A young man from the countryside comes to Reykjavik to work as a taxi driver, and strikes up an acquaintaintance with a wealthy young woman. The gulf between their very different backgrounds inevitably leads to a turbulent relationship and to tragedy, against a backdrop of a nation finding its way in a new age. Published only a few years after the Second World War, Indridi G. Thorsteinsson's Cab 79 triggered a storm at the time. It presents an uncompromising snapshot of the swift changes taking place in Icelandic society as this once remote and newly independent country struggled to come to terms with the twentieth century and all the benefits and drawbacks that came with this new age of affluence, leisure, cars, and the presence of foreign troops. Cab 79 was a controversial book when it appeared in 1955, opening the way for a new generation of Icelandic writers, and a few years subsequently became an equally controversial movie, regarded as a milestone in Icelandic cinema. "Cab 79 is undoubtedly the most important post-WWII Icelandic novel" Yrsa Sigurdardottir
Það var gaman að lesa þessa sögufrægu bók, sérstaklega út af tungumálinu! Ég lærði mörg ný (gömul) orð og setningar. Þrjú dæmi: "Tölungur" (einhvers konar hljóðnemi í kallkerfi), "Enn var morgnt" (reyndu að bera þetta fram upphátt), og "heyrnartæki" sem símtól. Einnig frábæra stafsetningu á orðinu raskat (rassgat). Bókin kom fyrst út 1955, og það er eins og hvorki spurningamerkið né sögnin "að spyrja" hafi verið til á þessum tíma: allar persónurnar sögðu bara allt, hvorki spurðu að né svöruðu neinu, en ég hafði bara nokkuð gaman af því.
Ég verð samt að taka af henni tvær stjörnur því hún er alveg yfirdrifið úrelt; höfundurinn skrifar fegurri lýsingar á bílum heldur en konum. Þær fáu konur sem komu við sögu voru annað hvort einungis til þjónustu, eða heimskar og vildu ekkert í heiminum frekar en að láta sofa hjá sér. Þó þetta hafi verið tíðarandinn, þá hef ég sko ekki gaman af þessu. Hlakka samt til að sjá myndina, hef heyrt að Kristbjörg Kjeld tækli þetta mjöög vel!
þrátt fyrir það að vera smá fyrirsjáanleg hvað varðar framvindu þá er þetta ein af mínum uppáhalds héðan í frá. væmin og falleg og ótrúlega góð svona sunnudagsbók. rosalega fallegur texti og sár og gott að lesa.
það var smá eins og að horfa á mynd að lesa þessa bók. fannst stíllinn góður og fannst margt svo írónískt og fyndið, smá kallabók það verður að viðurkennast en ekki svona svo mér leið illa að lesa hana, heldur var það bara smá fyndið. mæli með.
A long-short story that packed a punch in Iceland when it was published in the mid 1950s. The tale of the taxi driver and his relationship with a rich woman is the backdrop to the commentary on the changes in Iceland due to its militarisation firstly by the Brits then by the US. With the US armed forces they brought money, problems with the locals and seething emotions especially when they attract the opposite sex. For the local their laid-back lifestyle revolving around traditional farming or fishing dissipated as the people moved to Reykjavik for a piece of the action.
Absolutely loved it.... did not know the father of Arnaldur Idriadson would also be the father of Icelandic crime fiction at the same time. Wonderful tracking the genesis of the work and seeing the influence in Indriadson’s work which I absolutely love .... controversial for its time in the 1950s but I love how it explores the changes in Icelandic society ... a key aspect of his son’s novels too...
I admired this Icelandic classic more than I enjoyed it. It was daring for its time and thus influential, but it is rather short and a bit of a patchwork quilt: - Chapter 1 introduces a character that you assume is the main character but the character is never returned to. - Chapter 10 is mostly scenery (never my favorite ingredient in a book).
The rest is interesting enough, about love and about being lonely and uprooted.
The Kindle edition includes an essay about the film version, "The Girl Gogo" (one of only two feature films made in Iceland in the 1960s). The essay is okay but contains several typographical errors, such as "because because."
