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This article discusses the "Critical period" in language acquisition – based on the theory that children are born with the natural ability to learn language; an ability that gradually fades or disappears. According to this theory, children who are not privy to normal language stimulation during childhood miss their chance to acquire a language "perfectly".Critical periods do not only exist in language, e.g. children and other young animals need to receive visual stimulation for their vision to develop. The beginning of this article considers difference in opportunities for research, and thereby the state of knowledge concerning the critical period in vision, compared to language acquisition. The difference is based mainly on two factors: on the one hand, animals have been studied to elucidate the critical period in vision – an option that linguists do not have – and, on the other, it is quite common for children to lack visual stimulation, i.e. due to cataracts. It is less common for children to grow up without language stimulation, although stories exist of children that, for one reason or another, were deprived of human interaction during childhood. The author uses this opportunity to provide an account of two such stories, in a more detailed fashion than would be necessary to define the critical period in language acquisition. These are also stories of violence and questionable work methods for the sake of science. This is followed by a discussion of deaf children as, in the past – as well as the present day – it was common for them not to receive appropriate language stimulation from the beginning, i.e. via the use of sign language. The examples are so many that late language acquisition by deaf children can shed light on the critical period in language acquisition.Many have discussed the critical period in language acquisition but emphasis is often placed on that which has remained unlearned. This article asks rather what can be learned and whether language structure can be established despite a late start for the language acquisition process.

In the Icelandic traditional ballads from medieval and post-medieval times, wo-men and their voices are very prominent, while stories of male heroes were rather portrayed in rímur. The language is very unusual and shows signs of translation, formulas are frequently used, and the mode of narration is objective and clear. Love is a common subject, and so is violence, often gender-based and sexual. In the article the background of these ballads is discussed shortly and their emergence in Icelandic oral culture and later its literature, as they were recorded by educated men, from nameless sources, most probably women. Seven ballads are then used to show different aspects of violence within the genre. All are highly dramatic, and their subject is harsh: hardship, rape, birth and loss of children, and sometimes the victims take things into their own hands and avenge in a graphic way. How ballads that tell such terrible tales, can have been sung and danced to at joyous gatherings, is an interesting food for thought. It will be reasoned that these ballads have primarily been sung by women, and they can even have been a consolation and a tool to deal with gender-based violence in their own lives.

This essay concerns itself with perceptions of the urban sphere, with its manifestations in literature and life writing, and with the city as a place of strangeness and travel in various senses, including the ways in which it pertains to the individual
world view. Cities are places of density and internal connections, but their gates also open out and connect with other places, and increasingly other cities. Following a discussion of the Icelandic links between Copenhagen and Reykjavík, and the slow emergence of the latter as a "literary capital", the course is set for foreign cities, including Berlin and Paris in the company of Walter Benjamin, and the experience of getting lost with Franz Kafka in places that may be Prague and New York. In
attempting to answer the question whether it is possible to become intimate with cities, we have recourse to city guides, life maps, a touring theatre – and the art of losing and finding.

This article deals with the authorship of Elísabet Kristín Jökulsdóttir, with special emphasis on the autofictional novel Heilræði lásasmiðsins (The locksmith's advice), as well as other works that are based on autobiographical material. Elísabet writes a lot about the female body, its desires and erotic longings, as well as how helpless and weak it can be in particular situations. Her writing on the self, body and sexuality centres on the opposition between love and rejection. The desire for love is the driving force behind her writing and a deep and ruthless self-examination is at work in her fictional world. This desire is closely connected to the female body and sexual drive and Elísabet scrutinizes the nature of 'femininity' and asks what it means to be ,a woman'. Elísabet describes the female body in all its nakedness and vulnerability and shows how the body is the battleground where the main conflicts between self and others take place. Elísabet frequently describes two oppositional worlds in her works. There are conflicts between the magical world and reality, the father and the mother, the child and the grown-up, psychological difficulties and 'sanity'. a divided self is a persistent theme in her writings, as well as the struggle to remain on the right side of the "borders", which are frequently mentioned. Elísabet's writings reveal a struggle for marking a place for oneself in the world, to be heard and seen, to be able to createand recreate the self and through her writing, she copes with existence and difficulties that are rooted in childhood. Through writing, she finds a way out and the writing process serves as self-analysis and therapy. In her works Elísabet also creates her own personal mythology, which she connects with women's struggle for self-realization, freedom and social space. The analysis of Elísabet's works is inspired by the writings of feminist scholars, such as Simone de Beauvoir, Kate millett and Hélène Cixous.

