The Fish can Sing by Halldór Laxness

I have written about everything at Brekkukot, both indoors and out, which can be given a name; but I have scarcely said a word yet about my grandmother, who was certainly not some useless ornament about the place. On the other hand, if she were likened to the heart of the house, one could say exactly the same about her as one does about healthy hearts in general, that whoever is lucky enough to have such a heart is quite unaware of having a heart at all.

But since people have been invited into the living-room at Brekkukot time and time again in this story already, I think the time has come to mention the housewife and hostess, however briefly. I say "however briefly" because I never really knew the woman; for instance, I was almost grown up before it ever occurred to me, quite accidentally one day, that she might perhaps have a life story like other people. What I have to tell about her here is really how little I knew about her.