Book 68: Eyrbyggja Saga

After Thorolf died, a good many people found it more and more unpleasant to stay out of doors once the sun had begun to go down. As the summer wore on, it became clear that Thorolf wasn't lying quiet, for after sunset no one out of doors was left in peace. There was another thing, too: the oxen which had been used to haul Thorolf's body were ridden to death by demons, and every beast that came near his grave went out of its mind, and howled itself to death. The shepherd a Hvamm often came running with Thorolf after him. One day that autumn neither sheep nor shepherd came back to the farm, and next morning, when a search was made for him the shepherd was found dead, not far from Thorolf's grave, his corpse coal-black, and every bone in his body broken.

As well as lots feuds and pitched battles, Eyrbyggja Saga includes gothic elements such as witchcraft, omens of ill-fortune, and hauntings by the unquiet dead. It was Sir Walter Scot's favourite Icelandic saga.

As Snorri and his men were coming up the scree, Steinthor cast a spear over them for good luck, according to ancient custom. The spear sought out its victim and struck Mar Hallvardsson, Snorri's uncle, putting him out of the fight.

The practice of throwing a spear over men who are about to fight, to dedicate the dead to Odin, also occurs in "American Gods"by Neil Gaiman.

Book 69: "A Patchwork Planet" by Anne Tyler

Then a hand arrived on my arm, so light it took a moment to register, and I turned and found Sophia smiling into my eyes. It was the most serene and radiant smile, the most seraphic smile. "Goodbye, Barnaby," she said, and she dropped her hand and walked away.
I never did explain her presence to Natalie. I honestly don't know what I would have said.

The story of Barnaby Gaitlin, the black sheep son of a rich Baltimore family, who works for a company called Rent-a-back, which does the jobs that its elderly clients can't manage for themselves, no matter how small. I loved the descriptions of Barnaby's clients, such as "Over her forearm she carried a Yorkshire terrier, neatly folded like a waiter's napkin", and "Dirt was her personal enemy. Let her catch sight of a cobweb and she would not rest until she had killed it dead", and I think that every city could do with having a Rent-a-back.