I have printed a copy of the photograph of grandfather and the children. It is the last chapter in the story of me. The photograph is hanging above the desk, fastened with two pins. When I look at my uncle and grandfather, I see myself.

It is right before advent. The telephone rings, and on the other end is the unfamiliar voice of a woman. She says, that she is his cousin. He has never heard of or met any of his maternal relatives. He was never told, what his grandfather’s name was. Can it have something to do with the fact, that he is suffering from a hereditary disease and is now in a wheelchair? Is that the reason why they have been so secretive? He pays his old mother a visit and hopes to get some answers before it is too late …

Hvíta baðhúsið (The White Bathroom) is a novel about shame, secrets, and the price of being honest.