit olvastam (az alighanem Az éneklő hal), de jól kirajzolódik benne az író eredeti talentuma.

Ui.: Mondjuk hogy az eredeti, "Atomtámaszpont" címből hogy lett Északi lány... arról érdemes lenne elcsevegni a fordítóval.

[Carolyn · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved every minute of this book, with it's wonderful irony and humour! Once again, Laxness celebrates the wisdom of humble people, as he did so well in "The fish can sing". The central character in "The Atom Station" is a housemaid, Ugla, who serves an exalted and dysfuntional Reykjavik family. Her simple common sense and solid values are juxtaposed with the pretensions and venality of the people around her. Ugla, whose name means 'owl' in Icelandic, is a metaphor for her namesake, wise and acutely observant of the folly and mayhem around her.
It is amazing that this book was written in 1948, for it almost reads as a satire on the events in recent years, and not just those before and during Iceland's banking crisis. It could apply to any country where venal politicians and business elites are quite happy to enhance their own power and sacrifice the welfare and autonomy of their people. Ugla herself is atypical of female characters of that time, with a steadfast determination of being her own person unbound by any domestic subserviance, or in thrall to any man.
Like all Laxness's books, I look forward to re-reading this treasure several times in the future.

[Nicole · Rating 4 out of 5]

This had a lighter and more humane touch than I was expected ; in some ways it was almost touching, which is not what you normally expect from satire.

Satire, indeed, is a baffling form. I go back and forth between thinking it's funny, it's enraging, it's too easy, it detracts from real solutions, it's an indispensable contribution to the public weal, it's hard and cold and cynical and inhumane, it's driven by a core of human feeling and a commitment to justice so deep that more earnest and straightforward forms pale in comparison, it has a short shelf life, it's surprisingly funny even years later.

Maybe it's potentially all these things, and the examples I've read and haven't much liked, like Scoop, are just not particularly successful books. Maybe some books just go into the fish-in-a-barrel category regardless of form. This one doesn't.

[Magnús Jochum Pálsson · Rating 4 out of 5]

Hafði ekki alveg jafn mikil áhrif á mig og annað sem ég hef lesið eftir Laxinn en frábær lestur samt sem áður. Halldór gerir upp íslenskt eftirnýlendusamfélag og ólguna sem ríkti eftir stríðið. Við þetta bætist þroskasaga Uglu, flutningur hennar úr sveit í borg og kynni hennar af ýmsum skrautlegum persónuleikum. Sérstaklega hafði ég gaman af organistanum og hugmyndum hans um hetjur, glæpamenn og merkingarleysi þjóða. Trúlega er enginn jafn fær og Halldór að deila á fáránleika íslensks samfélags og þá misskiptingu sem þar ríkir.

[Tinna Kjartansdóttir · Rating 4 out of 5]

Geðveik!

[Ágúst Wigum · Rating 3 out of 5]

Jæja, fyrsti Laxnessinn búinn.

Fínasta bók, hafði gaman af mörgu og hún fangaði tíðarandann vel. Þurfti að taka bókina í mörgum bitum því hún náði þér ekki alltaf, en overall bara flott.
Ég er mikið búinn að lesa um seinni heimsstyrjöldina, ástandið og herinn upp á síðkastið og held að þessi bók loki þeim kafla í bili.

Hlakka til að lesa meiri Laxness, og vonandi einhverja sem höfðar ennþá meira til mín :)

[Sölvi Þorkelsson · Rating 4 out of 5]

Góð bók 🤝

[Kitty · Rating 3 out of 5]

miskipärast olen alati arvanud, et Laxness on mingi Islandi Tammsaare. kraavikaevamine ja maa õnnistus jne, teate küll. aga ohappi, see siin küll ei olnud!

