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The Book of I
A brilliant Scottish debut, shortlisted for the Highland Book Prize and the Bookmark Book Festival Book of the Year.
825: In the aftermath of a vicious attack by raiders from the north, an unlikely trio finds themselves the lone survivors on a remote Scottish isle. Still breathing are young Brother Martin, the only resident of the local monastery to escape martyrdom; Una, a beekeeper and mead maker who has been relieved of her violent husband during the slaughter; and Grimur, an aging Norseman who claws his way out of the hasty grave his fellow raiders left him in, thinking him dead.
As the seasons pass in this wild and lonely setting, their inherent distrust of each other melts into a complex meditation on the distances and bonds between them. Told with humor and alive with sharply exquisite dialogue, David Greig deftly lifts the curtain between our world and the past. The Book of I is an entirely unique novel that serves as a philosophical commentary on guilt and redemption, but also humanity, love, and the things we choose to believe in.
825: In the aftermath of a vicious attack by raiders from the north, an unlikely trio finds themselves the lone survivors on a remote Scottish isle. Still breathing are young Brother Martin, the only resident of the local monastery to escape martyrdom; Una, a beekeeper and mead maker who has been relieved of her violent husband during the slaughter; and Grimur, an aging Norseman who claws his way out of the hasty grave his fellow raiders left him in, thinking him dead.
As the seasons pass in this wild and lonely setting, their inherent distrust of each other melts into a complex meditation on the distances and bonds between them. Told with humor and alive with sharply exquisite dialogue, David Greig deftly lifts the curtain between our world and the past. The Book of I is an entirely unique novel that serves as a philosophical commentary on guilt and redemption, but also humanity, love, and the things we choose to believe in.
160 pages, Hardcover
First published September 9, 2025
154 people are currently reading
8017 people want to read
About the author
David Greig
67 books63 followersDavid Greig is a Scottish dramatist. He was born in Edinburgh in 1969 and brought up in Nigeria. He studied drama at Bristol University and is now a well-known writer and director of plays. He has been commissioned by the Royal Court, the National Theatre and the Royal Shakespeare Company and was Artistic Director of the Royal Lyceum Theatre in Edinburgh from 2015 until 2025, when he left to return to writing.
His first play was produced in Glasgow in 1992 and he has written many plays since, produced worldwide. In 1990 he co-founded Suspect Culture Theatre Group with Graham Eatough in Glasgow.
His translations include Camus' Caligula (2003), Candide 2000, and When the Bulbul Stopped Singing, based on a book by Raja Shehadeh. Danmy 306 + Me (4 ever) (1999) is a play written for children.
David Greig's plays include The American Pilot (2005), about America's involvement in the Middle East and Eastern Europe; Pyrenees (2005) about a man who is found in the foothills of the Pyrenees, having lost his memory; and San Diego (2003), a journey through the American dream. His latest works are Gobbo, a modern- day fairytale; Herges Adverntures of Tintin, an adaptation; Yellow Moon (2006); and Damascus (2007)
His first play was produced in Glasgow in 1992 and he has written many plays since, produced worldwide. In 1990 he co-founded Suspect Culture Theatre Group with Graham Eatough in Glasgow.
His translations include Camus' Caligula (2003), Candide 2000, and When the Bulbul Stopped Singing, based on a book by Raja Shehadeh. Danmy 306 + Me (4 ever) (1999) is a play written for children.
David Greig's plays include The American Pilot (2005), about America's involvement in the Middle East and Eastern Europe; Pyrenees (2005) about a man who is found in the foothills of the Pyrenees, having lost his memory; and San Diego (2003), a journey through the American dream. His latest works are Gobbo, a modern- day fairytale; Herges Adverntures of Tintin, an adaptation; Yellow Moon (2006); and Damascus (2007)
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 260 reviews
September 1, 2025
'...if you catch it in one of those sudden moments when it's set in a bright shaft of sunlight, I is perfect: a minature world'.
It's 825 CE and Viking raids from the heathen hordes have a looming regularity across Britain and its surrounding lands, so when a red sail is spotted off the coast of the island of I, the resident monks prepare for martyrdom, 'All things considered, this was a good day for a massacre'. However, the massacre is somewhat bungled, leaving behind a junior monk, an old Viking and the Blacksmith's wife. Despite their very disparate lives, up until the day of the raid, a slow tethering of community weaves between them. Their lives are all very much changed.
The Book of I is primarily literary fiction. Like the monk in the story, who is challenged to find the meaning of a biblical verse, as well as the hidden meaning and subsequent underlying message, The Book of I can also be interpreted in simplistic layers or a complex whole. At first glance it is farcical and wry - Vikings who regard raiding and killing as a job, 'One didn't necessarily have to love the work'. However, soon themes of humanity, connection and self-identity unfurl. Although set hundreds of years ago, the tone of voice is very modern, which I believe serves to further highlight that humans are the same everywhere, and throughout time.
