F is for Filifjonkan

Filifjonkan, (Fillyjonk in English) is a character from the Moomin tales, created by Tove Jansson. The Fillyjonk looks like a sort of cross between a rodent and a human and has a desire for freedom from worries and to not have to be tied down to anything. We meet Filifjonkan when she accompanies Snorkmaiden on a trip to a wishing well, where we learn of her preoccupation with disaster. She believes strongly in tradition and due to the fact that she clings to these sorts of thoughts, she is unable to experience the freedom or happiness that the Moomin family have. 

I've loved this character ever since I heard my boyfriend's sister in law call her tiny little daughter (the cutest little girl in the world) 'Filifjonkan' whilst affectionately tickling her. The name always reminds me of that little girls delightful squeals :)

Whilst Filifjonkan is a relatively minor character, I think that in terms of psychology she is one that many of us can relate to. The ties we have to our own minds and the thoughts that prevent true freedom are something that is explored within this character. I think we're all secretly striving for the happiness and freedom of thought found within the Moomin family. 

the little nordic cabin

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E is for Erik the Red

Good evening my dears, how are you all? I quite miss talking directly to you, rather than just typing information here! I'm sorry I've been slow with commenting, I have deadlines coming up at the end of April so I'm feeling a little frantic! 

Anyways, lets talk about Erik the Red, the guy who founded the first settlement in Greenland!

We know about Erik the Red from the Icelandic Sagas, texts that were passed down from oral tradition during the viking age. It is said that Erik had to leave Norway because he had committed manslaughter there. He moved to Iceland but then he killed a bunch of people and ended up getting himself outlawed. Smart, huh? 

I've always liked the story that when Iceland was discovered, the explorers named it Iceland because it was so cold, but on discovering Greenland afterwards, realised that they should have reserved the name for that place instead. However, according to the sagas (/wikipedia, where I've just learned this) it was Erik who named it Greenland, having returned to Iceland after he'd served his time away, because he wanted to give it a more appealing name than Iceland had. Either way, I've always thought how the names Iceland and Greenland were kind of mixed up :)

Have you ever read any of the Icelandic sagas? I really do recommend them - I find it really fascinating that they had been passed down orally for so long before finally being written. I love the Chinese Whispers effect that they got, since they began as historical tales but as they were passed on, certain details were changed, leaving us with stories of beserkers and witches and magic. They're wonderful!

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D is for Danny the Champion of the World

Did you guys know that Roald Dahl was Norwegian? I didn't know that until I began my degree four years ago. He moved to Cardiff when he was young, but he loved Norway and spent many of his summer holidays there with his Grandmother. 

Last year I did a project on Roald Dahl and gave a presentation on how his Norwegian heritage influenced his work. You might have noticed the huge Norwegian influence in his book, The Witches, for example. There are lots of hidden clues to his love of Norway throughout his books, the funniest of which is how all his mean characters are typically English farmers, whilst the sweet grandmothers, teachers and little children are the positive (and, sometimes Norwegian characters). 

Danny the Champion of the World isn't one of my favourite books, but is an example of the negative, sterotypical English character. Danny and his father poach pheasants from a rich man's estate and are threatened by him. Danny is labeled champion of the world when he comes up with a plan to trick the antagonist, by drugging all the pheasants and stealing them whilst they're sleeping!

I like the fact that the stories of Roald Dahl are English, written in the English language and read by English children who have no idea about Roald Dahl's heritage. If it wasn't for Norway and the magic that the country gave to him in terms of imagination, I doubt we'd have these wonderful stories today. 

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C is for Captain Longstocking

Ok, so fun fact about the Nordic languages: They don't really have the letter "C". Swedish does, but after searching my brainbox all day, I couldn't come up with anyone. So please forgive my cheating, "captain" begins with a "k" in Swedish, but we're speaking English over here, so I think it's ok :)

Captain Longstocking is Pippi Longstocking's father. He is the only person who is as strong as Pippi and it is from him that she inherited her knowledge and sense. He went missing and was feared dead, but actually he had washed up on an island and became a chief there. Despite Pippi's love for life aboard ship, when her father returned she decided to stay in the house he gave her as the stable life that he had intended for her was something that she had become attached to. On one trip to the island where her father was chief, Pippi was renamed Princess Pippilotta. She had always imagined that while he was missing he had become king of the land somewhere, so it is fitting that Captain Longstocking's little daughter should become 'princess'. 

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B is for Bjartur

Bjartur of Summerhouses is the protagonist of Icelandic Author, Halldor Laxness' book Sjálfstætt Fólk (Independent People). This was the first novel I've ever read by a Nordic author and if I wasn't already in love enough with Iceland, this pushed my obsession over the edge. 

