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Hans Kuhn - Review of Niels Ingwersen, The Scandinavian Magic Tale and Narrative Folklore: A Study in Genres, Themes, and Sources

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The title of this book by a native Dane, who for more than four decades taught in the Scandinavian program of the University of Wisconsin-Madison, gives a rather vague idea of its contents. It is an introduction to (mainly) Norwegian and Danish folk literature, the choice of samples largely dependent on their availability in translation; one ballad, “Sir Ebbe’s Daughters,” is given in an appendix (210 f.). In a short introductory chapter (1–17) he pays tribute to the established doctrine of folklore as performance and fixed records as “inauthentic” (15), but in practice he relies on printed texts, most of them recorded in the nineteenth century, when antiquarian interest combined with nationalist motivation to produce an enormous body of collections. Here he introduces “slip-sliding” as a new term, which he subsequently uses extensively. With that he means the potential for change, for transgressing audience or genre expectations, whether inherent in a tale or as an individual narrator’s variation of traditional material. In the following short chapter (19–32) he deals with “otherness” as a common feature of folk literature, usually in the form of supernatural beings or persons with supernatural abilities, but also as people on the margin of established farming communities (as the Scandinavian countries then still largely were) and perceived as evil or as a threat, but also, more speculatively, as “otherness” in the individual, as darkness, passion, a potential for evil (like the proverbial evil stepmother).

In the following, more substantial, chapters he goes through the main narrative genres. Chapter 3 (33–68) deals with the magic tale, where he shows some impatience with the happy-end formula (the “togetherness message,” 75) characteristic of this large group and blames it on “bourgeois” expectations and prescriptions; he shows a preference for “darker” and lustier variants. Ingwersen comes from the study of literature and delights in ambiguities (even though he does not distinguish seven types, as Empson did). Also, he follows Alan Dundes and his own countryman Bengt Holbek in postulating meaning, rather than form, as the task of folktale research—as if narratologists have indulged in nothing other than “taxonomy,” which in his usage becomes a faintly derogatory term. Folktales, like Icelandic sagas, speak through action and dialogue; literary scholars look for evidence of ideas and ideologies, of feelings and inner developments (he draws Hansen, Kierkegaard, and Shakespeare into the discussion). So the author keeps trying to detect Bildung processes in his monosyllabic folktale protagonists and treats Mme. de Beaumont’s literary description of the Beast’s feelings as if it were a genuine folktale (42). On the structural side, Vladimir Propp’s scheme is duly accounted for, but the author postulates primary and secondary moves and claims that the latter are less “formulaic,” with a greater potential for ambiguity and slip-sliding; this reviewer found his graphic schemes (40, 45, 56) not very helpful. He calls the breaking of taboos a “felix culpa,” which makes the hero/ine more active and mature. What he basically does, is psychologize the tales, which involves, as he himself admits, a lot of conjecture.

Chapter 4 (69–116) is devoted to the jocular tale, which he insists, on Paul Rubow’s authority, on calling “fabliau,” a term originally designating farcical verse tales in Old French. In their “immorality” (the largest group are trickster tales) he sees a reflection of harsher times, when for the downtrodden survival mattered more than goodness, the mark of the magic-tale hero. He detects a lot of carnivalesque criticism of authority, especially priests; Bakhtin, with his “dialectic” or “polyphonic” discourse, proves a powerful influence throughout the book. As in chapter 2, the bulk of the material is Norwegian; he likes the lively and breezy style of the Asbjørnsen and Moe collection, which set the tone for folksy narration in that country. Less attention is given to Ashlad (Askeladden), the young rogue (82), than to active and independent young women such as Mastermaid (Mestermøy, 72–81), a cousin of the magic-tale heroine Mop Head (Lurvehette, 53–60). He wishes to reserve the term Schwankmärchen for jocular tales with a happy ending, and while the purpose of the fabliau is still laughter, it is laughter of a gleeful or cynical kind.

In chapter 5 (117–159) Ingwersen goes to some length arguing that the “slippery” legend cannot be defined or subdivided. He considers its sober, factual style a shortcoming, which he illustrates with “Habor and Signe” as recorded by Thiele (124 ff.). About ten pages (127–137) are spent on what he himself calls “a meandering analysis” of “The Mass of the Dead” as a view of the dead in conflict with the Christian view, and much space (133–144) is also given to stories about huldre (the invisible people) shown as “the other” with surprisingly human qualities. Legends implying a belief in fate are also seen as antagonistic to Christianity (154–158), although there appears little difference between people accepting death or tragedy as fate or as God’s will.

