A Tapestry of Nordic Decadence
Barbara Burns talks to Eva Buchwald and Viola Parente-Čapková about their work on L. Onerva, Mirdja: A Decadent New Woman, which has just appeared in the MHRA’s Jewelled Tortoise series.
BB. The genre of Nordic Decadence is probably a new concept for most of us in the English-speaking world. Onerva was Finland’s first notable female poet, a prolific, prize-winning writer of the early twentieth century, but she was a controversial figure in her day. Why is she such an important author, and what are the preoccupations and stylistic features that characterize her work as belonging to the movement of Decadence?
VC. Nordic Decadence is, indeed, a relatively new concept for many, though a good introduction can be found in Nordic Literature of Decadence (2020). Literary movements such as Decadence and Naturalism have traditionally been marginalized within Nordic literary histories, often perceived as incompatible with what were defined as essential features of the so-called Nordic self. These included simplicity, closeness to nature, honesty, sincerity, and a commitment to egalitarianism, qualities that played a significant role in the construction of Finnish national identity.
Only in relatively recent times has there been broader recognition of Decadent elements in the works of various Nordic authors. Within Finnish-language literature, it is remarkable that the novel generally considered the most Decadent, Mirdja, was authored by a woman and has significant feminist implications. Onerva was influenced by artistic trends emanating predominantly from France, with Decadence serving as a major source of inspiration in her early work. She captured the Decadent fascination with paradox, irony, and self-irony, yet at the same time demonstrated an unequivocal commitment to the feminist cause.
BB. A quick look at our history books reminds us that Finland only came into existence as a nation state in 1917, having been for many centuries part of the Swedish realm, and then in the nineteenth century a Grand Duchy within the Russian Empire. In terms of the cultural landscape, Finnish did not begin to develop as a literary language until the late 1800s. At this time of nationalist awakening, was it important to Onerva to promote the nationalist cause, or were her interests more cosmopolitan?
VC. This is an excellent question, and a complex one. In a sense, the answer to both aspects is yes. Onerva belonged to the Finnish-speaking part of Finland’s population (during her youth, Finland was still the Grand Duchy). She was committed to developing the Finnish literary language, also through her work as a translator. She translated extensively from French and other languages, travelled frequently, and spoke or read several languages. Promoting Finnish cultural identity and advancing the Finnish cause – culminating in independence in 1917 – were matters close to her heart. However, she was sharply critical of narrow-minded and culturally ignorant forms of nationalism. She was cosmopolitan, eager to ‘open the windows to Europe’, while remaining aware of her own cultural roots.
Lehtori Kailon suuri sali oli tulvillaan ihmisiä. Kaikki puolueen terävimmät päät olivat kokoontuneet neuvottelemaan pian toimeenpantavan iltaman ohjelmasta. Puuhan etunenässä oli, kuten aina, lehtorin innokas rouva, joka tosiaankin hyvällä omallatunnolla olisi saattanut avata kaikkien jalojen aatteiden yleisen asianajo-toimiston. Mutta sitä hän ei kuitenkaan tehnyt. Hän oli vaatimaton eikä koskaan tuonut esille ansioluetteloaan. Sen tekivät hänen edestään muut ja itsestään oli selvää, että hänelle aina annettiin etusija, kun oli kysymyksessä jonkun uuden yrityksen onnistuminen. Niinpä toimi hän nytkin puheenjohtajana.
BB. Mirdja, published in 1908, was Onerva’s debut novel. In what ways does it grapple with the central question of the position of women in society?
VC. The position of women in society lies at the heart of the novel. I have argued that, in Mirdja, the Decadent mode of the narrative is subverted by feminism, but simultaneously this same Decadent mode undermines the feminist perspective. While this might not appear empowering from a feminist standpoint, it is important to recognize that Decadent novels seldom seek straightforward empowerment. Instead, by highlighting the complexities surrounding gender issues, Onerva raises questions regarding women’s societal roles, the possibility of artistic expression, and more. The novel illustrates both the external constraints women face and the internal inhibitions, which often prove even more debilitating. Onerva’s writing feels strikingly modern, particularly in the way it challenges the artificiality of gender binaries, while also revealing how deeply these binaries structure societal expectations and behaviour.
BB. One of the persistent themes of Onerva’s work seems to be that of childhood trauma and motherlessness: where does this anxiety stem from, and how is it expressed in her writing?
EB. When Onerva was a child, her mother was incarcerated in a mental asylum, which may account for the fact that motherhood/motherlessness are recurring themes in her work. But it is a complex matter, including the individual’s relationship to motherhood, social motherhood, and in the image of the Madonna, universal motherhood. When Mirdja enters a Catholic church, she addresses the ‘mother of God’ and asks whether she has ever seen Mirdja’s mother kneeling at her feet, as if knowing more about her mother’s past could have changed Mirdja’s own fate.
Onerva also explores the meaning of fatherhood – Mirdja feels rootless not so much because her mother died in childbirth but rather because she never knew her father, who died soon afterwards. The theme of motherhood in the novel raises questions about women’s nature and women’s social role, while the theme of fatherhood is related to assumptions about a paternal blood line that marks a person’s identity through heredity. Mirdja fears she has inherited her father’s mental instability and dilettantism and reads her own inescapable destiny in her father’s failings.
