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joecam79's review against another edition
3.0
This novel is an insightful psychological study of two lonely and eccentric individuals with a tenuous grip on their sanity. The protagonist and narrator Elín Jónsdóttir, is a theatre and movie prop creator in her late sixties. One of the latest projects in which Elín is involved is the production of a new play by a teenage writing prodigy - Ellen Álfsdóttir. Ellen happens to be the daughter of a famed playwright with whom Elín was acquainted. Elín, who has spent all her life pushing people away from her, now seems strangely drawn to the disturbed teenager and starts following her. The narrative is purportedly written by the older woman, and it alternates between her reminiscences, written in the first person, and scenes involving Ellen, written in the third person and incorporating poems Ellen wrote.
The scant plot details of A Fist or A Heart (such as they are) are revealed slowly and tantalisingly. In this respect, I found the novel gripping and atmospheric. On the other hand, I cannot say I “loved” the book. My reservations were two.
The novel is built on a premise of ambiguity. It is quite clear, that Elín and Ellen are meant to be reflections of each other. Both are lonely, both had an upbringing with an ‘absent’ father, both had problematic relationships with their respective mothers. In a way, Ellen’s mother Lilya could be read as yet another aspect of one composite character. By the end of the book, however, the ambiguity is taken to extremes. As Elín becomes more and more confused, it’s not even clear whether what we’ve learnt about the (younger) Ellen or, for that matter, Elín herself, should be taken at face value. Has Elín made up everything? Is Ellen partly or completely the product of Elín’s imagination? These questions (and other, less important ones, which also remain unanswered) kept bothering me after I finished the book. I’m sure some would hold this in the book’s favour. I’m more conservative in that respect and prefer greater “closure”.
My second reservation, although less central to the novel, I found possibly more troubling. Throughout the book there are frequent references to violence and violent acts. Elín’s props are, more often than not, meant for some Nordic crime film or shocking play: the grisly list includes severed limbs, decaying corpses, scarred bodies, a doll to represent an abused minors. In what is quite a short book, there is also a chapter about quite a stomach-churning episode of sexual violence (no further details here to avoid ‘spoilers’) and a sub-plot involving an unlikely meeting with a serial killer. I’d like to think that I’m not a squeamish reader (I’ve read my share of horror stories), but I did feel that these unsavoury details were not essential to the novel.
Reservations aside, I am still pleased at the opportunity of discovering a new author in her English language debut, and (given it’s unlikely I will ever learn Icelandic) I will seek out translations of Kristín Eiríksdóttir’s other works once they – hopefully – become available.
https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2019/09/a-fist-or-a-heart-by-kristin-eiriksdottir.html
The scant plot details of A Fist or A Heart (such as they are) are revealed slowly and tantalisingly. In this respect, I found the novel gripping and atmospheric. On the other hand, I cannot say I “loved” the book. My reservations were two.
The novel is built on a premise of ambiguity. It is quite clear, that Elín and Ellen are meant to be reflections of each other. Both are lonely, both had an upbringing with an ‘absent’ father, both had problematic relationships with their respective mothers. In a way, Ellen’s mother Lilya could be read as yet another aspect of one composite character. By the end of the book, however, the ambiguity is taken to extremes. As Elín becomes more and more confused, it’s not even clear whether what we’ve learnt about the (younger) Ellen or, for that matter, Elín herself, should be taken at face value. Has Elín made up everything? Is Ellen partly or completely the product of Elín’s imagination? These questions (and other, less important ones, which also remain unanswered) kept bothering me after I finished the book. I’m sure some would hold this in the book’s favour. I’m more conservative in that respect and prefer greater “closure”.
My second reservation, although less central to the novel, I found possibly more troubling. Throughout the book there are frequent references to violence and violent acts. Elín’s props are, more often than not, meant for some Nordic crime film or shocking play: the grisly list includes severed limbs, decaying corpses, scarred bodies, a doll to represent an abused minors. In what is quite a short book, there is also a chapter about quite a stomach-churning episode of sexual violence (no further details here to avoid ‘spoilers’) and a sub-plot involving an unlikely meeting with a serial killer. I’d like to think that I’m not a squeamish reader (I’ve read my share of horror stories), but I did feel that these unsavoury details were not essential to the novel.
