This book combines studies of medieval-Icelandic hagiographic texts and the more celebrated saga texts. The author argues that there was a creative interplay between saint´s lives and the sagas throughout the saga-writing period, and that this had an impact on the development of the form of the saga narrative. Thus, the sagas were not produced in a literary vacuum, but there was a dialogue between the image of the saga heroes and the ideological splendor of the saints. Grønlie uses a polysystem theory to analyze the interaction between genres and argues that the theory applies well to the literary situation in medieval Iceland where genres like the saint´s Life are better represented in quantity of manuscripts than vernacular genres that are unique to Iceland (32–36). Polysystem theory, an outgrowth of Russian formalism, has been influential in the discussion of literary genres and can explain the “contamination” between different genres in Medieval Icelandic literature (see Massimiliano Bampi, “Genre,” in The Routledge Research Companion to the Medieval Icelandic Sagas, eds. Ármann Jakobsson and Sverrir Jakobsson, Routledge, 2017: 4–14). This book is an exemplary demonstration of its value.
Although saga heroes were far removed from the ideal image of the saint, they interacted with them in a variety of ways: as ancestors or friends, as noble heathens or converts to Christianity, as innocent victims of violent death, or even as anti-saints, bringing into question aspects of saintly ideology. Grønlie explores how saints' Lives contributed to the widening of medieval horizons, allowing the saga authors to develop multiple perspectives on traditional feud narratives and family dramas. The saint's Life genre introduced new ideals to the saga world, such as suffering, patience, and feminine nurture, and provided, through dreams, visions, and signs, ways of representing the interior life and of engaging with questions of merit and reward. In dialogue with the ideology of the saint, the saga hero developed into a complex and multifaceted figure.
The author finds innovative parallels between saga heroes and saints in some of the most unlikely sagas. In Egils saga Skalla-Grímssonar, notable for the unsaintly and Odinic behavior of the protagonist, there are nevertheless staples from a saint´s Life, such as the translatio at the end of the saga where the bones of Egill are discovered and resemble “a genuine relic” (93), according to the author. She nevertheless notes that in the end, the bones of Egill are moved from the inner center to the outer edge of the churchyard, “reflecting his historical existence on the margins of the Christian world” (93). Hrafnkels saga Freysgoða resembles a Christian exemplum in structure in many ways, although the implementation of the moral is ironic; Hrafnkell´s main antagonist is brought down for being overly merciful toward the protagonist. Hrafnkell himself, however, does not experience any positive change in morals (102). The notable Christian influence on the saga's structure and narrative does not go together with any evident support of Christian ideals.
As argued by the author, the tension between peripheral and central genres resulted in increasing hybridization and the extension of generic repertoires. Grønlie uses the late-twelfth-century work, Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar, as an example of this blending of saint´s life with heroic epic. The saga becomes a way of challenging orthodox forms of sanctity and affirms local and unconventional perceptions of saintly values. The insertion of skaldic poetry into the prose narrative made the king even more like a warlord than an ideal saint (67–76). The sagas of some of the Icelandic bishops, for instance Guðmundr Arason, share this hybridity with the Norwegian king´s sagas, they are “not quite saint´s lives” (259).
In Njáls saga, the most celebrated work of its genre, traditional and innovative material is blended as the feuds and conflicts of the saga world are infused with a radically different system of signification, that of Christian eschatology. The victims become martyrs, there are frequent references to jartegnir (miracles, signs), and the sinners expiate themselves with crosses and other Christian signs. According to Grønlie, “(t)he saga makes use of hagiography to create an eschatological framework, to find ways of signifying a reality that is unseen, eternal, which lies beyond the usual scope of saga narrative. Christianity is not, as is sometimes argued, opposed to violence and feuding in the saga; but it does change the meaning of such things” (149). Although this argument has some precedents, especially in the work of Lars Lönnroth (see in particular, Njáls saga: A Critical Introduction [University of California Press, 1976]), the evidence and reasoning offered in this volume make the case more compelling and harder to refute.
Another strength of the work is the comparison between the outlaws in the sagas and the desert saints. The desert fathers were established models when it came to internal struggle, dreams and visions, demonic attacks and angelic visitations. Through his experience of two dream women, the outlaw Gísli Súrsson gains two contradictory visions of the afterlife and two different versions of who he is in the light of his past deeds (172). In the sagas, as in hagiographies, the wilderness is a place of temptation and renewal, of conversion and revelation, and it brings new values, such as penitential suffering and patient endurance, to the genre (208).
The Saint and the Saga Hero is an innovative and eclectic work which brings new insights into the field of saga literature, through its inventive use of hagiographies as comparative material. It is an important contribution to many aspects of saga studies, not least regarding genre and its liminal and hybrid aspects.
