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Vikings in the Attic: In Search of Nordic America
Growing up with Swedish and Norwegian grandparents with a dash of Danish thrown in for balance, Eric Dregni thought Scandinavians were perfectly normal. Who doesn’t enjoy a good, healthy salad (Jell-O packed with canned fruit, colored marshmallows, and pretzels) or perhaps some cod soaked in drain cleaner as the highlights of Christmas? Only later did it dawn on him that perhaps this was just a little strange, but by then it was far too he was hooked and a dyed-in-the-wool Scandinavian himself.
But what does it actually mean to grow up Scandinavian-American or to live with these Norwegians, Swedes, Finns, Danes, and Icelanders among us? In Vikings in the Attic, Dregni tracks down and explores the significant—and quite often bizarre—historic sites, tales, and traditions of Scandinavia’s peculiar colony in the Midwest. It’s a legacy of the unique—collecting silver spoons, a suspicion of flashy clothing, shots of turpentine for the common cold, and a deep love of rhubarb pie—but also one of poor immigrants living in sod houses while their children attend college, the birth of the co-op movement, the Farmer–Labor party, and government agents spying on Scandinavian meetings hoping to nab a socialist or antiwar activist.
For all the tales his grandparents told him, Dregni quickly discovers there are quite a few they neglected to mention, such as Swedish egg coffee, which includes the eggshell, and Lutheran latte, which is Swedish coffee with ice cream. Vikings in the Attic goes beyond the lefse, lutefisk, and lusekofter (lice jacket) sweaters to reveal the little-known tales that lie beneath the surface of Nordic America. Ultimately, Dregni ends up proving by example why generations of Scandinavian-Americans have come to love and cherish these tales and traditions so dearly. Well, almost all of them.*
* See lutefisk.
But what does it actually mean to grow up Scandinavian-American or to live with these Norwegians, Swedes, Finns, Danes, and Icelanders among us? In Vikings in the Attic, Dregni tracks down and explores the significant—and quite often bizarre—historic sites, tales, and traditions of Scandinavia’s peculiar colony in the Midwest. It’s a legacy of the unique—collecting silver spoons, a suspicion of flashy clothing, shots of turpentine for the common cold, and a deep love of rhubarb pie—but also one of poor immigrants living in sod houses while their children attend college, the birth of the co-op movement, the Farmer–Labor party, and government agents spying on Scandinavian meetings hoping to nab a socialist or antiwar activist.
For all the tales his grandparents told him, Dregni quickly discovers there are quite a few they neglected to mention, such as Swedish egg coffee, which includes the eggshell, and Lutheran latte, which is Swedish coffee with ice cream. Vikings in the Attic goes beyond the lefse, lutefisk, and lusekofter (lice jacket) sweaters to reveal the little-known tales that lie beneath the surface of Nordic America. Ultimately, Dregni ends up proving by example why generations of Scandinavian-Americans have come to love and cherish these tales and traditions so dearly. Well, almost all of them.*
* See lutefisk.
280 pages, Hardcover
First published April 14, 2011
About the author
Eric Dregni
26 books52 followersEric Dregni has written nine books including Midwest Marvels, The Scooter Bible, Ads that Put America on Wheels, and Grazie a Dio non Sono Bolognese. As a 2004 Fulbright Fellow to the Norwegian University of Science and Technology in Trondheim, Eric researched Scandinavian culture and roots for a forthcoming book. His time is divided between Italy, Norway, and Minneapolis where he is the curator for El Dorado Conquistador Museum and guitarist for the mock-rock trio Vinnie & the Stardüsters.
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Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews
April 26, 2012
I liked in "Cod We Trust" because I was interested in the way Dregni made both Norway and Norwegian-Americans appear exotic and familiar. That voice didn't work at all in "Vikings in the Attic." The book is positioned somewhere between essay and ethnography and fails at both. Self-deprecation in "Cod" comes off as obnoxious self-loathing in "Vikings." He harps on all the eccentricities of Scandinavian-Americans and seems to only appreciate their erstwhile socialism. The title is also a gross misnomer. The "Vikings" he looks at are certainly not hidden away in some attic to mold (although I wondered sometimes if Dregni wouldn't prefer that), but are loud and proud with their Leif Erickson statues and lutefisk, etc. And "Nordic America" should have been more narrowly defined as "Minnesota and bordering states." His excursions to any part of the Scandinavian diaspora outside the Midwest are rare. The fact that "Mormon" or "Utah" don't even show up in the index are a good indication of how little Dregni seems to be aware of where "Nordic America" might also be, not to mention the settlements in Texas, the Pacific Northwest and California.
