Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #58473 in Books
• Published on: 2001-09-28
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 288 pages

Synopsis
A childhood in Iceland is the background to this powerful and evocative tale. Halldor Laxness' wistfully tender novel tells the tale of Alfgrim, an abandoned child, whose mother gave birth to him in the turf-and-stone cottage of Bjom of Brekkukot, the fisherman, on the outskirts of what is now Reykjavik. It evokes his boyhood and youth, spent at his grandparents' home in the early years of the twentieth century, an hospitable place where dignified understatement was the norm and where everything from a lumpfish to a bible had a fixed price which never changed.

From the Back Cover
'It is a novel (a world) that transmits something of the wonder of life, its strangeness, its goodness, ocassions for stubbornness, and the stoicism of people - people everywhere.' Murray Bail

A tender coming of age story of a boy and a nation, dragged unwillingly into the modern world.

Abandoned as a baby, Alfgrimur is content to spend his days as a fisherman living in the turf cottage outside Reykjavik with the elderly couple he calls grandmother and grandfather. There he shares the mid-loft with a motley bunch of eccentrics and philosophers who find refuge in the simple respect for their fellow men that is the ethos at Brekkukot. But the narrow horizon's of Alfgrimur's idyllic childhood are challenged when he starts school and meets Iceland's most famous singer, the mysterious Gardar Holm. Garder encourages him to aim for the 'one true note', but how can he attain it withough leaving behind the world that he loves?

'This weird and wonderful novel ... is Laxness at his best: a reminder of the mad hilarity of the Icelandic sensibility. An unforgettable voice.' Nicholas Shakespeare

'Laxness's view of a child's bounded universe has humour and a light touch.' Isobel Montgomery, Guardian

Customer Reviews

A thoughtful, warm and often funny book, with a slow pace.
"The fish can sing" tells the story of Alfgrimur from childhood to coming of age. Abandoned by his mother at birth, Alfgrimur is raised by his "grandparents" - an elderly couple who take him in. The centre of the tale is Brekkukot - their humble but hospitable turf cottage - which is a free and ever-open guest house for those who need it.

The book is set in Reykjavik at the beginning of its transition from an unremarkable town in a traditional society to the capital of Iceland. The characters of the "grandparents" represent the past of Icelandic society - with values which are sometimes amusingly irrational but which nevertheless are full of humanity. Through these characters, and those of some of their guests at Brekkukot, a picture of Icelandic rural life is presented with humor and lyrical beauty.

Modernity is represented by the mysterious character of Gardar Holm, who has achieved fame in the outside world as an opera singer. He is the hero of the new merchant class, who have opened department stores and newspapers and who threaten the livelihood of the old time fisherman with their trawler fleets. Through his contact with Gardar Holm, Alfgrimur is drawn towards that world.

Laxness succeeds in immersing the reader in the life of Brekkukot. This is a sometimes funny book, sometimes full of pathos. Memorable scenes come back to you many days after you have put the book down. Some might find the book a bit on the sentimental side, but it is much more than a sentimental tale. Just as it beautifully describes the change from childhood to adulthood, it describes the transition of a society - both with their own inevitability. Written in 1957, it is ahead of its time in its awareness of the environmental issues which result.

A thoughtful, warm and often funny book, with a slow pace. It's not for everyone, but many will find it a rewarding read.

Very different from "Independent People", but just as good..
The justly famous opening sentence sums up the book's quirkiness: "...next to losing its mother, there is nothing so healthy for a child as losing its father." Alfgrímur ("Elf-guest"), the novel's narrator, has indeed lost - or at least mislaid - both his parents, and is being raised by his loving grandparents (who turn out not to be his real grandparents, or indeed married to each other) and an extraordinary but always supportive crew of archetypal Laxness characters who are boarders in his grandparents' house. During the opening chapters, we are gradually introduced to the child Alfgrímur's world: Laxness brilliantly evokes the way a child's initially limited understanding gradually deepens, so that the reader is learning the real truths behind the characters and events in Alfgrímur's Reykjavik at the same time as he himself is discovering them. This part of the book is deceptive - it can at the time feel slow-moving (though always quirkily charming), but in fact there is deeper and darker stuff going on than meets the eye.

The second half of the book becomes increasingly focussed on Alfgrímur's cousin, the internationally famous Icelandic tenor Gardar Hólm ... what, you haven't heard of him? Now, why might that be? This section of the tale suddenly and unexpectedly darkens, as Gardar's true circumstances are gradually revealed; and there are some utterly unforgettable moments - particularly Gardar's impromptu concert in the virtually empty cathedral, for the benefit of his aged and near-blind mother - this moment comes after Alfgrímur, and the reader, have been waiting all through the novel to finally hear Gardar sing, and it's undoubtedly worth the wait. The final few chapters combine high tragedy and low comedy in typical Laxness style: this is a slow-burner of a book that really blazes up towards the end.

This novel is perhaps the ideal introduction to Laxness' work - though less craggily monolithic than "Independent People", it is (for all its idiosyncrasy and charm) just as deeply serious. It is ultimately, like so many great books, about growing up - both Alfgrímur's own journey to adulthood, and his country's journey to modern, independent nationhood. Both processes involve as many losses as gains.

As usual, Magnus Magnusson gives us an unobtrusively idiomatic translation, which is a delight to read. This is an utterly unique book - highly recommended.

"The Fish Can Sing" but does the book?
"The Fish Can Sing" I purchased having recently visited Iceland. I was interested in finding out some more than my day visit allowed me about Icelandic life and culture. Laxness paints a quaint world of simplicity and good manners practised by the Icelandic people. However, as a novel, I found the beginning chapters, about the various people who visited young Alfgrimur's house, slightly monotonous and somewhat detatched from the story. It was not until about halfway through the 246 page novel that a story actual began to emerge. It is difficult not to think of the book as an autobiography or biography while reading through although the book does not sell itself as such. Laxness has managed to make a story out of what the modern, Western world would consider insignificant events and chance meetings in young Alfgrimur's life. As you can imagine, living in a small, closed community on the island of Iceland, at that time, did not make for much drama or excitement. The novel is not for those looking for pace, intrigue, mystery or suspense but is a glimpse into the recent past: the life of a young island boy who sees (and makes) adventure and discovery in the everyday things of life.