All in all, this short book is a challenging read and certainly unique. Readers who enjoy reflection rather than a storyline with resolution, will enjoy this as a change of pace.
'Revengers were a pain in the arse. So to reduce their possibility, it was best to leave no survivors...No one to whip up feelings of anger or injustice to kin or kings'.
It's 825 CE and Viking raids from the heathen hordes have a looming regularity across Britain and its surrounding lands, so when a red sail is spotted off the coast of the island of I, the resident monks prepare for martyrdom, 'All things considered, this was a good day for a massacre'. However, the massacre is somewhat bungled, leaving behind a junior monk, an old Viking and the Blacksmith's wife. Despite their very disparate lives, up until the day of the raid, a slow tethering of community weaves between them. Their lives are all very much changed.
The Book of I is primarily literary fiction. Like the monk in the story, who is challenged to find the meaning of a biblical verse, as well as the hidden meaning and subsequent underlying message, The Book of I can also be interpreted in simplistic layers or a complex whole. At first glance it is farcical and wry - Vikings who regard raiding and killing as a job, 'One didn't necessarily have to love the work'. However, soon themes of humanity, connection and self-identity unfurl. Although set hundreds of years ago, the tone of voice is very modern, which I believe serves to further highlight that humans are the same everywhere, and throughout time.
All in all, this short book is a challenging read and certainly unique. Readers who enjoy reflection rather than a storyline with resolution, will enjoy this as a change of pace.
'Revengers were a pain in the arse. So to reduce their possibility, it was best to leave no survivors...No one to whip up feelings of anger or injustice to kin or kings'.
October 30, 2025
David Grieg is a playwright so he quite definitely plays with words and our emotions go on a rollercoaster ride. We get the violence, the sadism, the calm, the meditation in the flow of nature, the songs, the bowing down to things greater than us.
With his words he was able to make me laugh and cry as he examines life, heaviness, humour and our place in the life that we get ………….
He also explores the importance of finding a good place in the world. By place I do not just mean a physical place but also a headspace that allows us to be, to smile, to joke and get laughts in return. Life is a very heavy burden and unless we find the joys, the smiles, the laughs, the peace that alleviates, it would become an overwhelmingly heavy.
Columba’s Bones – as published in the UK
The Book of I – as published in the US
An ARC for the US publication given by author/publisher via Edelweiss
With his words he was able to make me laugh and cry as he examines life, heaviness, humour and our place in the life that we get ………….
He also explores the importance of finding a good place in the world. By place I do not just mean a physical place but also a headspace that allows us to be, to smile, to joke and get laughts in return. Life is a very heavy burden and unless we find the joys, the smiles, the laughs, the peace that alleviates, it would become an overwhelmingly heavy.
Columba’s Bones – as published in the UK
The Book of I – as published in the US
An ARC for the US publication given by author/publisher via Edelweiss
August 19, 2025
David Greig is a well-known Scottish dramatist and it shows in his debut novel The Book of I. The isle of I (modern Iona) is a wee stretch of rock, bog, sand and green pasture west off the Isle of Mull, Scotland. The year is 825 AD, year of the supposed martyrdom of Saint Blathmac (a prominent Irish monk) by Viking raiders. This novel offers a snapshot of this gruesome Skaldic poetry-inspired (the original translated poem is included in the book) with humour, gore, romance and faith, all in under 160 pages. It is historically accurate in the sense of events and costumes, yet there is the occasional use of anachronisms, which sometimes work giving a tint of humour, and sometimes they don't. Back to the book, it starts with a brief, whimsical description of the nature found in I, intercalating with scenes from the approaching Viking boat, followed by the raid. Here, the narrative is propulsive and violent, yet Greig hammersledges gnarly humour into his narrative, as in the series Vikings (who doesn't remember Ragnar's quips?). Many character names are thrown, but not all are important. While Helgi's band butchers the monks, Grimur, a pouched middle-aged Viking finds himself unconscious on the ground. After the raid, the Vikings bury the bodies, including Grimur, who is left buried behind. Here, there is a change in pace and narrative, adopting a lighter, mundane tone, exploring themes of religion and belonging until it doesn't. There are some aspects I wish were more fleshed out, which frequently happened, but felt rushed and inorganic. I thoroughly enjoyed this compact, brutal, engrossing little gem that balances historical authenticity with vivid characters and searing narrative.
Disclaimer: I received an Advance Reader Copy (ARC) of this book from the publisher Europa Editions via NetGalley in exchange for an honest and unbiased review. All thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.
Disclaimer: I received an Advance Reader Copy (ARC) of this book from the publisher Europa Editions via NetGalley in exchange for an honest and unbiased review. All thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.