I love Arnaldur Indriðason and have long wanted to read some of his father's work, so I was delighted to have this chance. This short novel opens with an introduction from Arnaldur, and has some interesting info at the end from Andy Lawrence (the 'preface', certainly in the kindle edition, is more of an 'afterface'!) The book follows the tale of a cab driver from the countryside who has moved to Reykjavik, back in the times when the Americans were still occupying Keflavík airbase, and some of his interesting fares, including a woman he falls in love with, with disastrous consequences in more ways than one. A quick read but one I thoroughly enjoyed.
Ferðalaginu í gegnum íslenskar bókmenntir heldur áfram. Fyrsta bók sem ég les (hlusta á) eftir Indriða. Maður finnur áþreifanlega togstreituna. Frelsi og fjötur, gamalt og nýtt, ástir og sorgir. Mjög skemmtilega stillt upp gagnvart hverju öðru.
3.5 en námundað upp í 4 af því þetta er íslensk samtíma klassík.
Finally this iconic Icelandic novel has been translated. I loved this book by an author reminiscent to me of Ove Knausgaard, spare prose allowing for increasing emotional impact. The protagonist’s journey is universal but grounded in the harsh realities of post war Iceland.
When Cab 79 (‘79 af stöðinni’) was published in 1955 it sent shockwaves across Iceland, and was made into an equally shocking movie. Now the English-speaking readers have had no opportunity to read this little gem by Indriði G. Thorsteinsson. Now, they do, they will find in Quentin Bates’ translation a true labour of love – the transformation of older-style Icelandic into particularly fresh English, without losing the original language’s nuances and atmosphere, the stiffness of the formal conversations, the crude and casual banter between taxi drivers, and the vivid memories, full of longing for a simpler rural existence. Cab 79, a very slim volume of prose, tells the story of a doomed love affair in post-war Reykjavik between two young people whose circumstances and social standing are poles apart, and who are coming to terms with their country’s major transformation in terms of morality, attitudes to women and sex, and in terms of its position in the wider world. Married Gógó lives on her own, her husband Ólafur shut away in a mental institution in Denmark. When she meets taxi driver Ragnar, he becomes infatuated with her. But she sets strict rules on their illicit relationship, and soon their different backgrounds and expectations lead to turbulent times, with tragedy ensuing as Ragnar fails to cope: The book is packed with vivid snapshots of a country facing a new age of affluence and leisure, of faster cars and stronger alcohol than it has ever seen before; a country whose traditional remoteness has been eroded by the presence of British and American soldiers during the Second World War, and by gaining independence from Denmark. Yet a strong sense of Icelandic fatalism persists in the novel, demonstrating that both nature and the power of the ancient sagas still maintain their hold on the country’s psyche. Written in an understated style Cab 79 is replete with powerful vignettes: smuggled whisky is pitted against home-brewed akvavit; modernity is set against tradition; the boldness and freedom brought by sleek cars and easy money are contrasted with a society shaped by centuries of agriculture and fishing. One of the most important names in Iceland, writer and journalist Indriði G. Thorsteinsson’s succinct dialogue, and fatalistic approach have been compared to Ernest Hemingway. This English version comes with a preface by Arnaldur Indriðason – the author’s son and undisputed king of the Icelandic thriller – plus an essay by Andy Lawrence examining the film version of the novel, Girl Gogo.
Einer von den ganz kurzen Romanen. Vom Hemingway Islands. Aus dem Fünfzigern. Vom Vater des Kriminalroman-Autors Arnaldur Indridasson.
Anlässlich einer nächtlichen Autopanne auf einer Fahrt zurück vom amerikanischen Stützpunkt nach Reykjavik lernt ein Taxifahrer eine Frau kennen, von der man nicht weiß, was sie auf dem Stützpunkt überhaupt zu suchen hatte. Eine Liebelei beginnt.
Sie hatte eine volle, geschwungene Unterlippe, und ich hatte dazu die eine oder andere Phantasie.