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Bettie's Books

A Stuga On the Cusp of the Orust Riviera, tucked away next to a hobbit hole in the woods.

The Whispering Muse by Sjón, Victoria Cribb (Translation)

The Whispering Muse - Sjón, Victoria Cribb

 

Translated from the Icelandic by Victoria Cribb

Opening: I, Valdimar Haraldsson, was in my twenty seventh year when I embarked on the publication of a small journal devoted to my chief preoccupation, the link between fish consumption and the superiority of the Nordic race.

Thoughts on the opening: so, we have a elitist, narcissistic, dodgy narrator - I hope we get to witness the downfall of this Valdemort Valdimar.

Page 25: THAT MORNING the MS Elizabet Jung-Olsen had cruised into Fedafjord, one of those endless Norwegian fjords, and now lay moored in a small bay at the foot of a lofty mountain.

Page 32:
'So the day the ship was deemed ready to launch, bright-eyed Athena descended to earth among the shipwrights and fitted in her prow a beam from the whispering oak of her father Zeus.'


As perceived by that opening declaration, Valimar cannot see beyond the mundane in the world, or higher than his own opinions, and misses something entirely wondrous. Like pearls before swine one of the greatest stories known to man unfolds before him, firsthand, via a shard of timber.

Oh, and those wanting a quick fix of Jason and the Argonauts, the full film is here.

Rating: five in the bullseye of fafnir