Grapevine
In Andri Snær Magnason’s recent novella, Jötunsteinn, a man throws a stone at a Range Rover. This being Andri Snær, the stone is also Reykjavík. The book is an argument about beauty, or the loss of it, in a city being shrouded in black cladding and grey corrugated iron, district by district, nobody quite able […]
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