Icelandic Fever: a Southern Saga

... or, a latter-day Lord Dufferin?

My son Gabe alerted me to the Man vs. Wild series, specifically the one shot in Iceland. Of course the rest of the world discovered this series back in 2006 when it first aired. Since we avoid reality TV, and TV in general, we wait for everything to come out in Netflix. Sometimes we wait longer than that.

So in keeping with the philosophy "better late than never," here's my superficial take on the macho Bear Grylls, British Special Forces Soldier Extraordinaire. Keep in mind that my assessment is based on just two shows. Two was enough.

Thoughts on Bear in Iceland. First, it's a stitch hearing him pronounce glaciers "glassy-ears." Second, what's not to like about a guy who makes the sign of the cross before hurling himself out of an airplane at 4,000 feet, to parachute down to a glassy-ear. Second part b, what's not to like about a guy who names one son Huckleberry, and another Marmaduke? Third, what's with the lack of a hat in sub-zero temperatures? (Of course we know the answer to that: so TV audiences can eat up his craggy looks). Hey, the scenery is awesome and scary, Bear jumps into a glacial melt river because he is confident that he can make it to the steaming hotpots in the distance without a) freezing, and b) boiling himself like a lobster once he gets there. You get to watch him get undressed and you get to watch him get dressed. Go Bear!

Vote for the most macho.

Thoughts on Bear in general. The formula for the shows is simple: Bear is catapulted into an extremely inhospitable environment, somewhere far from all civilization (except for cameramen), and by thinking quickly he manages to stay alive until the next time. In the two shows I've seen (hence all of his shows, in my world view) Bear suffers under the delusion that he is being pursued. Like the Special Forces guy he is, or was, or whatever, he is always running while in a crouched position, looking over his shoulder (try doing that at home). Along the way Bear tells us fun facts (an average of 3 people per day are rescued in Iceland; 60 people needed to be rescued last year in the Scottish Highlands, ...), and shows how to trap, skin, and eat wild animals. Or, dead animals left by the locals for the purpose of demonstration. Sure some of it's staged. Seriously, though, you learn a couple of useful facts in each show, both about the country he's up against, and about survival skills in general.

Check out the Bear. He's got an entertaining website too. Fun fact: Bear once "rowed naked for 22 miles in a homemade bathtub ... " (Wikipedia)

Posted by Rose at 11:23 PM | 5 comments    
Labels: Bear Grylls, Man vs. Wild

Jonathan Vassar & the Speckled Bird celebrated their newest release, The Fire Next Time, at a concert at The Camel last Saturday. It was a high energy event with a large and appreciative crowd, and featured individual sets by Josh Quarles and Chris Edwards.

The crowd, photographed by performer Chris Edwards: HAVING FUN! 

Then the Speckled Bird played through all seven songs from their new EP.This recording  features lots of instruments that work well with the songs: guitar, harmonica, mandolin, banjo, glockenspiel, cello, clarinet, slide guitar, accordion, and more. The sound recording and mixing are excellent, and the packaging of the EP is very attractive. I love the fact that it has all the lyrics, so I can enjoy the poetry of each song to the fullest. The musicality of the individual band members is evident, yet all parts contribute to a very fulfilling whole.
 
The t-shirt is pretty cool too!

Posted by Rose at 11:22 PM | 6 comments    
Labels: Antonia FD Vassar, Chris Edwards, Jonathan Vassar and The Speckled Bird, Josh Quarles, The Fire Next Time

A Quire of Seven, by Halldór Laxness. Translated from the Icelandic by Alan Boucher. Iceland Review Library, 1977 (first published in 1974). 95 pgs.

These seven short stories by my favorite author lack the monumental epicness of his novels. But this is an interesting assortment: like a curry, there are many different flavors and nuances. Humor and a surreal atmosphere predominate. Like all of his works, I savored these stories more on my second reading. Boucher translated this work over 30 years ago; it seems an adequate, not utterly graceful translation.

And--did you guess?--this is another book review challenge, posting the day before the Professor's much anticipated return to Iceland. Read his review of A Quire of Seven at Flippism is the Key.

Place of Safety is about dogs, respect, and faithfulness. Next up is Pigeon Banquet, a very odd story about a mysterious host, a lavish party and his bewildered guests.

