UNDER THE NORTH STAR - III

Author: Väinö Linna
Year: 1988 (1962)
Publisher: Wahlström & Widstrand
Language: Swedish (Translator N-B Stormbom) 

Yea, drive us together with scourges,
and bluest spring shall bud.
You smile, my people, but with stiff features,
and sings, but without hope.*

Verner von Heidenstam’s famous poem “Invocation and Pledge” from 1899 reflects upon a Sweden basking in its own comfortable complacency at the turn of the century. With the discerning eye of a poet, Heidenstam contends that only through the bitter taste of adversity might the Swedish people awaken and re-discover the sweetness of unity, patriotism, and freedom. In the same manner that an individual having faced a near-death experience comes to value life more deeply, Heidenstam aspires for an existential challenge to invigorate the Swedish nation with a newfound strength and energy.

It was, of course, a trifle for a nobleman such as Verner von Heidenstam to recline in his gilded upper-class bubble and bemoan the lack of sufficient trials for his less fortunate countrymen. Sweden in the early 20th century was by no means overflowing with riches. Poverty in the wake of rapid industrialisation and urbanisation was widespread, infant mortality was around ten percent, and famine and diseases ravaged many parts of the kingdom. Between the years 1850 and 1920 over 1.5 million Swedes, driven by hunger and despair, sought solace and sustenance across the Atlantic in North America.

Even so, no Nordic nation has experienced a transformation more brutal and profound than that of the Finns. After their independence from Russia following the First World War, a brief but savage civil war between the landowning and capitalist elite on the one side and the landless and the proletariat on the other (see my review of Linna from April 2024) ensued. The war, although short-lived, inflicted deep wounds upon Finnish society. Wounds that would prevail until the Finnish people was ‘driven together with the scourges’ of the Second World War.

Individuals who had once grown up together only to later find themselves locked in blind rage and mortal combat, now stood shoulder to shoulder in the trenches defending Finland from the Soviet onslaught in 1939. Communists and Nazis fighting side by side, presenting the Red Army with an unexpected and formidable resilience.

During the interbellum years, progress did not omit Finland. Both men and women were granted the right to vote, crofters were allowed to acquire the land they worked, technology opened up for new business opportunities and improved productivity. The world changed and Finland changed with it.

Väinö Linna in the final instalment of his trilogy “Under the North Star” captures this transformative process with unparallelled sublimity. Despite the horrendous memories of the civil war and the harrowing loss of loved ones at the hands of their fellow countrymen, life slowly finds a new equilibrium. Amidst an atmosphere thick with suspicion, scorn, and silent resistance, a fragile tranquillity engulfs the small town. However, it is the cataclysm of the Second World War that ultimately serves as the catalyst for the national healing.

With “Söner av ett folk”, Väinö Linna ties his magnum opus together in the most spectacular way and sends his beloved Finland off into the future as a fatigued but united, confident, and free nation. This literary masterpiece should be mandatory reading for all Nordic school children and the literature of choice for anyone who values an exquisitely crafted narrative featuring vivid characters over some of the most troublesome and yet auspicious decades in Finland’s history. Putting this book down for the last time was like parting with a group of dear friends. I cannot recommend this trilogy enough.

*Shady, uncredited translation I found on the internet. Couldn't be bothered to make may own this time.

METRO 2033

Author: Dmitry Glukhovsky
Year: 2013 (2008)
Publisher: Ersatz 

Language: Swedish (Translator Ola Wallin) 

Whenever I find myself amidst the bustling allure of Moscow, I invariably check in at the same hotel in Tverskaya-Yamskaya Road, a mere two-minute walk from the Belorusskaya metro station. If one exits the hotel through its rear gate, one will find a shortcut leading to a side entrance of the station, right opposite of an unassuming white church contrasting against the otherwhile grey concrete architecture. This particular station is strategically convenient, nestled as it is adjacent to Belorussky vokzal where the airport train from Sheremetyevo Airport stops. Moreover, it straddles both the circle line and the direct line to Tverskaya and Teatralnaya stations, both of which are situated in the heart of the city and connect to several other metro lines. Some of the most iconic Moscow metro stations, such as Komsomolskaya and Mayakovskaya, can be reached from Belorusskaya without the trouble of changing trains.