September 20, 2025
There’s nothing better than abandoning a book with awful sentences and a premise so buzzy it makes your teeth ache and then picking up something that is competent, thoughtful, poetic, philosophical, romantic. The Book of I is a brief, lovely little book that is the exact right length for its intentions, with beautiful language and love and theological ecstasy as well as a substantial supply of Viking murder (by and of). If you have read about or from the monastic or Norse Middle Ages you will find that David Grieg has great respect for the history and literature of the era, and he elegantly draws these things together into a modern story as comforting as it is bloody. Highly recommended, and a wonderful way to spend an afternoon.
August 25, 2025
There's an interesting literary subgenre that focuses on challenging/failing Monasteries on ocean islands—and it's a genre I generally enjoy deeply, despite the bleak outlook these novels often have. The concept of faith itself is challenging. The islands these novels are set on are seldom welcoming or suited for human habitation. Then there are the complexities of hierarchical single-sex communities in which dissent is unacceptable—and half the population of the world (women) are viewed as primarily invitations to sin.
The Book of I, set off the coast of 9th Century Scotland, opens with the destruction of an island monastery and the killing of most of its inhabitants by Viking raiders. Greig conveys the horror of this moment without egregious gore (at least by my gore-o-meter) and without descriptions of sexual assault. After the raid, three people remain on the island: a young monk who hid from the raiders in the cesspit of an outhouse; a middle-aged woman who keeps bees and makes mead—and who has no regrets about the killing of her abusive husband; and a Viking raider buried by his comrades who mistakenly assumed him to be dead.
There are wonderful surprises as the trio build their own, very small community that bridges differences of gender, faith, and culture. The island isn't Utopia, but is does allow the characters a chance to appreciate what it means to be human across differences.
The threat that hangs over the three is the knowledge that at some point the raiders will return.
Greig packs a great deal into this short novel written in deceptively simple prose.
I received a free electronic review copy of this title from the publisher via Edelweiss; the opinions are my own.
The Book of I, set off the coast of 9th Century Scotland, opens with the destruction of an island monastery and the killing of most of its inhabitants by Viking raiders. Greig conveys the horror of this moment without egregious gore (at least by my gore-o-meter) and without descriptions of sexual assault. After the raid, three people remain on the island: a young monk who hid from the raiders in the cesspit of an outhouse; a middle-aged woman who keeps bees and makes mead—and who has no regrets about the killing of her abusive husband; and a Viking raider buried by his comrades who mistakenly assumed him to be dead.
There are wonderful surprises as the trio build their own, very small community that bridges differences of gender, faith, and culture. The island isn't Utopia, but is does allow the characters a chance to appreciate what it means to be human across differences.
The threat that hangs over the three is the knowledge that at some point the raiders will return.
Greig packs a great deal into this short novel written in deceptively simple prose.
I received a free electronic review copy of this title from the publisher via Edelweiss; the opinions are my own.
September 1, 2025
absolutely loved this. even with all the slaughter and martyrdom it is so cosy.
Read
July 31, 2025I wanted a change of pace, and that's exactly what I got. I did not, however, find it enjoyable. I did not find any pleasure in this book, nor could I find its point. Aside from not meeting my expectations—I expected more eco-fiction, but that's on me—I could not fathom what the author wanted with this. It's not a character study (it's too short), and it's not a proper historical novel (it's riddled with anachronisms - did they really call the continent Europe in 825?). It's not much of anything, I'm afraid.
September 15, 2025
Sounds like a joke setup. Three survivors of a raid, suitably named Grimur, his quondam foe Una, mute mead-wife, and boy-monk Martin stagger about Iona. How they fare comprises a brief novel by a Scots playwright, telling this in a wry, omniscient, irreverent, modern sensibility attuned to foible.
The titular volume of the Gospels was left unfinished; its scribes perished at the hands of the Norse: Grimur learns from the sole novice remaining the rudiments of Christianity, which leaves nonplussed Una. He and his Vikings had searched for a reliquary of St Columba to steal, so the reverence paid to a manuscript baffles the warrior. Similarly, Martin's a bit disconcerted by Bronagh, an enigmatic wayfarer from Antrim arriving after dreaming the deceased abbot called her to the newly ruined old monastery. Her stay as an anchorite predictably tempts our youthful neophyte, while her presence spurs both Una and Grimur towards a shared discovery of passion. Then there's a plot turnaround.
Narration flows briskly, and you can see Greig's dramatic skill efficiently applied in quick cinematic scenes with slightly self-deprecating dialogue and smart-arsed interior monologue. The whole story could be a great little screenplay or lively staging (with enough extras as Norse or Irish pirates or celibates). It doesn't wear out its welcome and treats varying faith commitments similarly to the fine History Channel's Vikings series with abducted Aidan from Lindisfarne and Floki the "pagan priest."
