People say that writing a book is something of an obsession. It has to be. Why else would you turn over your life for several years to, say, the sex life of bedbugs or the dark energy driving the universe?
In our case, it was 18th-century Iceland that did us in — more specifically, a pastor in a remote village in 18th-century Iceland. Our book Island on Fire details a horrific volcanic eruption that took place in 1783. It started on June 8, almost exactly 231 years ago, practically in the back yard of a farmer, doctor and pastor named Jón Steingrímsson. He wrote down everything he observed, documenting the eruption day after day, in what has become an important chronicle in the annals of volcanology. The eruption lasted eight months; the famine from its toxic ashfall lasted nearly two years. Pastor Jón wrote of earth and fire and flames, and of how the volcano named Laki destroyed nearly everything he loved. Continue reading
A local restaurant reviewer has a monthly feature in which he lists openings and closings of eateries around town. The list only contains the restaurants’ names and addresses, which always seems especially stark when it comes to the places that have shut their doors.
