Reykjavik, 1918. The eruptions of the Katla volcano darken the sky night and day. Yet despite the natural disaster, the shortage of coal and the Great War still raging in the outside world, life in the small capital goes on as always. Sixteen-year-old Mani Steinn lives for the movies. Awake, he lives on the fringes of society. Asleep, he dreams in pictures, the threads of his own life weaving through the tapestry of the films he loves. When the Spanish flu epidemic comes ashore, killing hundreds of townspeople and forcing thousands to their sick beds, the shadows that linger at the edges of existence grow darker and Mani is forced to re-evaluate both the society around him and his role in it. Evoking the moment when Iceland's saga culture met the new narrative form of the cinema and when the isolated island became swept up in global events, this is the story of a misfit transformed by his experiences in a world where life and death, reality and imagination, secrets and revelations jostle for dominance.
Iceland, 1918. A volcano erupts, the Spanish flu claims countless lives, and a boy likes cinema and moonlights as a sex worker. Moonstone is a novella-length story, told over the span of a few weeks. The boy is obsessed with a girl on a motorcycle. The boy lives with his grandfather's sister in a small attic.
Moonstone is fragmented and told from a distance. It lacked emotional connection, perhaps as a reflection of the boy's connection to his surroundings. As a result, my reading experience was one of dejected duty. The collection of images and insights do not come together in a satisfying or nuanced narrative. I wonder whether Moonstone is appreciated simply because of the "shock value" of displaying underage gay sex acts (scenes, which in my opinion, do not add anything substantial to this limp thing of a story).
Probably would have enjoyed this more if I'd had any clue what the deal was.