ma ei oska välja mõelda, mida "The Atom Station" mulle meenutas, igasuguseid seoseid tekkis siin. mitu korda kontrollisin avaldamise aastat (1948 on õige), sest ma arvasin, et alles 60ndatel tulid laialt saadavale need ained, mille najal selliseid tekste kirjutati. see, kuidas suurel osal tegelastest polnud nimesid, vaid ainult kirjeldused (the organist, the unselfconscious policeman, the atom poet jne) meenutas Anna Burnsi "Milkmani" (60 aastat hilisem raamat). ja seda ei suutnudki välja mõelda, kus olen enne sellist jutustajat-jälgijat-minategelast kohanud - Ugla, kes tuleb väiksest külast põhjast Reykjaviki, parlamendiliikme majateenijaks ja harmooniumimängu õppima, ja keda justkui miski ei üllata ega ei kõiguta; kes räägib ja käitub absoluutselt siiralt ja midagi varjamata, aga sellest ei tule mingit probleemi (ta võib käia kommunistliku rakukese koosolekutel või panna pereliikmetele uued hüüdnimed või jääda rasedaks, ja majapidamistöid ta ka suuremat tegevat ei paista). kõik see on ääretult ebarealistlik ja seega absurdselt naljakas. kuskil nagu olen enne ka sellist võtet näinud, aga meelde ei tule, kus.

taustal kerib poliitiline lugu "riigi mahamüümisest" (see pealkirjas mainitud atom station on vist pigem ikkagi ameeriklaste sõjaväebaas kui tuumaelektrijaam) ja pool aega tundub mulle, et räägitakse mingeid siseringi nalju, millest ma ei saagi aru saada, kui ma 1940ndate Islandil ei elanud. kõigil neil orelimängijatel ja aatomipoeetidel (kes ühtlasi on jumalad, sest miks mitte?) on ilmselgelt mingid prototüübid.

no igatahes olen siis nüüd klassiku ja nobelistiga tutvust teinud. oli mis ta oli, aga Tammsaare ta küll ei olnud.

[Pavel Nedelcu · Rating 5 out of 5]

L'indipendenza dell'Islanda, appena proclamata nel 1944 (dopo che dal 1262 era assoggettata alla corona norvegese, passando poi a quella danese), era una condizione difficile per questo giovane paese. L'esercito inglese, poi quello americano occupò l'isola durante la Seconda Guerra, dal momento che la Danimarca era stata, a sua volta, occupata da Hitler. Ufficialmente gli inglesi, e poi gli americani volevano così tenere sotto controllo la Germania nazista (l'Islanda è un punto geograficamente strategico), in realtà però si temeva che volessero solo costruire una grande base atomica per un futuro conflitto nucleare da svolgersi negli della Guerra Fredda.
In questo clima Laxness ambienta il suo romanzo, pubblicato nel 1948. L'Islanda non era preparata per la brutalità del mondo moderno, soprattutto da parte di quei dèi della modernità, che erano gli americani. La sua popolazione, prevalentemente rurale, non aveva mai usato elettrodomestici o visto banconote. Si guidava ancora secondo i principi delle antiche saghe. Il capitalismo americano irrompe quindi nella società islandese con una tale violenza da creare frequentemente crisi di identità.
Ugla, la protagonista della storia, che arriva dal lontano nord e fa l'inserviente a Reykjavik, nella famiglia di un deputato (ma sogna di imparare a suonare l'organo), si muove in questa società schizofrenica, dai tratti kafkiani e postcoloniali, nella ricerca di una sua identità e autonomia. Laxness si dimostra un grande scrittore: adotta stili diversi per descrivere situazioni distinte. Utilizza la lingua al meglio per trasmettere il senso di confusione e di alienazione della società. Soprattutto, analizza scrupolosamente la condizione delle donna in una società che, da questo punto di vista, aveva ancora tanta strada da fare.
L'impegno morale (e politico) di Laxness, si legge nell'eccellente postfazione di Giuliano d'Amico (la quale contestualizza perfettamente il romanzo avvicinandolo al lettore moderno anche in mancanza di conoscenze preliminari), gli costò una citazione in giudizio. A Laxness fu tolto il contributo statale dal Parlamento! Inoltre, ebbe problemi a far tradurre il libro in altre lingue europee.

[Eric Hinkle · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5 stars... My 4th favorite Laxness so far. It's the first time I've read one from him where it's incredibly absurd and not quite as seamless as masterpieces such as Independent People and World Light. But on the other hand, it's also the funniest one I've read so far. It's really good!

