I think I might be a little bit obsessed with Iceland. I've been twice now - once to Reykjavik to do the standard tourist stuff, and the second time road-tripping round the ring-road, an experience that outstripped every other trip I've been on by a mile. I love all the Nordic countries I've visited, but there's just something about Iceland. In it's breath-taking but terrifying landscape, the laidback, matter-of-fact attitudes of its people, and the worlds apart vibe, it has stolen my heart completely. It's not just me either - my partner once said that the only place he would consider living outside of Wales is Iceland. Wales is the easier option for now, but we can dream. I also love ghost stories, which readers of this blog should be pretty aware of by now, so when my sister bought me a book on the ghosts of Reykjavík, I was delighted. Two of my favourite things in one!
Note: ð is pronounced as a hard "th" sound, like in "the" or "that"
For all its beauty, Iceland can be a dark, desolate and dangerous place - all ideal conditions for the growth and spread of ghost stories and tales of hauntings. With the movement of so many rural Icelanders to the capital city in the last 150 years, it was inevitable that folklore, superstition and storytelling would. The Haunting of Reykjavík is a collection of ghost stories based around the city, none of them ever published before, and the product of extensive interviews with Icelanders (both dead and alive) by the author.
This book was an absolute delight. Considering some extremely dark topics were addressed, it somehow managed to be actually hilarious, while still maintaining complete respect towards the victims of the various crimes and horrors described. I don't know if you've had the pleasure of encountering Icelandic humour before, but if you haven't, think dark, dry and deadpan. They call it Gálgahúmor - gallows humour, which is extremely apt in this particular case. It takes some getting used to, and it's not for everyone I'll admit, but I loved it. I had to double take a lot of the quips, but once I got an eye for them I spotted more and more. It seems to build throughout the book, as if Bragi is getting more comfortable with his narration, which may be likely as I definitely preferred the stories in the second half. Some my favourite quotes include:
"The great-grandson ... made his millions from selling beer in St. Petersburg during the golden age of the Russian mafia - one of the key manufacturers of ghosts in Asia"
[About the ghost of an abusive teacher Margrét Müeller at Landakotsskoli School] - "In an attempt to find out what Margrét is up to these days, I contacted Sálarrannsóknarfélagið (the National Association of Mediums)"
[Several different times on finding the buildings to be investigated locked] - "I could have planned this better, I thought." "
The stories are all short and punchy, spanning about 150 years, from the mid 1800s to as recent as 2011, with appropriate background and inset boxes for extra context if you're not a Reykjavík local, which I imagine most of the readers of this blog are not. Some are certainly strange, some are spooky, and some are heartbreakingly grim and dark. The tale of the butchered horse invading nightmares was certainly an odd one, as was the one about the black painted rooms at the Hotel Borg. There are some more classic ghost stories as well, like story of the young woman who drowned her infant in Tjornin Pond in the city centre, and the murder suicide fated to replay over and over to visitors of Suðurgata 2, the Dillon House.
Some of the illustrations and photos were fascinating, especially the older photos, and I would have really appreciated captions on these and some explanation of their source. I would have also liked an introduction, some context to the book and why it was written, maybe a quick chat about why the author is so fascinated by these tales. There is a little of this in the author's acknowledgements at the end, but it's brief, and for me, would have sat much better at the start. The focus on the capital does make sense as this is where the majority of Iceland's population does make sense (a population so small they have a dating app that allows you to make sure that hot guy chatting you up in the bar isn't related to you), I'd love to know more about the hauntings of the rest of the country too. The map of Reykjavík at the back labelled with the sites of the hauntings was a nice touch - I don't know the city like the back of my hand but I am familiar with it. With the help of the map I was able to picture pretty much where all the stories took place, which really made them seem more real and increased the spook factor.
While I imagine the level of enjoyment of this book is probably pretty closely correlated to how well you know/love both Reykjavík and ghost stories, I'd still recommend it. A fun little diversion (just 119 pages) from more serious books, and certainly one to check out if you're a fan of all things Nordic.
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