Forget the toys and trinkets. In Iceland, Christmas Eve is all about the books.
For many, the night before Christmas conjures up memories of wish lists and cookies left for Santa Claus, Christkindl delivering gifts (in many European countries, at least), or perhaps the Feast of Seven Fishes. But Icelandic Christmas Eve focuses on a charming, rather cerebral tradition.
Many in Iceland don’t exchange toys, clothes, or jewelry. Instead, they go all in on books, gifting each other new novels. They then spend the evening hunkered down and curled up, reading together. This tradition is known as Jólabókaflóð (pronounced YO-la-bok-a-float) and loosely translates to Christmas Book Flood. Here’s everything you need to know about this cozy way Iceland spends the holiday.
Rich Literary Roots
Iceland’s history as a writing center is long, rich, and ancient, dating back over a thousand years. Vikings first settled on the island in the 9th century, and shortly after that, Icelanders established themselves as expert scribes. Putting pen to paper, they recorded family sagas, historical happenings, and epic poems. Writing was the preferred and prevalent cultural touchstone for the small, far-flung island.
“Until the late 19th century or early 20th century, Iceland didn’t really have any other forms of art,” explains Jón Yngvi Jóhannsson, associate professor of education at the University of Iceland. “There was hardly any theater, music, ballet, or visual arts. But we did have an enormous corpus of literature. In a way, literature became the only medium with which Icelanders could express themselves.”
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That commitment to the written word kept its stronghold: Today, Iceland is one of the world’s most literate and well-read nations. Its capital, Reykjavik, is designated a “City of Literature” by UNESCO, and one in ten Icelanders will publish a book in their lifetimes. That fierce love of books helped spark what would become the enduring tradition of Jólabókaflóð.
A Post-War Pivot
Many nations isolated themselves immediately after World War II to rebuild their broken economies and drastically limited exports. Meanwhile, thanks to Marshall Plan funds, Iceland was flush with cash but didn’t have much to spend it on. Typical Christmas goodies simply weren’t available.
The thing that remained cheap, plentiful, and easy to purchase? Paper. This meant books were the most available gifts during the holiday season, and publishers got to work marketing them as the best gifts during the holiday season.
“They tapped into this tradition of reading and literature, so in the post-war years, books became the Christmas gift of choice,” says Jóhannsson. “People had a lot of money; they wanted to give each other things, of course, but there wasn’t a lot to give. Books became the gift of choice.”
It made perfect sense: Books are durable, could be passed down and re-used, and they certainly resonated with Icelanders and their country’s collective love of storytelling. Thus, the Christmas Book Flood was born.
To make it easier for people to pick and choose their favorites, the Iceland Publishers Association produced the Bokatidindi—a catalog of every new book published in the country. Since 1944—nearly 80 years—that catalog has been distributed to every home in Iceland just before the holiday season, fueling the country’s Christmas fever for new tales.
Today, it’s still sent via post but also published online. No matter how they receive it, Icelanders can’t wait to devour the Bokatidindi. It’s become a revered tradition in and of itself, much like the American Sears or Montgomery Ward catalogs of the past.
“People still leaf through it, find books they want, and make wish lists,” says Jóhannsson. “I have fond memories of doing this myself as a child.”
Today’s Traditions
Today’s Jólabókaflóð remains much as it was right after World War II. After the flurry of purchasing, inscribing, and wrapping each tome, families across Iceland open their gifted books together on Christmas Eve. Exact traditions vary from house to house: sometimes, a book is bought for every family member and other times, there are surprise swaps or elaborate exchanges.
No matter how the books are doled out, once they’re opened, and favorites are selected, it’s time to settle and snuggle in for a nice, restful read that helps block out winter’s chill. There’s usually hot chocolate, jólabland (a curious Icelandic combination of brown ale and orange soda), other sweet treats, and a calming sense of quiet, reserved togetherness. It’s tough to imagine anything more peaceful or perfect.
While the Christmas Book Flood is certainly a nostalgic and commercial success—Icelandic bibliophiles get their fixes, publishers rake in the profits—Jóhannsson pointed out some downsides. As commercialization has crept in, new authors have struggled to get noticed. And then there are the post-holiday after-effects.
“Come January, it’s almost like people have a literary hangover. It’s a flood, so it’s possible to drown in it,” Jóhannsson says.
Even the most wicked hangovers pass; usually, Icelanders return to their beloved books sooner rather than later. After all, “everyone has a book in their stomach” is one of the country’s best-known sayings; they’re all authors waiting to give birth to a story. That passion for the written word is encoded in Icelandic culture and continues to provide the sweet, simple tradition of Jólabókaflóð’s impressive staying power and popularity.