Sweden

It didn't really come as much of a surprise that somebody has taken up the "girl in the cellar" storyline, although in SHE'S NEVER COMING BACK the victim is an adult woman, kidnapped on her way home from work, held in the cellar of the house opposite her own home.

Talking about this book is going to be a balancing act, as without giving away too much, there was just so much about it that simply did not work, that actually worried me.  Worried me to the point where I got my partner to sit down and read it as well, so that we were then able to discuss the concerns that, in the end, we both shared.

I don't think it's giving too much away to suggest there's something profoundly "film script" about this book.  From the initial kidnapping, the perfect family and picturesque location that Ylva lives in, through to the use of a camera to allow her to see snippets of her family life, the book is clearly telegraphing the look, and the feel of a film.  Whilst that's not necessarily always a bad thing, in this case there were a number of elements of the plot that just seemed too strongly geared towards the "film", with so many things left unexplained when there was plenty of space for explanation.

The characterisation of the victim was, not to put too fine a point on it, decidedly dodgy.  An adult woman, known to have been unfaithful to her husband in the past, there was some subtle undercurrent throughout the book that seemed to be drawing the reader's attention constantly to her sexual past, veering dangerously close to victim blaming.  Having said that, there were a lot of extremely disconcerting female characterisations going on.  The women in this book all seemed to be either morally ambiguous, sainted angels or barking mad.  Not that many of the male characters fared a lot better - they were sooks, ineffectual, complicit (and in one very notable case, complicit in the face of professional expertise that should have had him running for the straight-jackets, the hills or both).  

Nothing in the motivation for the kidnapping, or in the manipulation and cruelty once Ylva was captive made much sense.  The motivation was unconvincing, the supposed execution of the plan for her fate flew in the face of the "blueprint" being followed, and there were simply too many daft or missed opportunities, over the top or flat out unbelievable actions and way too many convenient lapses to allow even a smidgen of willing suspension of disbelief.  Instead, there were so many glaring holes in the plot and inconsistencies in the characterisations that these readers became increasingly incredulous and profoundly frustrated and annoyed.  Annoyed to the point where the evening after finishing the book we found ourselves carefully working through the "blueprint" and how you would go about addressing the requirements properly.  Thankfully we don't have any neighbours to freak out and there's no chance we'd ever be able to dig a cellar through the quartz layer around these parts, as I doubt it would have been an easy conversation or stack of notes to explain to the local constabulary.

Perhaps it's more a book for somebody looking for a film-styled thriller, with some carefully choreographed graphic cruelty and sexual violence, a blatantly manipulative happy ever after ending, built around a very current day scenario.  It was a undoubtedly a very quick read.  But for this reader (actually these readers) there were so many aspects of the plot and characterisations that were simply too far a stretch to be believable, plausible, justifiable or palatable.

"An investigation consists of a mass of voices, the sort you can hear, and the sort you can't.  You have to listen to the soundless voices, Malin.  That's where the truth is hidden."

The quote at the start of the blurb of MIDWINTER SACRIFICE intrigued.  The opening of the book with the naked, mutilated body of a man hanging from a tree in a frozen, snow covered location was startling.  A new detective character, Malin Fors, single mother of a teenage daughter engaging.  But ultimately it was the concept of the "voices" of an investigation that weave their way through this book, that delivered an unusual, compelling perspective.

Slow moving, immersion reading in the very best tradition of Scandinavian styled mysteries, this book has an additional aspect in that it's narrated by voices, including the victim himself, whose voice pleads, cajoles and guides Malin (not that she can hear him!).  But the point is well made.  The victim in a case has a voice.  Obviously, an investigator rarely hears the victim of a murder, but their life, as well as their death, can "speak" to the investigating team if they are prepared to listen.

Alongside the use of the voices, there's a solid police procedural moving through this book - from the difficulties of identifying the victim, to the explanation of why they would become a victim of such a violent crime.  To the past that informs the present.  But we are talking dark, intricate, reserved, thoughtful and sinister.  We're talking cold and atmospheric - partially because of the weather, partially because of the characters who inhabit the story.  

We're also talking a good central character - investigator Malin Fors has a complicated personal life, a strange history with her ex-husband, and a realistic relationship with her teenage daughter.  There's enough of the personal elements (good and bad) of her life built into the story to give a sense of the balancing act that a major investigation has to become.  Perhaps some of her work colleagues are less strongly drawn - although to be honest I didn't think that was an obvious problem or even inexplicable.

