The Greenhouse

Now that it's finally available in English, beautifully translated by Brian FitzGibbon, I got the chance to read The Greenhouse. It's a truly remarkable novel, and its widespread acclaim as the 2010 book of the year was well-deserved. On the surface it is a first-person narrative that tells the coming of age story of Arnljótur (or "Lobbi"), a 22 year old from Iceland who goes on a journey to find himself. He is a thoughtful boy who studies in the family greenhouse "to be able to read close to the plants" and who thinks about what it might mean to "spend one's entire childhood waiting for a single tree to grow". His journey takes him from Iceland, which he sees as dominated by moss, tussocks and swamps, to a cliff-top monastery in an intentionally unnamed country that provides a stark contrast to his homeland. We hear him think through his bodily longings, what it means to be a man, fatherhood, faith, death, and our connections with the planet and the plants around us. And beneath all of this there is the question of how we relate to people, and how those relationships make us whole. There is the ever-present memory of Arnljótur's mother and the unforgettable final conversation that he had with her, as well as his evolving closeness to his daughter, Flóra Sól. Olafsdottir makes liberal use of symbolism, and most significantly there is the precious Rosa Candida, the violet-red, thorn-less, eight-petaled rose. Richness also comes from Olafsdottir's beautifully drawn minor characters. She captures monastic life wonderfully; in the absence of sustained contact with a broader community the small details of daily routines and of relationships mean so much to the monks. The villagers also are simple yet colorful. And there is Arnljótur's father, about whom you learn a lot from this one line: "When he's finished asking me about the weather and the traffic conditions on the roads, he tells me that seven depressions have crossed the country in about as many days." Finally, there is Father Thomas. If you're a fan of Indie and Art House films then you might enjoy this list of mentioned movies: 1. Cesar & Rosalie 2. Nostalghia 3. Trois Couleurs: Bleu 4. The Seventh Seal 5. Eat Drink Man Woman 6. Chocolat 7. Babette's Feast 8. Like Water For Chocolate 9. Chungking Express 10. In the Mood for Love 11. Je vous salue (Hail Mary) He Also mentions Michelangelo Antonioni and Jean-Luc Godard. His recommendations range from the bizarre (the movie with Yves Montana and Romy Schneider is César & Rosalie) to the more expected (Trois Couleurs: Bleu, in which the heroine, like Arnljótur, witnesses a horrific car accident, obsesses about death, and goes on a journey of self-discovery). Arnljótur emerges as an everyman with whom we can identify, and I hope that we will see more from Audur Ava Olafsdottir.

I heard about this novel one morning when listening to a review on National Public Radio. I was interested to hear that Amazon is publishing its own translations of international writers otherwise unpublished in English and applaud them for doing so. This novel tells a sweet, simple and engaging story and is a joy to read. Though relatively short, the characterizations are wonderful, as are the dichotomous settings of Icelandic tundra and a monastery (and its rose garden) in a small European town.

One of the most beautiful and enthralling books I have read in a very long time. Growing up in Iceland, Lobbi lived with his parents and his handicapped twin brother and worked in his mother's greenhouse. She had developed a rose of rare beauty called the eight-petal rose. When Lobbi is 20 two events shake up his life—he shares a brief intimacy with the girlfriend of one of his friends during which she becomes pregnant, and his beloved mother is killed in a car wreck. Anna, the mother of his daughter, names her Flora but makes no effort to involve Lobbi in their life. Lobbi, unhappy and desolate, takes a job at a monastery in a remote mountain village that was once famous for its gardens which have now fallen into disrepair. Lobbi travels to the village in an unnamed location and finds a land that is strange indeed. The people there are kind but they speak their own language—a language that is dying—and there are no children that he can see. He begins work at the monastery and meets a monk who is a movie fan and who invites him to join him for his nightly movie watching. Just as Lobbi settles into a routine, he receives a letter from Anna telling him she has to go away for a month and wants to know if he will care for his now nine-month-old daughter. The writing is lovely, the people are touching, and the descriptions of this mysterious land are positively enchanting. A lovely book.

