There are 450 poems, songs, charms, prayers, and laments in "The Great Bear," organized in thematic sections such as "The Cosmos," "Hunting," and "Healing." All of the entries are presented in both the original language and English, with a scholarly introduction to each thematic section. This collection from the Oxford University Press represents the oral tradition of fifteen peoples scattered across Northern Europe from Scandinavia, deep into Russia and beyond the Urals, and of the Hungarians in Central Europe.

There are extensive footnotes that illuminate the tradition and meaning of the entries, some of which are fragments of larger, lost works. It is interesting to read a poem such as "To the Coffin-Makers," and then turn to the commentary that explains Karelian burial traditions:

"...The need to use timber from trees in which birds had not rested or sung (cf. II. 9-10) reflects a belief in soul-birds. It was essential to avoid upsetting the deceased---should he or she return in the form of a bird---by felling trees in which the soul might one day wish to rest."

One of the more recondite marriage traditions among the Finnish, Karelian, and Estonian peoples involved teasing the prospective bride and bride-groom: "The theme of seeking the best bride and finding the worst is a central feature....of the bride-teasing poems [that] were customarily sung by the groom's relatives at his home." Here are a few lines from "Teasing the Bride:"

"Listen, precious brother's son/ if you could but have taken an apple from higher boughs/ from the top of other trees!/...Attendants, you maid's brothers:/ take this away when you go/ the one you brought when you came!/ Don't take her along the road--/ take her over the big swamp!/ If you take her by the road/ even horses will stampede/ horseflies will take to their heels..."

The oral tradition of our ancestors was often somber. It often attempted to explain our symbiosis with the natural and spiritual world. However, it could also be joyous. It could make people laugh.

I think we've neglected the humorous, celebratory side of song-making and poetry in our modern world. "The Great Bear" reminds us that poems and songs were meant to reflect all facets of our humanity, not just grief, longing, and pain.

Elias Lönnrot (1802-84) was a district health officer and amateur scholar stationed in northeastern Finland in the late 1820s who became passionately interested in the folklore of his people. Influenced by the Romantic conception of folk culture as the repository of national identity, Lönnrot spent years studying and recording the ancient Finnish oral epic, the "Kalevala", which he published in 1835 in a famous edition and revised over the next fifteen years. In 1840-41 he followed this up with the publication of a companion work, the "Kanteletar", a collection of lyrics and ballads also drawn from the Finnish oral tradition. Meaning literally "zither-daughter", the "Kanteletar" is made up of poems originally sung over the zither by a bard (or 'laulaja' in Finnish). Although the book is hardly known outside Finland, Keith Bosley's translation for Oxford World's Classics is excellent and the first one in English.

As Bosley points out, the Finnish lyric tradition is one of the oldest still extant. Most Finnish folksongs sung today are so-called "later songs" (that is, both the lyrics and the tunes came to Finland since the start of the Middle Ages, mostly from Sweden). Yet what is unique about the lyrics and ballads of the "Kanteletar" is that they date from a much earlier period. These poems are part of the so-called "Kalevala" tradition brought by the Finns from their home in Central Asia well over a thousand years ago and that survived the longest in eastern Finland (where Lönnrot worked) and the Russian borderlands. Sung to simpler, usually five-note tunes, the "Kanteletar" lyrics also had a rythym all their own.

Most of the "Kanteletar" poems are very somber and sing of love spurned or the woes of life. But others are surprisingly comic, like "The Origin of Beer" or "Spinster". "Churchgoers" is worth quoting in full:

"A tip-tap of shoes / a clip-clop of leather shoes: / the girls are coming to church / twinkling to the gallery. / They tear open their bosom / they wrench out their books / from which they intone a hymn / and read beautiful verses. / A clatter of clogs / a rattle of birchbark shoes: / the boys are coming to church / rowdily up the church hill / flasks of booze beneath their coats / jugs of beer under their arms. / The book is not in their minds / nor are the priest's best sermons: / in their minds the girls lie down / in their hearts they kindle fire." (I apologize for my ignorance of HTML!).

The ballads at the end of the book have interested scholars more than the lyrics, above all the "Ballad of the Virgin Mary," a ballad from the Orthodox eastern Finns, and the grim "Elina", the tale of a jealous husband who burns his wife to death.

In short, this a great way to get to know Finnish folk literature. If you enjoyed the "Kalevala", you'll love the "Kanteletar".

There's a lot less bloodletting in this epic than in many mythic-legendary works. But -- what a lot of frustration, inhospitality, and breakage! Boats jam, people lie, an heroic expedition to the North is a flop. You won't find any great romances here, but a number of maidens who would druther not leave home (especially undesirable if the prospective husband is a "nook-haunter" -- an old man). A suitor might perform all the tasks the girl's mother demands, and after doing the impossible, he doesn't get to marry her even so. Heroes arrive in a village to be sent on from one house to the next in an unfriendly manner. A quest for fire leads to calamitous accidental conflagrations. Quests don't end in dazzling triumphs; the great quest-object for this epic ends up plopping into the sea and being broken. This is indeed the epic of the "luckless lands of the North."

