Review by Booklist Review
Winner of the Icelandic Literary Prize, this strange little novel with elements of psychological suspense marks Eiríksdóttir's English language debut. Elín is an aging props maker living a lonely existence in Reykjavik. She is working on a play that is written by a famous novelist's young daughter, Ellen. It is quickly obvious that the women have more in common than a name. Elín sees herself in the awkward, introverted playwright, but her maternal instincts are rebuffed by Ellen. However, there is more to Elín's interest: she knew the girl's father, and her appearance brings Elín face-to-face with her difficult past. The narrative shifts between the two women, reflecting their similarities. But as their histories come to light, their narratives become so intertwined that, at times it's difficult to parse out whose story is whose. While Eiríksdóttir clearly does this intentionally and her circular writing amps up the suspense, readers can get a little lost. But patience will be rewarded, and even the out-of-left-field ending won't temper the book's ultimately unexpected connections, both literary and emotional.--Kathy Sexton Copyright 2010 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
A prop artist's long-suppressed memories rise to the surface when she encounters a young writer struggling to free herself from a domestic morass in this gripping, often surprising novel, Eiríksdottír's English-language debut. Elín Jónsdottír is in her 70s and living in Reykjavík; she's an accomplished maker of props for television shows and films that share "the same old fixation, varying levels of guilt in regard to the abuse of a girl-child." Elín takes a job making props for a new play by Ellen Álfsdóttir, the 19-year-old daughter of famous writer Álfur Finnsson, because she's curious about Ellen, whose first play is praised even before it opens. In reality, Ellen is a troubled, lonely misfit who was raised by her increasingly delusional mother after Finnsson died from drinking. Yet the solitary, bristly Elín is drawn to Ellen, perhaps because her story reminds Elín of her own fatherless childhood, and of a dark episode that shaped her entire life. Moving between Elín's recollections of studying art in the 1960s and traveling abroad in the '80s, and Ellen's present-day meetings with boys she meets online, the book offers readers insight into the draws and dangers of solitude; thinking of a John Waters film, Elín reflects that "someone else's fingerprints constrict your existence. There's nothing particularly charitable or charming about it, but it's human." Eiríksdottír's novel is both intelligent and affecting. (Sept.)
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Review by Kirkus Book Review
In award-winning Icelandic novelist Eirksdttir's English-language debut, an older woman fixates on a young playwriting prodigy, and both women come to the realization that they are linked by shared trauma in their pasts.Eln Jnsdttir is a woman in her late 60s living alone in Reykjavk. She makes her living creating propssevered limbs and decaying corpses, especiallyfor the theater and Nordic crime films. Eln crosses paths with Ellen lfsdttir, the 19-year-old daughter of famed playwright Alfur Finnsson and author of a new play that's garnering a lot of buzz. This atmospheric, disorienting tale is narrated by Eln, who says "the reason I decided to write this is that if I don't, no one will," and that it's "an attempt to connect signs that were conveyed in waking life and in dreams." Eln, who had a difficult childhood, has spent her adulthood pushing others away. She claims that she "[can] see feig, someone's death approaching." Long ago, she "accidentally got mixed up in the most salacious story of them all": one involving Ellen's philandering father, who was discovered dead halfway between his wife's house and that of his mistressEllen's mother. Eln's work in the theater brings her close to Ellen, and she spies on the young woman and her artist mother. "The people I wanted to get to know were far beyond my reach," Eln confesses, and the unexpected delivery of boxes full of memorabilia from her dead grandmother's house forces her to recall that she has obsessed over others before with traumatic and tragic results. As Ellen's play is produced and Eln circles closer to the girl, she finally acknowledges the spell she's under and that "trauma is, of course, nothing but an enchantment."A dreamlike meditation on isolation and the bone-aching desire for companionship. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
