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Shamanism in Norse Myth and Magic, Vol. I-II. Clive Tolley FF
Communications 296-297, Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, Acta
Scientarum Fennica, 2009. ISBN 978-951-41-1028-3. 589pp.; 286 pp. + 16
maps and plates.

Since Dag Strömbäck’s classic work on seiðr was reprinted in the year 2000
(Sejd och andra studier i nordisk själsuppfattning, Hedemora) one may
observe a growing interest in this particular form of Old Norse spiritual
practices. Over the last ten years several important books (for example: N.S.
Price, The Viking Way. Religion and war in Late Iron Age Scandinavia,
Uppsala 2002; B. Solli, Seid. Myter, sjamanisme og kjønn i vikingenes tid,
Oslo 2002; F.X. Dillmann, Les magiciens dans l’Islande ancienne: Études
sur la représentation de la magie islandaise et de ses agents dans les
sources littéraires norroises, Uppsala 2006; E. Heide, Seid, gand og
åndevind, Bergen 2006) have been published on the subject, not to mention
multiple articles released in academic and popular journals, Masters theses,
museum exhibitions and ever-growing fascination in seiðr among modern
day neo-pagans, historical re-enactors, musicians and others. Seiðr, it seems,
is still an attractive topic with a tremendous interpretative potential, and, as
has been illustrated in the various works released in the last decade, it can be
approached from many different angles.

One such angle is proposed by Clive Tolley in his book: Shamanism in

Norse Myth and Magic. Tolley’s work is one of the largest among books on
seiðr – it comprises two volumes, one having more than 580 pages, while
the other, a reference materials collection, has over 300 pages. The primary
aim set forth by the author is: “to answer the question of whether Norse
literature indicates that ancient Scandinavians had the notion of a practice
which might reasonably be termed ‘shamanism’, whether as an actual
phenomenon of ordinary life, or as a motif appearing in fictional settings”
(2009.I: xv).

Volume one is divided into seven chapters entitled: Prolegomena, The

Place of Shamanism in Society, Metaphysical Entities, Cosmic Structures,
The Workings of Shamanism, Kindred Concerns and Epilegomena. Most
chapters comprise several sections, each very detailed, which gives the work
an almost encyclopedic nature. The book begins by presenting some rather
brief remarks on the author’s methodology and theoretical position. The
latter may seem striking to some scholars, because: “The only theoretical
position I adhere to consistently is that the human mind is not bound by any
one approach to reality; no individual theory will serve to explain the
multifarious expressions of human imagination” (2009.I: 4). Having said
that, Tolley’s (2009.I: 5) aim is to: “respect the complexity of the evidence

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and the mental capacity of the original thinkers who produced it, and to
allow the sources to speak for themselves as far as possible”. Nevertheless,
the author still tries to harness the material with definitions of shamanism.
Similarly, the idea that sources speak for themselves is contentious. Tolley is
a philologist and folklorist and thus the main focus in his work is on the
written accounts supplemented by ethnographic evidence. These accounts,
however, are often patchy and must be subjected to source-criticism. Tolley
is meticulous in analysing them and making assumptions concerning the
ritual practices which may be re-constructed on the basis of these sources.
Regarding sources like fornaldarsögur, he argues that (2009.I: 29): “To form
a picture of Viking Age ‘shamanism’ on the basis of thirteenth-and
fourteenth-century fornaldarsögur and the like, compositions which are
manifestly fantastic in intention and drawn up at a time when the magic they
describe was at best an antiquarian memory, would be only slightly more
reliable than, say, determining the nature of magical practices in
contemporary England on the basis of the Harry Potter novels”. I agree that
the written sources must be treated critically, but we must also be careful of
not becoming hyper-critical.

What may seem surprising to some scholars is Tolley’s approach to the

archaeological evidence. In chapter I (Prolegomena), while discussing the
nature of the sources for his investigation, Tolley adds a footnote, where he
presents his view of archaeology (2009.I: 12): “I am not an archaeologist,
and whilst accepting that archaeology may sometimes have useful material
to offer, I remain generally sceptical that physical objects by themselves,
without some piece of writing or other expression of human thought upon
which to hang an interpretation, can suggest meanings (as distinct from any
utilitarian meanings)”. Such a statement in a work that is, after all, based
mostly on interpretation of physical objects (manuscripts, ethnographic
documentation and even ethnographic items related to the practice of
shamanism) is rather striking. Archaeological finds, contrary to Tolley’s
view, are an expression of human thought per excellence. It is in the very
form and decoration of these objects that ancient thoughts are manifested.
Similarly to any other text, they are themselves texts which we read and
experience with our senses. But it is not only the objects that are significant
here. What in modern archaeology should always be taken into
consideration, is the context of a find – understood in the broadest sense:
from the manner of the item’s deposition on a “micro-scale” (its placement,
relation to other finds on the site etc.) to its location and relation to other
artifacts or structures on a wider geographical scale.

Neglecting archaeological evidence or arguing that it has little value to

our understanding of the period is like saying that the period never existed

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beyond the pages of the Medieval manuscripts. Tolley’s dismissal of
archaeological evidence is also rather inconsistent, because he makes
references to archaeological findings (belonging to different categories) in
several chapters of his work (2009.I: 433, 568). It is surprising that examples
of places such as domareringar are being suggested, because (according to
Tolley’s view of archaeology) they do not have any “piece of writing” on
them (2009.I: 337). Towards the end of the first volume Tolley (2009.I: 582)
sums up his views on the nature of archaeological evidence in these words:
“In short, archaeology cannot in itself demonstrate the presence of
shamanism, and the written sources are mainly too late and unreliable to use
as evidence of it either: to lean one flimsy card against the other in the hope
of securing some stability does not make for an enduring or reliable
structure, however high it may tower in the short term”. As it is impossible
to discuss in detail the wealth of evidence (or counter evidence) and
interpretations provided by Tolley, I will focus on some of the general
conclusions which he has arrived at.

Chapter II (The place of shamanism in the society) introduces the readers

to the place and purpose of shamanism in the society. The author debates
whether the Viking Age ritual practitioner could have functioned as a doctor,
psychopomp, diviner, hunting magician, journeyer to the other world and a
witch. The second section of this chapter is devoted to the notions of
community, gender and the various sexual underpinnings of seiðr practices.

The first section of chapter III (Metaphysical entities) is largely devoted

to the ideas of the soul in Eurasian and Norse traditions. Tolley argues that
there certainly is a notion of contact with the spirit world in the practices of
seiðr. However, in case of this contact the völva acts not as a mediator (one
of the archetypal roles of the shaman), but rather as a “manipulator of the
supernatural world” (2009.I: 142). Chapter III also discusses all kinds of
supernatural beings known from the Old Norse literature – such as: dísir,
valkyrjur, women fylgjur, nornir, dvergar and giants, but also brings to
attention the less known mörnir, animal fylgjur, vættir, verðir or mörur
among others. The discussion is clear and well structured. The chapter ends
with the examination of gandar, leaning heavily on Heide’s work on the
subject. Tolley (2009.I: 271) argues that gandr was the main spirit of
shamanic nature. Nonetheless, as the author suggests, gandr did not
correspond exactly to the Sámi practice (as some scholars have suggested)
and should be distinguished from Sámi shamanism.

Chapter IV (Cosmic structures) concludes with an observation that the

Norse notions of (world) pillar “point to an Indo-European and Germanic
heritage, rather than a circumpolar one” (2009.I: 291). In the section devoted
to the tree Tolley writes that although the tree motif in Norse sources has

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broad European parallels, there is “little about the Norse tree that can be
described as fundamentally specific to shamanic practice or belief” (2009.I:
368). The next section focuses on the nature and roles of the god Heimdallr.
Tolley sees him as a figure related to “guardianship of fecundity and birth,
and liminality” (2009.I: 404), noticing also that the shamanic aspects of the
god remain unfulfilled or simply left no trace in the available sources. In the
conclusion for this interesting chapter Tolley says that nowhere in the
available sources is there any indication of shamanic practices taking place
in relation to the above mentioned features (pillar/post/pole, tree but also
mill and mountain). The famous ordeal of Óðinn, hanging on the tree, has,
according to Tolley, nothing to do with shamanic cosmic journeys.
Moreover, as the author observes, the tree is never used by a völva in a
shamanic fashion in rituals (2009.I: 413).

The first section of chapter V (The workings of shamanism) discusses the

notions of vocation and initiation – the complex processes of becoming a
shaman in the Eurasian and Norse societies. Tolley finds no clear indication
of the initiations to which the seiðr performers may have been subjected. As
he suggests, the initiatory ordeals of Óðinn are not linked to seiðr either. In
the second section (Performance) particularly interesting are Tolley’s views
on the much debated scene from Eiríks saga rauða which describes a
divinatory seiðr ritual. Tolley argues that this chapter has little to do with the
Viking Age reality and that Þorbjörg lítilvölva is instead a parody of a
bishop-figure. In his view (2009(I): p. 488), Eiríks saga rauða is “imbued
with an almost fundamentalist Christian morality, and forms a polemical
attack on the pagan practices still supposedly prevalent around the year 1000
in Greenland (…)”. Tolley further argues that the high-seat is reminiscent of
bishop’s cathedra, the adorned staff bears resemblance to a bishops’ crozier
while the cloak and the hat serve as “a sort of parody of the bishop’s robes
and mitre” (2009.I: 491). It is difficult to comprehend why the
accoutrements of the völva could not be genuinely pagan; there is as much
counter-evidence for the use of such items among the Norse as there is for
the image of Þorbjörg as influenced by Christian ideas. Moreover, we must
remember that the saga author used strictly “pagan” terminology when
describing the scene. Why do that if he had a Christian figure in mind?

Chapter VI (Kindred concerns) is an addition to the discussion presented

in the previous chapters of the book. It explores the notions of the smith and
bear, motifs frequently debated in relation to shamanic practices. Attention is
also paid to the berserkir and úlfheðnar.

In the conclusion for his book (Chapter VII – Epilegomena) Tolley

writes (2009.I: 581): “My investigation has, over all, found little grounds for
proposing the presence of shamanism in pre-Christian or later Scandinavia,

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if by that is meant the classic form of shamanism typical of much of Siberia.
The evidence does, however, support the likelihood of some ritual and belief
of broadly (but not classically) shamanic nature as existing and being
remembered in tradition”. Generally, the author seems to be of the opinion
that the seemingly shamanic traits in Norse tradition are a result of closer
contact with Indo-European traditions rather than the circumpolar or arctic
ones.

A few words must be said also about Volume II of Tolley’s work – the

collection of reference materials. It is designed as an addendum to the first
part, providing brief but very specific information about The peoples of
Eurasia (which is particularly useful for readers not familiar with the ethnic
dispersal of particular peoples) and an excellent presentation of all the
source texts (divided mostly into “Eurasian” and “Germanic” and arranged
thematically) used by the author in his discussions. Altogether, Volume II –
serving as a kind of encyclopedic collection of the most important materials
to the discussion on seiðr – is logically and well designed and will certainly
be of tremendous value for future research. The index at the end is equally
helpful and is a necessity in a work of such scale. Volume II is supplemented
by several maps of, for example: Eurasian biomes and natural features,
Eurasian people and places, and also a number of full-color illustrations of
shamanic accoutrements.

It is my obligation as a reviewer to also point out some minor

generalizations or mistakes which the author has made. For example, Tolley
(2009.I: 356) writes that “there is no evidence for human sacrifice among the
Slavs”. This statement, in the light of both written accounts and
archaeological evidence must be dismissed. From the Slavic world there are
multiple examples of both potential/debatable and evident human sacrifices
(of both children and people of various ages). Another inconsistency is
Tolley’s mention of a Norwegian law which forbids keeping a root, vétt and
an idol in a person’s home (2009.I: 539). Tolley gives a reference to this
source in Volume II, but the fragment seems to be missing in section ‹78›
(2009.II: 133-4).

Undoubtedly Tolley has produced a massive and extremely significant,

well researched and critical book that has the potential to become one of the
cornerstones for studies on seiðr in future research. The wealth of material
presented along with new interpretations and paths of inquiry created by the
author will surely be of great value to scholars of Old Norse beliefs and
shamanism broadly understood. However, Tolley’s work, with all the
vastness of the reviewed material would have benefited greatly from a wider
acknowledgement and incorporation of archaeological material. In many
ways, Tolley’s dismissal of archaeological evidence is inconsistent in

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relation to his use of ethnographic sources. If material culture is meaningless
without any piece of writing on it, then why was the ethnographic evidence
used (see illustrations of drums, costumes etc. in volume II) as indicators of
shamanic practices?

To conclude, I am convinced that the search for “shamanism” or the lack

of it in Old Norse myth and magic will never come to an end unless the
methodology is changed. This is primarily so, because what we may find
depends on what we are looking for, how we define it and what kind of
sources we choose to use in our arguments. The problem will remain until
historians of religions, philologists, anthropologists and archaeologists
choose to collaborate more closely.

(Leszek Gardeła)