The Icelandic Canadian - 01.04.2009, Side 47

Vol. 62 #2
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
89
Holm “an instrument, a metaphor, an
angle, a perspective from which to consid-
er what has come of America.” Yet, while
viewing America from afar, Holm takes
readers on a frolicking, sometimes wild
adventure through the Icelandic landscape
and the unique culture it has inspired and
sustained, using both to help us better
understand the nature and challenges of his
home far to the west.
His love of the Icelandic landscape
shines through his writing, as he paints
vivid portraits in prose of its haunting
beauty, broad vistas and tenacious wildlife.
We weep along with him as he describes
the view from Arnarstapi and we either
recoil or chuckle when he relates tales of
the country’s haunted places. And while he
obviously cherished the peacefulness of
this sparsely-populated land, unlike
Thoreau he welcomed the society which
came knocking at his door. The cavalcade
of characters we meet—from Sverrir of
Skoruvfk to Kristjan the poet, and from
Wincie the Hofsosingur to Anna Sigga the
aria singer, not to mention the grand per-
sonalities from the Saga Age and the immi-
grant era—all serve to remind us of both
the independent spirit of the Icelandic peo-
ple and their overflowing hospitality.
Ever civil, if never merely polite, Bill
Holm nonetheless exempted no one in his
careful scrutiny of the follies of human
society. He was no uncritical romantic, on
the one hand, nor was he a despairing
cynic, on the other. Holm paints as vivid a
picture of the shadows he saw from
Brimnes as he does of the light that shone
through its windows. So, pen in hand, he
boldly confronts the evils of McCarthyism,
militarism, racism and materialism. He
offers an unexpurgated account of his own
first encounter with a person of colour and
his painful discovery of racism where he
had not expected to find it. And he medi-
tates upon the folly of human warfare,
while lamenting his home country’s seem-
ingly irrepressible willingness to engage in
it.
Having subtitled his book An
American in Iceland, Holm was unsparing
in his criticism of social, economic and
political trends in the United States—espe-
cially actions undertaken by the Bush
administration. While conceding the hor-
ror of the terrorist attacks on the United
States in 2001, he laments the subsequent
obsession with security and “draconian
invasions of privacy.” Early on, he confess-
es that he often made his way to the “spare
place” called Brimnes to escape those
aspects of his homeland that most vexed
him. “After a while, the United States is
simply too much,” he declared: “too much
religion and not enough gods, too much
news and not enough wisdom, too many
weapons of mass destruction—or, for that
matter, of private destruction ... too much
entertainment and not enough beauty, too
much electricity and not enough light, too
much lumber and not enough forests, too
much real estate and not enough earth, too
many books and not enough readers, too
many runners and not enough strollers, too
many freeways, too many cars, too many
malls, too many prisons, too much security
but not enough civility, too many humans
but not enough eagles. And the worst
excess of all: too many wars, too much mis-
ery and brutality—reflected as much in our
own eyes as in those of our enemies.” As an
antidote, he admonishes his fellow citizens
to “go cold turkey on war, xenophobia, the
remodelling of nature for commerce, and
religious enthusiasm that veers toward
fanaticism. And above all, we must curb
greed. Don’t hold your breath waiting for
progress. I’ve been waiting a long time.”
Of course, he also went after the “less-
er evils” of television and weed whackers.
In his criticism of many modern conve-
niences, there are times when he comes
across as something of a Luddite or, per-
haps, Icelandic America’s answer to the
Amish. Yet, dwelling at Brimnes without
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