I am curious to see whether there's any love for Kristin Lavransdatter in this here subreddit. I finished the series a couple of months ago and I can't stop thinking about it. I still feel wistful about it -- it's been a long time since a book or book series has stayed with me in this way.

For those who don't know, it's a trilogy written by Norwegian Nobel laureate Sigrid Undset from the 1920s focusing on the life of the titular character, a woman living in 14th century Norway who has a torrid love affair with a handsome ruffian and has to live with the guilt and consequences of that decision. It doesn't seem like an extremely exciting plot but oh man... it is incredible. The book is about family, self worth, womanhood, being a parent, being a son/daughter, independence, passion, religion... and so much more.

The emotions it brought up in me caught me unawares. I still can't explain it. I finished the book and felt a bit numb but happy that it was over. I was turning it in my head for the next 20 minutes or so when my wife asked me what I was thinking about. So I started telling her about the book, the characters, why I enjoyed it, the characters... and as I was talking, tears just started flowing down my face. The beauty and sadness of the story, the scope of it and everything that Kristin had gone through -- it just bubbled up in me and I started bawling. It was an overwhelming experience.

And the writing! I read the one-volume translation by Tiina Nunnally and it's fantastic. Here's an excerpt chosen more or less at random from the second book, The Wife.

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Never had she seen it so clearly as on this evening -- what destiny had demanded of her and what it had given her in return with her seven sons. Over and over again joy had quickened the beat of her heart; fear on their behalf had rent it in two. They were her children, these big sons with their lean, bony, boy's bodies, just as they had been when they were small and so plump that they barely hurt themselves when they tumbled down on their way between the bench and her knee. They were hers, just as they had been back when she lifted them out of the cradle to her milk-filled breast and had to support their heads, which wobbled on their frail necks the way a bluebell nods on its stalk. Wherever they ended in the world, wherever they journeyed, forgetting their mother-- she thought that for her, their lives would be like a current in her own life; they would be one with her, just as they had been when she alone on this earth knew about the new life hidden inside, drinking from her blood and making her cheeks pale.

I know it's not an unknown or forgotten trilogy, but I haven't seen it discussed here. So I wanted to share my experience. Plus I would like to see what people thought of it and whether it's stayed with you all as much as it did with me.