Autumn 2013

Valev Uibopuu
in his youth developed into bone tuberculosis
and forced him to leave school. He graduated
from secondary school in Stockholm when he
was 40, was then accepted at Lund University,
made up for all the lost years caused by his
illness and was granted a doctoral degree in
Finno-Ugrian studies. In the 1970s he was
even the director of the Finno-Ugrian Institute
at Lund University! He achieved all this while
simultaneously working in journalism and in the
publishing house, plus creating highly original
works of literature. The ability to handle this
kind of workload so successfully is clear
evidence of incredibly strong self-discipline.
Although Uibopuu managed all of his responsibilities
so well, in his own words the result
was the “rather fragmented life of a scholar,
journalist and writer.” As for his literary output,
his aim was never to repeat himself. Perhaps
he was successful in this precisely because
he took on so many different roles.
All of Uibopuu’s novels published in exile
are indeed highly diverse. The novel Keegi ei
kuule meid (Nobody Hears Us, 1948) deals
with the occupation period in a small Estonian
town and the impact of dramatic events on
human destinies. It was quickly translated into
Latvian. Indeed, nobody heard us: the book
appeared in Swedish and German only in the
1990s, although this also proves that the novel
was “time-proof”. His next novel, with elements
of modernism, Neli tuld (Four Fires, 1951),
describes a ship sailing under a flag of convenience
from the viewpoints of different crew
members, until it perishes in a mine explosion.
The novels relies on true-life events: after
World War II there were plenty of ships with
Estonian crew members sailing the seas; one
of them was deliberately sunk in order for the
insurance money. Janu (Thirst, 1957) is a novel
with extremely fine psychological texture about
a young girl suffering from bone tuberculosis,
about her visual range, drastically limited
because of her immobility, and her hopes for
a cure. The writer relies here on his own experience,
but what is especially significant and
extends to his entire work is that he shows how
immobility-caused restricted visual range
actually makes people see more deeply, and
develops their sense of nuance to perfection.
Psychological reliability, paying attention to
essential details, excellent style and showing
the greatness of an ordinary person all
characterise Uibopuu’s short stories and his
other novels. The generally rather serious
writer made an unexpected turn towards the
ironic distorting mirror in his last work, the
dilogy Kaks inimelu ajapöördeis (Two Human
Lives in the Turmoil of Time, 1990–1991). In a
sense, this work settles the score with exile
and the relevant trauma, while pointing out the
limits of literature as a field of art, the existence
of different opportunities and choices, and the
rich potential of fiction. A character in the book
feels that he has been recruited into the service
of a world-wide anti-communist league and
must obey its orders and work for his homeland.
In an interview, the writer once mentioned
that perhaps he, too, had been recruited into
the league. He added that some people get
carried away with this kind of thing and tend to
cross the border into abnormality. Uibopuu’s
work confirms his own sober sense of analysis
throughout, and the last book also displays his
skills in talking about traumatic events with a
healthy dose of irony.
E l m / A u t u m n 2 0 1 3