The Mercies

“Pappa used to say that the sea was the shape of their lives. They have always lived by its grace, and long have they died on it. But the storm has made it an enemy, and there is brief talk of leaving.”

This quote emphasizes the crucial importance of the sea. Despite its dangers, the sea is the lifeblood of the community at Vardø. The villagers accept the sea as the ultimate determiner of their fate, highlighting their uneasy relationship with the Christian God: Here, Hargrave frames the sea as Vardø’s god, even describing it as showing “grace” (a key term in Christian theology).

“Many of them seem past caring what is true or not, only desperate for some reason, some order to the rearrangement of their lives, even if it is brought about by a lie.”

This quote establishes the source of the future conflicts between government, religion, tradition, and people. In searching for answers to explain the inexplicable, people may turn to religion or strict government to bring order to their lives. After the trauma of losing their men to the storm, the women feel lost, and some deal with this loss by seeking out another leader.

“As she watches him bend to the shelf below his pulpit, and bring out a letter bearing a seal and tassel, Maren realizes she hates him a little: his weakness, his power over them. His constant talk of the mercies of God, when it is obvious to her that they do not extend so far north. Is His eye upon her, inside her head as she thinks these things? She holds her breath and gropes inside her mind, as though she could feel God there.”

This quote identifies Maren’s rejection of imposed religion. Because Maren grew up by the mercy of the sea, anything above and beyond the reality of nature’s vicissitudes seems frivolous. Maren has no proof that there is a benevolent God because her life has been difficult and now, with the loss of the town’s men, tragic. Maren’s lack of respect for the pastor echoes the suspicions of many (but, crucially, not all) of the other women.

“But it is increasingly hard to keep Agnete happy, with all her pleasures slowly being strictured. The doctors stopped her eating anything wet about a month ago, and she is still adjusting to it. Ursa suspects they are making up much of Agnete’s treatment as they go along.”

Agnete’s treatment at the hands of her doctors reflects two important societal phenomena. The first is the maltreatment of women. Because she is a girl, Agnete’s movements and diet are restricted; though ostensibly meant to protect her health, these restrictions give men control over Agnete, who is unhappy in her situation but can’t fight back. Secondly, the 17th century lacked extensive knowledge of healthcare and biology, so Agnete’s treatments are indeed likely to be a series of random decisions as doctors struggle to understand the human body.

“She can see as far as the harbour, the ships like toys on the horizon. There are always men there, always busy and moving. The world goes on, she thinks […]”

This quote emphasizes the centrality of men to 17th century society while also undercutting it. Here, Ursa sees men working and sees it as a sign that “the world goes on,” implying that the world goes on because of men or that the “real” world is the world of men. However, this world is completely separate from Ursa’s day-to-day reality as a woman, and the comparison of the ships to “toys”—child’s playthings rather than tools of commerce, conquest, etc.—suggests that it is not in fact as important as it believes itself to be.

“The only thing she could offer—though she will not offer it—was that when Ursa loosened her hand, she felt as though something important was slipping away from her and that she must grab it. She had to say yes. She had no choice.”

Maren feels an immediate (if indistinct) attraction to Ursa, though the other women automatically dismiss Ursa as a wealthy and spoiled woman. This first fluttering of attraction foreshadows the deep relationship between Ursa and Maren. It is also notable because of its unique quality; neither Maren nor Ursa have felt such immediate longing for the men they have had in their lives.

“Maren takes the cup between cold fingers—Ursa notices the nail beds are raw pink and stretched as though freshly scrubbed. The pads that brush against her own hands are rough as her husband’s. She feels shy of her own palms, soft and unskilled as a baby’s, hides them in the folds of her skirts. They must be of similar age, but they are made so differently. Ursa feels too big in Maren’s presence, cumbersome and absurd in her petticoats. Maren’s eyes are large and softly coloured, but her gaze is sharp and clever.”

This quote describes the physical differences between Maren and Ursa, which reflect their disparate upbringings. Growing up doing manual labor by the sea, Maren has treated her body as a tool: Her fingernail pads are rough because they have seen work, and her eyes are hyperaware and analytical of the often dangerous world around her. Because Ursa grew up in relative luxury, she feels clumsy in the face of work and bigger than the Vardø women, who have had to fight to eat. This physical juxtaposition cloaks the similarities the women share: their lives at the hands of men, their desire for one another, and their genuine affection for their families and sisters. Thus, Hargrave emphasizes that though people may look different, the surface is not what is important in understanding others.

“It is her husband Maren fears, his displeasure at the runes and, no doubt, at trolls. Ursa despises him at that moment: how she wishes these women knew that she is as scared as them.”

This quote demonstrates Ursa’s natural sisterhood with the women of Vardø. She senses immediately that they are afraid of her husband, and she wishes she could tell them that she can recognize their fear because she shares it with them. This immediately positions Ursa as an ally to the community in Vardø. It also emphasizes the necessity of a community in which women can seek out other women away from the control of men.

“Ursa mentioned a sister, and has perhaps missed holding her, for she clings to Maren with an unsettling need. For her part, Maren grows bolder, and tightens her grip about Ursa, feeling the softness of her shape beneath her fine dress, the gentle swell of her shoulder blades, like low waves across her back. She doesn’t want to breathe, to create the space between them for her chest to grow into.”

