Reykjavík Grapevine - 01.12.2006, Blaðsíða 21

REYKJAVÍK_GRAPEVINE_ISSUE18_006_DISCUSSION/BOOKS_98_REYKJAVÍK_GRAPEVINE_ISSUE18_006_DISCUSSION/BOOKS
So, what’s the deal with Iceland’s heav-
ily condensed book market, where al-
most all of the year’s titles are published
in the space of three months?
Kristján B. Jónasson: Well, it’s a gift mar-
ket, one that clocks up sales for about 5-700
million ISK each Christmas. The total mar-
ket brings in around 3.5 billion every year,
schoolbooks included. That isn’t a lot in light
of the number of books aimed at it each
year. Everybody is trying to get his slice of
the pie, present company included.
So, all of you have in common the fact
that you publish books, and that you’re
interested in selling them?
Haukur Már Helgason: You two had this
debate, didn’t you? Eiríkur doesn’t want lit-
erature to be sold, and Kristján only wants it
to be sold…
Eiríkur Guðmundsson: I remember noth-
ing of the kind. You tell us something about
this, Kristján, selling the books.
Jónasson: Well, the first books were print-
ed in Iceland in the 16th century, but they
weren’t mass-produced and affordable until
the mid-19th century. That’s when the Ice-
landic book market was created. The current
tradition then takes shape following World
War II, because there was a shortage of
giftware in a country operating under rigid
currency restrictions but with a strong pur-
chase power due to economical upheaval
during the war. You couldn’t import tradi-
tional gift items, but there were few restric-
tions on importing paper. Thus the book was
born as Iceland’s premier Christmas present,
although book sales pick up in every coun-
try around Christmas. Right now, Britain is
raging with price wars and competition be-
tween those who vie for having this year’s
Christmas bestseller.
Auður Jónsdóttir: But other countries cer-
tainly have more than one publishing period,
and also a more constant literary discussion.
Jónasson: The Christmas season is really
what keeps up the literary market here; with-
out it, prices would drop as people would pri-
marily buy books for their own consumption,
and as a result authors couldn’t count on re-
ceiving enough payment for their works. The
state would have to sponsor the profession
to a much greater extent, either that or writ-
ers would have to work two extra jobs and
have a fat bank account to rely on. People
expect to pay a lot more for gift items, and
the publishers take that into account. They
even divide the market into certain catego-
ries, for instance how a book is advertised,
presented in the media, the jacket design.
Guðrún Eva Mínervudóttir: Are you really
that devious? I thought most publishers were
idealists, primarily concerned with realising
their vision.
Jónasson: It’s always a combination of the
two. What I’m really saying is that the so-
called Christmas book flood isn’t entirely a
bad thing.
You’ve been quoted as saying that
books in Iceland are too cheap, and that
customers are thrilled when 20,000 ISK
ones are released…
Jónasson: Yes, that is correct. This year’s
popular Christmas present is a juicer that
costs around 10,000 ISK. We all have so
much money now, it’s ridiculous.
Mínervudóttir: Then a cheap book makes
for a bad present?
Jónasson: When [publishing house] Edda
released their 20,000 ISK Atlas of Iceland
last year, people were brimming with joy
that there was finally an expensive book they
could spend their money on.
Helgason: That sort of publication is cost
efficient?
Jónasson: Man alive, it is! The Atlas in ques-
tion has sold around 10,000 copies to this
day.
Helgason: Hmmm… this might be a new
direction for Nýhil?
Jónasson: I think the publishing industry isn’t
paying enough attention; it keeps getting
lost in pre-Christmas price wars. The cata-
logue prices for hardcovers are accurate as
is, and the paperbacks are reasonably priced,
too. They just have to focus on advancing
that market, so that people will buy more
books for their own consumption.
Mínervudóttir: Yeah, why hasn’t the indus-
try used its tricks to convince Icelanders that
paperbacks are the new gospel?
Helgason: Since the paperback market got
its legs, books have started to sell a lot bet-
ter here, and they’re now bought through-
out the year.
Jónsdóttir: They’re even selling them in gas
stations now. Guðrún, you were sort of a pi-
oneer in that field when you released Albúm
in paperback form during spring, weren’t
you?
