The Story of Kullervo

[Jamie123]

I mentioned this book a few months ago, when I was prattling about the statistics of Finnish.

I started reading it then, but was initially put off by its weirdness (swans are people!) but I tried again last week and finished it in a couple of days. So here’s my “book report”:

It’s a question of expectation: if you want to read it (or the Kalevala, on which it is based) be prepared for weirdness - what Tolkien himself called “luxuriant animism” – and just go with it. Don’t expect it to make much more sense than Alice in Wonderland. In one part of the Kalevala beer talks, threatening to burst out of its own barrels if its taste is not sufficiently praised!

The story: (Spoilers coming up…)

We start with a family of swans living in the marshes of Finland. One of the cygnets, Kalervo, is carried off by a bird of prey to a place where he becomes a successful farmer. His brother Untamo, who remained with his mother, covets Kalervo’s possessions (Kalervo and Untamo have by now unaccountably become human) and sends hired ruffians to attack his brother. Kalervo is killed, and his wife and children are taken as slaves. Kalervo’s wife is pregnant and presently gives birth to twins: Kullervo (the main protagonist) and his sister Wanona.

Kullervo quickly grows big and strong, but nobody likes him much except his sister who becomes his only friend. Even Kullervo’s mother is not overfond of him, though she does give him his father’s knife as an heirloom. Untamo puts Kullervo to work, but finds he much too strong for ordinary tasks and ruins everything. Untamo tries three times to kill him, but is foiled each time by the intervention of Kalervo’s magical dog Musti (who has hidden in the forest since his master’s death). Eventually Untamo rids himself of Kullervo by taking him to a distant land and selling him to a smith named Asemo.

Asemo hands Kullervo over to his wife, who sends him into the fields to tend her cattle. She is not a very nice woman. One day (just to be a b***h) she gives him a cake with a stone baked in it, hoping he will break his teeth. He cuts the cake with his father’s knife and breaks the tip on the stone. Furious, he summons wolves and bears of the forest to kill his mistress’ cattle. He then disguises them as cows and then leads them to the farm. When they arrive Asemo’s wife attempts to milk them, but they attack her. She calls to Kullervo for help, promising to be nicer to him in future, but he replies: “there is room enough in Hell for thee!” And so she dies.

Kullervo prepares to return home, determined to kill Untamo and avenge his father. He receives advice from a “blue robed lady of the forest” who warns him to stay away from a particular wooded mountain. Kullervo ignores her. On the mountain he meets a beautiful girl with whom he makes love. Afterwards he tells her of his parentage, but in the middle of the tale she jumps up runs from him. She throws herself into a waterfall and drowns.

Sad and puzzled, Kullervo continues his quest to kill Untamo. He summons an army of bears and wolves and attacks the village, killing everyone including his mother and siblings and even the dog Musti. As he stands over Untamo’s butchered body, his mother’s ghost appears. She tells him that the girl on the mountain was his sister Wanona (whom he had not recognised due to the passage of time), thus revealing the reason for her suicide. Kullervo returns to the waterfall, but feels he is unworthy to drown in the same pool as she. His sword speaks to him, saying that if it took pleasure in killing the evil Untamo, it will take more still in killing one who has slain his own innocent mother. (Mothers were supremely respected in Finnish culture; to kill your own mother is practically deicide.) Filled with remorse, Kullervo stabs himself and dies.

There are two other segments to the book: a lecture by Tolkien himself on the Kalevala (a rough draft and a polished version – it’s worth reading both) and an essay by Verlyn Flieger on the relationship between the original Kullervo (from the Kalevala), Tolkien’s Kullervo and the stories of the Silmarillion (notably the unwitting incest in The Children of Hurin and the talking dog Huan in Beren and Luthien*) Though interesting, this last part will appeal mostly to the Tolkien uber-geeks (and semi-geeks like me). It won’t mean much to those who have only read The Lord of the Rings.

