Miss Iceland

May 1, 2020

After saying good-bye to her father and her small town, Hekla travels to Reykjav�k to find a job; live with her best friend, J�n John, who is gay; and write as much as possible. But Iceland in the 1960s is not receptive to women writers. Apart from working as a waitress and fending off the aggressive advances of male customers, her only options are to compete for the Miss Iceland title or to marry and have children like her childhood friend �sey. In her sixth novel, award-winning author �lafsd�ttir (Hotel Silence) paints a vivid portrait of Iceland: cold weather, volcanic eruptions, northern lights, whale hunting, darkness, sexism, and homophobia. Hekla, who is named after a volcano, perseveres with help from J�n John, her father, and �sey, even if an affair with a poet ends when he discovers that she is the better writer. For Hekla and J�n John to survive, they must leave. VERDICT In this excellent introduction to her work, �lafsd�ttir creates a world where either escape or hiding one's true nature are the only choices. [See Prepub Alert, 12/2/19.]--Jacqueline Snider, Toronto

Copyright 2020 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

June 1, 2020
Opportunities for women in Iceland in the early 1960s are so limited as to be nonexistent. There is the traditional path of motherhood, or, if one is particularly lovely, there is the omnipresent pressure to compete for the title of the nation's ultimate beauty queen, Miss Iceland. Hekla, already a published author and poet, wants to follow neither of these paths and so decamps for the big city of Reykjavik, where she lives with her best friend, Jon, a gay man whose life choices are even more restricted. Hekla lives to write, yet when she falls in love with the local librarian, also an aspiring poet, she finds herself increasingly subjected to the traditional roles of cook, decorator, and all-around helpmeet. When she and Jon decide to escape their prescribed existence, they marry so as to provide the safest cover for their twin journeys of discovery. As elegantly cold and foreboding as the Icelandic landscape itself, Olafsdottir's languid and melancholy portrait of a writer with a singular passion demonstrates the sacrifices women have always made for their art.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2020, American Library Association.)