Skaters in Reykjavik in winter (Photo: Stuck in Customs. Creative Commons.)

But I worry that Lewis, in his lucid account of what went wrong in one of the richest countries on the planet, has indulged in a little amateur anthropology along the way. Take this passage, for instance, on gender relations:

“I note a slight tension at any table where Icelandic men and Icelandic women are both present. The male exhibits the global male tendency not to talk to the females—or, rather, not to include them in the conversation—unless there is some obvious sexual motive. But that’s not the problem, exactly. Watching Icelandic men and women together is like watching toddlers. They don’t play together but in parallel; they overlap even less organically than men and women in other developed countries, which is really saying something….”

And elsewhere, a passage that could have been cited as evidence of colonial arrogance in Edward Said’s Orientalism – a direct comparison of Icelanders to wild beasts:

“We assume [Icelanders] are more or less Scandinavian—a gentle people who just want everyone to have the same amount of everything. They are not. They have a feral streak in them, like a horse that’s just pretending to be broken.”

Haukadalur, Iceland (Photo: taivasalla. Creative Commons)

I wonder if this tendency to describe the Icelanders as somehow “other” or “exotic” is a way (conscious or unconscious) to make VF‘s mainly American readership feel slightly better about their own economic predicament: “yes, we’re in the shit, but look at that naïve bunch of fisherfolk from a quaint country we’ve barely heard of – at least we weren’t as foolish as them”.

Lewis’ exploration of the arcana of Icelandic culture reaches its apotheosis in his account of how Alcoa needed to certify its building site in Iceland “elf-free” in 2004 before it could commence construction of an aluminium smelter. A picturesque episode, but not substantiated or sourced.

Despite a long Google search, I can’t find any reference on the web to this event, except for Lewis’ own article. Even Wikipedia’s article on Huldufólk uses Vanity Fair as its source. Lewis was probably told this story in good faith, but this is how urban myths are born.

Of course, New Zealand has also been the scene of sniggering over the supernatural – in 2002 parts of the world media picked up on a story about a taniwha (a river-dwelling monster/spirit) that stopped work on a major highway project.  The real event, as recounted in this report, was a more prosaic story of relations between a local community and a government department.

Near Akureyi (Photo: Stuck in Customs. Creative Commons)

When Michael Lewis writes about the recent economic history of Iceland, he tells a clear and compelling story. His précis of H. Scott Gordon’s 1954 treatise on the economics of fisheries is actually fascinating. His interviews with British, Icelandic and American economists are enlightening and pertinent. I just wish he’d left the elves and wild vikings out of it.

There’s a lot of bad news coming out of Iceland at the moment. So, in an attempt to warm the suddenly frosty relations between the UK and Icelandic governments, here’s some good news: Menn Ársins have just released their first album.

Menn Ársins (“Men of the Year” in Icelandic) were formed 3 years ago, and since then have developed nice line in artful pop – some songs sung in English, most of them in Icelandic. The group reached the Icelandic semifinals of Eurovision with their song If You Were Here (watch the video on YouTube).

Recorded at Lundgaard Studios in Denmark, this debut disc puts emphasisis on good pop tunes, with arrangements embellished by extra instruments such as the trumpet on Þögnin heyrir allt and the string section on Póstkort. Although the band initially was formed around the songs of singer/guitarist Sváfnir Sigurðarson, all four musicians contribute to the writing – for instance 12 Steps to the Liquor Store was built from some jazz material that bassist Sigurdór Guðmundsson had been working on for other projects.

I particularly love the subtle piano line that underpins Augun Opnast (apparently this means “Open Your Eyes” in English), and the video is equally understated:

I’m not totally neutral in posting about this album – Sigurdór has been one of the longest-lasting online correspondents on this blog, and not only is he a fantastic bass player and all-round Jaco Pastorius expert, he’s also a rather talented amateur photographer, and took the photo used on the cover of the album.  His Flickr site is worth a visit for some evocative images of Icelandic landscape and people.

Several mp3s are available free from the Menn Ársins page on Last.fm, and you can hear more on theirspace. And you can help rebuild Iceland’s foreign currency reserves by buying the album online.