Jónasson: Things have changed a lot since
ten years ago. I remember when Einar Már
Guðmundsson’s Englar alheimsins [Angels
of the Universe] was released in paperback
form two years after its hardcover release.
It sold tremendously well, and the industry
was taken aback by it. No one expected that
a paperback would be so successful. And
now, the amount of units sold increases each
year, as well as the amount published. This
year’s release catalogue has 300 more titles
than the one from 1996 – there are about
700 titles being published and aimed at the
Christmas market this year.
But aren’t individual releases at a risk of
getting lost when 700 hundred titles are
released to such a small market?
Jónasson: You could say it’s a case of over-
production.
Helgason: If you think about it, it all makes
sense. There are 700 titles released each
year, and the Christmas season brings in up
to 700 million ISK. Shouldn’t they just pay
each author a cool million every January?
Jónsdóttir: That would be really nice. An
excellent solution.
How would you describe the Icelandic
literary scene to an outsider?
Jónasson: [In a forced Icelandic accent] Hall-
dór Laxness got the Nobel Prize…
Jónsdóttir: When I was in Denmark, the only
author people asked me about was Sjón. As
I was trying to explain him and summarise
what else was going on here, I was struck
by how disparate the literary landscape is in
Iceland.
Helgason: I’ve given Italian friends some of
the Icelandic literature that’s been translated
and they’re all amazed by how simple and
lyrical the narration is, exclaiming: ‘What!?
This is just a story!’ This applies to some of
the country’s most skillful writers, this symp-
tom of Icelandic literature, they just tell simple
lyrical stories. With noteworthy exceptions, it
feels to me as if post-modernism in literature
is just making its way here now.
Jónsdóttir: We also seem to define and in-
terpret our literature differently from some
of our neighbours. I published the same
book here and in Denmark and Icelandic crit-
ics kept referring to it as being of the realist
vein, while the Danish media uniformly cited
it as absurdist. So what we feel is realistic,
they think of absurd. Neither interpretation
is more correct, but I do feel we tend to look
at things differently over here.
Jónasson: We haven’t been doing a good
job of defining ourselves in regards to the
outside world. We haven’t examined our
literature from an outside perspective, and
we’re lacking a vision of how whatever it is
we’re doing falls in place in a historical con-
text.
Helgason: It’s especially noteworthy in light
of just how many literary scholars we have.
Jónasson: Yes, they’ve failed. The last 20
years have been a literary golden age in Ice-
land as far as I’m concerned, a lot of really
presentable work has been published, things
that stand comparison to the best of what’s
happening in Europe. It’s certainly telling that
only twenty years ago, it was an exception
if an Icelandic book got translated. There’s
since been an explosion in terms of sales and
translations.
Hasn’t that got a lot to do with market-
ing?
Jónasson: Of course there are trends, but
you can’t get away with selling something
that amounts to a worthless piece of crap.
Jónsdóttir: That’s true. The crap gets sifted
out pretty soon, but we do have authors
such as Jón Kalmann [Stefánsson] and Hall-
grímur Helgason getting five-star reviews in
places like Germany.
Jónasson: They’re likening Hallgrímur Hel-
gason to Thomas Mann over there.
A Christmas Flood of Books and Noah’s Freezer Trawler
Text by Haukur Magnússon Photos by Skari
Helgason: Eiríkur is wincing! Why?
Jónasson: Well, Rokland is getting those
kinds of reviews.
Guðmundsson: That book is written spe-
cifically with a German audience in mind,
isn’t it?
Jónasson: They’re also raving about Höfun-
dur Íslands [The Author of Iceland]. The dis-
course is on a much different note than what
we had here, when people were focusing on
politics…
Guðmundsson: When they market these
books in Germany, no matter what the sub-
ject matter is, they always put the same pic-
ture of a field on the cover, same as with the
Laxness novels. A freshly mowed field, even
for Atómstöðin [The Atom Station]. They
play that field; perhaps it’s our only chance
to get attention in that market?
Jónasson: Well, you have to look at the sit-
uation over there. Many German publishers
are very market-oriented and they base all
their covers on extensive research. The edi-
tors don’t have any say in those matters.