Undoubtedly MIDWINTER SACRIFICE is one of those books that you have to sink into, allow it to spin out the story, go with the voices and deal with the reserve.  Fans of that particularly thoughtful, considered, reserved, Scandinavian style will definitely find something in this book.  Personally I found the idea of the voices within an investigation fascinating and the book particularly difficult to put down.  There's real balance and believability about Fors, her family, her private and professional struggle, but at the same time, there's a sense of the victim here that gives the book a different dimension - a connection with the normally voiceless.

It's very pleasing to read that his "first book" in the Malin Fors series went straight into the bestseller charts.  Sounds like there are more around to look forward to.

I reread THE BLACK PATH last weekend.  I did that because despite originally having read and reviewed it a while ago, it was one of those books that every time I spied it on a shelf, I was drawn to thinking about again.  And I wanted to find out why.

At the time that I originally read it I reviewed it thus:

"THE BLACK PATH is the sort of book that you need to read with your preconceptions and expectations firmly locked in a drawer. Having not read the second book in the series yet, I know something happened to Rebecka in that book, but the details aren't important to understanding, from the start of THE BLACK PATH, that she has been through a traumatic experience and she's struggling back into normal life.

But one thing you will find with THE BLACK PATH is that Rebecka, or Anna-Maria or any of the other characters that either reoccur from earlier books, or step forward into the limelight in this book, won't necessarily remain as the focus of the book. This isn't a book that's specifically about a single person's journey through the events that lead up to a crime (perhaps with the exception of the victim herself), but a story about the swirling circumstances of lives lived. That's not to say that the book has an unfocused or messy feel to it, rather the opposite. But it does give the way the story unfolds a fascinating, sort of ephermeral feel to it, as the focus moves around, and the events that somebody - but not everybody - are involved in, all lead to a resolution.

I have to say, that for me, there was a strong sense of Swedish about this book. But this was a combination of things. The weather, the environment, the sensibility of the people, the way that the supernatural interwove with the mundane facts of life. The book also incorporates some glimpses into Sami culture which were absolutely fascinating.

As with the first of this series that I read, I still find Rebecka and Anna-Maria slightly offputting as characters. Don't know why, but they just are. Having said that, they are fascinating, and people I'm interested in and care about slightly from afar. There's some real skill in writing a story with characters like these that keeps you so involved. But I was also very taken with the lack of predictable styling of the book - I liked the way that the story evolved without the need to ensure series characters got their alloted page space."

I've realised now that the reason that the book continued to call to me is the other characters.  Whilst in this review I talked about Anna-Maria and Rebecka (both interesting women in their own right - and second time around - I think I understand them just that little bit more), the victim Inna Wattrang, her brother Diddi and their business partner Mauri Kallis - their families and their motivations are the ones that I wanted to look at again, along with Anna-Maria's partner Sven-Erik, even Boxer the kitten.  Most of all revisiting all of these people I'm reminded that there's nothing black and white about anything.  Victims aren't perfect, villains aren't simply evil, people do things which others aren't ever going to understand.  Perhaps they are doing things they don't even understand themselves. But THE BLACK PATH ticks all the boxes for what makes a very good psychological thriller, with strong, flawed, believable characters in a very good plot.  

ITALIAN SHOES by Henning Mankell goes to prove, once again, that a really good writer is a really good writer, regardless of the genre, styling, or setting of the book.  Exploring the themes of estrangement, loss, fear and isolation ITALIAN SHOES isn't a crime fiction novel, it's a poignant, beautiful, sad, uplifting and evocative look at a man, his life, his mistakes and his redemption.

Frederick Welin is sixty-six years old, a former surgeon who has spent the last 12 years of his life, purposely exiled to the island home that his grandparents left him.  He has carved out a life with his dog, his cat, and occasional visits from Jansson the postman.  Woken just before dawn on a dark December morning, the sound of the "ice singing" evokes memories of his past - his father, his grandparents, his island, his professional and personal mistakes.

In a strange way he's not surprised then, when early in the New Year his past comes back to him in the form of a little old lady on a walker, making painful slow progress across the ice towards him.  He had loved Harriet Hörnfeldt intensely, and he'd abandoned her abruptly in 1966.  Dying of cancer, she has come looking for him.  She wants answers, she wants Frederick to finally make good on a promise he made all those years ago.  She wants to see the pool in the middle of the northern forest, where he talked of one joyous day with his father.

A road journey, in a beat up old car, in the harshest weather in decades, follows.  Unsure if he can even find the pond, the two embark not just on a quest for the place, but also, in a touchingly clumsy manner, some understanding of how they both got to where they are now jointly and separately in their lives.  They argue and bicker, rescue abandoned dogs, leave behind Frederick's own pets in a mildly distracting way, but find the pool.  Frederick nearly loses his own life on the ice in the pond, Harriet saves him, they move on in the journey, to somebody, somewhere... but more would be telling too much.

