I feel in love with Joanne Harris’ writing after the movie Chocolate – just as I suspect many other readers did. Although I have read, and enjoyed many more of her books, the books about Vianne are still my favourites.
I was quite intrigued when I saw that she had written a book about the Norse gods. The stories about the Norse gods are something that I have grown up with. It is part of my cultural heritage. I remember reading a cartoon called Valhalla which included a funny episode where Thor was dressed as Freya while Loki tried to help the gods win back Mjolnir and avoid marrying of Freya.
The beginning of the Gospel of Loki reminded me of those cartoons and I was not at all convinced that I would like the book. The narrator, or Loki, referring to himself as “Your Humble Narrator,” did not fall to my taste. The further I got into the book though, the more the story grew on me. By the end I envisioned epic battles, for good and bad influenced by Peter Jackson’s the Lord of the Rings.
To conclude, I do not think that this is one of Joanne Harris’ better books but if you have already read and loved her other books, there is no reason why you will not enjoy this story too.
Your eyes were like the sky: pale, clear and infinite.
I felt like flying – with the birds, or perhaps the angels. You said you didn’t like to fly. I envisioned carrying you in my arms as we ascended into the wispy clouds.
I wore a blue dress. You said it reminded you of blue berries – blue berries with sugar and milk, the way we used to eat them as children on grandma’s porch. We were three then.
The sea had been heavy and petroleum coloured on the day that it enfolded him into its bosom. The waves had whipped crème on top. He was the only one who liked crème with blue berries. You and I preferred milk.
Now the sea was calm, translucent and made me think of Tanzanite jewels. You suggested we’d swim – see what the deepest shade of blue we could reach – look for him. I didn’t think he would be there.
“But he so loved the water,” you said, “I prefer to think he is one with it.”
I took your hand and we spread the cornflowers on the surface of the water as we had promised mum we would.
I wrote this little story as an exercise for one of the writer’s groups I have joined. The theme for the exercise was blue. I am never quite sure where the ideas come from. This one was a series of images that somehow came together in this tragic little episode.