Jón Kalman Stefánsson’s 'Heaven and Hell' explores words and survival

The Icelandic novel, newly released in North America, blends poetic prose with a harrowing tale of life at sea.

Illustration by Kampee Patisena

By Novanka Laras and Sarah Oktaviany

Heaven and Hell, by Jón Kalman Stefánsson

William Wordsworth once wrote, “Every great and original writer must himself create the taste by which he is to be relished.” This sentiment perfectly encapsulates the work of Icelandic author Jón Kalman Stefánsson. His 2008 novel Heaven and Hell, now published in North America for the first time, invites readers into a world both stark and lyrical, where survival and literature intertwine in unexpected ways.

Set in a remote Icelandic fishing village, the novel takes place in an unspecified historical period, likely the late 19th century. The town is harsh and unforgiving, with its inhabitants little more than names on worn gravestones. The landscape is as bleak as the lives of its people, where men are defined by their labor and beards are so integral to their identity that shaving would render them half a man.

Yet amidst this austere setting, Heaven and Hell introduces an anomaly: Bardur, a fisherman captivated by literature. He devours an 1828 translation of John Milton’s Paradise Lost, much to the bewilderment of his fellow seafarers. For them, poetry is as impractical as it is unnecessary. A sea captain who values verse as much as fish is, in their eyes, a contradiction. Accompanying Bardur on a small six-man fishing boat—known as a "sixereen"—is his closest friend, simply referred to as "the boy," along with their stoic skipper Petur and three other crewmates.

A unique narrative style that immerses the reader

What sets Heaven and Hell apart is Stefansson’s distinct narrative voice. His prose, beautifully rendered in Philip Roughton’s translation, is fluid and hypnotic. It mirrors the storytelling style of fellow Norwegian author Jon Fosse, characterized by long, meandering sentences rich with recurring themes. A single passage can seamlessly shift perspectives, zooming from the smallest details of a room to the vastness of the sea outside.

For example, one evocative sentence reads:

The stove heats the loft, it’s cozy here, the evening condenses against the windows, the wind strokes the rooftop, Gvendur and Einar chew tobacco, rock in their seats, sigh well and mmm hmm alternately, the paraffin lamp gives a good light and makes the evening outside darker than it is, the more light, the more darkness, that’s the way of the world.

This lyrical approach immerses readers in the novel’s world, making even simple moments feel profound. Stefansson’s writing transforms ordinary observations into poetic reflections on existence, balancing beauty with an ever-present undercurrent of existential dread.

The power of words and their consequences

Despite its setting in a rugged fishing community, Heaven and Hell is ultimately a novel about words—their power, their limitations, and their necessity for truly living. This theme is best exemplified in the pivotal moment when Bardur forgets to bring his waterproof suit aboard the boat. The reason? He was too engrossed in Paradise Lost.

What follows is a gripping sequence of escalating tension, as Bardur fights the brutal cold by punching himself to stay warm while the ship battles through an ice-laden storm. This moment of poetic obsession leading to life-threatening consequences recalls similar literary scenes, such as Ian McEwan’s Saturday, where a violent robber is momentarily disarmed by a reading of Matthew Arnold’s Dover Beach.

Bardur’s fate triggers the second half of the novel, in which the boy embarks on a journey filled with uncertainty. The narrative expands beyond the sea and into the village, introducing new characters and exploring the town’s rigid social structures. It is here that the novel shifts focus, revealing the simmering tensions of power and love that shape daily life.

A meditation on life, death, and literature

Scattered throughout Heaven and Hell are philosophical musings on existence:

To live is to question.
Death … is the great uncertainty.
We might not need words to survive, but we do need words to live.

Stefansson’s prose suggests that while survival may depend on practical necessities like food and shelter, true living requires something deeper—stories, language, and connection. One character recalls attending a Charles Dickens reading, while another believes he owns William Wordsworth’s coffee mug. These literary artifacts, real or imagined, serve as lifelines in a world where hardship is constant.

The beginning of a larger journey

For those enchanted by Heaven and Hell, there is good news: the novel is the first in a trilogy. Stefansson’s saga continues beyond this first volume, offering more opportunities to immerse in his dreamlike prose and philosophical storytelling.

As Stefansson masterfully demonstrates, words possess the power to elevate even the harshest realities. His novel challenges the notion that survival is enough, suggesting instead that true fulfillment lies in language, literature, and the stories we tell ourselves.

For readers willing to surrender to Stefansson’s spellbinding prose, Heaven and Hell is an unforgettable journey into the depths of human existence—one where the sea is merciless, but words still offer hope.