‘They will say “Agnes” and see the spider, the witch caught in the webbing of her own fateful weaving. They might see the lamb circled by ravens, bleating for a lost mother. But they will not see me. I will not be there.’
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Even out of context, her prose gives me chills. This is the fact laced fiction (or ‘speculative biography’) of Agnes Magnúsdóttir, a woman convicted of a double murder and sentenced to death in 19th century Iceland. Burial Rites is a dark and rather grim read but it is so, so beautifully written; Kent’s prose captures all of the bleak, unforgiving beauty of an Icelandic winter as she slowly unravels Agnes’ story for us, piece by piece as we and she try to come to terms with her seemingly sealed fate. Kent doesn’t necessarily ask us to have sympathy for Agnes, but she does raise some poignant questions about the historical misrepresentation of women. It is beautiful, bleak and powerful - much like the country it’s set in.
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This was a fantastic recommendation from a friend of mine that I went into totally blind. When I realised that it was set in Iceland, I found myself wishing I’d read it before I visited the country back in January but actually, I’m so glad I didn’t. Kent’s words transported me back to that impossibly, stunningly desolate, ‘North of the Wall’-esque landscape. Having seen Iceland, having experienced the lack of daylight and the unforgiving cold, I had memories that actually elevated Kent’s prose in a way that I’m not sure I’ve ever really experienced before.