Eivind (like the Terrible) finished reading Trespasses by Bríd Brennan

Trespasses by Bríd Brennan, Louise Kennedy
Set in Northern Ireland during the Troubles, a shattering novel about a young woman caught between allegiance to community and …
I like big books and I cannot lie
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43% complete! Eivind (like the Terrible) has read 43 of 100 books.

Set in Northern Ireland during the Troubles, a shattering novel about a young woman caught between allegiance to community and …
Even as more and more of us are shopping according to our values, economic justice does not seem to be among our top priorities. We know if our vegetables are local and organic, but we don’t ask what the farmworkers made picking them. When we purchase a plane ticket, we are shown the carbon emissions for the flight, but we aren’t told if the flight attendants are unionized. We reward companies that run antiracist marketing campaigns without recognizing how these campaigns can distract from those companies’ abysmal labor practices, as if shortchanging workers isn’t often itself a kind of racism. (The economists Valerie Wilson and William Darity, Jr., have shown that the Black-white pay gap has increased since 2000, and today, the average Black worker makes roughly 74 cents for every dollar the average white worker does.) We recognize the kind of coffee we should drink or the kind of shoes we should wear to signal our political affiliations, but we are often unaware of what difference that makes for the workers themselves, if it makes a difference at all. My family stopped shopping at Home Depot after learning about the company’s hefty donations to Republican lawmakers who refused to certify the results of the 2020 presidential election. We have yet to inquire about the pay and benefits offered at Ace Hardware.
We typically don't talk about poverty as a condition that benefits some of us. It seems we prefer more absolving theories of the problem. There is, of course, the old habit of blaming the poor for their own miseries, as if Americans were made of lesser stuff than people in countries with far less poverty. But structural explanations are more in fashion these days, explanations that trace widespread poverty back to broken institutions or seismic economic transformations. One popular theory for American poverty is deindustrialization, which caused the shuttering of factories and the hollowing out of communities that had sprung up around them. Such a passive word, “deindustrialization.” It leaves the impression that it just happened somehow, as if the country got deindustrialization the way a forest gets infested by bark beetles. In this telling, poverty is “a by-product of social causes,” as the sociologist Erik Olin Wright once put it. “No one intended this calamity, and no one really benefits from it.” But if arrangements that harm the poor have endured over the decades, doesn’t that suggest that they were designed to do so? At the end of the day, aren’t “systemic” problems—systemic racism, poverty, misogyny—made up of untold numbers of individual decisions motivated by real or imagined self-interest? “The system” doesn’t force us to stiff the waiter or vote against affordable housing in our neighborhood, does it? People benefit from poverty in all kinds of ways. It’s the plainest social fact there is, and yet when you put it like this, the air becomes charged. You feel rude bringing it up. People shift in their chairs, and some respond by trying to quiet you the way mothers try to shush small children in public when they point out something that everyone everyone sees but pretends not to—a man with one eye, a dog urinating on a car—or the way serious grown-ups shush young people when they offer blanket critiques of capitalism that, with the brutal clarity of a brick through glass, express a deep moral truth. People accuse you of inciting class warfare when you’re merely pointing out the obvious.
Hafsteinn ville holde seg på godfot med nordmennene, den indre stemmen hans hvisket at det til slutt kom til å lønne seg.
Han var i grunnen særdeles begeistret (altfor begeistret, mente noen) for norskene, visste å sette pris på Løiten-akevitten deres og den selvtilfredse lette humoren som fulgte med.
«Jo, den er sterk, den, sterk som Grettir den sterke! Ho ho.» Denne særegne utgaven deres av islandsk var egentlig høyst besynderlig, syntes han, for en eller annen gang måtte de jo selv ha snakket dette hellige grettismålet, siden det ikke fantes noen kilder om språkproblemer i islendingesagaene. Da Egill og Grettir vendte hjem til gamlelandet og gikk fram for norskekongen, ble det altså ikke snakket færøysk. Men hvordan i all verden hadde de så ellers trivelige norskene klart å skusle bort dette ordgullet, latt det gå tapt i dette sproget deres, denne halvsangen, dette dillende dallet på bare noen århundrer? Det måtte være på grunn av akevitten.
— Seksti kilo solskinn by Hallgrímur Helgason, Maren Barlien Guntvedt (Translator) (Seksti kilo-saga, #1)
I hele sju år etter artium hadde Árni Benediktsson svømt rundt i hovedstadens utsvevende liv, klimpret på piano ved alle småbyens kaffehus og fått mangt et kvinnekyss for det, men han ble som regel båret ut i horisontalen ved nattens ende og hadde derfor hverken barn eller brud da livet vekte ham en skallebankende morgen og innskrev ham på teologistudiet. Noen semestre og en prestekrage senere ble han plassert i en lettbåt på en mørk fjord og rodd inn i et annet liv.
— Seksti kilo solskinn by Hallgrímur Helgason, Maren Barlien Guntvedt (Translator) (Seksti kilo-saga, #1)

Set in Northern Ireland during the Troubles, a shattering novel about a young woman caught between allegiance to community and …

The United States is the richest country on earth, yet has more poverty than any other advanced democracy. One in …
@ejnro ja, det virker som de som har ansvaret for å legge til svensk elektronisk litteratur hos Deichman har peiling. Håper interessen hos lånerene vedvarer så de fortsetter å gjøre svensk litteratur tilgjengelig for oss på svensk. (Og gjerne dansk etterhvert også.)

‘A story is never an answer. A story is always a question.’
Here we are in extraordinary times.
…

‘A story is never an answer. A story is always a question.’
Here we are in extraordinary times.
…

Around 950,000 years ago, a family of five walked along the beach and left behind the oldest family footprints ever …
@ejnro var nok det som gjorde at det blei foreløpig stopp for meg etter to også.
Det bodde folk på noen av gårdene der ute, men ansiktene deres var preget av samlivet. Det var nesten umulig å se hvem som var gift og hvem som var søsken, i mange generasjoner hadde de klamret seg til livet der ute på det største utneset i landet, helt fra landnåmstiden, og blitt helt overbeslektet.
— Seksti kilo solskinn by Hallgrímur Helgason, Maren Barlien Guntvedt (Translator) (Seksti kilo-saga, #1)
Den ble gjort til kjøpmann som bar det fineste navnet i hver husbygd (Sigurður Schiöth, Elíbert Hansen …), gikk i de beste klærne og snakket dansk. Men samtidig måtte han også ha et prydelig skjegg, være staut, imøtekommende og dessuten lite salgsvillig, særlig når det gjaldt vin. Det siste personlighetstrekket var særislandsk: Islandske kjøpmenn var de eneste kjøpmennene i verden som syntes det var leit å selge varene sine, ethvert ‘salg’ var en viss skuffelse, og enhver ‘kunde’ som tuslet inn gjennom butikkdøren, ble møtt med sukk i blikket. Den kontantløse økonomien og avstanden til verdens havner førte til at kjøpmannen så på beholdningen som sin egen eiendom som han hadde anskaffet med mye strev og møye, og derfor ugjerne ga fra seg.
— Seksti kilo solskinn by Hallgrímur Helgason, Maren Barlien Guntvedt (Translator) (Seksti kilo-saga, #1)