In the days leading up to Christmas and with a terrible storm on the way, Dómhildur, a midwife, delves into her grandaunt’s written reflections on life, death and human nature…

There’s not much of a plot to this one - it kind of quirkily meanders around, but I found it enjoyable nonetheless. Since Dómhildur is a midwife from a long line of midwives, I had expected more of the story to revolve around that, and certainly with more detail. However, the story (insomuch as there is one) is more of a fairly abstract series of reflections on life and death, our relation to animals and human nature more generally.

I loved the moments of daily life in Iceland, but also the glimpses of life for previous generations of midwives. With the darkness of winter hanging over everything and the impending storm, it’s an atmospheric read, too. But there’s the glimmer of Spring on the horizon - unsurprisingly, a thought-thread around light vs darkness runs through the book.

An atmospheric, meandering series of reflections on life and death, human nature, and light vs darkness.