Nærbuxnaverksmiðjan, which means ‘The Underpants Factory’, is a children’s book deeply rooted in both local humour and the shifting realities of modern Iceland. Published in Reykjavík in 2018, the novel was written by Arndís Þórarinsdóttir and features illustrations by Sigmundur Breiðfjörð Þorgeirsson. Each of its ten chapters is adorned with full-page monochrome drawings as well as whimsical sketches of underpants, sometimes bordering on the absurd, adding a visual layer that mirrors the playful tone of the story.
At the heart of the narrative are Gutti, known at school for being diligent, and Ólína, who has a reputation for causing trouble. Their adventure begins when the community’s dominant local industry, an underpants factory, is forcibly shut by the authorities. Gutti seeks out his grandmother, expecting to find her at home, only for her absence to launch him and Ólína into a journey through the now-abandoned factory.
Wandering through hidden worlds
Inside, what appears to be a deserted industrial site soon reveals a collection of forgotten or out-of-place characters. The children encounter a colony of rabbits living quietly among the bolts of fabric, a malfunctioning robot with the name BlúnduRASS 3000, as well as a group of anarchic teenagers making the most of a phone signal dead zone. Meanwhile, a band of elderly locals has taken up residence, preferring this unusual shelter to life in retirement homes.
Through these discoveries, Gutti learns that his grandmother has been the secret force keeping the factory running after technological changes left most of the workforce redundant. She has become an unofficial caretaker not only for the machines but also for the misfits who now inhabit the building. Economic realities, however, have caught up with her: the factory cannot compete with international competition and is slated for demolition.
The book’s resolution sees Gutti intervening dramatically, halting the demolition in a last-minute bid to save the factory. As the story concludes, the group finds a way to give the building a future as a heritage and cultural centre, preserving its memory while adapting to new circumstances. The chosen name for this centre, Rumpurinn, carries on the book’s lighthearted use of language and puns.
Icelandic wordplay and social echoes
Humour is woven into the fabric of Nærbuxnaverksmiðjan. Each chapter opens with a subheading that recasts an Icelandic proverb or phrase into one that references underpants, from ‘blindur er brókarlaus maður’ (translated as ‘a trouserless person is blind’) to many others, reflecting the playful flexibility of the language.
Though full of eccentric details, the novel addresses the familiar pressures faced by small industries and aging populations in changing times. By wrapping these themes in humour, adventure, and local wordplay, the book offers young Icelandic readers a chance to reflect on both the uniqueness of their communities and the challenges of keeping traditions alive.