This moment of intimacy is a turning point in Ursa and Maren’s friendship. The characterization of the hug as at once sisterly and physically intimate is important. It implies that Ursa sees Maren as a sister, whereas Maren feels more conscious attraction to Ursa. This is also indicative of Maren’s upbringing. Without a sister, Maren didn’t learn how to be affectionate with women, while Ursa easily connects with women physically.

“‘Murdered a woman?’ he repeats, unable to make sense of the words. ‘No. No—’ he shakes his head as though dislodging a fly—‘I tried a witch, wife. She was sentenced to death by the court of my country. She was guilty, in the eyes of the law, and of God. “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.” God commands it.’”

Absalom’s explanation identifies a societal conflict common in 17th-century Christian-influenced communities. Absalom genuinely believes in witches, and he genuinely believes in God. While Absalom is an antagonist, his intentions are justified in his own eyes. Absalom does not consider the impact of prejudice on his way of thinking, but because he is a man with some power, he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t see the executions as murder because he dehumanizes the people on trial. His firm belief that he is doing the right thing foreshadows similar trials and executions in Vardø.

“‘I will write to them for you,’ he says, breath hot against her cheek as he brings his lips again to her. She can feel his hardness pressing against her belly, and knows there is a silent condition to his offer. Behind him, the letters from her father shrivel into ash, and are carried up like smoke signals to the night.”

This quote emphasizes the abusive nature of Ursa’s marriage to Absalom. Absalom is in full control of Ursa’s life, leaving her no space for her own identity or a way out. If Ursa wants to hear about the family she left behind, she must agree to whatever Absalom wants from her. The “smoke signals” from her burning letters suggest an alarm: Ursa needs help, but now that she is married, there is no one to come to her aid.

“Diinna looks up at them both, and Maren, suddenly, sees her as a stranger would, as Ursa must. Her legs apart the better to bear the weight of her too-grown son, her heavy breast slipped between the folds of her jerkin. Veins stand out, rivers against the thin skin. Her hair is greased and flat to her head, her eyes dark with challenge. With Erik clasped to her, she looks like some sort of deity, powerful and strange.”

The forces of prejudice have developed into outright accusation and distrust in Vardø. This transition from peace to conflict opens Maren’s eyes to the differences between her and her sister-in-law. Diinna looks different than the other women, and her very aura and attitude separate her as an outsider. Maren comes to understand that with or without the threat of the witch hunt, the community will always see Diinna as a foreigner. Maren loves Diinna, but other women—including Maren’s own mother—cannot accept Diinna into their tight-knit community. Diinna’s difference dooms her to ostracization and misunderstanding before Absalom’s arrival. After Absalom’s arrival, Diinna’s otherness places her in danger. Her character is the physical symbol of prejudice.

“They are a language, Maren. Just because you do not speak it doesn’t make it devilry.”

In this quote, Diinna identifies the core of the prejudice that threatens her life: Because people do not understand her, they fear her. Language barriers exist between both Diinna and the others in Vardø and between Ursa’s Norwegian and Absalom’s English. That linguistic misunderstanding mars much of the communication between characters in this novel is indicative of its setting. As colonialist powers reached new nations and tribes, linguistic genocide forced colonized peoples into becoming reliant on their oppressors.

“We are nothing to them. We are as men to the sea, caught on their currents.”

Diinna identifies a major difference between men and women in this novel: While men have to contend with natural forces, women’s primary source of danger is their fellow humans—men. This also implies that whereas men have to seek out danger, women face danger in their homes and communities. In comparing men stuck in a storm with women caught in the currents of men’s derision, Diinna articulates the threat men pose to Vardø. Absalom will be worse to the community than the storm that killed their husbands.

“She has not come to visit Maren in the second boathouse, has stopped trying to catch her eye. They are becoming strangers, and Maren feels as though all her family are dead, and only Ursa remains.”

The deterioration of Maren’s relationship with her mother is a direct consequence of the mob mentality that consumes Vardø. Her mother is also a victim: Losing her husband and son plunges Maren’s mother into both a depression and a new world in which she must fend for herself. She finds an easy explanation for her suffering in the idea that women in her community have cursed Vardø with their witchcraft. That Maren and her mother are unable to repair their relationship testifies to the depth of the rupture in the community. Maren lost her father and brother in the storm, but the storm has now effectively killed her entire family by fostering sadness, distrust, and resentment.

“Though Maren knows it would have been best to remain behind too, she could not. Kirsten can’t be alone with a group of kirke-women and men, intent on drowning or damning her. She must bear witness, too.”

Maren chooses to confront the trauma of watching Kirsten suffer at the hands of her community. This decision emphasizes the power of tribalism. Not only does Maren feel compelled to be there for Kirsten in her worst moments, but she also must confront the truth of her tribe. In bearing witness to Kirsten’s ducking, Maren will also bear witness to the betrayal of the community she calls a home.