With this experience and more from Moscow, I jumped eagerly into Dmitry Glukhovsky’s sensational novel “Metro 2033”. This dystopia envisions a near future in which the world is reeling from a nuclear war that has annihilated most civilisations and relegated whatever shards of humanity that remain to a subterranean existence. In Moscow, the fortunate few that have survived have settled in the winding labyrinths of the metro system, each station becoming a microcosm of society, constituting its own community with its own government and lifestyle. Some stations have come together to form alliances, others are ensnared in warfare.

The main character, Artyom, lives with his foster father in one of the fringe stations at the periphery of the inhabited part of the metro. His station is routinely attacked by mysterious creatures that ostensibly inhabit the desolate surface. To find a way to vanquish these murderous intruders once and for all, Artyom is assigned the secret task of delivering a vital message to a high-ranking military officer stationed at a remote part of the metro. And so, the quest begins.

There is a lot to like in this novel. The story’s premise is downright superb and Glukhovsky’s captivating prose quickly envelops the reader and thrusts them helplessly into the dimly lit tunnels of the underground. The milieu is exquisitely portrayed, conjuring vivid images of the claustrophobic environments and the constant threat of hostile human factions, slaughterous beasts and mutants, toxic gases, and deadly radiation. The sense of peril is omnipresent, palpable, and intense.

The storyline itself is simple but functional, dutifully mirroring the archetypal framework of most fantasy novels. There is the unlikely hero, the journey, the secret message or sacred item, the friends and foes the hero meets on his path, and the final resolution in the end. All staple ingredients of the genre.

Yet, the novel is not without some notable deficiencies. First of all, Artyom remains a rather uninspiring figure throughout the book. His character development is virtually non-existent, rendering it increasingly difficult for the reader to remain invested in his fortunes. Moreover, many of the situations he encounters on his journey seem to contribute little to the advancement of the plot. Rarely does one encounter has any effect on subsequent events and Artyom is rescued from his predicaments by what can best be described as deus ex machina miracles more often than by his own craft or any experience he might have gathered from his travels.

The reason for this is in fact rather straightforward. Glukhovsky has never been shy to publicly advertise his political views* and in “Metro 2033”, his protagonist becomes a vehicle for his opinions. On his journey, Artyom happens upon a multitude of political, religious, and philosophical interest groups, each judged by their actions toward him and each other. The purpose of each episode is to scrutinise the group or sect in itself through the prism of Glukhovsky’s political preferences, rather than to incorporate it into a cohesive string of a forward-moving narrative.

A more perplexing observation is the near total absence of women in Glukhovsky’s underground world. Besides a few fleeting references to Artyom’s deceased mother, there is no mention of any female character of consequence. There are no women in Artyom’s environment at his home station. He encounters no women on his mission. Neither Artyom nor any of the men he meets harbours any romantic or even crudely carnal attraction toward the opposite sex. There is not one single dialogue between a man and a woman except for Artyom’s foster father’s memory of his brief exchange with Artyom’s mother as she implored him to safeguard her baby in her moment of death. On a whole, this completely male-centric perspective dents the believability of the world that Dmitry Glukhovsky creates for the reader.

Although “Metro 2033” cannot pretend to the highest echelons of literary dystopias occupied by such giants as Karin Boye’s “Kallocain” (see my review from June 2021) or Ray Bradbury’s “Fahrenheit 451” (see my review from March 2023) it remains an undeniably immersive read. Despite the aforementioned reservations, Glukhovsky’s aptitude as a writer is undisputable. The atmosphere, the looming danger, the flickering lights fighting a futile battle against the darkness of the brooding tunnels, and the subtle blurring of the boundaries between realty, dream, memory, and madness are all masterfully crafted and pull the reader mercilessly into the menacing depths of the Muscovite underground.

 

*In fact, at the time of writing this, he lives in exile as he is wanted by Putin’s fascist regime for expressing his disgust with Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.