Kristin Lavransdatter: The Wreath, by Sigrid Undset

Squeaking in under the deadline for Women’s History Month is my re-read of the first book in Sigrid Undset’s Kristin Lavransdatter trilogy, The Wreath (1920), translated from the Norwegian by Tiina Nunnally.

Set in 14th century Norway, the book follows Kristin through her childhood and adolescence. Kristin is the eldest surviving child of well-to-do farmers, both pious Christians. She’s an obedient young woman, careful to mind her parents, her friend the priest, and eventually the nuns she meets when she spends a year living in a convent. If she is not overjoyed when her father arranges her betrothal to a young man named Simon, neither is she upset…not until she meets Erlend Nikulausson, a man whose reputation is already in tatters for having fathered two children with his married mistress. From the moment Kristin meets Erlend, all thoughts of Simon fly out of her head.

I loved this book in college when I read it for a class on women and religion. I still love it for the way Undset puts women’s lives front and center. Her treatment of sexuality, desire, the medieval Catholic church, and family makes for outstanding historical fiction, and eventually led to her winning the Nobel Prize in Literature.

But I have no patience for Erlend, who reminds me of Anatole Kuragin, who vies with Napoleon for being the biggest asshole in War and Peace. When I was younger, I admired Kristin for her impetuous affair. I wanted her to follow her heart. I’m still a fan of true love, but in my middle age, I am out of patience for men who behave badly. I’m not mad at Kristin but I am officially over Erlend, who was old enough and experienced enough to know better. Men who think with their dicks, nor caring who they hurt? This is not romantic.

The books are outstanding works of literature, and I recommend them highly, but I’m not going to reread books two and three. I done with you, Erlend. It’s over.