After reading the story and the essays, I’m not surprised Finnish has such a monstrous vocabulary. Each character seems to have many different names: Kullervo for example is sometimes called Kuli, Sari or Sakehonto, and the narrator switches between these without explanation. From the essays we learn that Finnish (or at least the eastern Finnish in which the poems were originally written) is very fluid in its grammar. It contains many nonsense words inserted purely for poetic effect. And (here’s something that was entirely new to me!) the metre of the poetry** was the model for Longfellow’s Hiawatha. (Tolkien comes close to saying Hiawatha is a wholesale rip-off of the Kalevala, and is much more Finnish than Native American.)

*It’s years since I read it, but I recall the earlier version of Beren and Luthien (from the Book of Lost Tales) also features a monstrous talking cat, who is Huan’s evil counterpart. This character eventually evolved into Sauron.

**The original Kalevala is written entirely in verse. Tolkien’s version is mostly prose, with a few of the original verses inserted. It’s also worth noting that although it is called “the national epic of Finland” it is not an ancient document: it was first written down by Elias Lonnrot in the early 19^th Century, based on folk tales he had collected from the villages of eastern Finland. Its publication coincided with one of Longfellow’s visits to Europe.

Edited September 15, 2024 by Jamie123
Grammar OCD (dangling preposition)

[Vort]

42 minutes ago, Jamie123 said:

It’s also worth noting that although it is called “the national epic of Finland” it is not an ancient document: it was first written down by Elias Lonnrot in the early 19^th Century, based on folk tales he had collected from the villages of eastern Finland.

How is its metrical quality and structure so well known if it's a completely oral tradition first written down only the 19th century? Has any attempt beem made to capture various poetic versions?

[zil2]

Are Americans the only ones capable of composing stories with happy endings?

PS: I tried mightily to resist making a joke about being finished with the Finnish story.  This PS is the best I could manage....

[Vort]

3 minutes ago, zil2 said:

I tried mightily to resist making a joke about being finished with the Finnish story.  This PS is the best I could manage....

"Finland" = "fen land". I learned something new and valuable today.

[Jamie123]

5 minutes ago, Vort said:

How is its metrical quality and structure so well known if it's a completely oral tradition first written down only the 19th century? Has any attempt beem made to capture various poetic versions?

Interesting question - I don't know. I suppose Lonnrot must have written down the ballads more or less as he heard them. I don't suppose he'd have had much reason to change the metrical structures of the originals. But I don't know how we would test this. Maybe the oral traditions that Lonrott sampled have continued in remote areas of Finnland, and comarisons could be made. It would be interesting fo find out. 

[Jamie123]

I've been thinking over the last day or two: all humans tell stories. Stories are important to all of us. Look at the fiction section in any public library, or any bookshop. Every movie tells a story. Some songs tell stories. Paintings often tell stories. Jokes often take the form of stories. Stories are important to all humanity. There is no culture on earth (as far as I know) that does not tell stories. But who started it? Who invented the idea of a story? And what was the first story ever told? (I don't mean the first time a caveman told his fellows which direction to hunt the brontosaurus. I mean the first story invented as a story. To entertain and inspire and thrill an audience.)

And do other species tell stories? We know that bees tell each other where the nectar's to be found - but that's a strict necessity for survival, not a recreation or an art form. Or is it only that? If ony we could understand their buzzing, would we hear the exploits of ancient bee heroes? What Jasons and Ulyssess* and Beowulfs might there be of the bee world?

P.S. Now I think about it, Richard Adams anticipated this question in hs novel Watership Down. (At least as far as rabbits go - I've no idea what he thought about bees!) In case you haven't read it, its about a heroic band of rabbits and their society, which has a mythology centering around around the rabbit hero/god El-ahrairah. El-ahrairah is a trickster who shares much in common with Brer Rabbit and Loki. His adventures inspire the characters to use their own cunning to overcome adversity.

P.P.S. Irrelevant bad taste joke: "Watership Down: You've read the book! You've seen the film! Now try...the pie!"

Edited September 16, 2024 by Jamie123

[Vort]

12 hours ago, Jamie123 said:

I've been thinking over the last day or two: all humans tell stories.

It seems to me that our modern Western stories as told on television and in movies tend to center around sexual conquest and revenge. That latter one, especially, is a harbinger of our downfall.