Þórarinn B. Þorláksson (1867–1924) has been credited with being the first Icelandic professional painter. His reception, both during his lifetime and posthumously, is therefore an interesting indication of the changes in the outlook and ideology surrounding the reception of Scandinavian fin­de­siécle art up to the present. He was honourably mentioned by his contemporaries and then was forgotten in the upheavals surrounding the adoption of modern styles, such as abstract art, in Ice­land around the Second World War. He re­gained attention in the sixties and has since then been revered as an important, though problematic, pioneer of Icelandic painting. This has in recent years been especially evident in the way he has been mentioned in the context of the revival of Nordic and Scandinavian late 19th and early 20th century art in Northern­Europe and America. The paper reviews and analyses the historical reception Þorláksson has received and the way his work has been inscribed into the narrative of Icelandic and Scandinavian Art History. This process is an attempt to understand and contextualise Þorláksson's work in aesthetic terms, while at the same time function as a critical mirror of the trends and ideolo­gies surrounding the Nordic revival in recent years.

This article surveys the ouevre of the Icelandic writer Jakobína Sigurðardóttir (1918-1994) on the occasion of her centenary. Various aspects of her novels, short stories, poetry and memoirs are examined, including the ways in which she presents time in her texts – time as it pertains to individual life spans and the interaction of different generations, as well as time in the life of a nation which could be said to have switched abodes in the course of the 20th Century, moving from rural to urban settings, and during this time the island nation attained sovereignty and independence. narrative is a key element in treating time and historical shifts, and attention is paid to the ways in which Sigurðardóttir both renews realist traditions and resorts to more radical narrative forms, pulling the reader into an active dialogue on gender and generational issues, on social justice and equality, as well on the routes and conditions which connect and mould places of dwelling – individual houses as well as the abode of the nation.

The aim of this article is to discuss two contemporary Icelandic novels, Kata by Steinar Bragi and Gott fólk by Valur Grettisson, in connection to interpretations of revenge literature and films in the field of Law and literature. Both novels deal with shortcomings in the legal system and judiciary in dealing with and proving crimes involving rape and sexual abuse. This analysis focuses on how the two novels are connected to the advocacy for change, both for the legislator and the judicial system in Iceland. The novel Kata is named after the protagonist, whose daughter is kidnapped, raped and murdered. Kata decides to revenge her daughter and murder the perpetrators, one by one. Throughout the story the reader is made aware of the necessity of avenge, but still the question of righteousness remains. In Gott fólk the narrator, Sölvi, is put through the accountability process by Sara and her friends, after she accuses him of both mental and sexual misconduct during the time of their relationship. Sölvi experiences the process as revenge, but to the reader it is clear that he is guilty and cannot cope with that realization. The two novels offer a basis for discussion on sexual offence, the legal system, revenge and justice.

In the past months and years women have been raising awareness against rape and other sexual violence. The aim of the research discussed in this article is to shed a light on rape culture in Iceland, especially what ideas are prevailing among young people about rape, survivors and perpetrators. Moreover, the aim is to shed a light on the impact of these ideas on rape survivors. The study draws on focus group interviews with university students and semi-structured interviews with a university student, rape survivors and an expert who works closely with survivors. The findings highlight rape culture in Iceland and how rape and other sexual violence is normal-ized. Predominant discourses and myths tend to question the rape, portray survivors as responsible for the rape and find ways to extenuate perpetrators.

