PARADISO

Author: Dante Alighieri
Year: 1968 (1321)
Publisher: Rabén & Sjögren
Language: Swedish (Translator Aline Pipping)

Having traversed the tear-filled mountain of purgatory and imbibed the truths of salvation, Dante is finally ready to see paradise. In the culminating part of the Divine Comedy, “Paradiset” (“Paradiso”), Dante is allowed to journey among the stars and the planets to the sanctified domain of the eternally blessed. His companion in the last two books, the poet Virgil, now has to remain behind relinquishing custody of the wanderer to Beatrice, Dante’s one and only true love and the paragon of earthly purity. Beatrice is not the wise and experienced cicerone of her own power like Virgil had been in the past. Rather, by her angelic innocence she channels all the virtues of a saint through the love of God, including beatific vision and complete comprehension. With a gentle hand, she picks up the mantle where Virgil’s wisdom no longer suffices, and illuminates Dante’s path with the ethereal light of heavenly guidance.

In contrast to the circles or spheres in hell and purgatory, paradise is organised among the celestial bodies known to Dante in his time. Beginning with the moon and then travelling from one planet to the next, Dante is faced with philosophical and exegetic conundrums which he discusses with various denizens of this world and sometimes directly with Beatrice. His conversations have been scrutinised and dissected countless of times through each era following its creation, rendering any attempt on my part to explain it futile. “Paradiset” is famously complex and metaphysical, often balancing on the brink of the incomprehensible. The poetry is more entangled and the symbolism more abstract and impenetrable than in the preceding two books. But in all of this, Dante brings forth some intriguing doctrinal reflections.

In Canto 7, he asks Beatrice why Jesus had to endure the agony of the cross when God in all his might could have chosen any other method to reconcile with His creation. The answer that Dante arrives at appears to respond to St Anshelm’s meditations on the same issue in his book Cur Deus Homo from two centuries prior. Whereas Anshelm frames the dilemma as “either punishment or sacrifice”, Dante proposes “either forgiveness or sacrifice” and then fuses them together to an argument where we as humans are too bankrupt to offer satisfaction but too proud to seek forgiveness. God does both of that for us, Dante says, out of his love for us by offering himself as sacrifice in the name of forgiveness.

Canto 13 struck a particular chord with me as it discusses the reasons why some humans, although being the fruit from the same tree, do not enjoy the same intellectual capacity as others.

For very low among the fools is he                 
Who affirms without distinction, or denies,
As well in one as in the other case;

Because it happens that full often bends
Current opinion in the false direction,
And then the feelings bind the intellect.

Far more than uselessly he leaves the shore,
(Since he returneth not the same he went,)
Who fishes for the truth, and has no skill*

Dante knew human nature well and he would probably not be surprised by the lamentable state of human comprehension seven centuries hence. The first verse in the quote decries the lack of critical thinking, the second speaks of how emotions are allowed to trump facts and logic, and the third indicts the schooling system for having failed to equip the citizens with the appropriate tools and skillsets to discern truth from deception. Dante would probably feel oddly at home amidst the cacophony of 21 century social media which has perversely elevated all the above embarrassments to virtues of the imbecilic majority.  

On a more positive note, Canto 25 is what can best be described as the canto of hope. It stands to reason that Inferno would be a place where there is no hope. The souls here have removed themselves eternally from God’s face, choosing instead to wallow in the putrid swamps of their own perpetual misery. Purgatorio, by contrast, is filled with patience and trust rather than hope as every soul is assured admission to paradise once they have been properly prepared. Paradise, at last, is where all hope comes to fruition. Hope, after all, can only be relevant where there is a disunion between a desired position and the status quo. The souls that have already entered here thus have no more need for hope, enjoying already their eternal reward. So, the only place for hope seems to be earthly life.

And yet, Dante chose to locate his canto about hope in Paradise. My personal interpretation leans toward the suggestion that it is Dante’s own hope that serves as the vantage point for this meditation. The canto opens with Dante expressing his fervent wish to one day return to his native Florence, whence he had been expelled into exile by his political adversaries. This is the hope of a living man, a mere a visitor to paradise. Against this backdrop, Dante may intellectually probe the nature of hope. The choice of doing so in paradise may be connected to paradise being the desire of every true Christian and only through its union with faith and love can hope lead to salvation, and only then becoming meaningful.

A general observation can be made about the tone Dante chooses to employ in each part of the Divine Comedy. In Inferno (see my review from February 2024) the graphic portrayal of the damned souls’ torture and torment and the meticulous depiction of their wickedness and Satan’s malevolence are strikingly vivid. In Purgatorio (see my review from March 2024), the narrative shifts to a poignant exposition of the souls’ grief and remorse, alongside the hardship that they have to endure in order to cleanse themselves of their earthly sins. “Paradiset”, however, departs from this visceral imagery. We are not treated to visual representations of God’s glory, the eternal bliss or sublime light. These elements all subtly suggested but never explored. Instead, Dante opts for an intellectual and philosophical lecture on Christian ethics and abstract musings on the theoretical benevolence of God.