The book seems reasonably well researched and has some great illustrations, enough so to garner it two stars.
The book seems reasonably well researched and has some great illustrations, enough so to garner it two stars.
February 7, 2017
This was not quite the sweeping analysis of the role of the distinct cultures of Nordic immigrants in influencing the character of the United States that I was expecting. Rather than the personal investigation into the effect of these immigrants from Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Finland, and Iceland on the regional cultural of the Upper Midwest (along the lines of Tony Horwitz’ Confederates in the Attic) it was really more of a simple collection of vignettes of various topics related to these cultures. In spite of the ambitious introduction, Vikings in the Attic felt a little disjointed and ephemeral, simply recounting some things strange and Scandinavian with little cohesion. While there were some interesting topics and tales included, there is little connecting the disparate stories included in the book.
Vikings in the Attic focuses almost exclusively on the Upper Midwest, particularly Minnesota and Wisconsin. The articles are arranged by topic, such as food, influential but little known Scandinavian-Americans, radical and socialistic political sentiments from immigrants, and local tourist attractions but often become repetitive, occasionally repeating themselves when articles overlap. The difficulties faced by Nordic immigrants in a landscape unfriendly to differences, and their attraction to radical, transformative political ideas (in particular the Finns) was among the most interesting. I feel that this could be the kernel of a more substantive work on how Scandinavian and Nordic mores may have had a role in shaping the culture of today’s Upper Midwest. However, for those interested in quick accounts of saunas, the Swedish-American inventor of puffed wheat, giant statues of vikings and dala horses, and snus rows, there is quite a bit of interest. In particular, this would be a good resource to use when looking for weird and wacky places to visit in the Upper Midwest, though a map would have been useful as well.
Vikings in the Attic focuses almost exclusively on the Upper Midwest, particularly Minnesota and Wisconsin. The articles are arranged by topic, such as food, influential but little known Scandinavian-Americans, radical and socialistic political sentiments from immigrants, and local tourist attractions but often become repetitive, occasionally repeating themselves when articles overlap. The difficulties faced by Nordic immigrants in a landscape unfriendly to differences, and their attraction to radical, transformative political ideas (in particular the Finns) was among the most interesting. I feel that this could be the kernel of a more substantive work on how Scandinavian and Nordic mores may have had a role in shaping the culture of today’s Upper Midwest. However, for those interested in quick accounts of saunas, the Swedish-American inventor of puffed wheat, giant statues of vikings and dala horses, and snus rows, there is quite a bit of interest. In particular, this would be a good resource to use when looking for weird and wacky places to visit in the Upper Midwest, though a map would have been useful as well.
July 23, 2026
Dregni's book gets praised as a "delightful romp through Scandinavian Americana" — lute fisk dinners, stave churches, and the world's largest twine ball. But underneath the laughter, something is working from Dregni's previous book (In Cod We Trust); Eric has become Loke again. This time, he's not just documenting his own flight from God — he maps how an entire civilization did the same thing while keeping score in church basements.
Loki at work... "We rejected the title How Scandinavians Saved Western Civilization for the book because that would be far too proud and anti-Lutheran." Eric opens his American book with the same confession he made in Norway: pride is un-Scandinavian, faith demands surrender, and surrender is too much to ask. He admits Scandinavian ethnic pride is "un-Scandinavian" — as if naming the contradiction exempts him from it. He respects brave politicians like Floyd B. Olson whose legacy rallies the Farmer-Labor Party, admires co-ops established by Scandinavians so everyone can earn a profit and avoid price gouging, but never notices that all these institutions share one purpose: making Christianity optional while keeping the church building for potlucks.
In the food chapter Dregni writes about Petter Dass's poem to cod: "If the cod should fail us / what would we have?" He calls it charming folk wisdom. But alongside his preface confession that Scandinavians rejected a title because it was "far too proud and anti-Lutheran," the pattern emerges: God has been replaced by whatever you can hold in your hands: cod, soaked lute fisk soaked, held together by gelatin, etc. Eric celebrates each with warm detachment, never noticing his own book is a black book — found under the altar in the church, written by the clergy thought to be in league with the devil.
