Thorbergur Thordarson’s vivid memoir The Stones Speak recalls his childhood days spent in a remote Icelandic hamlet:
Large boulders stood here and there on the slopes. They appeared to be lifeless rocks if you just gave them a momentary glance. 

Thorbergur Thordarson’s vivid memoir The Stones Speak recalls his childhood days spent in a remote Icelandic hamlet:
Large boulders stood here and there on the slopes. They appeared to be lifeless rocks if you just gave them a momentary glance. 

Halldor Laxness’s Independent People, an epic tale of a 19th-Century Icelandic sheep farmer, offers ruminations across the spectrum:
On birth: It’s marvelous, you know, when you come to think of it: there you have a new body and a new soul suddenly making an appearance, and where do they come from and why are they always coming? (127) 
On the toils of life: No wonder that the soul is cheerless, that hope is small in people’s hearts, that there is little comfort in lying awake at night. Even the most beautiful memories lose their luster like a shining silver coin that collects verdigris because it has been lost. 
We alone exist.





(A loose translation of Martin Heidegger’s Man Alone Exists.)
There is that moment, warm, familiar with being here, almost comfortable with the parameters of this life, knowing little, knowing everything in that.
Words and sounds are light and full, making sense, building something, bottle in hand, knowing there will be more, and there will be.
Thinking to stay in that, just the moment, almost forever, and realizing what an idiot, and laughing, because it was delicious and is gone.



Thorbergur Thordarson is one of Iceland’s great writers. Sadly, little of his work has been translated into English, and what little has seems only to be available in Iceland. His autobiography, The Stones Speak, recounts his childhood in the hamlet of Hali at the turn of the 20th century, detailing the tiniest aspects, including every person, animal, building and room of his young life, as well as his profoundly personal relationship with the land and rocks.
Many things in this landscape had names that made you stop and think and stirred your emotions. There was a story behind them, but it had usually been forgotten. This is why thinking about them was always just as exciting at the end, as in the beginning. (191) 

Hallgrimskirkja – or Halgrimur Church – sits on a hill overlooking Reykjavik, Iceland. 


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