No fault of Greig, but as I admired that show's nuanced depiction of conflicting beliefs amidst the same Northern settings, their repetition here didn't resonate as deeply for me. However, in this era when we get so many hackneyed renderings of humans struggling with the divine or its absence, its imminent or delayed revelation, at least Grieg allows us a bit of welcome depth to open up ambiguity, giving us recognizably flawed and fumbling characters trying to keep alive amidst violence and grief.
P.S. <<Í>> in Norse="island," anglicised as "ey" or "ay" as in place names like Ramsey or Lindsay.
The titular volume of the Gospels was left unfinished; its scribes perished at the hands of the Norse: Grimur learns from the sole novice remaining the rudiments of Christianity, which leaves nonplussed Una. He and his Vikings had searched for a reliquary of St Columba to steal, so the reverence paid to a manuscript baffles the warrior. Similarly, Martin's a bit disconcerted by Bronagh, an enigmatic wayfarer from Antrim arriving after dreaming the deceased abbot called her to the newly ruined old monastery. Her stay as an anchorite predictably tempts our youthful neophyte, while her presence spurs both Una and Grimur towards a shared discovery of passion. Then there's a plot turnaround.
Narration flows briskly, and you can see Greig's dramatic skill efficiently applied in quick cinematic scenes with slightly self-deprecating dialogue and smart-arsed interior monologue. The whole story could be a great little screenplay or lively staging (with enough extras as Norse or Irish pirates or celibates). It doesn't wear out its welcome and treats varying faith commitments similarly to the fine History Channel's Vikings series with abducted Aidan from Lindisfarne and Floki the "pagan priest."
No fault of Greig, but as I admired that show's nuanced depiction of conflicting beliefs amidst the same Northern settings, their repetition here didn't resonate as deeply for me. However, in this era when we get so many hackneyed renderings of humans struggling with the divine or its absence, its imminent or delayed revelation, at least Grieg allows us a bit of welcome depth to open up ambiguity, giving us recognizably flawed and fumbling characters trying to keep alive amidst violence and grief.
P.S. <<Í>> in Norse="island," anglicised as "ey" or "ay" as in place names like Ramsey or Lindsay.
dnf
August 27, 2025DNF @ 28% (44 pages)
Unfortunately this was not for me. I did enjoy the Descriptions of landscape, which reminded me of clear by carys Davies.
But there were too many things that bothered me that I had no desire to continue. 1) The Viking characters using British slang kept taking me out of the story. 2) Using “Europe” and “Scandinavian” despite those not being terms used in the 9th century-very much not historically accurate (for instance Scandinavian was not used to refer to the 3 major countries and its peoples until well into the 19th century; technically Pliny used the word “Scatinavia” in the 1st century that later became “Scandinavian” but he was referencing an island in the Baltic Sea not the peoples/grouping of Norway, Denmark, and Sweden- that’s the more modern interpretation and usage. And Europe was not a unified area at this time therefore anyone from "Europe" would be described using their country of origin/tribes ie Gauls, celts, Danes, frisians, etc). Finally 3) the crass humor when used to say "he adjusted his cock to make it appear bigger" just why???
Thanks to NetGalley and Europa Editions for the earc!
Unfortunately this was not for me. I did enjoy the Descriptions of landscape, which reminded me of clear by carys Davies.
But there were too many things that bothered me that I had no desire to continue. 1) The Viking characters using British slang kept taking me out of the story. 2) Using “Europe” and “Scandinavian” despite those not being terms used in the 9th century-very much not historically accurate (for instance Scandinavian was not used to refer to the 3 major countries and its peoples until well into the 19th century; technically Pliny used the word “Scatinavia” in the 1st century that later became “Scandinavian” but he was referencing an island in the Baltic Sea not the peoples/grouping of Norway, Denmark, and Sweden- that’s the more modern interpretation and usage. And Europe was not a unified area at this time therefore anyone from "Europe" would be described using their country of origin/tribes ie Gauls, celts, Danes, frisians, etc). Finally 3) the crass humor when used to say "he adjusted his cock to make it appear bigger" just why???
Thanks to NetGalley and Europa Editions for the earc!
January 29, 2026
Sam Sacks from the a Wall Street Journal describes this book so well.. “I haven’t read many books that are at once so murderous, and yet so breezily cheerful”
October 1, 2025
@europaeditions | #gifted You’d be hard pressed to find a more original book than 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗢𝗢𝗞 𝗢𝗙 𝗜 by David Greig. It wasn’t on my radar until I received a copy in the mail from a fabulous contact at Europa. She knows my reading tastes well, but took a chance on me with this one. A story taking place on a small island off the shore of Scotland in 825, involving Vikings, Monks, a beekeeper and carnage doesn’t seem like my typical reading fare. I’m so thankful she took a chance on me because I loved this very unusual book!
“All things considered, this was a good day for a massacre.
The wooden walls of the monastery contained a whirl of panic and fear.
