For all who yearn to travel to the home of the sagas, a beautifully illustrated companion to the terrain of Iceland—from puffins to ponies, glaciers and volcanoes to legendary trolls.
Described by William Morris as “most unimaginably strange,” the landscape of Iceland has fascinated and inspired travelers, scientists, artists, and writers throughout history. This book provides a contemporary understanding of the landscape as a whole, not only its iconic glaciers and volcanoes, but also its deserts, canyons, plants, and animals. The book examines historic and modern scientific studies of the landscape and animals, as well as accounts of early visitors to the land. These were captivating people, some eccentric but most drawn to Iceland by an enthrallment with all things northern, a desire to experience the land of the sagas, or plain scientific and touristic curiosity. Featuring many spectacular illustrations, this is a fine exploration of a most singular landscape.
An excellent companion for a journey through Iceland, which is where I am now.
It was the great writer, William Morris, who described the scenery in Iceland as ‘Most Unimaginably Strange’. This book provides a contemporary understanding of the landscape as a whole, not only its iconic glaciers and volcanoes, but also its deserts, canyons, plants and animals.
The other reviewer was vindictively unkind. This is not a one-star book.
This is really two books. One is a gorgeously made book with stunning photographs and shockingly high-quality production. For a true book-lover, this represents what all books should be, solid, perfectly composed, and a treat to hold and read.
The second book is a truly odd amalgam of enthusiasm and academic writing. It is a very hard book to read.
I suspect it is not academic enough for someone used to reading and writing for journals, and it is too academic for someone who wants a survey of Iceland that reads like the oppressively common "How xxx changed the world" genre of popular books that moosh together science, history, and exaggerated puffery to create fulsome, modestly accurate romps through the historical record.
There is too much volcanic and geological terminology for a romantic reader, who will likely find it dense and irritating. And there is too little academic structure and too many mini vignettes of explorers and agitators for the ivory tower crowd.
So it is a book perhaps with no audience, but one that definitely has an author, one who clearly loves the absolute weirdness and ferocity and beauty of Iceans, and wants us to see it as he does. I read it cover to cover (cover to footnotes?), and I love that the author loves it. And I love Iceland, even moreso now.
I was asked to review this book for a journal, and I was quite disappointed by it -- don't want to duplicate the review here, but while i liked the idea for this book, it seemed disorganized and incredibly difficult to follow.