VC. I agree with Eva that Onerva’s personal traumas cannot be overlooked, but added to that are the symbolic, intertextual, and social dimensions. Motherhood, matrilineage, and the relationship between creation and procreation were perennial concerns shared by Onerva’s literary foremothers, contemporaries, and successors alike. In the novel, the quest for motherhood – both the search for one’s own mother and the experience of mothering – takes on multiple symbolic meanings. However, it is essential also to read this theme literally, acknowledging its relevance to the lived experiences of women, especially women artists, and their having or not having children.
BB. Eva, you work as a freelance translator and Head of Dramaturgy at the Finnish National Theatre, and Viola, you are Professor of Finnish Literature at the University of Turku. What brought the two of you together for this project, and how did your different professional backgrounds enrich your perspective?
EB. Viola approached me a few years ago with the proposition of producing a scholarly edition of Mirdja, for which I would provide the translation and she the critical materials. I was thrilled with the idea as Mirdja had been one of the highlights of my course when I was a student of Finnish language and literature at the School of Slavonic and Eastern European Studies (University of London) back in the 1980’s. I first encountered Viola when we were studying in Helsinki, and we both ended up leaving our native countries to settle in Finland. We live in different cities, so our paths haven’t crossed much in the intervening decades, but we share a passion for Finnish Decadence and Symbolism, for the women writers of the period, and especially for Onerva’s irony. It was a pleasure to collaborate on this project, and to have Viola’s invaluable knowledge of the novel during the translation process.
VC. I first read Eva’s doctoral thesis, in which she discusses Mirdja, while I was studying at SSEES in London during the 1990s. I was already working on Onerva, and reading Eva’s interpretation felt like encountering a kindred spirit’s perspective on the novel. I greatly admired her work, so I was delighted when I later had the opportunity to meet her personally in Finland. Throughout my years researching Onerva, international colleagues frequently asked me if this ‘fascinating novel’, Mirdja, had been translated into English. I received a lot of encouragement and support from Melanie Hawthorn and Stefano Evangelista who welcomed Mirdja into the Jewelled Tortoise Series. I was thrilled when Eva agreed to take on the translation task, and our collaboration has been wonderful. Even though I thought I knew the novel inside and out, Eva’s remarkable insights have allowed me to discover new dimensions of Mirdja.
BB. What were the most challenging aspects of this project?
EB. Onerva’s prose is rich in linguistic and literary motif, her sentences are often structurally complex and her vocabulary is ornate. Her expression shifts from bold irony to feverish lyricism to detached observation. This elaborate tapestry of stylistic nuance demands detailed, precise work from the translator. The author also makes numerous references to literature, art, music, and philosophy, all of which must be identified in order to do them justice in translation. Onerva is also known for creating her own words and expressions. So translating the novel was no small feat, but the challenges of capturing the power, poetry and originality of Onerva’s language and thought are also ultimately the work’s greatest rewards.
VC. For me, it was challenging to condense everything I wanted to say about the author and her work into the space available. I had to keep reminding remind myself that my task was to focus on what readers of this English scholarly edition would need to know, a decision which is, nevertheless, inevitably subjective. This subjectivity becomes particularly evident in the timeline and the contextualization of the author’s life and work. The process became easier when I decided to emphasize the context provided by other women writers who were engaging with the Decadent mode in different European countries.
BB. At the end of your volume, you include a couple of contemporary reviews of Mirdja which illustrate how critical opinions were divided at the time. How have attitudes to Onerva’s writing changed over the years, and where would you position her today in the broader context of the European Decadence movement?
VC. Onerva has occupied a ‘grey zone’ within the literary canon: she was never excluded but remained at its margins, overshadowed – like many women writers before and after her – by her male partners, the poet Eino Leino and the composer Leevi Madetoja. Although a few twentieth-century critics recognized her significance as a writer engaging with Decadent aesthetics and Nietzschean thought, it is only recent scholarship, which combines Gender Studies with fresh comparative perspectives on Decadence and fin-de-siècle literature and culture, that has illuminated Onerva’s importance within the broader European Decadent movement.
BB. Finally, how would you sum up what this collaborative volume achieves and what you hope its legacy might be?
EB. I am simply very happy that this collaboration brings Onerva’s work to an English-speaking audience. I hope it will find a readership among both scholars and the general public, as I think it is easy to identify with the heroine’s quest for her identity even today. As one reviewer remarked a few years ago, Mirdja is the epitome of a young woman in today’s selfie-driven world. She mirrors herself in others, is constantly looking for likes and attention, but more than anything, she fears being seen for what she is: an ordinary, living-breathing-feeling, splintered human being.
VC. For me, the critical edition of Eva’s translation of Mirdja is a dream come true. I hope it will enrich scholarship on Decadence by demonstrating that some of the most intriguing Decadent works remain undiscovered or underappreciated, existing in countries and languages far beyond Britain and France. This edition has the potential to broaden university curricula in Comparative Literature, Decadence Studies, Finnish Studies, and Gender Studies. Several colleagues have already expressed interest in including more ‘unconventional’ Decadent texts or ‘complex women writers’ in their courses on Decadence or the history of women’s literature. I hope our book will help bring the writings of ‘Decadent women’, as well as other fin-de-siècle female authors, to greater prominence. Their works – filled with contradictions, discords, and disharmonies – continue to fascinate, unsettle, and resonate deeply with contemporary readers.
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