When Icelanders were asked, in a poll, to choose the most beautiful word in their language, they didn't hesitate to choose the noblest profession name, "midwife," which in Icelandic literally means "mother of light." In this wonderful novel, a midwife traces the path that a human being takes from the darkness of the womb to the darkness of the grave, trying to uncover the mystery of mysteries, the most wonderful things, the light. It is a novel of extremes, a novel about being and nothingness, about human fragility and animal superiority, about our transient existence and the glimmer of life that we are given between two darknesses. Who can better illuminate the dimensions of life than the woman by whose hands we come into the world? And who can wonder more deeply about the nature of light than an author who belongs to the darkest part of the world, where darkness reigns for months, and where every gleam of light is an occasion for contemplation and joy?