A journey to find Norway’s supposed bliss makes for a comic travelogue that asks, seriously, what makes Norwegians so damn happy—and does it translate? Norway is usually near or at the top of the World Happiness Report. But is it really one of the happiest countries on Earth? Eric Dregni had his doubts. Years ago he and his wife had lived in this country his great-great-grandfather once fled. When their son Eilif was born there, the Norwegian government paid for the birth, gave them $5,000, and deposited $150 into their bank account every month, but surely happiness was more than a generous health care system. What about all those grim months without sun? When Eilif turned fifteen, father and son decided to go back together and investigate. For the Love of Cod is their droll report on the state of purported Norwegian bliss. Arriving in May, a month of festivals and eternal sun, the Dregnis are thrust into Norway at its merriest—and into the reality of the astronomical cost of living, which forces them to find lodging with friends and relatives. But this gives them an inside look at the secrets to a better life. It’s not the massive amounts of money flowing from the North Sea oil fields but how these funds are distributed that fuels the Norwegian version of democratic socialism—resulting in miniscule differences between rich and poor. Locals introduce them to the principles underlying their avowed contentment, from an active environmentalism that translates into flyskam (flight shame), which keeps Norwegians in the family cabin for the long vacations prescribed by law and charges a 150 percent tax on gas guzzlers (which, Eilif observes, means more Teslas seen in one hour than in a year in Minnesota!).  From a passion for dugnad or community volunteerism and sakte or “slow,� a rejection of the mad pace of modernity, to the commodification of Viking history and the dark side of Black Metal music that turns the idea of quaint, traditional Norway upside down, this idiosyncratic father and son tour lets readers, free of flyskam, see how, or whether, Norwegian happiness translates.

The automobile has long been a symbol of status, power, and autonomy, and ever since King Tut rolled through Egypt on his golden-wheeled chariot, artists and drivers have dreamed up mobile masterpieces. A striking photographic tribute and social history, "Road Show" navigates a path across high and low art, showing how people around the world are transforming their vehicles into stunning folk art, obsessive collections, social commentary, and visionary performances. In this fascinating showcase, we see how Henry Ford's motto, "Any color as long as it's black," has been hung out to dry. From the Wienermobile to a hand-carved wooden Ferrari that drives in the canals of Venice to a giant red stiletto heel, "Road SHow" brings the "museum of the streets" to life.

Eric Dregni has written thirteen books, including "Follies of Science," "Weird Minnesota," "Midwest Marvels," "The Scooter Bible," "Ads That Put America on Wheels," and "Let's Go Bowling " He lives in Minneapolis where he teaches Italian and creative writing and plays guitar in the mock-rock trio Vinnie & the Stardusters.

Ruthann Godollei is a professor of art at Macalester College in Saint Paul, Minnesota, and her artwork has been exhibited internationally. She has participated in and organized art car events for over twenty years and drives a 1985 Volvo covered with thousands of printed green gears.

Growing up with Swedish and Norwegian grandparents with a dash of Danish thrown in for balance, Eric Dregni thought Scandinavians were perfectly normal. Who doesn't enjoy a good, healthy salad (Jell-O packed with canned fruit, colored marshmallows, and pretzels) or perhaps some cod soaked in drain cleaner as the highlights of Christmas? Only later did it dawn on him that perhaps this was just a "little" strange, but by then it was far too late: he was hooked and a dyed-in-the-wool Scandinavian himself.

But what does it actually mean to grow up Scandinavian-American or to live with these Norwegians, Swedes, Finns, Danes, and Icelanders among us? In "Vikings in the Attic, " Dregni tracks down and explores the significant--and quite often bizarre--historic sites, tales, and traditions of Scandinavia's peculiar colony in the Midwest. It's a legacy of the unique--collecting silver spoons, a suspicion of flashy clothing, shots of turpentine for the common cold, and a deep love of rhubarb pie--but also one of poor immigrants living in sod houses while their children attend college, the birth of the co-op movement, the Farmer-Labor party, and government agents spying on Scandinavian meetings hoping to nab a socialist or antiwar activist.