Farmhands pulled the big gate shut and barred them with logs and props. Others found scythes and mattocks to arm themselves. The housekeepers and laundresses ran from building to building, looking for children and places to hide.”
I went into this book blind and I really want everyone else to do that too, so I’m only sharing very basic elements of the story. To start, the opening chapter is a wild ride. It’s there that the carnage I mentioned earlier comes in. This sets the scene for the rest of the book where we find religion, devotion, compassion, and even love. Its principal characters are a timid young monk, a beekeeper who also makes mead and happens to be relieved by her new widowhood, and a Viking who’s a little past his prime. Together and apart, they find ways to carry on. That’s all you get
David Greig is a playwright and that definitely influenced his debut. Each scene is vivid and beautifully laid out. He makes it so simple to visualize everything that happens on Iona in the days, weeks and months following the attack. He brought me there. This is a very slim book at only 159 pages, but in it, Greig made every word count. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️💫
“All things considered, this was a good day for a massacre.
The wooden walls of the monastery contained a whirl of panic and fear.
Farmhands pulled the big gate shut and barred them with logs and props. Others found scythes and mattocks to arm themselves. The housekeepers and laundresses ran from building to building, looking for children and places to hide.”
I went into this book blind and I really want everyone else to do that too, so I’m only sharing very basic elements of the story. To start, the opening chapter is a wild ride. It’s there that the carnage I mentioned earlier comes in. This sets the scene for the rest of the book where we find religion, devotion, compassion, and even love. Its principal characters are a timid young monk, a beekeeper who also makes mead and happens to be relieved by her new widowhood, and a Viking who’s a little past his prime. Together and apart, they find ways to carry on. That’s all you get
David Greig is a playwright and that definitely influenced his debut. Each scene is vivid and beautifully laid out. He makes it so simple to visualize everything that happens on Iona in the days, weeks and months following the attack. He brought me there. This is a very slim book at only 159 pages, but in it, Greig made every word count. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️💫
November 14, 2025
A short novel that hits harder than many long ones :) It’s dark, funny, and unexpectedly moving. Greig does a fantastic job of weaving humor into these gritty, violent moments without it ever feeling out of place. I loved how the characters felt so alive in their contradictions: a hardened Viking who’s capable of startling tenderness, a monk racked with shame and struggling to hold his faith yet longing for purpose, a woman who has survived abuse and now holds fierce autonomy, even as she builds something new for herself.
In the end, it feels like a meditation on belief, redemption, and how unlikely souls can find a kind of home in each other, even when the world around them is anything but safe. It’s a great little brain reset. it left me feeling both a bit exhilarated and more grounded at the same time.
In the end, it feels like a meditation on belief, redemption, and how unlikely souls can find a kind of home in each other, even when the world around them is anything but safe. It’s a great little brain reset. it left me feeling both a bit exhilarated and more grounded at the same time.
September 28, 2025
CWs: gore
Sometimes you pick up a book on a whim and it turns out to be incredible, and it gives you such a rush. That was what happened with The Book of I. The story is set in 9th century Scotland, on a remote island that is home to a community of monks. If you know a little about Scottish-slash-British-in-general history around this time, you can imagine what comes next. Vikings. And so, we have our main characters: the lone surviving monk, a beekeeper who loses her abusive husband during the raid, and a Viking who is left behind by his fellow raiders, assumed dead. The Book of I weaves together their stories as they realise they must lean on one another for survival. It's a short book, to be sure, but it packs a punch. Characters are painted deftly, in a way that establishes them quickly and makes you invested in their fate. It doesn't shy from violence, which I think is what it makes it effective. The Dark Ages could be a short and brutal existence, but punctuated, like this book, by moments of humanity and emotion. As the end of this book comes, you find yourself hoping fiercely that the main characters will not fall to that fate. Absolutely one not to be missed.
Sometimes you pick up a book on a whim and it turns out to be incredible, and it gives you such a rush. That was what happened with The Book of I. The story is set in 9th century Scotland, on a remote island that is home to a community of monks. If you know a little about Scottish-slash-British-in-general history around this time, you can imagine what comes next. Vikings. And so, we have our main characters: the lone surviving monk, a beekeeper who loses her abusive husband during the raid, and a Viking who is left behind by his fellow raiders, assumed dead. The Book of I weaves together their stories as they realise they must lean on one another for survival. It's a short book, to be sure, but it packs a punch. Characters are painted deftly, in a way that establishes them quickly and makes you invested in their fate. It doesn't shy from violence, which I think is what it makes it effective. The Dark Ages could be a short and brutal existence, but punctuated, like this book, by moments of humanity and emotion. As the end of this book comes, you find yourself hoping fiercely that the main characters will not fall to that fate. Absolutely one not to be missed.