This short novel is told in a first person, stream of consciousness narrative. The narrator, Lobbi, is a young (22) Icelandic man who makes a long journey to tend the once famous rose garden of an isolated monastery that has fallen into disrepair. He leaves behind his 77 year old widowed father and autistic twin brother. Also left behind is a 4 month old daughter, born of a one night stand, that he has seen only once - the day she was born. The voyage to the monastery is fairly uneventful, apart from coming down with appendicitis on the plane and undergoing emergency surgery upon landing. Along the way, Lobbi encounters a couple of young women eager to jump into his bed, a fact to which he is strangely equivocal. He settles in at the monastery, revitalizing the garden by day and spending evenings watching movies and drinking all varieties of alcohol with Father Thomas, who finds answers to all life's questions in his sizable library of old films. The real story, however, begins when Anna, the mother of his daughter, arrives to drop off the baby for a few weeks. Anna decides to stay, and the rest of the book deals with the relationship that develops among Lobbi, Anna and their child. There is a muted quality to the narrative that is inconsistent with what one would expect from a 22 year old male, even one who chooses to be a gardener. Where are the raging hormones, the aggression, the restlessness? Granted, not every young man is a bull in heat, but everything seems a little off. Is he on valium? Does he share a mild form of autism with his twin brother; a touch of asperger's perhaps? After all, this is stream of consciousness, we are inside Lobbi's head, and even mild mannered, nice young men have poorly behaved thoughts from time to time, if not a good deal more often. About halfway through the book I became aware that the author, Auður Ava Ólafsdóttir, is a woman. This explains the vague inauthenticity of the narrative tone. It is not so much that the musings of Lobbi are not credible, but that so much is missing. I suspect that Olafsdottir was cognizant of the fact that there are vast regions of a young man's thoughts that were inaccessible to her, and she chose (probably wisely) not to go there. One fact that is never revealed is the location of the monastery. We learn that Lobbi is from Iceland only a third of the way through. The only other reference to any place is Lobbi's speculation that some writing on a shirt worn by Anna is Finnish. There are a number of clues, but they don't add up. After the plane ride, Lobbi has a full day's drive to the monastery, through an enormous, old growth forest and across three borders. The monastery is in or near mountains, but also close enough to the sea to have a steady supply of fish and seafood. The inhabitants of the small village in which the monastery is located speak a rare dialect of some unnamed language, and yet there is a halfway decent selection of books published in the dialect available at the local bookstore. Given that Lobbi started off in Iceland, one thinks naturally of Finland or one of the Baltic states. This is impossible, however, because Lobbi tells his father that the days are the same length year round, which means close to the equator. There is also a reference to the warm or mild climate. It is, in short, an imaginary location. Ultimately, the slight dissonance of the narrative does not detract at all from this eminently readable book. The plot is engaging and the writing is top notch (credit must also be given to the translator here). I found myself stealing time to get back to the story. I give it three stars. It deserves three and a half, and I am a tough grader.

The Greenhouse is a mesmerizing story of a young man searching for himself in a quagmire of loss, lust, and love. The story takes place in the bleak landscape of Iceland where the young man's passion is to grow roses. Taking over the nurturing of his daughter, Flora Sol (the product of a one night stand) amidst the confines of the monastery where he is in charge of the renovation of a centuries old garden, catapults the young man into the adult he will become. This is an absolutely beautifully written book. The language is as stark and pristine as the landscape. Pure poetry. I will definitely read this book again in an attempt to capture the nuances of the relationships between the young man and the people who inhabit his very constricted world. If you are looking for a literary masterpiece, this is it.

Olafsdottir has created an atmospheric, slow-paced story that makes for a pleasant read. Her background in the visual arts is apparent from the painterly way she describes the surroundings and the symbolism that she weaves into her story. Lobbi, the main character, will be familiar to anyone who has grown up with stoic, reserved Nordic men, and there is a certain joy in getting inside the head of a young man who does not often make his feelings known. However, most of the other characters in the book are quite flat. Anna, Flora, and the monk who befriends Lobbi all feel like characters rather than real people. And Olafsdottir's choice to leave the place where they are living and the language they are speaking unnamed is, while understandable, a distraction for the reader. So, the book is a bit of a mixed bag, but worth a read.

I found this book to be as I said in the title line completely captivating - a fantastic read and a lovely story. Its an almost spirtual story.. with the flavor of "Johnathan livingstone seagull" ... Beautiful landscapes and human relationships..realistic people..wonderful friendships.. great botany, and a beautiful child.. a story line with quirky turns and twists. Thoroughly enjoyed it. I'm sure it will be a favorite read, and I'll return to reading it many times.

Never having read a book by an Icelandic author, this novel charmed and moved me in a unique way. The translation into English preserved a delicious flavor of a place and people I knew nothing about but grew to admire. Written in the first person, the story takes a young man from his small town in Iceland to a remote monastery a thousand miles away to work in its famous rose garden, long neglected and in disrepair. But this is so much more about a pure of heart individual touching the lives of so many as his experiences begin to mature him. Mainly through the conduit of his beautiful nine month old daughter, conceived from a casual encounter, suddenly appearing on the scene with the mother for a stay of tentative duration. At the end I longed to remain in this family's life, to find out what happens to them, especially the remarkable child. I was convinced this was written by a man until the author's description at the end. Therefore, this book would appeal to both men and women who enjoy a good human interest story.