Sir Richard Francis Burton brought his formidable intellect and restless curiosity to Iceland, and the result is a travelogue that transcends mere tourism. Here is a man who learned Icelandic specifically for this journey, who climbed glaciers, visited remote farms, bathed in hot springs, and interrogated every legend the island offered. Burton dismantles the myths other travelers had propagated about this northern edge of the world, replacing second-hand fantasy with hard-won observation. His prose is sharp, opinionated, and often funny. He finds Iceland both magnificent and frustrating, its people peculiar and wonderful. This is nineteenth-century travel writing at its most alive: a document of one man's encounter with a landscape that reshaped his understanding of what lies at the edges of the known world. For readers who want to see an island through the eyes of a man who refused to accept anything on faith.
