Hvað heitir þú/Kirkjugarður (What are you called/Cemetery)

Mjög goðan daginn,

I live a block away from one of Iceland’s most famous cemeteries: Hólavallagarður. This is a very special place in Reykjavík and indeed anywhere in Iceland. The cemetery itself is about a city block on each side, and is densely packed with many burials that span about 150 years. Some of Iceland’s most famous artists are interred here, along with shopkeepers, clerics and teachers. Along with the honoured dead are numerous trees. In fact, the cemetery is as much a place to bury the dead as it is a wood or forest. It is not unusual in the United States to plant large cemeteries with trees, but here in Iceland, a place with so few trees, the effect is much more arcane. Spindly birch intermingle with locust and various conifers. The wood seems aged and mediaeval; and in some places the sun is completely blocked here. Here in the dampness, under leaf litter and loam, colonies of mushrooms and mosses grow undisturbed before they send up ostentatious fruiting bodies.

As the story goes, the land set aside for Hólavallagarður took a long time to be consecrated because an Old Icelandic legend said that the first person buried in a cemetery was doomed to roam the cemetery for all time as its patron and guardian. Now, nobody wants this for their loved one, so it seems superstition held sway for many years despite Reykjavík’s desperate need for a cemetery. Eventually, the first woman was buried here, and burials were conducted as late as the early 2000s.

Walking through the cemetery gave me the idea to talk about something unique to Iceland, among all Germanic cultures and nations: the patronym. In modern Iceland, the vast majority of citizens have a patronym, that is, the second part of their name reflects directly their heritage.

For example:

Sigurbjörn Hrafnsson means“Sigurbjörn, son of Hrafn”. Conversely, Birna Hallgrímsdóttir means “Birna, daughter of Hallgrímur”. Many other Europeans or Americans have vestigial patronyms. I.e. a proper surname than used to at some point be a patronym. Johnson (Jónsson), Carlson (Karlsson) and Andersen (Andersson) are all examples. Of course there are some exceptions. Earlier in the century it became in vogue to obtain a proper Danish or Norwegian surname as a way of expressing wealth or prestige. So there are also some Icelanders with a proper surname. Edvald, Tulinius, and Zoega are all examples of this. In these instances, children of given their father’s surname just as in North America or most of Europe.

Some of my favourite Icelandic names are: Sigurbjörn, Sigurður, Hrafn and Úlfur. These (male) names literally and intelligibly in Modern Icelandic mean “Victory Bear”, “Victory Prince”, “Raven” and “Wolf” respectively. While many Icelanders have names that might seem unusual when translated to English, there are also names that might seem more familiar like: Jón, Ágúst and Kristján.

Here are some photos of my walk in Hólavallagarður.

Some plots have perennials planted which come back year after year.

Icelandic mosses and lichens. Some rare species are not found anywhere outside the cemetery in this part of Iceland.

Arni Jónsson, Jewish Icelander and also shopkeeper.

Sigurður Kristjánsson was a member of the Icelandic parliament at the turn of the century.

A cat that followed me around the cemetery. The spirit of Guðrún keeping watch over things? Perhaps.

Guðrún (the first woman interred) has one of the largest iron crosses in all of Iceland.

An example of and Icelander with a proper surname. Helga was married to Gústaf, but in true patronymic fashion, she did not take his patronym as a new surname. Their children would have been of course, Gústafsson or Gústafsdóttir.