His daughter, Asta Sollilja describes him better than I ever could: “She peeped out from under the blanket, and there he was, still sitting on the edge of his bed, when all the others had gone to sleep, mending some implement or other. No one stirred any longer, the living-room fast asleep; he alone was awake, alone was chanting, sitting there in his shirt, thickset and high-shouldered, with strong arms and tangled hair. His eyebrows were shaggy, steep and beetling like the crags in the mountain, but on his thick throat there was a soft place under the roots of his beard. She watched him awhile without his knowing: the strongest man in the world and the greatest poet, knew the answer to everything, understood all ballads, was afraid of nothing and nobody, fought all of them on a distant strand, independent and free, one against all.”

I highly recommend Independent People, the rich landscape and cultural descriptions begin on the very first page and there is nobody more equipped to introduce you to this magical country than Bjartur himself. 

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A is for Askeladden

Happy 1st April everyone! If you are new here, welcome! I'm so pleased to meet you :)

My A - Z theme is Characters from Nordic Literature ☆

Today, I'd like to introduce you to Askeladden.

Askeladden can be found in quite a few Norwegian folktales. His name would be 'Ash Lad' in English,  and I think this comes from his tendency to sit and daydream whilst poking at the ashes in the fire whilst his older brothers display how they are going to succeed in life. You could therefore say that Askeladden is the typical unsuspected hero of these tales. 

The story that I'm most familiar with is called "Askeladden som kappåt med trollet". In this story, Askeladden meets a troll in the forest, while he is chopping down trees. The troll is angry, but Askeladden tricks him into helping him. Afterwards, Askeladden is taken back to the trolls house. Askeladden tricks the troll by challenging him to an eating competition. While the troll is spooning food into his mouth, Askeladden is sneaking it into a bag that he has tied to his front. The troll complains that he is full and cannot eat any more, but Askeladden tells him that if he cuts a hole in his stomach, then he can make room and eat as much as he likes. Askeladden shows him: he takes a knife and slits the bag that he has been putting the food in, telling the troll that it is his stomach that he is slitting. The troll copies him, but instead slits his stomach open and dies.

If you follow this link you can find a short video of the story.

I can't wait to read what you have all come up with for the letter A! Have a beautiful Monday, everyone.

the little nordic cabin

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Writing Prompt #4

Today's beautiful writing prompt is from the Giraffe Manor in South Africa. Could you ever imagine staying somewhere like this?!

If you're new here (hi!!), this is just a little writing prompt. Write a little story about this picture. Where is this? Who is meeting the Giraffe? What is her story? Perhaps she opened this place as a sanctuary. Perhaps the Giraffe has it's own story. Maybe these two are being reunited :)

She bounced up onto her tippy-toes to peep out of the window and was quite astonished by her new surroundings. Vast stretches of pale yellow as far as the eye could see, and great wide-branched trees, like no other she had ever imagined. Norah had slept most of the way to the new house and the heat had made her poorly during the journey from England such that she wasn’t altogether able to take in the new landscape until now. She had woken up in the soft warmth of the armchair, a slight breeze washing over her from the lace curtained window. Mama Abeni had settled a little china cup on the table and the sleepy little girl took a sip. Sweet rose tea, her favourite. Carefully placing the cup back down - using both hands to stop it spilling and making mother angry - Norah stretched deeply, yawned, and rubbed her tired little eyes. She called out to her parents and again to Mama Abeni, but nobody came. It was not the first time this seven year old had been left by herself while her mother ran errands and her father snoozed in the living room, pipe still smoking, newspaper fallen to the floor in a crumpled mess. Mama Abeni was probably busy with the dinner or bringing Norah’s things to her new bedroom. She sighed heavily and glanced at the grandfather clock by the door. It was curious to -have fallen asleep in the car in the midday sun only to wake up in this strange room, full of twee curiosities that made it look like an old, tattered dolls house. She gathered her skirts, pulled on her shoes and tottered over to the window. The first glimpse of her new country made her gasp in wonder. So suddenly did her breath catch in surprise that she nearly toppled over, bringing down the curtains with her. Norah steadied herself and peered out again. Those strange wide trees seemed to line the sky, layer upon layer before meeting the puffy white clouds. The grass was yellow and dry. Ahead stretched plains of mustard-yellow plains that reached far into the distance. Norah scrunched her eyes up and could just make out the subtle glimmer of water in the distance when a large creature brushed past the window, peeping it's head curiously inside, nuzzling Norah's rosy little cheeks.

As always, please feel free to leave me a comment with your writing, or link me to it on your page. I've missed your beautiful little tales!

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