It's Viking time!

[mayhap]

Viking night was a grand succès. Well, probably more of a petit succès, as it was attended on this inaugural occasion by myself, handynavi, my mother, my little brother, and his friend who happened to be over.

We built a bonfire in the backyard. We poured out the mead, although my brother decided that it was gross and my mother didn't finish hers either and I ended up accidentally knocking over her goblet in the dark. Danny's friend, on the other hand, seemed quite pleased to have a glass pressed upon him.

My audience elected to hear the Saga of Gunnlaug Serpent-Tongue, a young Icelandic poet who travels about Northern Europe winning spoils and glory with his great poems, which frankly seem to have lost quite a bit in translation, only to find when he finally returns to Iceland that his girl Helga has been married to his rival Hrafn. Unpleasantness ensues.

I think my audience enjoyed it more than they expected. They reacted in all the right places. The Icelandic sagas are hardly boring. The mead didn't hurt, either.

Comments

[chilango.livejournal.com]

It should be obvious that the *only* proper way to read anything written by Vikings is while drinking Mead, and perfenly while allready drunk off it.

For that matter, this goes for just about any litrature of any sort. Just change the drink in question.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez: Tequila. I don't care that he's Columbian. Or drunk on Love. And I am not speaking metaphorically.

War and Peace: Much improved by Vodka.

One should be drunk while reaidng most american works as well, espcially Fitzgerald, both in the name of tradition as much as anything else.

[rayasmith.livejournal.com]

And, of course, the only proper way to drink mead is from a drinking horn...can't put it down, so you have to keep drinking...or at least that's my excuse anyway :D

[laislabevita.livejournal.com]

Actually, I think you're thinking of Hemingway, and not Fitzgerald. Well, Fitzgerald too, but I can get through Fitzgerald sober. Not Hemingway, though. Scotch on the rocks, anyone?

And I think most French writers require the consumption of absinthe.

[mayhap]

Right now I'm imagining the audiobook of War and Peace as improved with vodka.

"Day after his innerview with Count Ara-, Aract-, Aract-, Arakchev, aw, fuckit, Prince Andrey was at a soirée at Count Krotchchubby's. I mean, Kotchubby. Kotchubey. Gimme another bottle of that."