The Kalevala

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Summary: The Kalevala sings myriad Finnish tales to heart and mind.
Review: Elias Lonnrot's noble achievement, "The Kalevala," sings myriad Finnish tales to a reader's heart and mind.

The formidable epic poem weaves music, magic, and lusty suprahuman heroes traditional to Finland, and derives from Lonnrot's artistic assembly of oral poetry.

In reading this classic, one careers through a unique culture and mythology on horse-drawn sledges and hand-crafted vessels, meeting such fantastical figures as the ever-wiseman -- and ever-bachelor -- Vainamoinen and the brawny mistress of Northland, Louhi.

Comprising fifty cantos, "The Kalevala" requires unfettered time, discerning ear, and adventurous spirit to complete. Tongue-tickling alliteration and intraline rhymes help speed the journey. And anyone who has read and enjoyed Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's "The Song of Hiawatha" will appreciate Lonnrot's compilation, as Longfellow modeled his work in part on "The Kalevala."

Perhaps the farfetched feats and unlikely events intrinsic to this mythological mosaic seem irrelevant to modern materialism and daily grind, but heeding the beck of such diversion will supply one not only with practical wisdom but also with the virtue of its purpose: pleasure, poetry, and historical preservation.

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Summary: A great insight into Finnish history and culture
Review: I spent six months living and working in Finland in 1997 and found many modern references to The Kalevala in Finnish literature, music, and art. This epic provides a unique insight into the Finnish culture and is an excellent addition to any literature collection.

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Summary: quite interesting
Review: I'm a big Lord of the Rings fan and I had learned that Tolkien was influenced greatly in his writing by the Kalevala legends, so I got this to learn more of that region's mythology. It's quite fascinating. I love the chants, especially the one to shut dogs up. :)

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Summary: Ian Myles Slater on A Reliable Version in Paperback
Review: If this is appearing with the Magoun translation: This is a welcome paperback incarnation of a solid, reliable, standard translation, originally published four decades ago. I have reviewed the hardcover edition of this translation, and of the similar rendering of the epic's first version, "The Old Kalevala," and will summarize my views here. However, you may be seeing with the paperback of the Bosley verse translation of the (New) "Kalevala," another reputable version , to which some of my comments apply equally well.

"Kalevala," variously translated as "Kaleva District" or "Land of Heroes," is a nineteenth-century compilation, revision, and expansion of narratives, spells and charms, and proverbial wisdom collected from the Finnish-speaking peasants and fisherman of areas of modern Finland and Russia. It is made up largely, but not entirely, of "runos," narrative songs when even then survived in isolated, "fringe" areas; ballads with clear connections with other cultures also make an appearance. The material is, for the most part, clearly pagan in origin, with hints of roots in the Viking Age, if not earlier, but processed through centuries of Christianity, Catholic and Lutheran in Finland proper, Russian Orthodox in the Karelia district. Fortunately, Elias Lonnrot, the main collector, and the man responsible for this literary version, was also engaged in laying the foundations of the scientific study of folk traditions, and the collections he made or sponsored formed the basis of a major archive, the publication of which was only recently completed. In the meantime, his popularization had become a part of the world's culture, as well as that of Finland.

The contents are various, but the main themes are the military and romantic adventures and misadventures of a handful of warrior-magicians, as quite with an incantation as with a sword. Vainamoinen, "the Eternal Sage," and a kind of demiurge who sings the Finnish homeland into being, is born old, and his attempts to find a wife lead to the creation of the mysterious and wonderful "Sampo" by the smith Ilmarinen, as a kind of bride-price. These two great heroes share the stage with the irresponsible Lemminkainen, a kind of combined Don Juan and Achilles, and the hapless Kullervo. His story, presented as a cantata by Sibelius, is one of the underpinnings of Tolkien's "Silmarillion." (When the latter first appeared, it seemed obvious that the Quest for the Sampo, and its ultimate fate, was a major inspiration for Tolkien; publication of his early versions show that most of the resemblances emerged over time, in the course of endless reworkings.)