For all the tales his grandparents told him, Dregni quickly discovers there are quite a few they neglected to mention, such as Swedish egg coffee, which includes the eggshell, and Lutheran latte, which is Swedish coffee with ice cream. "Vikings in the Attic" goes beyond the lefse, lutefisk, and lusekofter (lice jacket) sweaters to reveal the little-known tales that lie beneath the surface of Nordic America. Ultimately, Dregni ends up proving by example why generations of Scandinavian-Americans have come to love and cherish these tales and traditions so dearly. Well, almost all of them.*

* See" lutefisk.
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Eric Dregni's great-grandfather Ellef fled Norway in 1893 when it was the poorest country in Europe. More than one hundred years later, his great-grandson traveled back to find that--mostly due to oil and natural gas discoveries--it is now the richest. The circumstances of his return were serendipitous, as the notice that Dregni won a Fulbright Fellowship to go there arrived the same week as the knowledge that his wife Katy was pregnant. Braving a birth abroad and benefiting from a remarkably generous health care system, the Dregnis' family came full circle when their son Eilif was born in Norway.

In this cross-cultural memoir, Dregni tells the hair-raising, hilarious, and sometimes poignant stories of his family's yearlong Norwegian experiment. Among the exploits he details are staying warm in a remote grass-roofed "hytte" (hut), surviving a dinner of "rakfisk" (fermented fish) thanks to 80-proof aquavit, and identifying his great-grandfather's house in the Lusterfjord only to find out it had been crushed by a boulder and then swept away by a river. To subsist on a student stipend, he rides the meat bus to Sweden for cheap salami with a busload of knitting pensioners. A week later, he and his wife travel to the Lofoten Islands and gnaw on klippefisk (dried cod) while cats follow them through the streets.

Dregni's Scandinavian roots do little to prepare him and his family for the year in Trondheim eating herring cakes, obeying the conformist "Janteloven" (Jante's law), and enduring the "morketid" (dark time). "In Cod We Trust" is one Minnesota family's spirited excursion into Scandinavian life. The land of the midnight sun is far stranger than they previously thought, and their encounters show that there is much we can learn from its unique and surprising culture.

Welcome! Benvenuti! It's summertime in northern Minnesota and a bus full of kids is about to arrive at the Italian Concordia Language Village, better known as camp. Inexplicably the chief lifeguard has chosen this moment to conduct a "missing villager drill," prompting staff to strip to their underwear in a simulated rush to search the lake. It's an inopportune time for a surprise visit from the Health Inspector, but there he is-just as an Italian counselor calls through the walkie-talkie, "My God, there's blood everywhere!" He's finally clobbered the chipmunk that's been stealing his candy. When at age six he had to be hauled kicking and screaming on the bus bound for camp, Eric Dregni could not have imagined this moment. But all the days and weeks of summer camp since then have shown him the abundant pleasures of this uniquely American experience-and given him plenty of stories to tell. In You're Sending Me Where? Dregni takes us back to those boyhood days of running head-on into nature with his fellow campers and learning a few valuable lessons, such as don't let the van driver leave you and your canoe until you're sure there's actually water in the "flowage." From discouraging summer love to soothing homesick campers to-Oh no! Bats!-taking everyone to town for their rabies shots, to the difficulty of saying goodbye, Eric Dregni's wise, funny book reassures us that there's still a place in the woods where, unplugged from devices and screens, children of all ages can connect with the natural world-and with each other.

A journey to find Norway's supposed bliss makes for a comic travelogue that asks, seriously, what makes Norwegians so damn happy-and does it translate? Norway is usually near or at the top of the World Happiness Report. But is it really one of the happiest countries on Earth? Eric Dregni had his doubts. Years ago he and his wife had lived in this country his great-great-grandfather once fled. When their son Eilif was born there, the Norwegian government paid for the birth, gave them $5,000, and deposited $150 into their bank account every month, but surely happiness was more than a generous health care system. What about all those grim months without sun? When Eilif turned fifteen, father and son decided to go back together and investigate. For the Love of Cod is their droll report on the state of purported Norwegian bliss. Arriving in May, a month of festivals and eternal sun, the Dregnis are thrust into Norway at its merriest-and into the reality of the astronomical cost of living, which forces them to find lodging with friends and relatives. But this gives them an inside look at the secrets to a better life. It's not the massive amounts of money flowing from the North Sea oil fields but how these funds are distributed that fuels the Norwegian version of democratic socialism-resulting in miniscule differences between rich and poor. Locals introduce them to the principles underlying their avowed contentment, from an active environmentalism that translates into flyskam (flight shame), which keeps Norwegians in the family cabin for the long vacations prescribed by law and charges a 150 percent tax on gas guzzlers (which, Eilif observes, means more Teslas seen in one hour than in a year in Minnesota!). From a passion for dugnad or community volunteerism and sakte or "slow," a rejection of the mad pace of modernity, to the commodification of Viking history and the dark side of Black Metal music that turns the idea of quaint, traditional Norway upside down, this idiosyncratic father and son tour lets readers, free of flyskam, see how, or whether, Norwegian happiness translates.