Helgason: You seem to think that the gold-
en age is defined by your stint in the literary
business. I rather feel like it’s just beginning
right now, this Christmas. There seems to be
such a heap of good stuff coming out now.
Jónasson: I never said it was over.
Mínervudóttir: We are facing an endless
golden age!
Jónasson: It’s multi-voiced; a lot of very dif-
ferent authors have been prominent in the
field. It’s hard to find a common denomina-
tor for all of you, for instance. Maybe Eiríkur
and Auður are the most similar ones here.
We’ve been hesitant to draw lines and make
up categories, something that foreign trans-
lations can perhaps help us with. It can help
us put things into perspective.
Helgason: With all the snow pouring down
outside, it’s tempting to look at Iceland as
the Platonic realm of Ideas. It could be said
that over here, we’ve got single represen-
tations of all the noteworthy trends in the
outside world. The outside world could then
be construed as the real one, and when stu-
dents return from Portugal, Spain or New
York, they bring home a sampling of what
it has to offer.
Jónasson: That’s a good analogy, and if you
look at each of the present company’s work
you’ll find a lot of prototypes of larger liter-
ary movements. Eiríkur represents the recy-
cled, self-reflexive story, Guðrún Eva has the
macabre fantasy, and Auður’s work is actu-
ally the most European, in some respects her
new book could have been written by a Ger-
man. You have a distinctly European world-
view; I was actually concerned when I read
your latest work that Icelanders wouldn’t
warm to it. And then there’s you, Haukur,
with the modern avant-garde.
Helgason: Avant-garde?
Jónasson: You know what I’m referring too,
historically.
Mínervudóttir: Well, he did call mine a fan-
tasy.
Jónasson: Each of you is writing in a different
genre, and you’re pretty much on your own
there. You’re not necessarily engaging in a
dialogue with your next-door colleagues,
rather your voices are meant for a worldwide
discourse.
Helgason: Perhaps Iceland is like literary
Noah’s Ark in this respect. If everything goes
to hell out there, we’ll have a sampling of
everything there was.
Jónsdóttir: More like Noah’s freezer trawler,
where we keep one of each [the room bursts
out laughing at this point].
Guðmundsson: Only one of each?
The Icelandic music scene is similar in
this respect. What the literary estab-
lishment needs now, then, is an Einar
Bárðarson [a prominent Icelandic music
promoter/agent].
Jónasson: I can agree on that, we do need
an Einar Bárðarson for the literary world.
We’re having trouble reaching the young
adults, the 15-20 year olds. It can easily be
done, if the task is approached on adequate-
ly commercial terms.
Mínervudóttir: You did it once, with very
good results.
Jónasson: And once with really horrendous
results. We can’t just have a slew of literary
masterminds writing nothing but epic works
of staggering genius for others of their ilk.
You also have to appeal to kids on their own
terms.
Helgason: Are you saying it’s easier to sell
this age group worthless crap?
Jónasson: Icelandic kids read a lot. Just this
year, there are 220 titles being released that
are aimed specifically at children. Around 30
percent of children aged 8-10 subscribe to
some sort of book club, they read a lot. Then,
at age 12-13, their libido kicks in and reach-
ing them becomes near impossible. Authors
start moralising and preaching, something
that’s bound to alienate and annoy their tar-
get audience to no end. I think Manga com-
ics are going to come on strong in a while,
they all feature OC-like plots, themes of jeal-
ousy, gender blunders, etc.
Do Icelandic authors compromise to an
extent, to widen their appeal in order to
reach a greater success?
Helgason: Compromise isn’t the right word.
Writing a piece of text is like stretching out a
certain fabric of meaning that’s already out
there. It’s never merely your own, it’s some-
thing you have to pull at it without tearing it,
to employ a certain amount of force without
breaking it apart.
Jónasson: Like pulling at that Charles Atlas
spring mechanism to exercise your chest. No,
I don’t think this question is really applicable
to literature, selling out isn’t really an op-
tion.
Mínervudóttir: I haven’t even had editors
instructing me to compromise. It happened
once with a column I wrote for radio, they
thought my death talk would offend all the
old people listening.
