Reviewed by: Finnish Folk Poetry, Epic: An Anthology in Finnish and English ed. by Matt Kuusi, Keith Bosley, and Michael Branch Anthony Madrid (bio) finnish folk poetry, epic: an anthology in finnish and english Ed. and trans. Matt Kuusi, Keith Bosley, and Michael Branch Finnish Literature Society 607 pages This is a book I spent a hundred dollars on, back in the days when I did not have a hundred dollars. What happened was, I found it in a used bookstore in Chicago, one where you have to go down four steps, then four more—and watch your head. There, in a dusty corner, I found myself blowing cat fluff off the top of a handsome copy of Finnish Folk Poetry: Epic (1977)—which doesn't actually have a colon on the cover, so it looked like the title was Finnish Folk Poetry Epic. I opened to a random page, and read this complete poem: Elk and Snake An elk ran from Hiisi's landkicked a cowberry on the heathit gnawed a twig as it randrank a lake when it thirsted.It ran into a new houseinto a splendid chamber:it saw a snake drinking beera worm taking refreshment.It struck the snake on the ribsthe worm under the liver:the snake wept over its ribsthe poor worm for its liver. [End Page 90] Who would be the snake's milkerthe looser of the worm's flood?Margaret's mother was such:she would be the snake's milker. The snake gave brown milk the worm a white floodinto the striped milking-pail.The milk fell upon the ground: there brown trees sprang up brown trees and blue landsyellow boughs of juniper silver fir-tree tops. A#1 Martian poetry. Martian stuff, Martian rhythms. Gotta have. But then I checked the price, and said, "Well, obviously no." So I shut the thing, put it back, went home, came back next day, paid. On the train headed back to the apartment, I located and reread the above poem, plus exactly one more item. And there the matter rested for fifteen years. Reason: the book is six hundred pages. The introduction by itself looked like it would require a couple hours' work. The kind of thing you only read on two pots of coffee. Now, most people who come round to this book do so because they're ready to take their Kalevala game to the next level. Basically, the poems here are the raw materials from which the compiler of the Kalevala, Elias Lönnrot, worked. This means reading Finnish Folk Poetry: Epic straight through is like marching yourself through the five volumes of English and Scottish ballads that Francis James Child produced in the 1880s and 1890s. Lots of the poems are given in three or four versions. There are lines and passages that recur over and over. Pleasing!—if you're up for it. But work. My entrance ramp was different. I've been brooding over Finnish grammar, in particular its "exotic" case-inflection system, since the mid-1990s. I found an excellent book in the stacks of the University of Arizona library: Case and Other Functional Categories in Finnish Syntax. I must have read the ten-page introductory chapter twenty times, because it contains an ice-cold, luminescent exposition of the sixteen (or eighteen, depending on who's counting) grammatical cases into which every Finnish noun must be cast. [End Page 91] When I was taking Russian (with its six grammatical cases), I had hypothesized that something like the Finnish system might exist somewhere. I was thinking it would be found in Papua New Guinea. Maybe you don't know what I'm talking about. Never mind the fancy grammar language; the concept is easy. You know how there's "I" and there's "me." Those two words mean exactly the same thing: this guy. But you can't use them interchangeably. "I" is when it's the subject of the verb; "me" is when it's not. Piece of cake. But what if I own something. You don't say that laptop is I's. You say...
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