In theory, I should have really liked this book. It has gorgeous prose and a brilliant subject. However, I Attempted to read it on several occasions and failed. I can’t put my finger on why, but I just couldn’t get into this book

This has a very similar format and scope to The Snow Tourist, with Campbell ranging from Greenland and continental Europe to the USA in her search for the science and stories of ice. For English’s chapter on skiing, substitute a section on ice skating. I only skimmed this one because – in what I’m going to put down to a case of reader–writer mismatch – I started it three times between November 2018 and now and could never get further than page 60.

Water is one of the only elements that can exist on our planet in its solid, liquid and gaseous state. At the poles and high points of our world is where the ice, for the time being at least, still exists. It seems like a permanent, immovable substance, which it mostly is, but as the global temperatures climb then this cold heaven becomes more transient. Snow and ice are substances that have captivated Nancy Campbell since childhood and she decided that she wanted to follow in the literary footstep of other great writers and write about ice.

However this is not a travel book in the usual sense, she is as happy wading through the archives in the Bodleian library and looking at art as she is visiting Greenland and Iceland in the far north or reminiscing about the ice dance champions from the 1980s. She sees a shaman dressed in white and wearing antlers who is there to open the curling ceremony and learns in Scotland the correct way to make a rink for the sport.

To understand the ice, you need to think in term of deep time. Ice at the bottom of the glaciers in Antarctica has been there for thousands of years, and Campbell ponders the science of looking back through our planets climate history through cylinders of ice.

I really liked this book, there are contemplative and reflective moments as she seeks out these cold places of our planet, but also moments of warmth as she spends time with the Inuit in Greenland and understands how they have depended upon the ice for generations and the threats that they face. With her writing, there are points of lucid clarity like sparkling clear ice and other moments where the writing is diffused by the history of a moment.

I have tried to read this book for a long time now, I think the concept is fascinating and the thread of the story is interesting but I think the narrative is not my cup of tea.
Readers who read more of Non-ficiton would be able to get more out of this than I did, and I do think it is a unique book.

I really enjoyed this interesting and original book fuelled by a deep love of the Far North.

My full review is on my blog, link below. https://librofulltime.wordpress.com/2019/04/24/book-review-nancy-campbell-the-library-of-ice/

This book encompasses ice in all of its forms not just the formation, history and use. The unique and inventive way of researching and compiling this information kept the subject fresh and interesting. I found the sections on the Dalziel Brothers and Otzi particularly fascinating and I am looking forward to furthering my own research into these subjects.
Hat’s off to the author for finding such drive and resilience to travel so widely in order to gain so much worthy material.

While we busy ourselves with our daily grind and small hassles, sometimes we get reminded of how unforgiving, but at the same time stunningly beautiful and incredibly powerful the forces of nature are. It is on the very first page that we experience, through Campbell, how powerless humans are in the face of the raw forces of nature - Campbell's plane is trying to land in Upernavik, Greenland, during severe weather. Even our immense technological advances cannot tame the arctic winds and snow storms, and the arctic circles remain inhospitable, with only very few braving the extreme cold, one of whom, luckily for the reader, is Nancy Campbell. With exceptional eloquence she takes the reader to the coldest places on earth, as well as world-renowned libraries and museums.

The book grips the reader not only through Campbell's poetic prose, but also through the images her writing conjures. But, Campbell soon discovers, "ice does not always look like ice", taking us along on her journey to discover everything ice, whether it be the setting of her long-cherished Anderson fable in Greenland, Antarctica, the Bodleian Library in London, or the middle of the North Sea, on deck of an overnight ferry.

This book is best enjoyed in warmer months or when cozy on the sofa with a cuppa.

The amount of research and interesting stories in this book is insane, I just wish the different section had linked together better and the overall story was a bit more compelling.

I got a copy of this book through Netgalley. It's reflections on a travelling writing life, as Campbell travelled on various writing retreats in the frozen north, especially Iceland. She speaks to museum and gallery curators reflecting on art and literature inspired by ice and wild places, as well as exploring glaciers and human habitation on the edges of frozen coasts.

