Invincible Summer

Everything I've read about Iceland makes me think it's not really my culinary destiny (puffin breast? whale battered anything? cod, cod and more cod?), but I can't get quite enough of its literature.  And while walking into a bookstore sometimes overwhelms me with the possibilities, the sad but convenient fact is that there is relatively little icelandic literature translated into a language I can read, and even less of it available at the library.  Which still leaves a sizable chunk of reading available to me, but it's much less than a whole bookstore, so it feels almost manageable.  Here are my thoughts of three I've read so far: The Blue Fox , by Sjon ( there's supposed to be an apostrophe above the o, but for the life of me I can't figure out how to get it there ) This dreamy book is a pocket-sized delight.  The beginning reads a bit like poetry with its creative use of white space, and indeed Sjon also has several poetry collections.  It's