![]() ![]() ![]() Anyway, now I need to read some of the novels by Halldor Laxness, the Icelander who won the Nobel Prize in 1955. The winters in Ottawa are colder than in Reykjavik, plus Ottawa has no hotsprings. Heck, it's farther north than southern Greenland, which isn't even green, whereas Iceland is. It's still hard for me to believe there's an entire country, with a big city and lots of little towns, lying up on the Arctic Circle, about the latitude of Baffin Island. It's only a little over 800 miles long, thorugh some of the most starkly beautiful landscapes on earth. Iceland: I really want to get there before I die and drive around the island on highway 1, the ring road. Burger King should try offering these items to North Americans. It was great! One of the most memorable sequences was Erlendur picking up some baked sheep's head at a drive thru, then using his pocket knife to dig out the eyeball and gobble it. Tangentially, I happened to find a copy of Jar City, the movie. As usual, Erlendur is the most persistant, cantankerous, truth-seeking sonofabitch in Reykjavik. ![]() He won the CWA Gold Dagger Award for Silence of the Grave and is the only author to win the Glass Key Award for Best Nordic Crime Novel two years in a row, for Jar City and Silence of the Grave. Turns out it has something to do with young socialist Icelanders studying in Leipzeig back in the '50s. Arnaldur Indridason is the author of Jar City, Silence of the Grave, Voices, The Draining Lake, and Arctic Chill. ![]() Erlendur and company try to figure out why a 30 year old skeleton at the bottom of Lake Kleifarvatn has a hole in its skull and is tied to a Soviet-era transmitting device. ![]()
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