By Chris Campbell
Scandinavian customs have grown in popularity year-round, but always seem to be particularly prevalent at Christmas. Whether hygge, from Denmark,inspires us to create a warm and cosy atmosphere with friends and family, or fika, from Sweden,tempts us to pause and relax on a wintry morning with (another) coffee and cinnamon bun, the Nordic countries offer a veritable smörgåsbord of attractive Christmas aesthetics.
More niche – but probably well-known by avid readers of Scandinavian thrillers – is the Icelandic custom of Jólabókaflóðið (pronounced Yo-la-bok-ah-flod), which roughly translates to “the Christmas book flood”, and celebrates the pleasure of giving, receiving, and reading books.
Read more: The Christmas Book Flood, or, ‘That’s Why Bookworms Go To Iceland’Instagrammable as the tradition has become, however, it emerged in the depths of the Second World War when Iceland, like the rest of Europe, experienced an acute rationing of consumer goods. Iceland’s neutrality, though, meant that it was not nearly so subjected to the stringent restrictions on paper imports that, in the UK at least, saw the number of new publications halve and second-hand book prices triple. Indeed, the publishing trade in Iceland remained healthy, and new books became the go-to Christmas present for Icelandic families in the absence of other products. As presents in Iceland are traditionally exchanged on Christmas Eve, it was then not uncommon for families to spend the remainder of the evening reading together.
The custom of gifting multiple books continued into peacetime, and Icelandic publishers adapted their schedules accordingly, holding off their biggest titles until just before Christmas and flooding the market with new releases. Until recently, every household in Iceland received a catalogue – the Bókatiðindi, or “Book Bulletin” – that contained details of all the latest books unveiled at the Reykjavik Book Fair in November.
As Eric Hobsbawm reminds us, though, all traditions are invented, and the growing imbrication on social media of the Jólabókaflóðið with hygge aesthetics is arguably little more than an exercise in commercialism. Nevertheless, the practice has a very real historical origin in Europe’s darkest times and, in an age of increasingly invasive technology, the simplicity of exchanging and reading books at Christmas is surely a tradition worth celebrating.
doinghistoryinpublic.org 