Especially powerful are the cantos about that scary young punk Kullervo. Where else in traditional literature is there such a portrait of a kid born to make everyone miserable before he takes his own life?

It's not all dour stuff, to be sure. There are a number of passages in which the words practically writhe off the page as the lines describe tingling, squirming magical growing. There's some humor.

The work is suffused with an earthy quality. It's not ambrosia and nectar we have here, but fish to eat, home-brewed beer to drink, and plain bread -- sometimes bulked up with bark -- to chew. People wear wool, navigate fogs, get up early to light fires and milk the cows.

It was one of a select few works that C. S. Lewis cited, in his essay "On Science Fiction," as works that provide additions to life. Other things that made the list were Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner, parts of the Odyssey and of Malory's Morte d'Arthur, Peake's Titus Groan, etc.

Interesting list!

This translation seemed to me quite readable.

The Kalevala is one of the greatest (and yet largely unknown) epic poems of all times. Although relatively young when compared to the works of Homer and so forth, this Finnish epic draws deep into Finland's Shamanic heritage and is indeed based off these old myths and legends. It concerns the adventures of Vainamoinen the wise Shaman, his companion Ilmarinen the smith and the bold, young Lemminkainen. Those who have studied Shamanism will already see a Shamanic aspect in the association between Vainamoien and Ilmarinen, for in many cultures smiths and Shamans are linked together. There are many more Shamanic archetypes and beliefs found throughout this book, such as a bear sacrifice which is startlingly similar to that observed amongst the Ainu and Lapps of recent times. This book, perhaps the only real direct source of Finnish mythology and religion, explores an oft neglected culture. After all, any school child can tell you of the myths of the Greeks, Romans or Germanic peoples, yet the mythology and heroes of Finland have remained largely unknown. A real pity as this epic is filled with deciet, trechery and heroism which easily could stand beside the works of Homer, Virgil or Valmiki. This translation, perhaps the best available, both for the price and in terms of being generally accessable, is certainly worth owning. Whether you are interested in mythology, history, anthropology, Finland or just like a good story, there is bound to be something in this book which appeals to you.

This sister to the Norse Sagas is the masterwork of Finnish mythology.

In it we follow the three main heroes - the elderly Vainamoinen, wise in everything except love; his brother Ilmarinen, the presumably middle-aged master smith; and Lemminkainen, the reckless young lothario who causes his wife and mother endless headaches but who we like enough anyway that we worry about him when he gets into trouble.

In some ways, it's a product of it's time. This was written in a time when women had no say in who they married; they had no recourse if their husbands were abusive; and they were virtually their mother-in-law's slaves until their younger brother-in-laws or sons got married and they weren't the low women on the totem pole anymore. Althoug Aino's story offers a message about this system, it's pretty much accepted. This is what life was really like at the time these stories were sung.

In other ways, though, it's surprisingly modern. Although the results usually aren't so serious, we've almost all been taken down a peg by an elder like Joukahainen at some point in our lives when we've needed it. I would imagine that many widowers - and widows, for that matter - can relate to Ilmarinen's sense of loss when he loses his wife.

And then there's Kullervo. He wins the all-time teen angst award hands down. It's fascinating how his cycle deals with a question psychologists have grappled with for centuries - are kids taught to be good, or are they just born good or bad? He's a danger to society, yes - but he may also never have had a chance. No matter what you feel about what he does, the scene where he wanders pitifully among his family asking if anyone would cry if he died until he gets what he needs to hear from his mother, can move you to tears. Just read the headlines about the latest school shooting. There really are kids almost this messed up out there.

I was in search of a comprehensive anthology of Finnish poetry, and, in that sense, found this book quite disappointing. The youngest anthologized poets, Claes Andersson and Pentti Saarikoski, were born in 1937. In the preface, the editor states that "an anthologist must stop somewhere: I chose to stop at the latest poet to attract wide international attention". Surely there must be some Finns under 64 years old writing poetry that deserve being anthologized and translated, regardless of fame??? After reading this book, I don't really feel as if I had gained a deeper awareness of Finnish poetical tendencies, or of writers currently active in that country. I believe that some really dismal nineteenth-century pieces, as well as one frankly ugly Futurist poem whose interest can't be other than historical, might have been exchanged by work by younger writers. As it is,there is a gap in the anthology that prevents it from being a sample of Finnish poetry since its beginnings. Also, I would have appreciated more biographical info on the featured poets.
On the purely aesthetical side, bravo to Bloodaxe Books for a nice edition (the painting on the cover is superb). It's a pity that the contents were not as satisfying.