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The Saga of Jon the Storyteller

By Fianna MacGregor

There is a cove on the southernmost coast of Iceland, where an old man named Jon sells fish to the local villagers. He sets out nets and traps as soon as the smallest drop of light springs onto the horizon. By early afternoon he has pulled his boat onto the shore and begun to haggle with the men and women who come to buy his catch. He does this every day of the year except Christmas. He’s been a part of the cove for 25 years.  

I met him when I was visiting a friend in a neighboring town. She knew of him because he had a reputation as an abrasive old character who, although he never cheated anyone, delighted in arguing with everyone he came in contact with. The local villagers had become used to him and actually found him kind of lovable. So I just had to meet him.

At first we just stood back and watched his antics. The buyers engaged in heated arguments with him over the prices that I felt certain would come to blows, then would walk away smiling after settling on a price and making their purchases. He enjoyed the fun of haggling and had been known to give better prices to people who challenged him the most. We watched for about an hour. Periodically, he glanced in our direction with a heavy scowl. Elisabet was telling me all of the background information, like who he disliked, who he liked and who he had been pining for. It was like watching a soap opera.

When everyone else had gone, we walked over. Before I could say anything, he barked, “What do you want?” in heavily accented English. I was taken aback. How did he know I was not from Iceland and that my first language was English? I looked down at my clothes and figured it must be the jeans and tennis shoes that gave me away. 

He laughed deep and loud at my astonishment. “You don’t want fish, eh? You’ll want a story, then.” We actually had come to buy fish just to try some of the local dishes in addition to watching the show, but I had to admit, I could use a good story. He sat down on the damp sand and motioned for us to do the same.

Then he started a choppy and humorous telling of the Saga of Grettir the Strong. Later when I read the original form of this saga I realized what an exceptional storyteller Jon was. His intonation and added snippets made the story decidedly more interesting. After about two hours the saga was over and Jon stood. He handed me a small lumpfish and waved us away. Tears had welled up in his eyes.

It was at that moment that I realized how Icelanders saw themselves. People who live outside Iceland think only of fishermen and farmers stuck on a frozen but beautiful rock. But these people are descended from hardy Viking stock. They’ve carved a nation for themselves exactly as the Americans had done in North America.  There were no maps and trails on the island when they arrived, and the terrain was dangerous. But they persevered and thrived. After all they had been Norsemen and Celts, peoples not known for weakness. 

Later, the island belonged to Denmark, but like the U.S., Icelanders overcame imperialist rule and now govern themselves. Their sagas reflect the bravery and fortitude necessary to overcome hardship. And they are proud of their heritage. Like our tales of Daniel Boone, Grettir the Strong stands out as someone to be proud of. They see themselves in the sagas that they tell.

I dropped the fish into the basket we had brought along and started to climb the slope to the road. I turned around to find Jon watching us.  He waved and smiled.  It was an invitation to return for more. I did come back several times over the next two weeks and learned more Icelandic history. But while I was away from the cove doing other things, I recognized why Jon felt compelled to tell me the stories of his people.  Like so many other countries, Iceland is being turned into an Americanized version of itself. The tourists that come from the U.S. are there to find the adventure and wilderness that is disappearing in America. 

Most Icelanders speak English now to cater to the tourist trade that brings in more money than most of their homegrown industries. Young people dream about going to America for college or high paying jobs.  And the histories are being forgotten. Jon had told me his stories because he saw me as one of the American people that came to change his homeland.  He wanted me to know about the people that I was ruining. 

Most people who visit Iceland are unaware of the rich literary tradition in this isolated country. Not only do the sagas teach of the history of the people and the land of Iceland but today dozens of authors call Iceland their home. In 1955, Halldor Laxness won the Nobel Prize for Literature. His novels are rich tapestries that weave stories of men and women who think, and therefore act, differently than Americans.  With over 60 novels to his credit, Laxness propelled Iceland into the international literary arena.  And like the original sagas of his people, his novels introduce us to people that overcome hardship and find love.  His characters are as real and wonderful as the Icelandic people themselves.

Jon didn’t know that I was there to see the Icelandic people as they were before the American influence, that I was there to document recipes and traditions. He saw me as an outsider determined to make him more like me, so I said very little in our visits. I listened to the stories and shared drinks with him, trying to make myself more like him. I will go back to that little cove someday and visit Jon again. Hopefully he will still be fighting with the villagers. And though he is intent on telling me all the sagas of his land, I will always tell the Saga of Jon the Storyteller when I want to inform people of the history of Iceland.

Fianna MacGregor is owner and publisher of the art zine, Fish Eating a Cheeseburger and the food zine, The Mad Hatter’s Table.  She travels regularly and seeks out the unusual wherever she goes. In 2005, she will embark on the adventure of a lifetime: She is building a boat and plans to sail around the world.  She will visit Iceland first.