August 24, 2025
How I found myself staying up until midnight reading a book about medieval Vikings, monks, and mead is still beyond me, but woah. Every time I put this book down, I wanted to pick it back up again. The lyrical prose. The exploration of Christian faith held up against Norse brutality. The HUMOR—consistent, yet unexpected every time. I still cannot get over how Greig depicted I and introduced Grimur, Una, and Brother Martin in 160 pages. I felt like I was there. It was as though I knew them.
It’s not a book for the faint of heart. There are Vikings, which means Viking violence, particularly against the innocent; Greig does not hold back.
It’s not a book for the faint of heart. There are Vikings, which means Viking violence, particularly against the innocent; Greig does not hold back.
November 21, 2025
Wow. A beautiful, vibrant, funny and sometimes brutal exploration of faith, violence, and redemption set on the remote island of Iona during the year 825 AD, The Book of I accomplishes so much in its slim page count.
The Isle of Iona (sometimes called "I") is a tiny island off the western coast of Scotland. In the spring of 825 AD, a group of raiding Norseman attack the small monastery and village housed there, savagely killing all of the island's inhabitants. With their blood lust satiated, they leave behind just three survivors in their wake — a young monk, a (happily) newly widowed mead maker, and an aging viking left for dead by his raiding party. Over the next several months, these three wildly different individuals will learn to live and work together in order to survive the elements and will discover what it means to live in harmony with one another.
Inspired by true events, The Book of I is David Greig's first novel, though he's a well-established Scottish playwright. With its limited setting and small cast of characters, I could easily this novel being adapted into a stage production. After its visceral opening chapter, the novel downshifts to a more meditative tone, but it never ceases being witty and surprising. The Book of I is probably the best novel about faith I've read in a long time, and I wasn't expecting how much this novel dives into the strengths and limitations of early Christianity (especially as Martin, the young monk, sets out to finish an illuminated manuscript of the Gospel of John).
Coming in at less than 160 pages, The Book of I is probably better categorized as a novella, yet the sweep of the story feels both epic and intimate. It's very funny, poignant, filled with rich conversations and observations about faith, and (most importantly) flat-out entertaining. One of the best books I've read this year published in 2025.
The Isle of Iona (sometimes called "I") is a tiny island off the western coast of Scotland. In the spring of 825 AD, a group of raiding Norseman attack the small monastery and village housed there, savagely killing all of the island's inhabitants. With their blood lust satiated, they leave behind just three survivors in their wake — a young monk, a (happily) newly widowed mead maker, and an aging viking left for dead by his raiding party. Over the next several months, these three wildly different individuals will learn to live and work together in order to survive the elements and will discover what it means to live in harmony with one another.
Inspired by true events, The Book of I is David Greig's first novel, though he's a well-established Scottish playwright. With its limited setting and small cast of characters, I could easily this novel being adapted into a stage production. After its visceral opening chapter, the novel downshifts to a more meditative tone, but it never ceases being witty and surprising. The Book of I is probably the best novel about faith I've read in a long time, and I wasn't expecting how much this novel dives into the strengths and limitations of early Christianity (especially as Martin, the young monk, sets out to finish an illuminated manuscript of the Gospel of John).
Coming in at less than 160 pages, The Book of I is probably better categorized as a novella, yet the sweep of the story feels both epic and intimate. It's very funny, poignant, filled with rich conversations and observations about faith, and (most importantly) flat-out entertaining. One of the best books I've read this year published in 2025.
January 2, 2026
The Book of I opens with devastation: a ninth-century island monastery off the coast of Scotland is destroyed by Viking raiders, its inhabitants slaughtered.
When the raiders leave, three people remain. A young monk survives by hiding in the cesspit of an outhouse. A middle-aged woman lives alone with her bees, making mead and carrying no regret over the death of her abusive husband. And a Viking raider, buried alive by his comrades who believed him dead, claws his way back into the world. From these unlikely survivors, Greig builds a community that bridges divides of gender, faith, language, and culture.
The island they inhabit is not a utopia. Hunger, fear, trauma, and the ever-present knowledge that the raiders may return hang over them. Yet within this uncertainty, Greig allows his characters moments of tenderness, humor, ritual, and reflection.
What makes the novel especially affecting is its insistence that meaning is not singular. Each character searches for purpose in a different way: through faith, through labor, through connection, through survival itself. Greig suggests that “place” matters deeply—but not only as geography. Place is also a headspace, a way of inhabiting the world that allows room for humor, for laughter returned, for moments of peace amid hardship.
When the raiders leave, three people remain. A young monk survives by hiding in the cesspit of an outhouse. A middle-aged woman lives alone with her bees, making mead and carrying no regret over the death of her abusive husband. And a Viking raider, buried alive by his comrades who believed him dead, claws his way back into the world. From these unlikely survivors, Greig builds a community that bridges divides of gender, faith, language, and culture.
The island they inhabit is not a utopia. Hunger, fear, trauma, and the ever-present knowledge that the raiders may return hang over them. Yet within this uncertainty, Greig allows his characters moments of tenderness, humor, ritual, and reflection.