“She had thought she had seen the worst from this harbour, thought nothing could rival the viciousness of the storm. But now she knows she was foolish to believe that evil existed only out there. It was here, among them, walking on two legs, passing judgement with a human tongue.”

Although the storm was a tragedy beyond the villagers’ imagining, Vardø had bigger problems than nature. Here, Hargrave emphasizes that human beings can be more terrifying and dangerous than even the worst natural disasters. The storm was a phenomenon, but the destructive actions of the people in this novel are a series of decisions rationalized and supported by dogmatic beliefs.

“In some ways, Kirsten’s suffering has meant a lessening of her own. Absalom has been distracted by preparations, and made merry by them too. His power has made him stronger, and so he has treated her more kindly. He is happy, and wishes her to share in it. She hates herself for it, but she dissembles, tells him she is proud of him, moans into his ear when he lies upon her. She hates him, but she wants to stay in his good graces. She must protect Maren.”

The dark reality of scapegoating is that finding someone to carry the burden of society’s woes allows other people to find peace. In accusing Kirsten of witchcraft, women like Toril can avoid suspicion. Here, Ursa discovers that she too benefits from Kirsten’s downfall. In destroying Kirsten, Absalom becomes successful and respected among the other men. This leads him to treat Ursa better, and it is a delicate balance that she fears breaking. On the one hand, Ursa cannot risk angering Absalom. On the other hand, Ursa is deeply disturbed and disgusted by what is happening to Kirsten. This emphasizes a driving force behind mob mentality: No one wants to speak up and risk their own security.

“The story goes on, a litany of such absurdity that Ursa feels herself almost floating above it. It reads like a list of women’s gossip, from arguments over fish-drying racks to saying the Lord’s Prayer backwards.”

It is notable that Ursa perceives the list of accusations against Kirsten as “a list of women’s gossip.” This characterization emphasizes the absurdity and pettiness of Kirsten’s trial. What’s more, it is notable that the very men who pride themselves on being superior to women succumb to such petty gossip. Unlike typical gossip, however, these rumors and innuendo will kill Kirsten, not just publicly humiliate her.

“‘Nobody,’ says Ursa, at last understanding. ‘When they asked her for more names, that is how she answered. She wouldn’t take another down with her. She is a good woman, and she loves you.’”

Ursa says this in response to Maren’s fleeting desire to believe that Kirsten truly is a witch. Though both Ursa and Maren know that is impossible, Ursa realizes that Maren is scared that Kirsten, who was a friend, might have named Maren as an accomplice. Ursa’s assurance that Maren is safe is important. First, it implies that Maren is free, making the later revelation that Maren herself is accused more unexpected and impactful. Second, it characterizes Kirsten as a hero. Even under psychological duress and intense physical torture, Kirsten shows solidarity with her fellow women, including those who turned against her. Kirsten refuses to name any accomplices, thereby becoming the epitome of strong female leadership and sisterhood.

“But Ursa sees Sigfrid call again, tears on her cheeks, and Toril cries out too. The phrase is repeated, thrown up about them in a growing chant of many voices. Ursa remembers herself telling Agnete the same thing, leaning over the vapours bowl. But that was to clear her lungs. This is so Kirsten will cloud hers with smoke, choke herself before the flames scorch her to death. Ursa joins in. All of them are shouting it, calling it to her, accusers and friends alike.”

In watching Kirsten burn, the women who have accused her realize their mistake, though it is far too late to take back their accusations. The “growing chant of many voices” echoes and subverts the earlier image of the women all raising their hands to point to Kirsten for arrest. Though Kirsten dies a horrible death, she dies surrounded by the community of women she had led and saved. The women encourage her to breathe so she will die quickly by suffocating instead of painfully by burning. It is one last kindness they can extend to Kirsten, but it is a kindness darkened by the women’s responsibility for her death.

“She does not send her mind flying away. She is only her body, and Maren’s hand upon her, and in her, and she could weep with the kindness of it, the ache of it. She did not know, she thinks: she did not know it could be like this.”

This quote depicts the moment when Ursa achieves full sexual satisfaction with Maren. It is important because it highlights their intimate bond and the possibilities of pleasure that Ursa never would have experienced within her heteronormative marriage. Ursa finds Maren’s touch “kind”—another layer to their bond that emphasizes love and deep connection. Ursa has only ever wanted to be treated with affection, which she finally receives from Maren. Notable here is that Maren and Ursa, who would not have had any cultural understanding of sex between women, instinctively know what to do for one another. This highlights their natural bond and inherent desire for one another.

“She had been afraid when she heard her friend’s confession, and for a moment wondered at Kirsten’s guilt. That moment of betrayal is a pain she can’t yet access, and she feels adrift inside it.”

Here, Maren worries about her capacity to become like her mother, who chose to believe that her own friends in their tight-knit community could be witches. Though Maren has always stood by Kirsten, she felt a fleeting desire to believe Kirsten was a witch, falling victim to the mob mentality in which believing the consensus protects one against destructive forces. Maren is also still haunted by the storm and its incredible force, and she succumbs to the temptation of seeking out a scapegoat for phenomena she can’t explain. Notably, Maren can reason her way out of these darker thoughts, but she still acknowledges that she is capable of becoming just like Toril.