Love, Hanne Orstavik & Rocamadre Criolla

Recently I found myself on the kind of island you only find out here in the Northwest, or maybe somewhere in the Ireland of my dreams: rocky, perpetually gloomy, but all the more beautiful for it. Because of the impending shift in seasons, I took with me a stack of books that had about them an atmosphere of foreboding: inhabited by monsters, a dark hous…