RED DOG FARM

A young Icelandic man chooses between his home and the wider world.

Orri attends the University of Iceland in Reykjavík, but he’s an unfocused and lackluster student, so he finagles permission to take three weeks off from his studies to help his father on the family’s farm. It’s hard work in a land of plenty: plenty of rain, sleet, snow, and ice. Plenty of muck and mud and bitter cold. Plenty of freezing livestock and cows shitting in their water troughs. Not plenty of topsoil to raise crops on the rocky ground. Orri enjoys the work, but his father, his Pabbi, is a frustrated man who “experienced life as a slow leak.” Mamma is a first-generation Jewish immigrant and a professor at Bifröst University who doesn’t want the farm life. Meanwhile, Orri meets women online. He has no romantic chances with Rúna, a lesbian who speculates about Orri being her public beard. And he spends countless cyber hours chatting with Amihan Cruz, a woman of Philippine descent: “There is much for good friends to catch up on when they’ve only just met.” So, the characters all have different interests that may or may not blend together. Does Orri really want to quit university and follow in Pabbi’s footsteps? “Because who in their right mind—I’m looking at you, Vikings—would take their first steps onto our steaming black rock and think farmland?” That Orri thinks so is evident from the prologue, so it’s no spoiler. He’s a thoughtful and expressive narrator, who refers to “moments you know you’ll recall in perfect clarity forever, seared across the neurons like a psychic tattoo.” Some of those vivid moments are ankle-deep in muck, and some are of animal slaughter, because “a real working farm isn’t a tourist attraction.” But many more are of friendships, family, and the land itself. This is Miller’s second novel of the far north, following The Memoirs of Stockholm Sven (2021), and he clearly knows his subject.

An engaging read from start to finish.