Reservations aside, I am still pleased at the opportunity of discovering a new author in her English language debut, and (given it’s unlikely I will ever learn Icelandic) I will seek out translations of Kristín Eiríksdóttir’s other works once they – hopefully – become available.
https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2019/09/a-fist-or-a-heart-by-kristin-eiriksdottir.html
sweetlybsquared's review
3.0
While I’m still not sure if I understood the plot of this book, I definitely was engaged with the characters’ feelings. The author’s use of language was incredible. I could feel the despair, the confusion, and the detachment of the characters. There were descriptions of a few events in their lives that led to them feeling the way they did, but the actions weren’t really the story – the resulting feelings and behaviors going forward were.
Overall, this book made me feel things. I may have felt a little dumb since I can’t tell you for sure what happened in the story, but the emotions of the characters were indisputable. I’d give this book 3 out of 5 stars. The writing is beautiful and evocative, but the story line was either unclear, or way above my level of understanding.
http://booksithinkyoushouldread.blogspot.com/2019/08/book-review-and-giveaway-fist-or-heart.html
http://sweetlybsquared.com
Overall, this book made me feel things. I may have felt a little dumb since I can’t tell you for sure what happened in the story, but the emotions of the characters were indisputable. I’d give this book 3 out of 5 stars. The writing is beautiful and evocative, but the story line was either unclear, or way above my level of understanding.
http://booksithinkyoushouldread.blogspot.com/2019/08/book-review-and-giveaway-fist-or-heart.html
http://sweetlybsquared.com
booksnbrains's review
3.0
I wouldn't say that I enjoyed this book, per se, in fact I spent the first 60% of the book searching for the plot. I didn't really ever find one, by the way. What I did find was beautiful writing and excellent but subtle explorations of loneliness and pain, which led to the 3-star rating.
clairewords's review
2.0
I think I was swayed by all the prize winning references into thinking that this might be a good read for me, and because I jumped at the chance to read a women writer from Iceland, however I wasn't really drawn into the story and I found there to be too much of a disconnect between the main two characters that left me wondering what it was all about. (Beyond the obvious, a young woman writes a play, the prop maker becomes a little obsessed with her, the mother of the young woman is mentally unwell, thus their roles are reversed).
I was interested in the relationship between the young playwright and her mother, although unsure why the story is narrated from the point of view of the props maker. This novel made me think I missed something and left me not really wishing to think too hard to find out what it was I'd missed.
And that sad, shocking, unexpected ending.
I was interested in the relationship between the young playwright and her mother, although unsure why the story is narrated from the point of view of the props maker. This novel made me think I missed something and left me not really wishing to think too hard to find out what it was I'd missed.
And that sad, shocking, unexpected ending.
parkerwkelly1's review
4.0
This was a very experimental novel and interesting in the way that Elin and Ellen seemed to merge and celebrate throughout the novel. I enjoyed the development and juxtaposition of the two women, and the presentation of Elin's advanced age, condition, and mental state. It was an interesting exploration of age and generational trauma that was ultimately impactful, though some of Elin's portions near the end veered a little too feverish for the book's own good.
slbeckmann's review
1.0
Thank you to AmazonCrossing and NetGalley for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
I did not enjoy this book. Having spent lots of time trying to work out what the plot is, putting it down in frustration and coming back to it - I finally just gave up and read through to be done with it. Although parts of it were beautifully written, they were also parts that were difficult to read because they described painful feelings and destructive behaviors.
All in all, I found it very inconsistent and finished it feeling too stupid to understand the deeper significance.
I did not enjoy this book. Having spent lots of time trying to work out what the plot is, putting it down in frustration and coming back to it - I finally just gave up and read through to be done with it. Although parts of it were beautifully written, they were also parts that were difficult to read because they described painful feelings and destructive behaviors.
All in all, I found it very inconsistent and finished it feeling too stupid to understand the deeper significance.
ssreadsintranslation's review
dark
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
4.0
Content Warnings
Graphic: Death and Mental illness
Moderate: Drug use, Grief, and Sexual assault
Minor: Infidelity, Suicidal thoughts, Toxic relationship, and Violence
booksrbrainfood's review
3.0
This is an intriguing book from an Icelandic author that is full of atmosphere and a sense of the isolation of the country in parts. Overall, I have been interested in the culture of Iceland after having an Icelandic student as part of our local community and staying in contact with her. I find the culture quite unique, compared to traditional western cultures, even the naming of children. This book was a tough read, due mostly to the difficulty in following narrators and finding the plot. Some of the subject matter was quite intense and difficult to handle. Overall, I found the author's use of the voices in this book to be well done. This was not an easy read though.