My favourite parts of the book were here reflections on language: I really liked this on the different words for different types of ice. 

"The ice conditions in Qaanaaq are closest to my own experience on Upernavik. I begin with haard’dloq, extremely thin new ice that cannot be stepped on without danger, and then hikuliaq, new ice, which is still slippery and yet can be travelled across. When hikuliaq is older it becomes hikuliamineq – you might call it old-new ice – as it gets thicker there are frost flowers (kaneq) on its surface; the kaneq mean it is no longer slippery, no longer dangerous, safe to travel across. But not forever. When hikuaq and hikuapajaannguaq break up, they make eqinnikkalaat – splinters of thin ice that can lacerate skin..."

There have been a lot of popular musings published on the Arctic and Antarctic, as anybody who goes to the Scott Polar Institute's library in Cambridge will know, as they've collected all of them. From historical takes such as Sarah Moss's The Frozen Ship or Francis Spufford's I May Be Some Time, to personal stories of time spent in one of the continents such as Gavin Francis's Empire Antarctica or Sara Wheeler's Terra Incognita, there's no shortage of accessible non-fiction for readers fascinated by the farthest north or farthest south. And within this glut, ice forms a recognisable sub-category, from Stephen Pyne's classic Ice: a journey to Antarctica (1986) to more recent publications such as Veronika Meduna's Secrets of the Ice (2005) and Joanna Kavenna's The Ice Museum (also 2005). What, then, makes Nancy Campbell's The Library of Ice stand out? Because as a dedicated reader of this sub-genre, I can tell you that stand out it does.

Perhaps it's Campbell's eclectic approach to her subject-matter. Rather than focusing on either the Arctic or Antarctic, she seeks out ice wherever she can find it - whether that's a curling rink in Scotland, where she has a fascinating conversation about how the smoothness of the ice is maintained, or glaciers in Switzerland. She hits some familiar notes - the discussion of Antarctic ice cores, and how they preserve the history of the atmosphere because of how the chemical make-up of the ice changes as you drill further down, usually pops up in texts like this - but to be honest, I never get tired of hearing about them.

Meanwhile, Campbell's take is poised elegantly between a personal account of her own travels and a more observational consideration of the natural history of ice. We actually find out very little about Campbell's present life - she alludes to money troubles, and there's one night where she sleeps propped up against the door of an airport toilet that she mentions as if it's nothing out of the ordinary. (Her life seems to be held together by literary grants, which are notoriously capricious - she's currently the UK Canal Laureate for 2018, which I think is fantastic. I'd love to read anything she writes about canals, having had my interest sparked by Alys Fowler's Hidden Nature). On the other hand, Campbell doesn't always remove herself completely from the story - she tells us, for example, about her childhood love of the Noel Streatfeild novel White Boots, about two girls who are learning to ice-skate. I re-read this over and over again when I was little, and it was lovely to revisit it, although I have to admit (as I know nothing about ice-skating) being somewhat dismayed that the 'figures' that our poor protagonists painstakingly practice in 1951 were already declining in importance in the sport by that time, and were abolished altogether by 1990.

Finally, Campbell's book simply stands out because it's so much better written than other books on the subject. There's something about the Arctic and Antarctic that seems to tempt writers into some of the worst purple prose, woven into paragraphs that go off on endless tangents (with some honourable exceptions, such as Francis's Empire Antarctica, which is nicely straightforward). Campbell doesn't fall into these traps, spending less time on descriptions of the landscape than she does getting into the nitty-gritty of the things she finds out, whether that's the experience of living in an isolated community in Greenland or researching early texts on snowflakes in the Bodleian. This makes her text dense - I found that I wanted to read it slowly to take in all the information - but it never becomes confusing or too technical. She's giving a talk on this book at the Lit and Phil in Newcastle later in November, and I can't wait to hear what she says.

