Beautifully set, traditional and mythical. I thoroughly enjoyed this book, its characters and the twists and turns along the way!

Unable to speak since her mother’s traumatic death, Þuríður Jónsdóttir communicates with facial expressions and hand gestures. Those that take the time to understand her, see depth; those that see the surface feel threatened. One such person is the local pastor, Jón Magnússon who holds her father and brother responsible for cursing him as witch fever invades Iceland, the pastor’s persecution leads to them being burnt as witches.
What is taken for witchcraft is actually tradition and old lore, so called white magic, used for good not evil. Brought up with this tradition, Þuríður Jónsdóttir helps women in childbirth, which in this newly febrile atmosphere leaves her open to accusations of witchcraft when a mother dies and the child lives.
Þuríður Jónsdóttir is trapped in a twisted circle, where superstition and accusation are enough to change minds and point fingers; but with a deadly price to pay.
This is an atmospheric read where the raw harshness of the Icelandic scenery is a character in its’ own right. I was left impressed by the sheer resilience required to survive in this isolated land of ice and biting winds, where fish is relied upon for everything from food to clothing (fish skin boots) and lighting (fish oil!)
I did not know in Iceland, men were considered witches and up to a point, women considered above suspicion. This is a dark book of struggle, polarised belief, and injustice. However, the end is uplifting and one cant help but be left with the impression that if things were left up to women, the world would be a saner place. A stunning read, in every sense of the word, and not to be missed.