If you’re familiar with Icelandic sagas, this is probably especially delightful — certainly that familiarity enhanced this book for me, and I’m not sure what I’d have made of it without that background. Tolmie captures something of the rhythm and the language of the sagas (albeit of course in English, but you might be familiar with it even from translations), and the way of thinking.
It all felt so familiar, like surely it must really be part of that tradition, right down to the interpolations by a later Christian author. It’s pretty perfect mimicry, and an enchanting sort of fairytale.
I enjoyed it a lot, and enjoyed the thought she put into how to present the world and choose her words (as evident from the author’s note at the end).