I have always had a real fascination with ice but due to having several illnesses that require warmth, I have been unable to travel to such cold and remote places mentioned in this compendium. It is absolutely clear from the very beginning that Nancy Campbell loves this topic, her enthusiasm shines throughout the book and is so infectious. Having spent seven years travelling all over the world to discover all she can about ice, a lot of the content is interesting. However, there are instances when it feels quite tedious and Campbell often goes off on a tangent and forgets to return to the original point. It did sometimes also feel as though it was heading into waffling territory, affecting momentum quite heavily.

Part scientific study, part social and cultural history, the author makes some interesting points and discovers many captivating things about the composition of ice, its uses and reveals the secrets of those who have survived in such cold, harsh landscapes for centuries. Her descriptive prose made me want to visit many of the places she mentions, and I hope one day I may be able to do so. She also discusses the issue of climate change which should be a matter we are all invested in finding a solution for. It is here where her intense appreciation for this subject truly makes the pages come alive. This is an impressive an enchanting study which came across as deeply personal, but it does meander and travel at rather a glacial pace overall.

Many thanks to Scribner for an ARC. I was not required to post a review, and all thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.

A fascinating but sometimes confusing account of the author's icy research

Having been to Greenland, Iceland, wintry Norway and other icy places myself, I was intrigued by this book. Love the lyrical, poetic tone and the quotes from Kafka, Kepler, Boyle etc. My favourite parts were the descriptions of Arctic/Antarctic voyages and explorations through the years from Barents, whose ship was frozen in for 10 months in 1596 to Scott's ill-fated expedition in the early 20th century. Interesting to read accounts of the survivors of Scott's lesser-known Northern Party too.

The story of author's own research over a seven year period is intriguing and extensive, taking place in several snowy countries. At one point, she even sleeps in a remote museum in Greenland. There is an interesting section on the painstaking conservation of books from a library burnt down during an Arctic winter, resulting in ice damage from fire hydrants! In Denmark, she needs a magnifying glass to read manuscripts written in micro-script in the days when paper was expensive and scarce.

However, the book is often confusing, as it flits from place to place and story to story in the same chapter. Sometimes the book reads more like a series of lectures than a book. Perhaps this is how it started, as she mentions giving lectures. Indeed, she talks of her own thoughts being 'a chaos of facts' and this is just how the book seems at times. One minute she's conversing with an artist in a cafe, the next she's writing at length about hailstones.

It would also be useful to have more descriptions of how people live in Greenland at the start of the book. Having been there myself, I know they use power boats and rifles to hunt seals now and have heli-ports in remote places, but not everyone would. Perhaps a few photos would help. She vividly describes photos held at CPRI Cambridge, but the inclusion of the photos themselves would help the reader immerse themselves in the subject.

Fascinating but flawed.

This book is something of a mixed bag whilst generally well written (sometimes over-reliant on quotes from others) this book presents the results of the 7 year wanderings of this artist. The book is extremely wide ranging from artistic to scientific through geographic to cultural history. This however is part of its shortcoming as it is not enough of any one thing to satisfy the reader wholly and overall feels like we are being made to share the author's self indulgence for travel too much. It is diverse and there are sections like those set in Iceland that are fascinating and insightful and others that are too hurried to be good.

This isn't really a book to cuddle up with and read from cover to cover rather to dip in and out of, there are better examples of this sort of writing out there but it is worth a go.

#TheLibraryOfIce #NetGalley

Thoroughly enjoyed reading this vivid and perceptive book. Part memoir, part scientific and cultural history as Nancy Campbell presents a poetic account of the impacts of ice on our lives. I found that I could not read it continuously as there were so many tangents that sent me of on diverging pathways of discovery which I found as enjoyable as the book itself. This might prove a problem for some but I found it stimulated my curiosity enough to go in search of greater details.

I like factual books written in a poetic way. I find I absorb material much more easily when it's not written in a dry, academic way. I enjoy little snippets of information delivered in a conversational way. This book delivers that in spades. At first I found it hard going, I have to say, but once I'd got through the first section, which was a bit too scientific for my pea brain, it developed into a fascinating read. I like the meandering style, the sense of being on a peripatetic journey with the author. I loved finding out that maps carved in bone were three dimensional so they could be read by feeling in the midst of a snow storm. The section about living in the Swiss library made of tree houses was my favourite, but it was all good. Strange but good.

