Màni Stein lives in Iceland and lives for film. Any time he doesn’t spend with his male clients he spends at the movies, until the Spanish flu hits, and the world around him begins to disintegrate. He drives for a doctor, and tries to make contact with the girl he can’t stop thinking about.
This was a quick read, but for me that was probably the best thing about it. It was written as a tribute to a dead friend (or grandfather? Or something? Can’t remember) who I think was an historic gay man in Iceland, and as such contained lots and lots of graphic sex scenes, which I definitely prefer not to read.