There have been a number of abridged or retold versions of "The Kalevala" in English, and two early complete versions in verse, by Crawford (from a German translation; available on-line), and the Kirby translation (Tolkien's introduction to the work). Magoun's translation filled a need for a more literal treatment, with more supporting information. There have been two later translations of the "New Kalevala" into English verse, by Eino Friberg (1988) and Keith Bosley (1989), which many will find more appealing. But for those who want both the story and all of the details, and either don't care about, or don't care for, such things as meter and rhyme, Magoun's translation remains a first choice. For those who know the epic through other translations, it is still worth consulting. I hold it in high regard.

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Summary: Ian Myles Slater on: Two Reliable Versions
Review: If you have found this review appearing with the Magoun translation of "The Kalevala" -- that is a welcome paperback incarnation of a solid, reliable, standard translation, originally published four decades ago. I have reviewed the hardcover edition of this translation (see the variant title, "The Kalevala: Poems of the Kaleva District"), and also Magoun's similar rendering of the epic's first version, "The Old Kalevala," and will summarize my description of the Finnish "national epic," and its origin, here.

However, you may be seeing this review with the Keith Bosley verse translation of the (New) "Kalevala," another reputable version. Having found that the two translations seem inseparably linked in terms of reviews, I have revised and expanded an older posting to take fuller account of both; if this review seems familiar to you, that is probably why.

"Kalevala," variously translated as "Kaleva District" or "Land of Heroes," is a nineteenth-century compilation, revision, and expansion of narratives, spells and charms, and proverbial wisdom collected from the Finnish-speaking peasants and fisherman of areas of modern Finland and Russia. It is made up largely, but not entirely, of "runos," narrative songs which even then survived only in isolated, "fringe" areas; ballads with clear connections with other cultures also make an appearance. References to "The Kalevala" are usually to its second edition (1849), also distinguished as the "New Kalevala" in comparison to its shorter predecessor, the "Old Kalevala" (1835).

The material is, for the most part, clearly pagan in origin, with hints of roots in the Viking Age, if not earlier, but processed through centuries of Christianity, Catholic and Lutheran in Finland proper, Russian Orthodox in the Karelia district. Fortunately, Elias Lonnrot, the main collector, and the man responsible for this literary version, was also engaged in laying the foundations of the scientific study of folk traditions, and the collections he made or sponsored formed the basis of a major archive, the publication of which was only recently completed. In the meantime, his popularization had become a part of the world's culture, as well as that of Finland.

(As one example of its impact: the American poet Longfellow adapted a German translator's adaptation of the Finnish meter for his pseudo-Iroquois epic, "Hiawatha," with the paradoxical result that the original is sometimes described, in English, as being in Hiawatha-meter.)

The contents are various, but the main themes are the military and romantic adventures and misadventures of a handful of warrior-magicians, quite as quick with an incantation as with a sword. Vainamoinen, "the Eternal Sage," and a kind of demiurge who sings the Finnish homeland into being, is born an old man. His attempts -- always frustrated -- to find a young wife lead to the creation of the mysterious and wonderful "Sampo" by his friend, the smith Ilmarinen, as a kind of bride-price. However, Ilmarinen himself uses it in his own wooing -- and finds the bargain a bad one.

These two great heroes share the stage with the irresponsible Lemminkainen, a kind of combined Don Juan and Achilles, and the hapless Kullervo. Kullervo's story -- which you may know as a cantata by Sibelius -- is one of the underpinnings of Tolkien's tale of Turin in "The Silmarillion" and "Unfinished Tales," where it is combined with elements from the "Volsunga Saga." (When the "Silmarillion" first appeared, it seemed obvious that the Quest for the Sampo, and the Sampo's ultimate fate, was a direct source as well as a major inspiration for Tolkien; publication of his early drafts show that most of these resemblances emerged over time, in the course of endless reworkings, but they remain enlightening. Other resemblances include the creation of the sun and moon, and attempts to harm them, and the importance of trees. There are also some similar -- not identical -- names, and Tolkien's study of Finnish contributed to the development of a branch of Elvish.)

There have been a number of abridged or retold versions of "The Kalevala" in English, and two early complete versions in verse, that by Crawford (nineteenth-century, from a German translation; available on-line), and the 1907 W.F. Kirby translation, directly from Finnish (in -- if you will excuse the expression -- a version of Hiawatha-meter), which was Tolkien's introduction to the work. Magoun's translation (1963) filled a need for a more literal treatment, with more supporting information.