Here's some good quotes:

“A man who slaughters the wrong ewe in a district is excluded from the genealogies after his death, and his descendants, moreover, are branded for two hundred years; so it is little wonder that country folk are sceptical of the misdeeds that the politicians prove against one another; indeed, they listen to the crime stories of political meetings in the same frame of mind as to saga-tales of throat-biting, vomit-squirting and the gouging out of eyes.”

---

“I had long begun to count the days until I could once again leave home, where I felt an alien, and go out in the alien world, where I was at home.”

---

“During dinner I asked if anyone wanted to buy raffle tickets in aid of a Youth Centre. Such a jest had never been heard at that table since the new maid announced that she was going to learn to play the harmonium. Soup spouted from the mouths of the two middle children. The eldest son, who was a full-time employee of Universal Suffering, Inc., contented himself with throwing me a look of mingled pity and nausea.”

---

"'He grows flowers,' I said.
'That's nice,' said the Doctor. 'I wish I grew flowers. While I was reading newspapers, he was reading the Italian Renaissance authors in the original. I can remember him saying that he was going to save the war news for himself until, after twenty years, it would be possible to read about the whole war in two minutes in an encyclopedia. I am glad he grows flowers.'"

[Mandy · Rating 2 out of 5]

I had trouble with this short novel by acclaimed Icelandic author Halldor Laxness. I could see that it was a satire on post WWII Icelandic society and politics, and an exploration of the north-south divide, the contrast between town and country, rich and poor, and so on, but I found it hard to engage with any of the characters or in fact care about the Iceland depicted in the novel. The central character is Ugla, a young plain-speaking girl from the north who comes to Reykjavik to work in the house of a Member of Parliament. There she is introduced to a motley collection of political figures, and also goes out and meets some Communists. There is much unrest in the capital with the news that the Americans want to buy some land to build some sort of nuclear base. But I found it all pretty tedious and didn’t care about anyone, not even Ugla herself, who seems quite a cold and distant protagonist. It’s an interesting look at Icelandic society at particular place and time, but I want more from a novel than a historical snapshot, and this one didn’t hold my attention.

[Joe Callingham · Rating 3 out of 5]

When I am lucky enough to travel around a country, I try to brush up on that county's literature. Why? I think literature is an amazingly quick tool to gain an insight into the people that make that country much more than just a menagerie of geographical features. Halldór Laxness seemed a pretty good place to start for getting an idea of what makes Iceland Iceland given he won the Nobel Prize for literature. While "The Atom Station" was not the work that won him the prize, it was the length and topic area (heavy on political intrigue and analysis of societal norms) that I thought would be perfect for my eight day trip around the Icelandic Ring Road.

The premise of "The Atom Station" is pretty much a Northerner girl moves to the capital in the South to take up a position as a glorified maid in a politically and educationally powerful family, and to use this position as an opportunity to learn how to become a worldly woman. This personal journey occurs in the (borderline ridiculous) backdrop of Iceland being sold off to America to act as a staging point for any potential nuclear war with the USSR. The lovingly named Ugla comes to the South with next to no skills and a very limited education. What Laxness is playing at with making such a uncharismatic and lacklustre protagonist is that it is really this salt-of-the-earth northerner that ends up changing the people of the South much more than the South ends up changing her. Throughout the novel, the moral strength and integrity of the North shines through, while the South is shown to be debauched and in desperate need to learn how to live properly again.

Clearly Laxness idealised the North and the people that lived there, and felt it imperative to formalise the relationship that was obviously implicit. To Laxness the North is the heart of the country, no matter how politically and economically important the South becomes. This text has many parallels to American literature that makes the mid-west out to be the lifeblood of American consciousness.

Unfortunately, the novel falls a little flat. It feels as though Laxness forces the morality metaphors a little too brashly. Considering this novel is written in 1948, the submissiveness and treatment of women in this time can be a little maddening to a modern reader. Laxness also does an appallingly elementary job throughout the novel in introducing the tenants of communism and capitalism. The final nail in the text's coffin is that Ugla is boring. While "The Atom Station" did its job for me, providing me an insight into the Icelandic people (in particular, providing a unique insight into the strength and power of Icelandic women) the text is clearly one of Laxness' weaker works.