What makes the novel especially affecting is its insistence that meaning is not singular. Each character searches for purpose in a different way: through faith, through labor, through connection, through survival itself. Greig suggests that “place” matters deeply—but not only as geography. Place is also a headspace, a way of inhabiting the world that allows room for humor, for laughter returned, for moments of peace amid hardship.
December 13, 2025
The second I saw this novel in Europa’s catalog, l wanted to read it. It’s been lodged in the back of my mind ever since. Thanks to the excellent collection of small and indie press titles provided by my library’s ebook service, I was able to get my hands on The Book of I much sooner than I anticipated.
This is a crude, funny, lovely little gem of a novel in the vein of Glorious Exploits by Ferdia Lennon. If you did not enjoy the anachronism and humor in that book, then I recommend steering clear of this one. Greig’s descriptive writing is beautiful, but the “modern” tone veered too close to immaturity for this to rise to an all-time favorite.
This is a crude, funny, lovely little gem of a novel in the vein of Glorious Exploits by Ferdia Lennon. If you did not enjoy the anachronism and humor in that book, then I recommend steering clear of this one. Greig’s descriptive writing is beautiful, but the “modern” tone veered too close to immaturity for this to rise to an all-time favorite.
October 24, 2025
very, very good. cozy, but in a cold and gritty way? humans can be wholesome sometimes, but also just really fucking horrible as well. it goes without saying, but without community we are lost. so. read this. it's delightful.
December 20, 2025
Four 1L casebooks later and I’m making my return to fiction! And what a joy to return to! I loved this: there’s Vikings, mead wives, angry bees, buried reliquaries and a snotty, failed anchoress. Thank god I don’t live in 825 but boy do I love to read about it. 5 🌟
October 15, 2025
funnier than i expected and kinda unexpectedly wholesome — very theatrical if that makes sense
November 12, 2025
A gruesome start to this slim book, set during and after a Viking raid on the Isle of Iona in year 825. However, there is also humour and love as the survivors adjust to life together.
December 8, 2025
5.0. Perfect
December 9, 2025
A perfect little story.
Terrific plot. Fast and adventurous but pondering as well.
How utterly interesting to see the madness of men drenched in faith or should I say belief.
Terrific plot. Fast and adventurous but pondering as well.
How utterly interesting to see the madness of men drenched in faith or should I say belief.
January 4, 2026
Overall really enjoyed it was just too short and didn’t feel fleshed out enough
February 5, 2026
a winner on all counts- funny, well-paced, meditative, weird. i enjoyed every word!
November 30, 2025
A fast-paced book with humour sprinkled here and there!
October 16, 2025
ah. The Book of I is a post-Viking hangover with unexpected humor. three survivors—a monk guilt-tripping his way through faith, a widowed mead-maker who’s had it with men, and a beer bellied Viking who can’t tell if he’s still alive—end up stuck on island with everyone else either dead or at sea, trying to make sense of each other and what’s left of the world. it’s bleak, yes, but Greig slips in dark, human comedy and moments of quiet empathy, the kind that surfaces when survival feels absurd and laughter is the only rebellion left. the prose is spare but for the descriptions of the island, its God given graces, and the bees, so there’s warmth beneath the wreckage. between the silences, you catch flashes of tenderness, wit, and reluctant grace. The Book of I reminds you that even in ruin, people are still ridiculous, still kind, still capable of love and that’s what makes it quietly brilliant.
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January 11, 2026"how could you leave this world, willingly? how could you stay?"
June 21, 2025
I really like this story by David Greig because for the most part it was interesting because it involved a Viking Warrior in this story. He was buried in the first part of the book. Then he was made to be in love with the woman who made the mead. One of the others was a young priest that made a decision to become a true man of god. He also made a girl into a nun but failed. She saved the day when she had her brothers come to the Island of I and bring the vikings to be slaves. Plus what Grimur, who was the Viking Warrior, saved the day when he fought the Viking Leader and won at the cost of losing a hand. In the end he stayed with the woman that made the mead. Because they made each other laugh a lot and all the other things people do. It's a really well written story that may have happened.
September 25, 2025
(Let's actually call it 2.4, rounded down, because I couldn't bring myself to give this 3.)
I think I was always going to be a little unfair in my judgment of this book, as I was inevitably going to be comparing it to the delightful romp that is M. T. Anderson's Nicked. If I had a nickel for every time I picked up a novella because I was drawn to the idea of a comedy about a loser medieval monk having funny adventures with his friends, I'd have two nickels, etc. The Book of I, however, is far from a heist, and instead follows its characters in their often unremarkable daily lives in the wake of a catastrophe and, allegedly, studies how they grow closer. That's great, and I was stoked for a found family slice of life going in. Unfortunately, I found the execution lacking. Though it may be harsher than this book deserves, the thought I kept coming back to while reading it is that it reads, in parts, like the outline of the book rather than the book itself. It's the outline of a potentially good book, but an outline nonetheless. It hits the beats of a poignant narrative about regrowth and spiritual awakening and love; it seldom gives those beats the emotional weight they deserve. The book is mostly allergic to exploring the consequences of the things it sets up in any depth. This is kind of a problem for a story that is meant to be almost completely character-driven.
