When I first started talking about Icelandic Week, Intern Six (aka Liz Mullins) insisted that I include an Emiliana Torrini song, which reminded me that Torrini is actually Icelandic . . . Here’s her bio from Last.fm:
Emilíana Torrini is an Icelandic singer-songwriter, born on 16 May 1977 in Kópavogur, Iceland. Her full name is Emilíana Torrini Davíðsdóttir. She is best known for her 2009 single “Jungle Drum,” for the closing theme entitled Gollum’s Song of The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers film, and for her international debut album, _Love in the Time of Science. _
Her father is Italian and her mother Icelandic. Emilíana grew up in Kópavogur, where at the age of 7, she joined a choir as a soprano, until she went to opera school at the age of 15. Later she worked as waitress at her father’s restaurant from Iceland. In 1994, Emilíana became well-known in Iceland after winning the song competition of junior colleges in Iceland (Icelandic: Söngkeppni framhaldsskólanna), at the age of 17, singing “I Will Survive”.
Torrini’s Me and Armini is a very sweet album, with a number of catchy pop song, like the aforementioned Jungle Drum, and the incessantly bouncy Big Jumps. But instead of going with one of those, I decided to play my favorite song from her album, the more spooky “Gun.”
“Rambling Jack—what’s that?”
“A novel. Novella, I guess.”
“Yeah, it looks short. What is it, a hundred pages?”
“Sorta. It’s a duel language book, so really, only about… 50 pages total.”
“And this—what. . .
Many authors are compared to Roberto Bolaño. However, very few authors have the privilege of having a Roberto Bolaño quote on the cover of their work; and at that, one which states, “Good readers will find something that can be. . .
In Josep Maria de Sagarra’s Private Life, a man harangues his friend about literature while walking through Barcelona at night:
When a novel states a fact that ties into another fact and another and another, as the chain goes on. . .
César Aira dishes up an imaginative parable on how identity shapes our sense of belonging with Dinner, his latest release in English. Aira’s narrator (who, appropriately, remains nameless) is a self-pitying, bitter man—in his late fifties, living again with. . .
Originally published in French in 2007, We’re Not Here to Disappear (On n’est pas là pour disparaître) won the Prix Wepler-Fondation La Poste and the Prix Pierre Simon Ethique et Réflexion. The work has been recently translated by Béatrice Mousli. . .
Even though the latest from Jean Echenoz is only a thin volume containing seven of what he calls “little literary objects,” it is packed with surprises. In these pieces, things happen below the surface, sometimes both literally and figuratively. As. . .
Who is this woman? This is the question that opens Xiao Bai’s French Concession, a novel of colonial-era Shanghai’s spies and revolutionaries, police and smugglers, who scoot between doorways, walk nonchalantly down avenues, smoke cigars in police bureaus, and lounge. . .
For the past 140 years, Anna Karenina has been loved by millions of readers all over the world. It’s easy to see why: the novel’s two main plots revolve around characters who are just trying to find happiness through love.. . .
Linn Ullmann’s The Cold Song, her fifth novel, is built much like the house about which its story orbits: Mailund, a stately white mansion set in the Norwegian countryside a few hours drive from Oslo. The house, nestled into the. . .
Karel Schoeman’s Afrikaans novel, This Life, translated by Else Silke, falls into a genre maybe only noticed by the type of reader who tends toward Wittgenstein-type family resemblances. The essential resemblance is an elderly narrator, usually alone—or with one other. . .