Since Magoun's prose translations, there have been two translations of the "New Kalevala" into English verse, by Eino Friberg (1988) and, as previously mentioned, Keith Bosley (1989), which many will find more appealing. But for those who want both the story and all of the details, but either don't care about, or don't care for, such things as meter and rhyme, Magoun's translation remains a first choice. For those who know the epic through other translations, it is still worth consulting.

It should be said that Magoun, despite translating as prose, marks the verse divisions. He follows some Finnish editions in presenting the verse form as a long line with a pause (caesura), instead of as twice as many short lines. His page count therefore is much shorter, even with abundant supplemental material, but he has omitted nothing.

Magoun's translation and critical apparatus, like his similarly-equipped English version of the "Old Kalevala" (which includes several earlier stages of composition as well), is extremely useful to the student, and answers many of the questions a reader is likely to have. There is no extended introduction; information is postponed to extensive appendices. It is well organized enough to be easy to use to find answers as questions arise, or be profitably consulted years later.

(A friend recently pointed out to me that, with their maps, appendices, and indexes and glossary, the Harvard University Press volumes even have a remarkable *physical* similarity to editions of Tolkien's works....)

Bosley, on the other hand, made an effort to produce a work of literature. This goes beyond translating verse as verse (which he does very well). Lonnrot's prose summaries of each *runo* (for this purpose, canto) are not translated; Magoun used them as "arguments" (in the manner of Milton's prose summaries for each book of "Paradise Lost"). For Bosley, nothing interrupts the flow of narrative and lyric, ritual and spell. The result is extremely engaging, far beyond Magoun's prosy rendition; a distinct plus.

There are, however, no glossaries or indexes to otherwise serve as a guide through the complex set of stories. Bosley offers just ten pages of brief (albeit extremely useful) notes. These are followed by a two-page appendix on "Sibelius and the Kalevala," which untangles the references -- and some non-references -- to the "Kalevala" in the titles of several of the Finnish composer's works. (A certain amount of garbling took place as his music publisher translated titles into German, and the German was turned into English without checking against the original meaning.)

Bosley's Introduction is excellent, and establishes the literary and cultural background of Lonnrot's work and the nature of the folk-poetry he collected, and makes useful observations about the structure of the completed epic. It is far better reading than Magoun's documentation. Of course, taking advantage of this synthesis means careful reading, ideally in advance of the story. The reader should take the time, but *should* is not *will.* Here, Magoun's formidable-looking book is actually more user-friendly.

The Magoun translation was available for decades as a hardcover (with endpaper maps), before being issued as an otherwise identical trade paperback. Either form should stand up to reasonable handling. (My copy of the 1975 hardcover third printing has suffered more from my marginal notes as a student than from later use or time; largely cross-references to the "Corrigenda," the list of corrections and revisions which he had included as a supplement in his "Old Kalevala" translation in 1969, and then added as Appendix E to reprintings of "Kalevala" proper. They have yet to be incorporated into the text.)

Bosley's translation apparently has been published in paperback only, in two different formats; first as a "World's Classics" mass-market paperback (1989), and then as a larger (but otherwise identical) "Oxford World's Classics" paperback in 1999. It is a very fat volume, over 700 pages long, due to Bosley's decision to treat the verse as short lines. Because of the different proportions of height and width to the binding, the slightly larger format of the OWC edition seems to me physically more stable, likely to stand up better to repeated readings and consultations; but I haven't heard of any problems with copies of the older World's Classics printings.

Lonnrot also published (1840-41) a collection of non-epic folk genres, including much material eventually absorbed into "Kalevala," as "Kanteletar" (roughly, "zither-daughter"). This has been under-represented in translation. Bosley translated a selection as "The Kanteletar," published in "World's Classics" in 1992, and currently out of print. It is an excellent companion to any "Kalevala" translation, but especially (of course) to Bosley's own. With luck, it will be reprinted sometime soon in the "Oxford World's Classics".

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Summary: The Patient Epic
Review: In an effort to broaden my horizons in epic and mythological literature, I bought two books on a whim: The Kalevala, a Finnish epic poem with roots in prehistoric oral tradition, and Njal's Saga, the thirteenth century prose account of the lives and tribulations of a group of families and friends in late tenth and early eleventh century Iceland. After reading about 100 pages of Njal's Saga and nearly perishing from sheer tedium, I turned to The Kalevala and received a pleasant surprise.