Chapter 6 (161–193) deals with “the bleak—and beautiful—vision of the ballad” as folk narratives in verse form, and here translations can only give a faint idea of the originals. They share bleakness (most end in death or loneliness; the ones the authors presents in some detail are Types 194 “Sir Ebbe’s daughters,” 25 “The avenging sword,” 354 “Ebbe Skammelsen,” and 33 “Germand Gladenswain”) and beauty with tragedy, which otherwise is not a feature of folk narrative.

In the concluding chapter 7 (195–210), he discusses how “happiness” or “survival,” as outcomes of the narratives, affect the different genres. On the last few pages, he is “sparring” (209) with Susan Sontag over her essay “Against Interpretation” (1961) and thinks that his own “penchant for analysis” would not be condemned by her (“carefully and slyly I avoid the term interpretation”, 207), and he ends with the hope that his study will be “a testimony to a critic’s involvement with the many many-splendored texts that are filled with passionate life” (210).

If this last quotation gives the impression that the text is overwritten, it is entirely correct, not so often in a florid way, as here, as colloquially. Redundant qualifiers abound (exceedingly, inevitably, poignantly, incredibly, and a host of others), and the pages are peppered with of course’s. The reviewer has never come across a less proof-read book. There are numerous misspellings, even in names (Obie 15, Beowolf 196, Nietszche 206, Lönnrot 218), letters or words left out or repeated, ungrammatical sentences, lack of agreement sg./pl., faulty morphology (pl. son’s, 112) and syntax (“the power he is gained”, 183). Punctuation is wayward, hyphen and dash are used indiscriminately. While some odd usages are recognizable Danisms (registry “index,” commentary “comment, note”), some words are hard to figure out. When I recognized illicit (85, 158) as “elicit,” it dawned on me that illusive (21, 172, 178) must mean “elusive” (or possibly “illusionary”?). Is adolation (59) “adulation” or “adoration”? What is anent (182) or a confliceted situation (175)?

The text is very generously spaced, but the author laments the necessity of being brief—while at other times acknowledging his repetitions (“as mentioned before,” repeatedly; “as stated several times,” 208). He is fond of rhetorical questions (“Is this questioning of the tale pushing the envelope?”, 60). The items listed in the Bibliography (223–238) are mainly American and Danish. Recent major publications missing are Uther’s three-volume re-working of The Types of International Folktales (Helsinki 2004) and Sigurd Kværndrup’s massive Den østnordiske ballade (København 2006); Fabula, the leading international journal for folk narrative research, never occurs. Among German-language folktale researchers, Lüthi and Röhrich are mentioned with marginal items, Ranke and Scherf are not. References not accounted for in the Bibliography are Holbek 1982 (6); Fataburen [1967] (25); Boka om Land Vol. 2 (155); Olsen 1912 (157); Billeskov, Jansen, and Mitchell (170); Andersen Vol. 1, 1963 (216). Svøpt i mår (233) has four (not two) volumes and was published 1999–2002 (not 2000). The date (not given) of the Lüthi translation (233) is 1976. Nature: Literature and its Otherness (225) should be listed under “Secondary Sources”; and Sexton, The Complete Poems (236), and Wentzel, Danmarks bedste folkeeventyr (237), under “Primary Sources.” The alphabetical listing is Scandinavian, so we get a sequence Lundgreen - Lykke - Lüthi - Lönnrot.

Because of its flaws, I would hesitate to recommend this book for students. The people most likely to benefit would be fellow teachers of folklore courses, for the author reports at length the reactions of students and lay audiences to his teaching and narrating of tales. Another class of beneficiaries might be the collectors of colorful language or what the Swedes call pekoral, unintended humor or parody. Just three short examples from the ballads chapter to conclude this review: “Such grim humour tends to show its less-than-pleasant teeth in these dark texts” (183); “It is folly to second-guess those distant characters” (190); and “Grim are these ballads” (189).

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[Review length: 1480 words • Review posted on September 1, 2009]