The regulation of film exhibition in Iceland has closely shadowed the history of cinema exhibition itself. Although regulation practices have undergone various shifts and realignments throughout the twentieth century, they retained certain core concerns and a basic ideological imperative having to do with child protection and child welfare. Movies were thought to have a disproportionate impact on children, with "impressionable minds" often being invoked. Their interior lives and successful journey towards maturity were put at risk each and every time they encountered unsuitable filmic materials. Thus, while assuming that adults could fend for them-selves among the limited number of theaters in Reykjavík, children were a whole another matter and required protection. Civic bodies were consequently formed and empowered to evaluate and regulate films. But even in the context of fairly rigorous surveillance and codification, the turn taken by regulatory authorities in the 1980s strikes one as exceptional and unprecedented. The Film Certification Board (TFCB) was, for the first time, authorized to prohibit and suppress from distribution films deemed especially malignant and harmful. Motivating this vast expansion of the powers of the regulatory body were concerns about a variety of exploitation and horror films that were being distributed on video, films that were thought to transgress so erroneously in terms of on-screen violence that their mere existence posed a grave threat to children. Two years after finding its role so radical-ly enlarged, TFCB put together a list of 67 "video-nasties", to borrow a term from the very similar but later moral panic that occurred in Britain. Police raids were conducted and every video store in the country was visited in a nation-wide effort to remove the now illegal films from rental stores. This article posits that the icelandic nasties list can be viewed as something of a unique testament to the extent to which the meaning, aesthetic coherence and the affect of cultural objects is constructed in the process of reception, while also main-taining that the process of reception is thoroughly shaped by historical discourses, social class, embedded moral codes and a social system of values, as well as techno-logical progress. in what amounts to a perfect storm of moralizing, political games-manship and the sheer panic of a certain segment of the population, the governing institutions in iceland managed in the span of months to overturn constitutionally protected rights to free speech and privacy, as well as undermine central principles of the republic. Two decades would pass before these setbacks were recuperated, and then only on a legal and institutional level. While analyzing the history of the icelandic video nasties, the article also attempts to grapple with and articulate the symbolic register of the ban, how it speaks to the status of cinema in Iceland at the close of the twentieth century, and what ideological strains, morals and/or values were being put into play and funneled into this particular debate. Then, to close, the role of the most notorious of the nasties, Cannibal Holocaust (Ruggero Deodato, 1980), is examined in the context of media coverage and parliamentary debates at the time.

Alda Björk Valdimarsdóttir's book of poetry, We Who Are Blind and Nameless, was published in 2015. The first part of the book, titled "The course of signs", lays the groundwork for the conceptual basis of the work through five poems. These five
poems will be examined through close reading and scholarly materials from various sources, such as cognitive literary studies, philosophy, psychology, social studies and neurological research. There is particular focus on how the poems stimulate the imagination of readers and ruffle their feelings; there is a discussion on (conceptual) metaphors, irony, humor, paradox, geometrical shapes, enumeration, anaphora and, not least, silence which is a common theme in Alda's poetry and also defines the structure of her poems in various ways. This analysis shows how Alda convinces readers to think about the "course of signs" in both a narrow and wider context. She not only causes readers to think about the paradoxical interplay of silence and signs – and thus man's ingrained need to both speak and be silent – but also woman's position within her family/world history and the encroachment of man upon his own environment. Through clever humour and irony, Alda Björk shows how apathetic people often are when faced with signs; how without thinking they give themselves over to them, even though they have other options; how people contribute for the signs to be isolating instead of connecting us with each other – and how they misuse silence or are not able to make use of it.

This article discusses the phenomenon of self-harming or "non-Suicidal Self-In-jury" (nSSI). The International Society for the Study of Self-Injury defines non-sui cidal self-injury as the deliberate, self-inflicted damage of body tissue without suicidal intent and for purposes not socially or culturally sanctioned." The article discusses the cultural and social representations of self-injury, what is implied in it, who engages in it, and for what reasons. A lot can be deduced from interviews with self-harmers who use it to gain control over bad feelings and stress, by hurting their body and participating in risky behaviour. This dangerous activity often has more complicated sides with reference to rituals and spiritual associations to bloodletting, cleansing of all evil and healing, absolution and much wanted peace of mind. Finally, the changes in self-harming discourse and channels of communication are discussed. It has opened up during the last two decades with the arrival of social media. The self-harmers have built their own subcultures with special aesthetics and often preferring theatrical staging or performances instead of verbal expres-sion. These channels can have an uncanny power and influence over young and vulnerable people. The conclusion of the article is that all this requires an informed discussion as a special world, a special angst which is expressing itself in ways that might develop into suicidal behaviour if it is not taken seriously.