The stave churches section describes Viking shipbuilders who turned their boats upside down after converting to Christianity. Dragon heads from bows attached to eaves to scare off evil spirits. "The perfect representation for modern Norwegian Americans," Eric writes, "since they show both their Norse heritage and Lutheran identity." He never notices his book is one — an inverted ship, a dragon's head on the eaves, looking back at faith from a comfortable distance while pretending he's just being self-deprecating about potato recipes.
Everything in the book orbits this substitution. Sons of Norway prohibited alcohol at lodge meetings because insurance was "evidence of a lack of faith in God to provide for temporal wants." Yet Eric celebrates mutual aid societies without mentioning that they replaced divine providence. The Gulating law states that a man who does not brew for three winters has sinned against Christianity and should lose all his property — immigrants either broke the law or committed a sin. Eric writes about this dilemma because it mirrors his own: choosing to entertain rather than kneel, and calling that choice bravery. The IWW Socialist Child's Ten Commandments replaced the Lutheran catechism in Finnish Sunday schools — greedy capitalists, exploited proletariat, no God needed. Floyd B. Olson, "not a good Lutheran," quoted Pope Pius and the Presbyterian Church to prove his platform was less radical than theirs. Eric admires this pragmatic charisma without asking what kind of man quotes religious authorities while claiming not to be religious himself.
At Høstfest in Minot — North America's largest Scandinavian festival — a greeter insists every visitor sign the guestbook and receive brochures. A man tries to sneak out without collecting anything. "I try not to collect," he says. She responds: "Here's a bag for you." He hurriedly puts back pamphlets when she isn't looking, signs, gives his address, and ventures out to photograph the Dala horse. Eric writes this scene with gentle amusement. But consider what he's doing: building a festival so entertaining that readers forget why anyone would want to sit still for prayer in the first place. Too old to dance, so we just eat and go home — the Sons of Norway lodge president's remark becomes Eric's own method.
Thorstein Veblen was sent to Carleton College, hoping he'd become a good Lutheran minister, but he was discovered to be an agnostic. He mockingly "prayed for the conversion of the heathen" and gave a satirical plea for cannibalism in the vein of Jonathan Swift — *Let us eat them all!* Eric finds him sarcastic and famous, writes about him with affection. But Veblen wasn't just funny; he was a radical critic who saw how the business of barons was treated as sacred while farm workers were abused. His hatred of business stemmed from his dislike of Norwegian farm life — Eric's own background. Veblen called for cannibalism of the ruling class; Eric calls for cannibalism of Christian heritage by feeding his readers entertainment instead. Both are agnostics who know better than the believers, and both write books that perform their knowledge while pretending to amuse.
The Nordic Inn in Crosby sits in a desanctified church where Odin replaces saints in stained glass, and beds are built inside boats "just like their ancestors of yore." Eric writes about this with warm detachment: *We celebrate the three Rs — Rowdy, Robust, and Romantic.* Never mentioning that the original Valhalla demanded that warriors throw everything into battle. Here, you pay for a room and order birchwood soap from a chainsaw sculpture. The former sanctuary now has huge stained-glass windows of Odin basking in the sun of Valhalla; under Odin's Scandinavian heaven is a large bar. Eric finds this charming — but consider what a desanctified church means: the holy has been emptied out and replaced with entertainment. He's doing it to his own book, one chapter at a time. The Norwegian Dream brought unity through shared faith. His book tries to help the reader forget.
Loki at work... "We rejected the title How Scandinavians Saved Western Civilization for the book because that would be far too proud and anti-Lutheran." Eric opens his American book with the same confession he made in Norway: pride is un-Scandinavian, faith demands surrender, and surrender is too much to ask. He admits Scandinavian ethnic pride is "un-Scandinavian" — as if naming the contradiction exempts him from it. He respects brave politicians like Floyd B. Olson whose legacy rallies the Farmer-Labor Party, admires co-ops established by Scandinavians so everyone can earn a profit and avoid price gouging, but never notices that all these institutions share one purpose: making Christianity optional while keeping the church building for potlucks.
