Icelandic painter and polymath Helgason delivers a blitzkrieg of a novel, narrated by an octogenarian dying in a Reykjavík garage. Herra Björnsson lies in bed with only a hand grenade and a laptop for company, wreaking digital havoc on her family as she picks over her life story – a bawdy adventure that whips us from a remote Icelandic fishing village to Buenos Aires via the Third Reich, taking in an avalanche of lovers and her surreal experiences as a war refugee.
Funny, shrewd and reliably rude, Herra packs gunpowder into every line: “As was often the case with deceitful people, my daughter-in-law had a very elegant writing style.”; “My semi-virginal, yeasted breasts had risen in the bowl of war and were just ready for baking.” Helgason’s irreverent fable of a child in wartime inevitably recalls Günter Grass’s The Tin Drum, but Herra is more modern, a sex-driven heroine who is one part #MeToo and two parts #SodThem: “Women told me I drank like a man, men like a slut. I couldn’t fit in any damned where and was therefore always looking for the next party.” This hugely entertaining tale is surely destined for classic status.
• The Woman at 1,000 Degrees by Hallgrímur Helgason, translated by Brian FitzGibbon, is published by Oneworld. To order a copy for £8.79 (RRP £9.99) go to guardianbookshop.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over £10, online orders only. Phone orders min p&p of £1.99.
