THE STARS OF CONSTANTINOPLE

Sigurdsson (1918-88), an Icelander, is considered one of that country's literary heavy-hitters; here—for a first taste in translation—it is his short fiction that has been given us. Writing mostly in an understandably pastoral mode, Sigurdsson pays unavoidable attention to what Iceland looks like (``I am not going to try to describe,'' the narrator of ``An Old Narrative'' says, somewhat archly, ``how the glacier appeared to me that morning, outlined against the sky far away to the east, nor the clouds, white and soft above the glacier, nor our mountain, snow- free, with patches of green moss and dark blue rocks''). What life is like within that land- and sea-scape, amongst the moors and fjords, is fairly much a peasant affair of eternal cycles: a young boy falls in love for the first time (``The Changing Earth''); an old pastor reaches the end of his days (``Pastor Bodvar's Letter''); a crafty old carpenter embodies human knowledge (``Building Pyramids''). Better translation might have helped (``I had no premonition of the misfortune that awaited me on the other side of a few unborn hours as I stood newly dressed on the farmhouse terrace and gazed across the faded meadows, which were wet and dreary after the previous day's downpour'')—but, as is, this is not a terribly compelling introduction.