"Aren't you enjoying yourself?" I asked.
"Of course I'm enjoying myself," said the man. "I'm the Icelandic police inspector who lost his passport in New York and couldn't remember his name. Then the judge in New York said, 'Let the police band play all the national anthems of the world, and see whether he doesn't respond to any of them. '"

Wouldn't that make a great scene in a black and white movie?

"Deroppefra," ... This Danish expression is oddly conceived. Its immediate sense seems to be the equivalent of the English "from up there"; but beyond this its meaning is so varied that it can be used to convey "from up in the rafters" or "from Heaven itself". And what is odder still, it can also signify "from Iceland."

So close to Heaven, is Iceland.

Inland Fishing Trip is a tale of impending disaster. Capital Error in the West Fjords is the strange odyssey of a middle-aged woman of no particular distinction who loses herself and finds her calling. Corda Atlantica concerns Count Dunganon, Duke of St. Kilda, a man who has his own country. This small island off the coast of Scotland is reputed to be the last remaining part of Atlantis.  The Count ...

... differed in no way from the rest of a class that has been more harshly treated than any other group in the world, not excluding the Jews: the so-called petit bourgeoisie, consisting, as everyone knows, of university professors, linen drapers, roadworks supervisors, assistant managers of breweries, and violin-makers.

John of Breadhouses is an alternative view of Christ's Disciples, as they might have been years after the Crucifixtion.

The last story, Bird on the Fencepost, describes the final hours of Hard-Knut (a Bjartur of Summerhouses sort of character). Knut intends to leave all of his wordly possessions (17 ewes) to his housekeeper, Brightmay. This story ends, and likewise the book, with a line that reminds me of Laxness himself:

As they rode through the gate the bird was still sitting on the fence-post, listening to the echo of the song it had chirped in summer.

How many travelers will be listening to the echo of Laxness' song, for seasons unnumbered?


*Dictionary.com says:

1.	a set of 24 uniform sheets of paper.

2.	Bookbinding. a section of printed leaves in proper sequence after folding; gathering.

---

Posted by Rose at 12:01 AM | 3 comments    
Labels: book, fiction, Halldór Laxness, review

When we drove to Dettifoss waterfall in 2006, it was along a rough gravel road. A recent article in the IcelandReview reports that archaeological work is being done in preparation for paving the road. Two buildings have been excavated, and the items discovered include a bone comb with an engraved pattern, knives, and a ringed silver brooch. These items are thought to be from the Viking era.

Posted by Rose at 9:57 PM | 1 comments    
Labels: Dettifoss

Check out the recent article entitled "Happy" Anniversary, Iceland by Iris Erlingsdottir, posted today in the Huffington Post. It will get you thinking.

Posted by Rose at 11:15 PM | 0 comments    
Labels: Erlingsdottir

Yes, I am. I love Trollope, especially the Chronicles of Barsetshire. I am on my third reading of the series, this time thanks to a Librivox recording that I'm listening to when I go to the gym. This gives me incentive to go to the gym as often as possible, so as to immerse myself in Trollope's wonderful writing.

My friend Karen alerted me to the novels of Anglea Thirkell, written some 80 years later, many (29) of which were set in the same fictional Barsetshire as the Trollope novels. I am starting with August Folly, written in 1936. What did I find on page 6? You guessed it: an Iceland reference:

Mr. Tebben was a Civil Servant during the week ... but in the evenings, and from Saturday to Monday, he gave himself entirely to the past, taking for his province the heroic age of Norway and Iceland ...

I think I'm going to like Angela Thirkell! I'm also partial to Thirkell since she described her books as "new wine in an old bottle."

Posted by Rose at 10:05 PM | 4 comments    
Labels: Thirkell, Trollope

I got home to find a new Garnet Hill Catalog in the mail, and I paged through it slowly with growing excitement. Was it? Could it be? By the time I had savored the last page (which wasn't too dangerous ... the only thing that seriously tempted me were the Frye slouch buckle boots, and I'm not getting them) I was pretty sure it had been shot in Iceland.

I looked carefully at the outer and inner front and back covers, and nowhere in the catalog did it say where the photos were shot! But lo, in an amazing example of customer service, I received the answer by email in record time: 25 minutes. Yes, the photos were shot in Iceland.

Unfortunately this catalog isn't available online (unlike the Anthropologie catalog), although you can see many of the photos at their website. But maybe you (or your spouse) recently got the catalog in the mail--take a vicarous trip to Iceland with some well-dressed models!

Posted by Rose at 8:56 PM | 2 comments    
Labels: catalog, Garnet Hill