The Poetic Edda is a collection of short poems, from a variety of genres. There a number of poems of cosmological lore, a few wisdom poems, some poems concerning various situations the gods get themselves into, quite a number of poems concerning the Volsunga saga, and some geneological lore poems. The poems assume knowledge of their topics, especially in the allusive kennings, so it is would have been helpful to read the Prose Edda first. As a result, on first reading I only really understood the Volsunga saga poems, as I had read that saga.

Even with little background understanding (aided by copious endnotes), one can still get the cultural flavor of the poems. Wisdom, for instance, is not seen in the Hebrew context of how to live well, but as knowledge about who people are (their lineage, who owns what thing and information about it), and about future events, most notably Ragnarok. More mundanely, before heroes fight in poetry, they exchange insults involving their past deeds/misdeed. Similarly, if you need wisdom or information, one common place to find it is from a dead woman.

The Norse gods seem more like powerful people than like any kind of Judeao-Christian divinity. They can die (Baldr, notably), and indeed, Odin spends a good deal of time wandering around seeking wisdom, that is, how the future events of Ragnarok will unfold in order to try to avoid his death that has been foretold. Despite having sacrificed his eye for wisdom, Odin seems no more innately knowledgeable about things than the mortals. The gods seem to have no moral difficulties sleeping around, even with mortals, judging by the accusations Loki makes, even if only some of them are true. In fact, it is strange to have a poem where Loki insults all the gods in turn, even if he was not invitied, and even if it gives some motivation for chaining him up under dripping poison.

It is clear from the poems that knowing your family lineage is important, and secondarily it is important to know the lineage of other people. This is just assumed, so no reason is given, although not knowing your own family’s history is tantamount to not knowing yourself, to not having an identity. And knowing knowledge about whatever special ability or item another person has is obviously useful. When you are a god trying to get the information from a giant, however, trickery may be necessary, which is a fairly standard method employed by Odin and others. But the idea that the gods (and the giants appear to be roughly equal to the gods in power) could be tricked ... well, obviously they are not omniscient. And if they have no qualms in tricking others (not to mention licentiousness that could be credibly insulted), that does not indicate an exemplary, imitation-worthy character.

Unfortunately, old Icelandic poetry does not translate well into modern English, since Norse poetry makes heavy use of alliteration and rhythmic pairing. Larrington’s translation in the second edition is quite readable, and liguistically seems to have a certain poetic feel to it. However, it is clear that a dimension of something is lacking. Without it, and without understanding the background of the events alluded to, it is hard reading. However, much of the poetry seems to be recitations of information, rather than exploring the tensions and emotions of the characters. The exception is the Volsunga saga poetry, but that is such a sordid story that it is a difficult read, partly because gaining undying honor is not a concern of moderns.

I read the Poetic Edda because it became clear that a lot of the fantasy I have read pulls from these sources. Indeed, Tolkien did sort of a remix of Norse content in The Hobbit. Gandalf has Odin’s propensity for wandering (but has a much deeper sort of wisdom). Mirkwood is taken from the Edda, where it appears to separate France and Germany, and traveling through it is a heroic achievement (imagine travelling through miles of old-growth forest without modern maps). In some cases, traveling through Mirkwood brings one into the abode of the gods. Tolkien took the dwarves’ names from the list of dwarves, as well as Bilbo’s ring, which seems inspired by Andvari’s ring. That ring was cursed, which is a theme that Tolkien added when the ring became the One Ring. And since Andvari’s ring enables gold to beget gold, so the rings Sauron gave the dwarves do, too.

Other authors use Norse flavor, as well. The Norse world was cold and harsh, so the population density was low, particularly in Iceland, which was where the Eddaic sources were written down. Thus, Robin Hobb’s world in The Assassin’s Apprentice is sparsely populated. Although much of the culture is European-inspired (the Norse had no castles), the magic works in a Norse way, and there is a heavy use of herbs. Ursula Le Guinn in the Earthsea books, particularly A Wizard of Earthsea take some flavor in that magic involves knowing the true name of the being, which gains power over it. Hence, the importance of gathering information, and why Ged researches the dragons’ names before he fights them. Patricia McKillip seems more Celtic-sourced, but again, The Forgotten Beasts of Eld has names and some research.

This is ancient poetry in translation, so it is culturally distant, full of allusions that we have little cultural knowledge of, and translations miss the linguistic beauty. However, it still does convey many flavors of a culture that is very different from us, albeit very tersely, and so it is an interesting read from that perspective. The richness of the flavor is also useful for fantasy, since it is one of the few sources for a pre-modern culture that still has some cultural continuity and connections with ours.