It is a case of being led to believe a book is a certain thing but it is not quite that. I expected a book like Deakin would write as it was described in the summary, but alas, it was not really like that at all. Yes, it has a meandering nature, yes, it does talk about very interesting things, but overall, it left me just cold, which is odd to say considering this book is all about ice. I have finished it two days ago and I am still not 100% sure what her actual point of writing this was. Got some great bits from it, but overall, not a book that I would recommend to a lover of Deakin et al.

-A meander through Campbell's travels around the world, The Library of Ice takes us from Greenland to the Antarctic in search of ice lore. Evocative and immersing, Campbell captures the wonder of our ice lands through the words and experiences of those who live there. The book is both a sumptuous glossary of ice-words, and a fantastic journey through ice of all forms, with the effects of global warming a thread spun throughout the book. We journey with Campbell through past and present, with an eye on the future of our world as ice caps and glaciers begin to melt quicker than ever before.
-I found the book slightly disjointed at first, skipping countries , subjects and timeframes. Campbell weaves real-world experiences with train-of-thought accounts of wonderful library discoveries, ice-lore, quotes, history and science. I found though, that I couldn't settle into the flow of the book - the jumping from one subject to another felt somehow like as soon as I was becoming immersed in an anecdote, it seemed to be torn away from me, onto another. A book of layers, the tangents covered are wide and varied - I would love to stay a little longer with each.
-The book covers everything to do with ice, a true library of information and interesting nuggets. From exploring Iceland's Vatnajökull glacier to curling in Scotland, via Ilulissat in Greenland, figure-skating legends Torvill and Dean and Ötzi the Iceman, Campbell really does paint a vivid picture as we journey with her across the world. I was fascinated by the Greenlandic descriptions of ice-types and the development of Icelandic words for modern technology, and how we apply these to situations today. I began to think of the book as a started for further research - I'd been given tantalising glimpses into subjects, many of which I wanted to find out more about. Worth persevering with!

I am not fond of the cold. At all. I live in Dublin, Ireland and it’s a place where your constant companion, even in summer, is a light jacket and not a book. Because you never know when the sun is going to hide behind the clouds and when the breeze is going to start whipping your hair with cold fingers. Yet, I was fascinated when I came across Nancy Campbell’s book on NetGalley. “The Library of Ice” promised to be a “vivid and perceptive book combining memoir, scientific and cultural history with a bewitching account of landscape and place.” How can you not be seduced by that delicious swirl?

Campbell’s icy journey begins when she is offered the position of a resident artist in Upernavik, Greenland. She was given a choice to go during the summer or in winter when “the darkness of the winter to many southerners seems like a terrible and nasty time lying in wait.” But Campbell finds the “idea of the terrible and nasty 24-hour polar night and the midwinter cold appealing,” and decides to go in January.

That’s how Campbell’s exploration of the nature of ice begins. She marvels at the Greenlandic way of life, which is still predominantly pre-modern, dominated by hunting and fishing. She learns how the landscape, particularly the ice and the glaciers, has played a big role in shaping the people’s traditions and life even till today. She learns their legends and myths. And she falls in love.

For the next seven years Campbell goes to museums and libraries, meets with scientists and explorers and learns how ice has been instrumental in building entire societies. She travels on a shoestring budget where she “sofa-surfed for a few nights, or spent the night on a train concourse, or holed up in an airport or bus station toilet cubicle…” And although she “has no desire to go to Antarctica” (I wonder why) she does go to far flung areas in New Zealand, Iceland, and Scotland.

Amidst accounts from her wanderings Campbell weaves in innumerable facts about voyagers and explorers who navigated treacherous ice and made detailed notes of their observations. Quotes from their notes or diaries that she reads from libraries or museums abound. We learn of pristine landscapes along coasts glittering with ice formations, and of ecosystems that are impacted by the changing nature of ice. One of the most interesting narratives for me was the story of Otzi. I also relished reading some of the folklores and spiritual beliefs attached to the places she visits.

