HOLY FUCK THE NOTES.
If you’re my follower and you don’t reblog this we have a problem~
HOLY SHIT LOOK AT THE NOTES
you better reblog this.
reblog EVERY TIME THIS IS ON YOUR DASH .
In school every youth is forced to read some “great literature” that sadly we usually don’t understand or enjoy at all. “great literature” is not something that just anyone enjoys or gets, just like some of us don’t like horror movies or cheesy romantic films (I love those though…and I’m not afraid to admit it). In Iceland that “great literature” is works by our nobel prize winner Halldór Laxness. I was forced to read one of those in school as a teenager. And even before then I had been taught to hate him, even though I’d never read a thing by him because people told my I should love and admire him, some person I didn’t know and didn’t understand. It’s a funny thing this sort of teaching, sure it’s good to know who has been succesfull and who hasn’t but we should be allowed to find out ourselves if we find this or that admirable and deserving of our respect.
The prejudice I absorbed in school towards this ”great” writer I have faught hard to shake off. Now I have set of in finding out for myself how good he really was. So I started at the beginning and yesterday I finished his very first book Barn Náttúrunnar (Child of Nature) which he wrote at the age of Sixteen. Amazing work for one so young and shows at the same time his own youth as a writer at the time. Now I just wonder, why do students not get to read this story? A story written in a way by one of their own kind, a teenager. I was forced to read a horribly long and depressing story by him as a teenager and now I can’t help but think why? I think I might handle reading it now, but then? Isn’t it better to let students see that even the greats started of simple? That he actually was young like them once and thus give them something to relate to and in that way, allow them to respect someone who was gone before they really started living? Why do we rush so to destroy youth?
It‘s almost midnight and I‘m walking alone in the dark. I come to the top of a hill on the edge of my neighbourhood. There are no lampposts around, only a derelict ski-lift. The view over the illuminated city is quite impressive, but it‘s not what I came to see. Not the moving cars or the lit up restaurant signs. Not the houses or life in the city. As pretty as it can be, it‘s not what I‘m here for. I lie down on my back, on the frozen ground with ice from the hail earlier tonight crackling under my head. Another world opens in front of me. The universe, the stars. I can‘t help but feel small. Yet I am happy I give myself the time to admire this splendour. I admire the universe while ignoring the cold that seeps through my clothes and cannot help but wonder: Will the universe ever watch me back? And will I ever be out there, looking down here at another human being, lying on her back on the icy ground, gazing at the stars and hoping for miracles?
One day, Emily Davies, known to her friends and family simply as ‘Em’, finds herself on a plane to Iceland. After 16 years of avoiding airplanes and anything connected with them the three hour trip brings back some uncomfortable memories, not to mention fear. But Em is on a mission and will not be held back by her fear of airplanes. She has in her keeping a small, green, worn and tattered paperback, a book that means the world to her, even if she has no idea what it’s about. After years of sometimes unsuccessful safekeeping she can finally take it back to its owner, the person who all those years ago, left without a word, leaving only the little book with her name written inside in red ink, Annie.
But who is Annie? What is the book about? Why doesn’t Em like flying? Why go through all the trouble to return it, and why now?
Find out soon ;)