“They don’t read books or know how to make Excel sheets”
Author Dagur Hjartarson says it's naïve not to worry about the state of the Icelandic language. Composite photo/mbl.is/Árni Sæberg/Karítas
“I find it curious that this debate is being led by people who seem neither to read books nor to know how to make Excel sheets. When their spreadsheets become the foundation of the argument, I think the discussion has gone completely off track.”
This is how author Dagur Hjartarson responds when asked about the recent debate on writers’ salaries in Iceland. He questions whether the goal of such grants isn’t to ensure that people actually write books — in Icelandic, a rapidly shrinking language spoken by almost no one in the world.
Efficiency metrics for art?
The debate follows a recent report commissioned by the Taxpayers’ Association, which measured the productivity of writers based on word and page counts, calculating “cost per word” for recipients of public artist grants. Hjartarson, who has previously received such grants but not for his latest novel Frumbyrjur (Primordials), says the premise of such measurements is misguided.
“Of course, like any other public expenditure, artist grants shouldn’t be beyond criticism or debate. But the question is always what assumptions we base the discussion on — whether we want to measure creativity by counting pages or weighing books in grams and kilos.”
He argues that Icelandic authors are, in fact, remarkably productive compared with their international peers — if one excludes crime writers who publish annually. “The biggest American novelists release books every three to ten years,” he notes.
“If we demand that Icelandic authors publish long books and publish often, we should ask: for what purpose, and for whom? Isn’t it a small miracle that a few great books in Icelandic are published at all?”
Preserving the Icelandic language
“What’s the goal of artist grants? To produce tons of something — anything? Or is it to make sure people continue writing books in this tiny language of ours, which almost no one else speaks? Isn’t the point to ensure that Icelandic survives to the next century? Wouldn’t that be a fine result for the small sums spent on writers’ grants?”
For Hjartarson, the broader purpose is cultural survival:
“The goal of artist grants must surely be to keep alive the possibility that there are still people who think and write in Icelandic — that there’s still a heartbeat in the mother tongue, that Icelandic remains a living language in the world.”
“We can’t be complacent”
“It’s naïve to think we don’t have to worry about whether Icelandic survives,” he says. “Those of us who care about this language should welcome that the state does at least something — but much more needs to be done.”
Hjartarson proposes the creation of a National Icelandic Language Fund, which would provide substantial, long-term grants for those who write in Icelandic — whether academic texts, children’s literature, novels, song lyrics, or poetry.
“Anyone who wants to think and write in Icelandic should be able to apply for real support from such a fund,” he concludes.