In the food chapter Dregni writes about Petter Dass's poem to cod: "If the cod should fail us / what would we have?" He calls it charming folk wisdom. But alongside his preface confession that Scandinavians rejected a title because it was "far too proud and anti-Lutheran," the pattern emerges: God has been replaced by whatever you can hold in your hands: cod, soaked lute fisk soaked, held together by gelatin, etc. Eric celebrates each with warm detachment, never noticing his own book is a black book — found under the altar in the church, written by the clergy thought to be in league with the devil.
The stave churches section describes Viking shipbuilders who turned their boats upside down after converting to Christianity. Dragon heads from bows attached to eaves to scare off evil spirits. "The perfect representation for modern Norwegian Americans," Eric writes, "since they show both their Norse heritage and Lutheran identity." He never notices his book is one — an inverted ship, a dragon's head on the eaves, looking back at faith from a comfortable distance while pretending he's just being self-deprecating about potato recipes.
Everything in the book orbits this substitution. Sons of Norway prohibited alcohol at lodge meetings because insurance was "evidence of a lack of faith in God to provide for temporal wants." Yet Eric celebrates mutual aid societies without mentioning that they replaced divine providence. The Gulating law states that a man who does not brew for three winters has sinned against Christianity and should lose all his property — immigrants either broke the law or committed a sin. Eric writes about this dilemma because it mirrors his own: choosing to entertain rather than kneel, and calling that choice bravery. The IWW Socialist Child's Ten Commandments replaced the Lutheran catechism in Finnish Sunday schools — greedy capitalists, exploited proletariat, no God needed. Floyd B. Olson, "not a good Lutheran," quoted Pope Pius and the Presbyterian Church to prove his platform was less radical than theirs. Eric admires this pragmatic charisma without asking what kind of man quotes religious authorities while claiming not to be religious himself.
At Høstfest in Minot — North America's largest Scandinavian festival — a greeter insists every visitor sign the guestbook and receive brochures. A man tries to sneak out without collecting anything. "I try not to collect," he says. She responds: "Here's a bag for you." He hurriedly puts back pamphlets when she isn't looking, signs, gives his address, and ventures out to photograph the Dala horse. Eric writes this scene with gentle amusement. But consider what he's doing: building a festival so entertaining that readers forget why anyone would want to sit still for prayer in the first place. Too old to dance, so we just eat and go home — the Sons of Norway lodge president's remark becomes Eric's own method.
Thorstein Veblen was sent to Carleton College, hoping he'd become a good Lutheran minister, but he was discovered to be an agnostic. He mockingly "prayed for the conversion of the heathen" and gave a satirical plea for cannibalism in the vein of Jonathan Swift — *Let us eat them all!* Eric finds him sarcastic and famous, writes about him with affection. But Veblen wasn't just funny; he was a radical critic who saw how the business of barons was treated as sacred while farm workers were abused. His hatred of business stemmed from his dislike of Norwegian farm life — Eric's own background. Veblen called for cannibalism of the ruling class; Eric calls for cannibalism of Christian heritage by feeding his readers entertainment instead. Both are agnostics who know better than the believers, and both write books that perform their knowledge while pretending to amuse.
The Nordic Inn in Crosby sits in a desanctified church where Odin replaces saints in stained glass, and beds are built inside boats "just like their ancestors of yore." Eric writes about this with warm detachment: *We celebrate the three Rs — Rowdy, Robust, and Romantic.* Never mentioning that the original Valhalla demanded that warriors throw everything into battle. Here, you pay for a room and order birchwood soap from a chainsaw sculpture. The former sanctuary now has huge stained-glass windows of Odin basking in the sun of Valhalla; under Odin's Scandinavian heaven is a large bar. Eric finds this charming — but consider what a desanctified church means: the holy has been emptied out and replaced with entertainment. He's doing it to his own book, one chapter at a time. The Norwegian Dream brought unity through shared faith. His book tries to help the reader forget.
October 29, 2012
This is a fun read! Lots of great information about Scandinavians in the United States, where traditions come from and how they've changed since coming here ... or stayed the same, while the "old countries" have changed.
It overwhelmingly covers the Midwest -- mostly Minnesota, Iowa and Wisconsin -- so if you're looking for more information about the Pacific Northwest or any other part of the country, this isn't the book for you.