Jónasson: In terms of the Icelandic liter-
ary tradition, the only sure-fire way to be a
sell-out is to write a memoir or an interview
book. Non-fiction, that’s where the literary
sell-outs reside, but there are also tons of
flops published in that genre every year.
Helgason: That’s probably the surest way to
become a sell-out. You don’t have to do a lot
of writing when you start getting all kinds of
pressure to write books about one person or
another.
Jónasson: I think Iceland’s smallness imposes
the greatest limits on Icelandic writers, where
it’s pre-determined what you can and can’t
do as an author. There are all kinds of unspo-
ken agreements to be honoured, and fought.
People like Guðbergur Bergsson [fabled Ice-
landic novelist] sometimes venture outside
of those boundaries and reap anger and fear
in the process. At the time he released his
defining novel, Tómas Jónsson, Metsölubók,
[Tómas Jónsson, Bestseller] people were re-
ally upset, going as far as mailing him boxes
of faeces. It’s those unwritten laws that pose
the greatest threat to Icelandic authors, not
selling out. It’s the fear of overstepping those
boundaries that have been silently agreed
on; doing that will always cause an author
to experience all sorts of righteousness and
rejection from the public.
Guðmundsson: The bottom line is that
there’s not nearly enough of us Icelanders
to maintain such a culture, or do any damn
thing, really. We still do, however.
Mínervudóttir: Like the Flateyri theatre
club.
Helgason: President Ólafur Ragnar Gríms-
son pointed out in the recent Klink & Bank
documentary that Iceland had a similar pop-
ulation that Florence had during its golden
age.
Jónsdóttir: People in Denmark used to gig-
gle when I told them I was an author on the
Icelandic market. The reaction was similar to
what people here would be like if I told them
I was writing solely for Keflavík’s populace.
Guðmundsson: At its core, I think writing
for such a small market is a beautiful task to
undertake. It has a kind of poetic hopeless-
ness.
Auður Jónsdóttir
Auður Jónsdóttir (b. 1972) is a highly revered
author with a total of eight published works
under her belt, among those four well-re-
ceived novels. She was awarded the Icelandic
Literature Prize in 2004 for her novel Fólkið
í kjallaranum (The People in the Basement)
and her just published fourth novel, Tryg-
gðarpantur (Depositum) has received great
reviews. Her works have been translated into
Swedish and Danish.
Eiríkur Guðmundsson
Born in 1969, author, National Radio One
personality and literary scholar Eiríkur Guð-
mundsson has made a reputation for himself
as a veritable authority on Icelandic culture
and literature. His collection of essays, 39
Þrep til glötunar (39 Steps to Damnation), was
released in 2004 to critical acclaim, and his
recently published sophomore effort, a novel
entitled Undir himninum (Under the Sky), is
already receiving the same treatment.
Guðrún Eva Mínervudóttir
Thirty-year-old Guðrún Eva Mínervudóttir
spent her youth moving between Iceland’s
smaller towns, before reportedly sleeping
her way through college. She has thus far
published five novels, as well as several po-
ems, short stories and translations. Her work
is widely acknowledged and critically lauded,
and her latest novel, Yosoy, was awarded the
DV prize for literature in 2005.
Haukur Már Helgason
The youngest of the group, Haukur Már
Helgason (b. 1978) released his first novel,
Svavar Pétur & 20. Öldin (Svavar Pétur & the
20th Century) just last month. He has previ-
ously released three volumes of poetry and
been highly active in Reykjavík’s cultural life,
co-founding the ever-growing publishing
house/collective Nýhil. Helgason, an active
proponent of Slavoj Zizek, holds degrees in
philosophy and cinema studies.
Kristján B. Jónsson
A literary scholar and published author,
Kristján B. Jónasson (b. 1967) is perhaps bet-
ter known for having, until recently, worked
as publishing director and head of develop-
ment for one of Iceland’s major publishing
houses, Edda. He currently serves as presi-
dent of the Association of Icelandic Book
Publishers and remains one of the industry’s
leading voices.
Við Tjörnina seafood restaurant was
established in 1986 and celebrates
its 20 years annaversary now.
Opening hours are from 18.00 every day.
Phone (+354) 551-8666. Templarasundi 3, 101 Reykjavík.
www.vidtjornina.is - vidtjornina@simnet.is