The Kalevala is a non-rhyming poem consisting of fifty cantos ranging over about 670 pages. The cantos are meant to be sung and were collected in the nineteenth century by Finnish scholar Elias Lönnrot as he traveled around Finland listening to old men sing from memory. The actual number of such collected stories is mind boggling and only a small fraction comprise the loosely connected plot of The Kalevala. Lönnrot even modified some of the stories himself to make the poem a more satisfying piece of literature in its own right. The story follows an amazingly small number of major characters who can loosely be described as warrior-wizards: an old wise singer, a talented metal smith, a foolhardy and womanizing young man, a tragic orphan boy, and a trouble-making woman who plays the antagonist throughout. Together they can conjure up armies by singing, build boats and musical instruments out of virtually nothing, and even shape shift into giant winged creatures. In this land of long ago, ships can talk, pike grow to be the size of houses, and people can be brought back to life by stitching their body parts together! Yes, my friends, it doesn't hurt to be a little open minded with a book like this.

It's difficult to characterize or critique this book because it is so unique, so different from anything I've ever read. The poetry itself is surprisingly simple and easy to read, yet oddly satisfying. When Vainamoinen, the old singer and dominant character, finds himself in a predicament, what does he do? Does he sit down and rationalize his thoughts, plan out his course of action in detail? (I'm already speaking in paired lines!). He probably does, but that's not what is narrated to us. Instead, "He thinks, considers / how to be, which way to live." (p. 202) And these two little lines, in all of their simplicity, are more poignant and powerful than any psychological exposition could be. We picture Vainamoinen, the great warrior-poet, "thinking" and "considering" as if he is momentarily stumped. He is humbled, brought down from his usual decisive and confident self, by his own sudden realization that the complexity of the world is too much even for the mighty Vainamoinen. Then he thinks about how he should "be" and about his own life, reminding us that our own way of life--our choices and decisions--defines our being, who we are. Through these lines we relate to Vainamoinen and his struggle; we are comforted by his imperfections because they make him, a wise and gracious character, closer to us.

As a text that is meant to be sung, The Kalevala is riddled with patterns, both in the form of the poetry and in the plot itself (which Bosley calls "formulas"). One of the more obvious quirks of the poem is its tendency to rephrase the previous line in the current line, giving the work a kind of lyrical quality one would find in a musical: "'Might I say something / would I be allowed to ask / what kind of man you may be / what sort of fellow?'" (p. 73) Another is the presence of repeated identical lines, especially within the context of parallelism. When Kullervo says goodbye to his family in canto 36, he addresses his father, brother, sister, and mother one by one and in an identical fashion (parallelism): to each he asks "Will you weep for me" and is answered "I'll not weep for you", then states "And I shall not weep for you." We go through this four times. From a literary standpoint this is done (evidently) for emphasis. But because the original was sung, I think it's more likely that repeating structures would serve as a sort of chorus for the listeners. When viewed from this context of song, the poem's structure makes greater sense. However, the content of the poem-particularly the more magical parts-can be difficult to relate to.

As with any work that is archaic to begin with and a translation, the reader will here occasionally feel as thought there is a major disconnect between his own purpose for reading and the purpose for which the story was originally intended. As a modern young American male with no connection whatsoever to Finland and very little knowledge of formal epic storytelling, I approached The Kalevala as if it were, at the least, a good opportunity to broaden my conception of epic literature and, at the most, an entertaining story. I say this because any work like The Kalevala will be at least a good experience if taken seriously. The question is: is it really entertaining to a modern audience? (a much greater--and probably unrealistic--expectation). Now I know that a scholar would scoff at the question, but it is a legitimate one from the standpoint of the individual who comes to the work purely out of curiosity. Setting oral tradition aside and viewing the poem as free-standing literature in the context of non-Finnish culture (I can't comment on the work's appeal in such an environment), I would say that there are parts of the poem that are entertaining. But I caution the eager adventure-seeking reader: patience is a prerequisite here. But, more often than not, this is a sign that something greater than the memory of a few hours of entertainment awaits you at the other side of the rainbow.