Given Dante’s brilliance as a poet, I am compelled to conclude that this difference is not by choice but by necessity. Could it be that the Western tradition has so richly cultivated the language, symbols, and imagery to depict evil, suffering, torture, and regret, yet tragically neglected to develop corresponding linguistic and cultural tools to convey harmony, bliss, happiness, and splendour befitting paradise? If so, such a linguistic impoverishment in the face of celestial glory would speak volumes about our priorities and limitations as a civilization. Perhaps we are simply better prepared for Inferno than we will ever be for Paradise. After all, we can reach the former on our own merit, but require God's intervention to enter the latter. 

"Paradiso" proved to be unequivocally the most challenging of the trilogy, demanding a profound acquaintance with medieval politics, philosophy, and symbolism. It necessitated an investment of time, concentration, and dedication. Nevertheless, amidst these demands, it remains an eminently rewarding endeavour, its treasures undiminished by the troubles of its pursuit.

*The Divine Comedy, Translated by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Ticknor and Fields, Boston, 1867

THE SHADOW BETWEEN THE TREES

Author: Agnes von Krusenstjerna
Year: 2010 (1936)
Publisher: Albert Bonniers förlag
Language: Swedish

”Dunklet mellan träden” (”The Shadow between the Trees”) is the second book in Agnes von Krusenstjerna’s Pauper Nobility-series, a literary exploration into the vicissitudes of the fictional von Lagercrona lineage, largely based on Krusenstjerna’s own experiences. In the second instalment, she continues to explore the intricacies of Sweden’s aristocracy during the early 20^th century while the protagonist Viveka von Lagercrona gradually grows out of her childhood and enters her adolescent years with all the wonders and challenges that this entails.

Two themes emerge as particularly poignant: the tumultuous mother-daughter experience and the epic clash between age-old societal norms and the burgeoning realities of financial modernity. Two main events in this book that mark decisive milestones on her learning curve correspond to these themes. The first unfolds amidst the verdant confines of Igelfors, the ancestral summer abode of her maternal kin, under the auspices of the esteemed Baroness Rosenhielm. The other is her brother’s marriage to a commoner, an alliance that resonates with the seismic tremors of societal transformation.

Akin to her accomplishment in the first part of Pauper Nobility (see my review from March 2024), Krusenstjerna continues to delicately unfurl the complexities of Viveka’s relationship to her mother Sofia, wherein the latter’s veneer of mental instability and domineering demeanour veers towards a nuanced portrayal of virtual abuse, albeit she would herself balk at the mere suggestion. In her early school years, Viveka was understandably ill-equipped to properly evaluate her mother’s erratic behaviour and although she instinctively gravitated to her significantly more attentive father, she was only capable of glimpses of understanding of her mother’s many shortcomings. It was only through the prism of hindsight, articulated in the mature cadence of an adult voice, that Viveka was able to dress her apprehension in words. As she in this second volume enters adolescence, her wits and senses are sharpened and her powers of observation more acute and so she begins to grasp in real time the wealth of flaws besetting her maternal figure.

Nestled within the idyllic confines of Igelfors, Viveka for the first time has the opportunity to have a deep look at different hues of mother-child relationships each imbued with its own distinctive palette of complexity and power-struggle. The relationship between her aunt Eveline and Eveline’s mother, the Baroness; the relationship between her aunt-in-law Zora and her son Donald (who also becomes the object of Viveka’s first brush with the experience of unreciprocated love); the relationship between her cousin Aimee and her mother Eveline. She observes them all and unwittingly juxtaposes them with her own relationship with her mother Sofia.

In stark contrast to Viveka’s soul-searching, her brother, Sebastian, seems to be on top of the world making good progress in his career as a naval officer and writing letters back home to Sofia about each new love of his life. When he finally declares his betrothal to a sweet, devoted and kind daughter of a prosperous but simple tanner, his mother is shocked albeit not altogether surprised.

Despite the respected pedigree and the impeccable morals and unassailable performance of Viveka’s father as the commanding officer of the regiment, the von Lagercrona’s stressed financial standing has for some time cast a shadow over the family’s aspirations to the uppermost echelons of society. It seems that Sebastian identified this early in his life, and instead of settling for a diminutive position in high society, from a young age he instead forged alliances where his noble heritage would afford him primacy without the support of coin. His engagement to a girl of a humbler origins, into whose family he is welcomed as a prince, only stands to reason.

The divergent strategies with which the four von Lagercrona children negotiate the challenges of their brittle social position and the attendant pressures from familial and societal expectations constitute a compelling narrative. Krusenstjerna’s strength lies in her adept portrayals of these intricate social games brought to life by well-crafted and multifaceted characters. The underlying cultural and social turmoil that was about to bring an end to the aristocratic hegemony in favour of a capitalistic class system is well captured from a historical point of view. However, possibly depending on the background of the reader, the themes may not be equally relevant or appealing to all readers. To me, “Dunklet mellan träden” was a significantly more rewarding read than “Fattigadel”. I suspect that I was simply better prepared for it.