Una's mutism is probably the best example of this. Here's what happens: Una is mute, and then she's not. It happens within the first thirty pages, shortly after her condition is mentioned. The death of her husband immediately cures this ailment she's had for over a decade, and for what? To make the dialogue easier to write? If she were unable to speak for even just a little while longer in the story, I see so much potential for what could have been done, how the themes of different ways of communicating and seeing could have been fleshed out through this. Instead, if you take out the detail of Una starting out the novella mute, nothing about the story changes. And this is essentially the order of the day for so many things in this book. Martin is a coward who runs from martyrdom, and then he isn't, and he doesn't struggle with cowardice in any way for the entire rest of the story after the initial raid scene. Una's husband dies, and then she never experiences a significant problem in her personal life ever again, because that's how trauma works? And because abuse victims definitely never have complicated and conflicting emotions about their abusers, who, by the way, happened to get axe-murdered right in front of them?
Grimur is the most interesting character by virtue of his internal conflicts being the most dynamic, on top of also being likable and funny. His crashout near the end of the book and his spiritual identity crisis throughout are compelling. It would have been really nice to have the space to explore the other 3 (4, arguably?) main characters with a similar level of depth.
My last comment is that in glancing at other reviews, people seemed to find this particularly gory, and while there is some murder and blood to be sure (warning for gruesome horse death and an old man getting drawn and quartered, etc.), it barely registered to me as remarkable--certainly nothing unexpected for a book about the early medieval period feat. Viking raids. But I guess that's more of an indictment on me for reading and enjoying the likes of Open Throat by Henry Hoke, and for giving 5 stars to a book where a dog pulls out a tapeworm from a girl's stomach through her mouth. But anyway.
I think I was always going to be a little unfair in my judgment of this book, as I was inevitably going to be comparing it to the delightful romp that is M. T. Anderson's Nicked. If I had a nickel for every time I picked up a novella because I was drawn to the idea of a comedy about a loser medieval monk having funny adventures with his friends, I'd have two nickels, etc. The Book of I, however, is far from a heist, and instead follows its characters in their often unremarkable daily lives in the wake of a catastrophe and, allegedly, studies how they grow closer. That's great, and I was stoked for a found family slice of life going in. Unfortunately, I found the execution lacking. Though it may be harsher than this book deserves, the thought I kept coming back to while reading it is that it reads, in parts, like the outline of the book rather than the book itself. It's the outline of a potentially good book, but an outline nonetheless. It hits the beats of a poignant narrative about regrowth and spiritual awakening and love; it seldom gives those beats the emotional weight they deserve. The book is mostly allergic to exploring the consequences of the things it sets up in any depth. This is kind of a problem for a story that is meant to be almost completely character-driven.
Una's mutism is probably the best example of this. Here's what happens: Una is mute, and then she's not. It happens within the first thirty pages, shortly after her condition is mentioned. The death of her husband immediately cures this ailment she's had for over a decade, and for what? To make the dialogue easier to write? If she were unable to speak for even just a little while longer in the story, I see so much potential for what could have been done, how the themes of different ways of communicating and seeing could have been fleshed out through this. Instead, if you take out the detail of Una starting out the novella mute, nothing about the story changes. And this is essentially the order of the day for so many things in this book. Martin is a coward who runs from martyrdom, and then he isn't, and he doesn't struggle with cowardice in any way for the entire rest of the story after the initial raid scene. Una's husband dies, and then she never experiences a significant problem in her personal life ever again, because that's how trauma works? And because abuse victims definitely never have complicated and conflicting emotions about their abusers, who, by the way, happened to get axe-murdered right in front of them?
Grimur is the most interesting character by virtue of his internal conflicts being the most dynamic, on top of also being likable and funny. His crashout near the end of the book and his spiritual identity crisis throughout are compelling. It would have been really nice to have the space to explore the other 3 (4, arguably?) main characters with a similar level of depth.
My last comment is that in glancing at other reviews, people seemed to find this particularly gory, and while there is some murder and blood to be sure (warning for gruesome horse death and an old man getting drawn and quartered, etc.), it barely registered to me as remarkable--certainly nothing unexpected for a book about the early medieval period feat. Viking raids. But I guess that's more of an indictment on me for reading and enjoying the likes of Open Throat by Henry Hoke, and for giving 5 stars to a book where a dog pulls out a tapeworm from a girl's stomach through her mouth. But anyway.
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