Jerusalem

On the same day that he arrives in the holy land after never before even setting foot outside his own village, a middle-aged pilgrim comes down with a fever that proves to be fatal. Dying, he asks his companions to carry him into Jerusalem so he can at least see God's city first-hand. As they carry him through a noisy, stinky, crowded city full of people of three different faiths going about their regular business, they point out the landmarks to him: this is where the last supper was held, this is where Jesus was tortured, this is where he carried the cross, this is the holy grave. And he looks at all this mundanity and begs them to stop joking. This can't be it, show me the real Jerusalem. Where's the gold? Where's the glory? Where's the peace and serenity? Where's God? Did he really come all this way, did he give up everything, did he die just to see a... city?

There's a long tradition in Scandinavian literature, especially 19th century literature, of the "simple" bygdedrama - village drama, the story of a small village and the farmers who live there, the big man on top of the hill, the old pastor, the simple but virtuous tenant farmer's daughter, etc. Selma Lagerlöf's Jerusalem, loosely based on real events and often cited as one of the major reasons why she became the first female Nobel Prize winner, takes that and runs with it, turning it into a great early-modern novel in the process.

Focusing on the inhabitants of a small village deep in the forests of Sweden, it follows the wave of religious awakening that swept across the Swedish countryside in the late 1800s and led some to abandon everything and everyone they'd ever known to make the pilgrimage halfway across the world to settle in Palestine. She takes her time setting things up; of the two volumes, the first is set entirely in the small parish they all come from, setting up who they are, the life they've led for generations, and the conflicts that arise when the modern world starts getting closer - both material and ideological/religious rules suddenly start changing, and all of a sudden it's not a given that the richest farmer, the schoolteacher and the preacher are unquestionable authorities. The second volume details what happened to the ones who, eventually, sell their farms and give up everything to emigrate to a country about which they know very little apart from what they've read in the Bible.

Lagerlöf tells it all like a fairly simple story, limiting herself to what her uneducated characters can feasibly know and think about; at the same time, though, she manages to weave in discussions on faith (both religious and personal), community and family that never tries to give any easy answers or pick sides; even when she introduces mystical elements and themes (both Christian, Muslim and pagan; fairytales were still very much alive in these areas a 100 years ago) she leaves it up to the reader to decide whether they're real or just in the characters' heads - and indeed, if it matters one way or the other. But what really makes the book is the way she handles the characters, gradually letting the main characters in this, at heart, fairly simple story become more fully drawn, giving them a history that goes back generations and then occasionally raising the drama to heart-wrenching levels without having to resort to any far-fetched plots.

Beautiful.