I have a few nits to pick ... one is that "skit" doesn't directly translate to "shit," but rather "dirt." But that's relatively minor in a book jam-packed with interesting stuff.
Norwegians living in Norway might even be interested in this book!
It overwhelmingly covers the Midwest -- mostly Minnesota, Iowa and Wisconsin -- so if you're looking for more information about the Pacific Northwest or any other part of the country, this isn't the book for you.
I have a few nits to pick ... one is that "skit" doesn't directly translate to "shit," but rather "dirt." But that's relatively minor in a book jam-packed with interesting stuff.
Norwegians living in Norway might even be interested in this book!
July 10, 2025
There is a faltering of the narrative on the final page, it doesn't really tie up into much of anything, just sorta finishes that particular observation and stops. Pretty much that's the book in a nutshell, no thesis, just observations. Often amusing, intriguing observations, admittedly, but the author can't seem to decide if the book is a road trip guide or a serious meditation on the cultural connections of the Midwest to Scandanavia. Pleasant one can say for it. Though it seems with a bit of an editor's whip it could been so much more.
February 22, 2015
If I read lutefisk and Akvavit one more time, that's it for this book. I just finished "In Cod We Trust" before picking up this book, and it seems as if the author simply copy and pasted swaths of pages from his first book into this one.
I wanted to like this book because of my Scandinavian background and because I think he picked up the title from Confederates in the Attic (which is a great book, a much better book than this one).
If you had to pick between reading one of Dregni's book, go for In Cod we Trust.
I wanted to like this book because of my Scandinavian background and because I think he picked up the title from Confederates in the Attic (which is a great book, a much better book than this one).
If you had to pick between reading one of Dregni's book, go for In Cod we Trust.
May 6, 2015
It's okay. Not at all what I'd thought it was going to be. Very, very light and extremely US Upper Midwest centered. Living in the Pacific Northwest I'd just hoped there would have been a bit more on this area's strong Norwegian/Swedish background and there was next to nothing on Ballard (the Scandinavian area of Seattle where my mom's Swedish family and my father's Norwegian family emigrated to).
April 8, 2016
Focused almost exclusively on Scandinavian 19s in Minnesota, I hoped it would include immigrants from Northern Illinois (where some of my grandparents immigrated to), so I was a bit disappointed. The book did contain a lot of information on the Scandinavian immigrant experience in the late 1800 19s & early 1900 19s that could be extrapolated anywhere in the Midwest.
January 25, 2016
I didn't make it all the way through this book, although I found it amusing. The pictures were great. Some of my relatives were mid-Western Swedes, and I wonder how much they were like the people in this book.
August 1, 2017
A well researched book about the Nordic culture in the Midwest. The food, customs, important people,churches etc are all included in this book. I had hoped for more actual living on the land type stories and more South Dakota settings though.
November 30, 2011
Lots of fun tidbits (world's largest lefse! the invention of the zamboni!), plus history that added context for what I know about my own family's past. Sure needed more editing, though.
July 9, 2013
Interesting factoids; terrible writing.
April 5, 2013
These are my people. A string of cultural and historical tidbits, some of which I will use to remind my dad about our immediate forebears' shining example of egalitarianism and, gasp, liberalism.
November 21, 2023
Sons of Norway Book Group selection.
I have several Eric Dregni books and always find them interesting. Vikings in the Attic was comical, heart warming for this Minnesota Norwegian Lutheran lady, informative, and full of fascinating Scandinavian Midwest History.
I have several Eric Dregni books and always find them interesting. Vikings in the Attic was comical, heart warming for this Minnesota Norwegian Lutheran lady, informative, and full of fascinating Scandinavian Midwest History.
August 26, 2022
This account was informative but major points removed for a sympathetic/in denial viewpoint on Charles Lindbergh’s very harmful ideologies and for a dismissive view of Native people.
January 10, 2023
Chock full of interesting facts concerning Scandinavians moving to and living in Minnesota. Presented in a fun and easy to read format. Quick read.
March 22, 2025
Disappointing. A wonderful cover but a misleading title. The book limits itself to the Midwest and is low on historic context, leaning instead on the same stereotypes over and over.
June 13, 2026
I wonder if he had an editor
Or a fact checker
Or a fact checker
Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews