The first fictional book in the Finnish language was not an epic adventure nor a grand drama, but a tale of seven countryboy brothers fumbling around, getting drunk, misbehaving, leaving chores undone, almost getting themselves killed, and still making it through life.
idk y'all, i feel like there's just something very finnish about the melancholic hopelessness and tragic nature of life, the fleeting summers and harsh winters, celebration songs composed in a minor key, blue and white, lakes and summer sky and snow, the inherent unfairness of existence, the forever feeling of not belonging, the chronic avoidance of any stranger while also propping lost gloves onto street signs in the hope that they may return to their owners, the silence of 3am, the "silence" of an untouched forest, the old wisdoms and folk songs
it's almost as if the entire culture was built on mourning as a form of perseverance, the importance of sitting in silence every now and then, and the concept of love thy neighbour that existed way before the bound bible found it's way to the finnish wildlands