Burial Rites

Breaking The Ice

Hannah Kent's Burial Rites is a chilling tale that promises to shatter the boundaries of historical literature

Ironically, I have chosen to base my first review of the summer on a novel set in bleak, 19th Century Iceland. As the third and final book sent to me as part of the Willoughby Book Club subscription, I had high expectations for this beautiful, eerie-looking hardback. Rest assured, the novel was enough to bring me out of months of exam-induced writer's block, and send me back to my laptop to finally write a new post.

Whilst I understand that the design of a book does not by any means dictate its value, I must add that the aesthetics of this novel (or at least the one I received),  perfectly match its plot. The pages, each individually lined with black, act so that the reader feels as if they are reaching into some kind of cosmic black hole when opening the book. The content itself is just as dark and consuming: the dramatised true story of Iceland's last ever public execution. And more specifically, the tale of Agnes Magnusdottir: prisoner, murderess, and helpless soul, sentenced to death for her crime.

Due to 1800's Iceland having no prisons, Agnes is sent to be detained during the winter prior to her execution in a local farm, much to the aversion of the family who live and work there. Two daughters; one of them riddled with detest for Agnes, the other quietly sympathetic, are to be her company, along with the headstrong mistress of the house: keen to protect her family from the mysterious culprit. Together, the inhabitants build up a cold, unwelcoming exterior, broken only by occasional visits from Reverend Toti, the young assistant Priest chosen to prepare Agnes spiritually for her execution.

Kent uses a switching narrative, varying between 1st person instalments from Agnes, and 3rd person entries, which usually focus on the experience of a particular character. Whilst this keeps the plot fresh and dynamic, I feel that it also falls guilty of forcing the reader to sympathise with the protagonist. Agnes' suffering becomes clear through her vivid description, which leaves no room for the reader to form their own opinions about her character. Being drawn towards the anti-hero is a theme that has dominated literature long since the days of Milton's Satan in Paradise Lost, and has become, I regret to admit, a little cliched.

Despite this, the novel is frequented with historical documents, including official reports, letters and poetry created at the time of the case. This repeatedly reminds the reader, as they struggle through their interpretation of the characters: this is real. This really happened. To further emphasise this notion, Kent focuses on the setting, including detailed description of the secluded landscape, and of the harsh, unforgiving winters that plague the lives of the Icelanders. I am reminded of Ibsen's A Doll's House, in which a bleak Norwegian winter forms the backdrop of the Helmers' household, holding connotations of isolation. Yet, in Burial Rites, the characters are not only threatened by winter- they are swept up and contained by it, both literally and metaphorically.

As is the nature of good historical fiction, one cannot stray too far from the facts, which can lead to a dull, dreary narrative (particularly if little is known about the event.) Kent overcomes this hurdle through a combination of extensive research, and perceptive assumptions about the characters, which remain within factual guidelines. There is a subtle element to the plot which I believe film is unable to grasp: as the latter must constantly be filled with dramatic fights and sensuous romantic scenes in order to keep the viewers entertained. I have no doubt that the rumoured upcoming film adaptation of Burial Rites will bend the plot to create more action. But for me, I prefer the truth, which is what Kent provides.

Of course, due to the 19th Century setting, religious context is closely linked to the historical. One of the ways in which this is explored is through Reverend Toti's "spiritual preparation" of Agnes for her execution. He begins with the traditional approach: encouraging her to pray and worship in the hopes of absolving her guilty soul in time for eternal salvation. Yet, he quickly realises that this technique will fail to truly impact her character, and will merely create a mask of piety over the face of a lost and troubled woman. Instead, he endeavours to converse with her, and learn of her history, which also allows the reader to gain more information about the protagonist. This process reflects Iceland's gradual shift away from restrictive, authoritarian religious doctrine, towards a more liberal approach, recognising the value of individuals.

Still, one finds themselves asking: what was it about Agnes' execution that changed the course of history forever? Why was her death the last ever public example? And, if Iceland were so close to changing their religious and judicial practises, why did Agnes still have to die?

These questions are among the many that are simply left unanswered within this novel. Perhaps, this is due to a lack of documentation following the execution, or perhaps the question of Capital Punishment itself simply has no logical answer. However, I think the success of the novel lies in its ambiguity, and inability to provide the reader with definitive conclusions. One almost has the sensation of finally feeling in touch with the characters within the final pages, only to have them taken away again. Whilst frustrating, this for me is a key indication that the novel has had an impact.

So, you might not find any answers within this skilfully crafted book, but what you may hope to find is a better understanding of why such questions of life, death, morality and religion are so important, and must continue to be asked, in order to transform future society. This novel manages to take a historical case that is already greatly compelling, and transform it into a living, breathing narrative, which is sure to have a profound effect on the reader.