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writing_womans_lives_symposium_paper_book_v2

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In 1829 Pálsdóttir moved to Reykjavík to work as a maidservant. There she met the love of her life<br />

and married in 1833. Her husband became a priest at a vicarage (and a farm) in west Iceland. After<br />

few years in marriage he became mentally ill and died tragically in 1839. Pálsdóttir married again in<br />

1845, a priest, twenty years her senior, and settled in south Iceland. She died in 1871. Pálsdóttir had<br />

six daughters. Three died in infancy.<br />

Iceland was a rural society with the population of 59.000 people in 1850. Urbanisation and<br />

industrialisation had hardly begun. Reykjavík was a small but growing village with 1100 inhabitants in<br />

1850, eventually becoming the centre of administration, education and commerce. There was one<br />

Latin school in the country but privileged young men sought education in Copenhagen (Iceland was<br />

under Danish rule). No formal schools were for women until 1874. Home teaching was the norm,<br />

which meant that children were taught to read and to know their catechism within the household.<br />

Writing was much less common. Evidence indicates that in 1839 about 10‐30% of adult women could<br />

more or less write and 20‐50% of adult men. Hence, being able to write was a privileged skill,<br />

especially for women. Women were either self‐learned or were taught within the household, as was<br />

the case with Pálsdóttir. This was non‐institutionalised learning but practical, and it enabled women<br />

not only to keep in touch with friends and relatives but also to strengthen networks and social<br />

relation – and to perform and construct their epistolary identity. Even to narrate their life stories. 5<br />

Life in letters<br />

Sigríður Pálsdóttir is not a known person in Icelandic history. She did not live an exceptional life, nor<br />

was she a pioneer. But she wrote those 250 letters in times when <strong>writing</strong> was a privileged skill. It<br />

might indeed be argued that this lifelong correspondence makes her extraordinary in her national,<br />

cultural and social context. And the mere fact that the letters cover a lifetime makes her an<br />

interesting subject of research.<br />

Letters are fascinating accounts of events, life and relationships. Letters are always situated in<br />

space and time, are like “’flies in amber’”, to use Liz Stanley’s apt phrasing. 6 Furthermore, letters<br />

were thought of as providers of facts for biographical <strong>writing</strong> and believed to give almost direct<br />

access to the life of the protagonist. 7 However, as William Merrill Decker argues in Epistolary<br />

Practices, “letters do not really provide transparent access to history”. Moreover, “Letters tell stories<br />

centred in the experience of historically real individuals, but the stories they tell depend on the<br />

context in which they are read”. 8<br />

Instead of being studied as the “truth” about the past letters are now seen as complex form of<br />

communication and identity formation. Letters do reflect life, argues Stanley, they do however “not<br />

contain evidence of ‘the real person’, but are traces of this person in a particular representational<br />

epistolary guise“. 9 Furthermore, a letter is an expression, a representation, and even a deception. 10<br />

Letters are shaped by the relationship of the signatory and the addressee; they are based on<br />

reciprocity and answers were expected; problems were solved in letters; questions being asked. 11<br />

This reciprocity is one of the main characteristics of correspondence and does distinguish it from<br />

other forms of life <strong>writing</strong>. 12 And correspondences are fragmentary. Often only one side of a<br />

correspondence has been preserved and there are gaps and silences – months or years could pass<br />

between letters. Letters were deliberately destroyed, have vanished in time, others never reached<br />

their destination.<br />

Moreover, letters are more than texts, they are artifacts from the past and do as such tell stories<br />

about social practices as networking, family relations, and about the act of <strong>writing</strong> letters. They<br />

reveal how letters were written (privately or collectively); how people learned to write; how letters<br />

were sent over long distances (with post and/or travelers). 13<br />

Hence, letters are multifaceted and when used as evidence of the past, of <strong>lives</strong> and experiences,<br />

they must be read carefully, contextualized, situated and evaluated, because, as Gerber has argues:<br />

107

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