Nordic myth, murder, and total apathy collide in this hilarious novel where “Nabokov meets Lemony Snicket in this manic Chinese box version of a mystery” (Publishers Weekly).
 
Our Heroine is a former professor of Scandinavian Studies at Iceland’s New Crúiskeen university whose current interests include drinking, sleeping, and drinking. But when an aspiring author is found murdered the day before the annual celebration in remembrance of Our Heroine’s mother—the legendary crime-stopper and evil-thwarter Emily Bean—everyone expects Our Heroine to follow in her mother’s footsteps and solve the case.
 
She, however, has no interest in inheriting the family business . . . or being chased through a steam-tunnel . . . or listening to skaldic karaoke . . . or fleeing the inhuman Refurserkir (don’t ask!). Unfortunately for her, this particular evil has no interest in Our Heroine’s total lack of interest. . . .
 
A Nabokovian goof on Agatha Christie, a madcap mystery that is part The Third Policeman and part The Da Vinci Code, The Icelander is a truly original work “born out of hysterical laughter and a lingering sense of childhood adventure” (Los Angeles Times).

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