Reykjavik Requiem (2018)

This is the third of the trilogy which already comprises the highly-acclaimed Bloodhoof and Drápa. In all three poetic sequences, the poet employs the archaic form of the saga to conjure up razor-sharp dark and bewildering images of the fates of women in a world where the boundaries between life and death and what lies beyond are unclear. In this particular sequence, Gerdur Kristny gives a voice to a woman whose story was one that society was not ready to hear at the time, a woman who was abused as a child but who committed suicide before her own account of what had taken place was published. At its heart is the very notion of articulation, of how our language and culture determine what stories we can tell and what words we can use.

• Nominated for the Icelandic Literary Prize 2018
• The Icelandic Booksellers’ Prize for poetry 2018
• Nominated for the Maistjarnan Poetry Award 2019

This is the third of the trilogy which already comprises the highly-acclaimed

“‘Reykjavik Requiem’ is a trenchant, long, narrative poem which is divided into five sections. Each section is written in sparse form using short stanzas. Brevity completely complements the theme of this work, which is exquisitely incisive and succinct, pared and honed with razor-sharp imagery. White space on each page allowed my mind to wander about each turn of events at the turning of each page, acutely aware that the speaker of this poem did not have the luxury of a voice. Her fate is revealed necessarily quickly in the text, like catching breath in the cold. It is Christmas:

This compelling book is spellbinding, and I read all of it in one evening initially, completely immersed in its essential content. On subsequent slower readings we discover more of what the poet says about language and its limitations. For instance the second section’s prelude tells the reader that, in Persian,

This poem continues hauntingly, softly stirring and awaking the dead in a shocking and arresting way; one verse explains that ‘Ása has a leather strap’ (where Ása is presumed to be the name of an abuser):

The speaker, gently keening, describes the burial-cairn and then the bitterest of tastes. Kristny’s imagery never fails to cut deeply: