Alf Martin Jæger

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In 1924, it happened. For the first time in Norwegian literary history, the protagonist’s sexual orientation was the central theme of a novel. At the same time, the word homosexual appeared for the first time in a Norwegian work of fiction. Odd Lyng is a homosexual self-recognition novel written by Alf Martin Jæger from Alta. The book is an apology for the right to be who one is, and an early protest against § 213 of the Penal Code. The protagonist and first-person narrator, Odd Lyng, has understood what it’s really about: the problem is not with him, but with the society he lives in:

“But when one is such that one cannot be satisfied without precisely that which people have made laws against, should one not be allowed to follow the demands of one’s nature? No, one is to live and suffer. One is to be purified in a purgatory—in a hell on earth. One is to be a self-denying ascetic who does not violate other people. That became one’s karma.”

Alf Martin Jæger (September 1, 1895 – February 1, 1967) was born out of wedlock and grew up in Alta. He attended teacher training college in Tromsø and first worked as a teacher in Vik in Sogn, then in Northern Norway: Balsfjord, Lenvik, Skjervøy, Vågan, and Berg in Senja. In Skjervøy, he was for many years a member of the municipal and school board for the Labour Party (around 1929–33). In 1935, Jæger married the teacher Aagot Josefsen. She died in 1964. They had no children.

In addition to his work as a teacher, Alf Martin Jæger was also an author and journalist. At the age of seventeen, he began writing for newspapers, and by eighteen, Jæger had a regular fiction section in Ellisif Wessel’s journal Klasse mot klasse (Class Against Class) (1914–15). Here, one finds clear traces of the theme Jæger would later focus on presenting between literary covers: close emotions and love between men. In Trembling Leaves (Dirrende lauv), he writes:

“I was alone. Lonely, I wandered through the forests. Lonely... And then I longed for a trusted friend and companion. And I wished that people would learn to care for one another. And I thought how wonderful life would be if everyone were happy and free.”
(Issue III, p. 26, 1915)

Leif Wang: Unfit for Marriage

In 1923, Jæger published the short novel The String Snapped (Strengen brast, 56 pages), about Leif Wang, the new teacher in the village with an intriguing face: “His hair was exceedingly beautiful. The curls wound themselves like a wreath around his broad, white forehead.” Leif becomes engaged to Agnes but soon realizes the relationship isn’t working.

On a mountain hike, he meets Øistein, who is concerned that people often speak about things they don’t understand. “There is so much strange within a human soul,” Leif replies. “An action may be regarded by others as a sin without necessarily being one.” To emphasize the weight of this statement and signal that it may require extra reflection from the reader, the author halts the conversation here, inserts a pause with three dashes and double line spacing, followed by this telling detail: “That night, Øistein and Leif shared the same bed.” Later, Leif breaks off the engagement with Agnes, “who was, after all, of a different nature than he,” because he does not want to build a marriage on a lie: “I only know that a life together with her would be unbearable. It will likely be difficult to find anyone who takes my side in this matter. Even my mother will be against me.”
(p. 53)

The not particularly well-written The String Snapped could have ended with Leif Wang aboard the southbound coastal steamer, heading toward a new teaching post and an uncertain future. But that is not tragic enough for Alf Martin Jæger. He wants to show what it means to be a sexual deviant in the 1920s, how few chances there are to find belonging, how hard it is to shed feelings of inferiority and believe in oneself as equal to others. If one is not accepted by (local) society, one cannot accept oneself either.

When Leif Wang finds no connection between his innermost self and the world around him—nothing to suggest that his way of being could be justified—he breaks. The string snaps, and suicide remains the only solution. In despair, Leif throws himself overboard and disappears into the waves.

Odd Lyng: Perverse and Parasitic

In his next novel, Odd Lyng (1924), Jæger takes an important step further. Even if the protagonist does not explicitly call himself homosexual, he at least uses the term in reference to himself—that is, to his thoughts: “To harbor homosexual thoughts could hardly be criminal. And yet it was a word that appeared before his eyes daily: Moral offense.”

Odd Lyng (25) is the editorial secretary at a socialist newspaper in a northern city—undoubtedly Nordlys in Tromsø, a paper Jæger was more or less regularly affiliated with as a book reviewer throughout his life. The novel is considered a roman à clef, and in the copy held by Tromsø Public Library, one (or more) readers have written the real names of people, buildings, and places in the margins next to the fictional names used in the novel.

The first time Odd Lyng sees Carsten Ulve—who is repeating his final year of high school—he falls deeply in love. Carsten also notices Odd’s intense gaze: “It was as if Odd had magnetized him with his eyes.” Odd initially refuses to admit why he is drawn to the tall and handsome young man: “It must be the artist in me that makes me admire this young man’s rare beauty,” but he is not entirely sure: “Yes, but is it only the artist in me?”

Odd Lyng is also a painter and uses this as an excuse both for his thoughts and for dressing and behaving somewhat flamboyantly. He compares himself to Herman Bang and believes that, as an artist, one is allowed to be a bit different: “Artists can take greater liberties than ordinary people.” Even the narrator feels Odd goes a bit too far and claims he is too much of an “artist” in his manner of dress.

In line with common perceptions of the time, Jæger gives his homosexual characters “feminine” traits: “God, why did you create me as a man and give me a woman’s heart?”
Odd Lyng is very sensitive and full of “little affectations.” His skin is white and soft, his lips red, and “the slender hand that grasped the glass was pale with blue veins.”
(Leif’s hand in The String Snapped was described as “white and fine and slightly moist.”) The town’s favorite singer is also portrayed as affected and “like a woman,” but an artist nonetheless.

Odd is completely infatuated with Carsten and compares him to Antinous, and himself to Emperor Hadrian. Carsten’s eyes “were more beautiful than blue flowers, for they were soulful in all their loveliness.” Odd invites Carsten out, dares to briefly touch his hand at the cinema, and dreams of holding it and expressing affection.

He took Carsten’s hand, and Carsten returned his grip quickly and warmly. Odd moved his feverish hand up along Carsten’s wrist and found comfort in the sensation.

“If the holy angels we read about as children had been able to look into Odd’s soul that evening, they would have pressed their hands to their faces and turned away, blushing with shame.”

Odd wants to put his arms around Carsten’s neck, but knows this is pure wishful thinking: “If you want to get that far, you must use base means, and then you are on forbidden paths.”This may not be great storytelling in a literary sense, but it is an interesting defense of people who feel differently, and the novel carries a clear message. The two young men spend a lot of time together, but after a while, Odd begins to imagine that Carsten no longer wants anything to do with him. After seeing Carsten in town with a woman and misinterpreting a conversation he overhears, Odd flees the city and takes a job at a local construction newspaper. On the journey there, he is made drunk and deliberately seduced by a man named Falk—symbolically a kind of bird of prey who pounces on innocent prey.

Although Odd feels sick in Falk’s company (“a fat man with a red, ugly face”), he allows himself to be misled into believing that there is only one room available at the hotel where they disembark—a room with only a single bed. “Toward morning, he woke and tore himself away from the repulsive Falk. Away from the red, bloated face.”
He then lies down on a sofa—a sofa that had not been mentioned the night before.

Odd’s admiration for his beloved, young, and beautiful Carsten stands in stark contrast to his revulsion toward the grotesque and predatory Falk.

How old could this creature be?
Nearly forty years!
If only he had been strong enough to strike him down. The swine!

Falk is repeatedly compared to animals (creature, swine, etc.), which is not surprising considering that homosexuality and sexual acts with animals were linked under § 213 of the Penal Code—legislation “inspired” by Leviticus 18 and 20 in the Bible.

The episode with Falk deeply affects Odd—his self-esteem and conscience. He both wanted and didn’t want to be with Falk in that way. It is impossible for Odd to identify with that kind of vulgar homosexual. He feels far too good for that. But inside, Odd Lyng hears a mocking voice: “Are you really any better, you sanctimonious fool? No, you’re not a hair better, my boy! You’re exactly the same. You belong to the same brotherhood.”

In his new job, Odd spends his time reflecting on his lonely fate and his “perverse nature.” He enjoys himself, becomes a regular at drinking parties and card games, and treats selected guests to drinks in his room. When the construction newspaper shuts down, Odd returns to his parents and continues brooding over life, religion, and the hypocritical world: “Surely it isn’t a sin to follow one’s inclinations when the urges demand it.” He wonders when humanity will reach the point “where they stop punishing people for such ‘crimes’ as [Oscar] Wilde was convicted of.” Those punishments might be enough in themselves.

Like so many other homosexuals, Odd is tormented by self-loathing—contempt for his sinful desires and unnatural urges: “He was a parasite who ought to be eradicated.” Why had he become this way? Was it inherited, or the result of bad influences in his youth? We are given no clear answer—only a hint to seek answers in theosophy.

Odd Lyng is aware of his homosexual orientation and the desperate situation he is in. He overthinks everything and becomes mentally unstable and paranoid from being alone with such “sick, dark thoughts.” He tries to pull himself out of the abyss, applies for jobs, and writes letters to Carsten filled with desperate self-pity. When he grows tired of waiting for a reply, he sees no other way out than suicide—and shoots himself.

The next day, two joyful letters arrive for Odd: one from his former employer in the city offering him a job, and one from Carsten—a straightforward expression of trust:“Only when I was with you did I feel at ease.”

What would have happened if those letters had arrived just one day earlier?
Would Alf Martin Jæger still have been able to end the novel about Odd Lyng?
A book about happy homosexuals and a happy ending would likely have been seen as downright provocative and deeply immoral at the time! Regardless, Jæger made it clear that homosexuals exist—even if it’s in an idealized literary world where most men are handsome and well-formed, while women are often coarse and unappealing.

Sigfred (12): A Frail and Delicate Boy

After Odd Lyng, no more books were published by Alf Martin Jæger for 26 years. But in 1950, he released a children’s and young adult novel titled Do You See a Star. While his two earlier books were published by Norske Forfatteres Forlag, Walter Øverland, Jæger published this new book through his own publishing house. He sent the book to various people he had been in contact with, including Mikkjel Fønhus, who praised it in a letter:

“I read the book with genuine interest. It is a fine study of a boy’s mind. A psychology that feels convincing. I also think the book is well composed, with firm language and vivid descriptions.”

The story in Do You See a Star is set in Alta in the years before the First World War. Twelve-year-old Sigfred falls in love with Waldemar, a boy his own age who is spending the summer in the village. Just seeing him fills Sigfred with a strange joy. Waldemar is beautiful (blue eyes and red lips) and brave.

“But Sigfred was shy when they wanted to play stallion and mare. He didn’t otherwise mind the game, but he was bashful like a little girl. He quickly slipped away when the boys, completely naked and snorting like fiery stallions, came after him.”

It is interesting to note how the author portrays Sigfred’s “sensitive soul” in such a way that no reader can be in doubt. Almost everything Sigfred does is meant to emphasize his difference—for example, that he had long read the serialized stories in Illustrert Familieblad and cut out pictures of handsome men with beautiful hands: the Tsar of Russia and the Prince of Wales.

Afraid that someone might notice how fond he was of Waldemar, Sigfred didn’t dare wrestle or roughhouse with him like the other boys did. But he could dream: “For the world of dreams has no boundaries.” Sigfred fantasizes about a strong and active Waldemar pulling him close. The naked body feels large and comforting against Sigfred’s own. Later, he imagines the two of them falling asleep tightly embraced in a beautiful bedroom.

All through the winter, he thinks only of Waldemar and longs for him with aching intensity. He didn’t know it could hurt so much to love another person. True, he cared for his mother and his understanding teacher, but: “His love for Waldemar was something entirely different—it begged and pleaded. [...] He could not do without this one—Waldemar.”

When summer finally comes and Waldemar returns on holiday, Sigfred realizes that the special feelings he has are not returned. Wanting at least to secure their friendship, Sigfred gathers his courage, places his hand over Waldemar’s, and seriously asks if they can always be friends—and if Waldemar will write to him. And in case there is any doubt about what lies behind this question, the reader is given the following comment from the omniscient narrator: “At that moment, he [Sigfred] was not aware that this was a child’s declaration of love, and the other did not understand it either.” Six pages later, however, the narrator asserts that Sigfred does understand he is different: “Perhaps few boys think this way, but Sigfred was not like other boys. And he knew it himself.”

In contrast to Jæger’s other novels, Do You See a Star ends on a positive (though lonely) note. Sigfred does not take his own life, but experiences a deep and tragic heartbreak. For Sigfred (and other homosexuals), this offers a glimmer of hope that the future might be less bleak. The final lines suggest as much: “But did there not burn behind all the mists an eternal star—a star of happiness—even for Sigfred?”

Correspondence with Forbundet

The then-chairman of what would become the Norwegian Association of 1948 (Det Norske Forbundet av 1948), Rolf Løvaas, wrote a letter to Alf Martin Jæger in which he expressed that he liked the book and called its content bold. But Jæger rejected that characterization and referred instead to Borghild Krane’s novel Disarray of Emotions (Følelsers forvirring) from 1937. Jæger did not mention his own “bold” novel Odd Lyng—a book Rolf Løvaas clearly knew nothing about.

Jæger was pleased to receive letters and information about the Association, and he expressed hope that the organizations now being established in the Nordic countries would be allowed to work in peace:

“That they are not subjected to persecution. Sadism takes many forms—it does so in the name of Christianity, as during the Inquisition and the witch hunts.”
(National Archives, PA–1328: letter to Løvaas, 27 February 1951). At the same time, Jæger expressed skepticism about joining the Association. He wondered whether such an organization might be isolating: “Wouldn’t it be better to carry out open agitation to remove this legal paragraph, which is a disgrace to a civilized state?”
(National Archives, PA–1328: letter to Løvaas, 7 March 1952).

Alf Martin Jæger died on 1 February 1967 and is buried in Saltdal.

Read more about Alf Martin Jæger’s life in this 2019 article.