This would be an easy read, my editor told me, and in one sense it was: light and folksy, often humorous, frequently insightful.

"In Cod We Trust: Living the Norwegian Dream" is Eric Dregni's distinctly personal tale of a year spent in Norway, discovering a modern nation even as he traces in reverse his great-grandfather Ellef's 1893 journey from the deepest branch of the storied Sognefjord to Minnesota. Along the way Eric and his wife, Katy, had a baby. Modern Norway paid for the birth. Ellef and Old Norway gave the baby a name, Eilif, a variant spelling used to make sure the name is pronounced correctly.

The book is charming. But for me, it was a tough read, too, so I'll ask leave to give the review a personal touch, as well. If I needed to justify that, I'd say that other first-, second- and even third-generation Norwegian-Americans might react in much the same way.

Dregni teaches creative writing at the College of St. Catherine in St. Paul. He also teaches Italian at Hamline and the University of Minnesota. In 2003, he was awarded a Fulbright Fellowship to spend a year in Trondheim, Norway.

Thirty years ago, I lived in Oslo for a year, thanks to a less prestigious but just as generous grant from the Rotary Foundation International.

Dregni and I both struggled with but came to understand and appreciate Janteloven, or Jante's Law, which preaches and enforces conformity and at least a surface modesty. We both passed safely through Hell (the little town's name means "luck" in Norwegian) and laughed when we learned that the Norwegian word "gift" can mean "married" or "poison." We learned that a mountain meadow "hytta" is not the same as a Minnesota lake cabin, and that late spring is not the best time to go into an angry sea aboard a coastal steamer bound for the North Cape, far above the Arctic Circle.

But this is what really struck home: Dregni wrote that his great-grandfather Ellef was 18 when he left western Norway for America, and he "would never see Norway or his parents again."

My father, Lars Haga, was 18 when he left western Norway for America. I have a picture he sent back to his mother, given to me by a cousin who told me the story of his leave-taking in 1924. For three nights before that day, my grandmother Gurina moved her cot next to his so they could sleep side by side. "She knew she would never see him again," my cousin said.

Dregni's great-grandfather "was very dark," and a newfound Norwegian relative told him about a local theory: Sailors from the Spanish Armada drifted ashore after their defeat by the British in 1588 and "liked Norway so much that they stayed." Like Ellef, Lars also had jet-black hair, so I now join Dregni in claiming to be descended not just from Vikings, but also from Conquistadores.

I would have liked a little more reflection from Dregni on some of modern Norway's great issues, and few issues are more pressing than immigration. When I lived in Oslo, one child in 10 born in the capital was of Pakistani heritage. I wonder how they're doing now, who has joined them and how my Norwegian friends -- so quick to criticize racial relations in the United States -- are dealing with their nation's transformation.

There are glimpses into such matters, but this is more travel memoir than social commentary, and it will entertain anyone who has spent time in Norway. It will be helpful to anyone planning to live, work or study there -- or have a baby there -- requiring some contact with a bureaucracy that has "advanced" along with the country's other modern institutions.

Most of all, it will touch anyone who has retraced or dreamed of retracing an immigrant ancestor's journey, especially if he has tried to pass on to newer generations something of the awesome, wrenching experience that it can be to leave your home and all that you know and hold dear.

Twice I went to Norway with my son, Peter Lars, the grandson Lars never knew. On the second visit, when Pete was about 15, a friend helped arrange for him to spend a day roaming Oslo with one of her students, a Pakistani-Norwegian boy.

Near the end of his book, Dregni tells of standing at the grave of his great-grandfather's mother. He thought of "old Ellef who was born here and is buried in Minneapolis and the baby Eilif who came to Norway to be born."

And he wondered, "What journey will our son make?"

Chuck Haga, a longtime writer for the Star Tribune, now lives and writes in Grand Forks, N.D.