Yet, I found myself drifting off in the middle, not unlike a glacier, my brain meandering just like Campbell’s writing. With her sources for the book as varied as figures from science and history and art and music Campbell cannot help but wander in and out of topics and discussions, sometimes abruptly. I found this slightly jarring and found myself losing the thread of thought many times especially when there is a long series of verbatim quotes. Her writing, when it shines through subjectively, is exquisite and poetic. But sadly we don’t get a lot of that.

Having said that, I wouldn’t discourage you to read the book. It’s definitely an entertaining and educational read. Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for sending me the ARC for a review!

This was immediately intriguing if not gripping maybe. Starting off in Greenland as an artist in residence at a museum in winter, Nancy starts to discover what Ice and the Arctic are to her.

I find this quite a hard book to describe as reading it is an experience, a journey, that leaves a legacy with you however small that may be. It is almost a stream of consciousness essay, as long as it is ice related, at times. In general it is northern hemisphere centred and Nancy visits different parts of the Arctic or comes in contact with it via her reading or people she meets.

Parts are very enjoyable. Her foray into the Antarctic via Scott in particular I found very interesting. I also got fascinating insights into things I knew nothing at all about. Her narrative on the Dalziel brothers would be a good example of that. They founded a wood engraving company and were artists in the 19th century. Nancy describes them as the "Getty Images of their day". They supplied illustrations of the Arctic including icebergs and scenes from explorers travels without ever having been there. The more I read the more this book drew me in.

Some chapters worked better than others for me. For example I really enjoyed the chapter that was in general about Iceland. It wanders through time and place, legend and the mundanity of everyday life in a way I found both appealing and readable. It certainly made me want to go there! Another example would be that I'd not come across "cryophonics" but the music of ice (strictly the sounds maybe) and snow was interesting too. It really does manage to range widely across many aspects of ice.

Parts did feel rather slow however the writing was generally very good. This book represents seven years of Nancy's travels - friends ask "what is it about you and cold places anyway?". This leads to some introspection which was interesting. At times you realise that you are reading something completely different than you were a few moments ago and yet the transition has been seamless. There is a real charm to this if you don't try and rush it. This will be likely to appeal to those who are readers of Robert Macfarlane's work and others in that genre.

3,5 stars

I didn’t know what to expect from this book. I decided to read it because I was seduced by the title and the subject. I have always had a fascination with glaciers. It is not just that they are spectacular, there is something haunting and powerful about them too.

Everywhere on Earth ice is changing. Glaciers vary in response to changes in global and regional climate, but worldwide, most mountain glaciers are retreating. The disintegration of ice-shelves in the Antarctic Peninsula, over the last few decades, has destabilized on-shore glaciers. Arctic sea-ice has thinned significantly. From the Arctic to Peru, from Switzerland to Himalayas, glaciers and ice fields are disappearing fast.

The Library of Ice is not a book about climate change and its effect on glaciers around the world. Mostly it a person’s quest to understand ice. It began in Upernavik in Greenland within an open-air museum that reveals colonial and Viking histories. Nancy Campbell, a poet and a writer, spent two months there as a residence writer in 2010. It was in Upernavik that she found herself paying closer attention to the way the glaciers shaped
the landscape, the lives and the language of the people who lived in Greenland. Fascinated by the ice, she would spend the next seven years wandering in cold places, examining the impact of ice on people’s lives at a time when it is itself under threat from climate change. “The Arctic ice had become an obsession that would not release me,” she writes.

“What is about you and cold places, anyway? people ask me. I needed an answer to the question that didn’t require an all-night conversation over several glasses of wine.”

The Library of Ice is not just a memoir from Campbell’s seven years wanderings and residencies on cold places. It is also a cultural and social history of ice. The lives and the language of local people, their culture and spirituality, have developed in harmony with the surrounding ecosystem. There is no doubt that these societies are experiencing unprecedented shifts in their livelihoods due to climate change.

This is a deeply personal and beautiful book, a quest of a writer to rediscover creativity and purpose in a radically transformed landscape.