ITALIAN SHOES is a moving, tightly drawn portrait of a couple of people who could seem, on the face of it, emotionally shut down and withdrawn.  What Mankell does is draw you into the lives and thoughts of Frederick mostly, and Harriet to a slightly lesser degree as Frederick is forced to consider his past and how he wants his future to be.  What Mankell has done is written a central character who it is really easy to dislike, and yet...  A profoundly self-centred man, Frederick's life has been an odd combination of bravado and running away.  He's a faithless lover, a haphazard animal owner, a brilliant surgeon whose arrogance led him to make a profound mistake - which he ran away from.  A snoop, a bad-tempered man, a loner who regards the world with suspicion there's an awful lot to dislike about Frederick, and yet, Frederick is very human and his slow, hesitant steps to redemption, recompense, are profoundly touching in the main because of their simple humanity.  

Quiet, intense, low key almost ITALIAN SHOES is a beautiful, glorious tale of confrontation, human frailty and redemption.

This book is just classic Swedish / Scandinavian crime fiction.  Slow, involved, intricate, revealing and complex, ECHOES FROM THE DEAD concentrates very much on Julia, and her father, and their slow and careful repairing of a relationship which was torn apart at the time that Julia's son disappeared.

Julia hasn't coped at all since her son's disappearance and she's at a particularly low ebb in life when her father calls her back to the small, closed in island on which the boy disappeared.  Julia's father, Gerlof, lives in a home now, but he's still connected with the island and the people.  And that's the other thing that this book draws out beautifully - connections.  Much of the solution to the disappearance of the little boy relies on the connection that only time can bring.  Gerlof and his cronies are islanders from way back, and the little tweaks of memory, knowing who to ask about what, and where to look for information is part of the reason that Gerlof and Julia are finally able to get to the bottom of the boy's loss.  Guilt and revenge also play their own part, as does stupidity and a momentary loss of control which leads to an even greater loss in years to come.  As does suspicion.  The character of Nils is particularly poignant - guilty perhaps, but not of everything, it's easy to make an outsider / somebody who is perhaps not quite "all there" responsible for everything.  It's really really easy to jump to conclusions and get things wrapped up all neat and tidy.

It's undoubtedly a slow book, but slow is exactly what you want in this instance.  You're pulled into this tiny little community.  You're pulled into the profound grief and total loss of Julia, you're pulled into the way that Gerlof tries to put things right with his own daughter.  But none of these things - after all those years - can be resolved quickly, and the book doesn't push you through, but quietly, understatedly allows the events to pull you to them.  It's a character study at the same time as it's an investigation.  The resolution is complicated and messy and untidy and maybe a bit unsatisfactory if you're into things nicely all tied up and done and dusted - but that's exactly as it so often is.

And that's what makes it classic Scandinavian crime fiction for this reader, nothing is easy, often things can't be wrapped up and ticked off, people make decisions that have profound long-term effects and violence is never going to be the solution.

THE BLACK PATH is the sort of book that you need to read with your preconceptions and expectations firmly locked in a drawer.  Having not read the second book in the series yet, I know something happened to Rebecka in that book, but the details aren't important to understanding, from the start of THE BLACK PATH, that she has been through a traumatic experience and she's struggling back into normal life.

But one thing you will find with THE BLACK PATH is that Rebecka, or Anna-Maria or any of the other characters that either reoccur from earlier books, or step forward into the limelight in this book, won't necessarily remain as the focus of the book.  This isn't a book that's specifically about a single person's journey through the events that lead up to a crime (perhaps with the exception of the victim herself), but a story about the swirling circumstances of lives lived.  That's not to say that the book has an unfocused or messy feel to it, rather the opposite.  But it does give the way the story unfolds a fascinating, sort of ephermeral feel to it, as the focus moves around, and the events that somebody - but not everybody - are involved in, all lead to a resolution.

I have to say, that for me, there was a strong sense of Swedish about this book.  But this was a combination of things.  The weather, the environment, the sensibility of the people, the way that the supernatural interwove with the mundane facts of life.  The book also incorporates some glimpses into Sami culture which were absolutely fascinating.

As with the first of this series that I read, I still find Rebecka and Anna-Maria slightly offputting as characters.  Don't know why, but they just are.  Having said that, they are fascinating, and people I'm interested in and care about slightly from afar.  There's some real skill in writing a story with characters like these that keeps you so involved.  But I was also very taken with the lack of predictable styling of the book - I liked the way that the story evolved without the need to ensure series characters got their alloted page space.