Ædnan An epic

Sámi Swedish writer Axelsson makes her memorable American debut with a verse novel that spans generations of two Sámi families, addressing themes of migration and colonial suffering through short-lined, atmospheric poems. The epigraphs of these untitled, numbered entries situate the reader. The opener, "Night camp at Lake Gobmejávri, near to where Sweden, Finland, and Norway meet. Early spring 1913," paints a scenic, ruminative portrait that is characteristic of Axelsson: "A rangeland runs/ from the forest snow to/ the windswept shore// There my herd scrapes/ and leads us/ land to land/ prying me from/ your arms// Alone / among the lichen." She captures domestic moments with the same eye, providing glimpses into private settings: "In the morning/ we wake early/ drink strong coffee// Hear Uncle Ernst/ treading around in/ the apartment below us// Before he turns/ the key/ tramps into the stairwell// Then he knocks awhile/ on our door// Some article in Flamman/ has probably upset him// and now he needs to/ discuss it// But we don't/ want to be home// we disappear/ under the covers." Spanning 100 years, this sensitive, beautiful, quietly rendered epic tells an impactful tale of community and survival. (Jan.)

An epic poem, much honored in Sweden since its publication in 2018, that charts the fortunes of a Sámi community against opposing nationalisms. There was a time when Norway and Sweden were united as a single country. The union dissolved in 1905, and eight years later, as Sámi author Axelsson's epic begins, a boundary is forming between the two that impedes the free movement of a reindeer-herding Arctic community. "Once May Day passed we were allowed to cross the border into Norway," says one speaker, while "the Swede he dammed // And the river was left / muffled and silent." In the face of this degradation, where the Sámi are barred from herding grounds, ancient migratory routes are blocked, and villages are swallowed by rising waters, a young man dies accidentally, a ghost whose presence hovers over the generations. He laments to his distraught father: "Didn't you hear me // Among the seabirds / as you came walking / with your summer-fat / reindeer," and his grave will forever be unquiet. Fast-forward two generations, and the Sámi have themselves been herded into government villages, their children packed off to boarding schools to be acculturated as Swedes; one matriarch, subjected to that cultural annihilation, recalls questions from her daughter: "Tell me what it / was like at the Nomad School / Mama // I'm supposed to write / an essay about / you in school." Adds one character, Lise, speaking a century after the epic begins, "And I did not / want to talk about it." As Axelsson charts the story of the Sámi under colonial rule, the reader will be reminded of the injuries done to Indigenous peoples everywhere. But there is at least some resolution: Axelsson describes present-day Sámi activists fighting to regain control of traditional lands, with young descendants teaching their elders about their culture. Such is the case with another matriarch, Sandra, who's "Trying / as a grown woman / to learn Sámi / with her children." A sharp-edged tale in verse of colonial suppression, resistance, and survival. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.