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Summary: Shamanic Epic of the North
Review: The Kalevala is one of the greatest (and yet largely unknown) epic poems of all times. Although relatively young when compared to the works of Homer and so forth, this Finnish epic draws deep into Finland's Shamanic heritage and is indeed based off these old myths and legends. It concerns the adventures of Vainamoinen the wise Shaman, his companion Ilmarinen the smith and the bold, young Lemminkainen. Those who have studied Shamanism will already see a Shamanic aspect in the association between Vainamoien and Ilmarinen, for in many cultures smiths and Shamans are linked together. There are many more Shamanic archetypes and beliefs found throughout this book, such as a bear sacrifice which is startlingly similar to that observed amongst the Ainu and Lapps of recent times. This book, perhaps the only real direct source of Finnish mythology and religion, explores an oft neglected culture. After all, any school child can tell you of the myths of the Greeks, Romans or Germanic peoples, yet the mythology and heroes of Finland have remained largely unknown. A real pity as this epic is filled with deciet, trechery and heroism which easily could stand beside the works of Homer, Virgil or Valmiki. This translation, perhaps the best available, both for the price and in terms of being generally accessable, is certainly worth owning. Whether you are interested in mythology, history, anthropology, Finland or just like a good story, there is bound to be something in this book which appeals to you.

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Summary: Pessimistic epic
Review: There's a lot less bloodletting in this epic than in many mythic-legendary works. But -- what a lot of frustration, inhospitality, and breakage! Boats jam, people lie, an heroic expedition to the North is a flop. You won't find any great romances here, but a number of maidens who would druther not leave home (especially undesirable if the prospective husband is a "nook-haunter" -- an old man). A suitor might perform all the tasks the girl's mother demands, and after doing the impossible, he doesn't get to marry her even so. Heroes arrive in a village to be sent on from one house to the next in an unfriendly manner. A quest for fire leads to calamitous accidental conflagrations. Quests don't end in dazzling triumphs; the great quest-object for this epic ends up plopping into the sea and being broken. This is indeed the epic of the "luckless lands of the North."

Especially powerful are the cantos about that scary young punk Kullervo. Where else in traditional literature is there such a portrait of a kid born to make everyone miserable before he takes his own life?

It's not all dour stuff, to be sure. There are a number of passages in which the words practically writhe off the page as the lines describe tingling, squirming magical growing. There's some humor.

The work is suffused with an earthy quality. It's not ambrosia and nectar we have here, but fish to eat, home-brewed beer to drink, and plain bread -- sometimes bulked up with bark -- to chew. People wear wool, navigate fogs, get up early to light fires and milk the cows.

It was one of a select few works that C. S. Lewis cited, in his essay "On Science Fiction," as works that provide additions to life. Other things that made the list were Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner, parts of the Odyssey and of Malory's Morte d'Arthur, Peake's Titus Groan, etc.

Interesting list!

This translation seemed to me quite readable.

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Summary: The Finnish Illiad
Review: This sister to the Norse Sagas is the masterwork of Finnish mythology.

In it we follow the three main heroes - the elderly Vainamoinen, wise in everything except love; his brother Ilmarinen, the presumably middle-aged master smith; and Lemminkainen, the reckless young lothario who causes his wife and mother endless headaches but who we like enough anyway that we worry about him when he gets into trouble.

In some ways, it's a product of it's time. This was written in a time when women had no say in who they married; they had no recourse if their husbands were abusive; and they were virtually their mother-in-law's slaves until their younger brother-in-laws or sons got married and they weren't the low women on the totem pole anymore. Althoug Aino's story offers a message about this system, it's pretty much accepted. This is what life was really like at the time these stories were sung.

In other ways, though, it's surprisingly modern. Although the results usually aren't so serious, we've almost all been taken down a peg by an elder like Joukahainen at some point in our lives when we've needed it. I would imagine that many widowers - and widows, for that matter - can relate to Ilmarinen's sense of loss when he loses his wife.

And then there's Kullervo. He wins the all-time teen angst award hands down. It's fascinating how his cycle deals with a question psychologists have grappled with for centuries - are kids taught to be good, or are they just born good or bad? He's a danger to society, yes - but he may also never have had a chance. No matter what you feel about what he does, the scene where he wanders pitifully among his family asking if anyone would cry if he died until he gets what he needs to hear from his mother, can move you to tears. Just read the headlines about the latest school shooting. There really are kids almost this messed up out there.