#AFistoraHeart #NetGalley #AmazonCrossing
#AFistoraHeart #NetGalley #AmazonCrossing
callum_mclaughlin's review
3.0
Elín Jónsdóttir has spent decades making props and prosthetics for the stage and screen. Now in her 70s, she is hired to work on the debut play of Ellen Álfsdóttir, a 19-year-old playwright tipped to be Iceland’s next literary sensation. But something about the eccentric young woman awakens feelings and memories in Elín that she had long since buried. The more her obsessive interactions with Ellen prompt journeys into the past, the more her grip on reality begins to slip.
This is predominantly a character study of two enigmatic women who mirror and contrast each other in fascinating ways (the similarity in their names and experiences can be no coincidence). There is certainly a plot to anchor the novel (as we delve into both women’s pasts and move towards the play’s opening in the present), but the narrative always feels like it’s playing second fiddle to the book’s thematic intent. This is not strictly a criticism, but it’s a stylistic decision that seems destined to divide readers. As Elín’s narration becomes more and more unreliable, and the book moves in an increasingly non-linear fashion, the plot seems to slip ever more out of focus. This does, however, allow the author to explore the fragmented nature of memory and self, particularly where facing up to historic trauma is concerned.
I thought the author had some really interesting things to say, albeit subtly, about the healing power of creative expression. Both women channel their personal pain into their job, with beautiful passages detailing the painstaking yet tender work that Elín puts into crafting her prosthetics, and the escapism this affords her. Having suffered bodily trauma in the past, it also seems deliberate that more often than not, she is hired to work on Nordic Noirs; tasked with creating photo-realistic body parts and defiled corpses of women.
The author also raises questions about the search for autonomy, and role reversals between parents and children. Ellen is the daughter of a much-celebrated writer, and she comes to wonder if her work stands on its own merits, or if it is merely tipped for success because of its association with her father. She also feels morally obligated to look after her mother, who is suffering from poor mental health, despite the obvious emotional toll this is taking on her.
The prose is very nice and the translation into English has been handled beautifully. Despite flirting with excellence on many occasions, and having so many wonderful ingredients to work with, however, I was held at too great a distance to ever fully engage with its vast potential. Kaleidoscopic yet heartfelt, I’m intrigued to see what else Kristín Eiríksdóttir will write, and hope more of her work is translated into English.
This is predominantly a character study of two enigmatic women who mirror and contrast each other in fascinating ways (the similarity in their names and experiences can be no coincidence). There is certainly a plot to anchor the novel (as we delve into both women’s pasts and move towards the play’s opening in the present), but the narrative always feels like it’s playing second fiddle to the book’s thematic intent. This is not strictly a criticism, but it’s a stylistic decision that seems destined to divide readers. As Elín’s narration becomes more and more unreliable, and the book moves in an increasingly non-linear fashion, the plot seems to slip ever more out of focus. This does, however, allow the author to explore the fragmented nature of memory and self, particularly where facing up to historic trauma is concerned.
I thought the author had some really interesting things to say, albeit subtly, about the healing power of creative expression. Both women channel their personal pain into their job, with beautiful passages detailing the painstaking yet tender work that Elín puts into crafting her prosthetics, and the escapism this affords her. Having suffered bodily trauma in the past, it also seems deliberate that more often than not, she is hired to work on Nordic Noirs; tasked with creating photo-realistic body parts and defiled corpses of women.
The author also raises questions about the search for autonomy, and role reversals between parents and children. Ellen is the daughter of a much-celebrated writer, and she comes to wonder if her work stands on its own merits, or if it is merely tipped for success because of its association with her father. She also feels morally obligated to look after her mother, who is suffering from poor mental health, despite the obvious emotional toll this is taking on her.
The prose is very nice and the translation into English has been handled beautifully. Despite flirting with excellence on many occasions, and having so many wonderful ingredients to work with, however, I was held at too great a distance to ever fully engage with its vast potential. Kaleidoscopic yet heartfelt, I’m intrigued to see what else Kristín Eiríksdóttir will write, and hope more of her work is translated into English.