more reviews and some thoughts on place

Peter Rozovsky connects the dots between John Connelly, James Lee Burke, and Arnaldur Indridason, then collects some suggestions for writers who evoke a strong sense of place.

Norm (aka Uriah) has some fascinating things to say about Leif G.W. Persson’s massive novel, Between Summer’s Longing and Winter’s End. I am grateful to him for reading and analyzing the  good points and the bad in his review (because I gave up on it, but am still very curious about it -tack så mycket.)

Glenn Harper thinks Ake Edwardson’s The Shadow Woman is a terrific novel. I agree – though it’s slow and circular and I’m not crazy about Winter as a character, I though it was thought-provoking. Glenn does have a plot point quibble, but his overall verdict is positive.

Two books about Stieg Larsson are reviewed in Ireland’s The Post. The reviewer finds Kurdo Baksi’s memoir self-serving and not particularly kind to Larsson; but she gives Afterword, a collection of essays by fellow journalists that is included in the new boxed set of the Millennium Trilogy, high marks.

Captain April reviews The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest. One of the things she liked about it was that she wasn’t sure whether it would have a happy ending or not – and she wasn’t sure what sort of ending she would prefer. She also finds Salander fascinating and likes her working partnership with Blomqvist.

And Norm (aka Uriah) is reading Liza Marklund’s Red Wolf and making it sound very tempting indeed. Apparently both this book and to some extent Mankell’s The Man from Beijing deal with the fling that Westerners have had with extreme ideologies. There’s also a bit about the Swedish covers that is interesting. (Is that really the author on the covers? Yes, she is attractive, but appearing as part of your books seems a peculiar mix of postmodernism and merely modern branding.)

catching up and a backlash of sorts

News from Norway: The Cockroaches (Harry Hole #2) and Headhunters (stand alone) has recently been sold to Harvill Secker in the UK, according to Jo Nesbo’s agency.

Nancy O reviews The Stone Murders by Matti Joensuu published in English by St. Martin’s in 1987. She gives it high marks, particularly as a first in a series.

The Stone Murders is not really a mystery, because the criminals are revealed right away to be young men from extremely dysfunctional families and backgrounds.  It is more of a police procedural, but at the same time, Joensuu interweaves into the story a brief look at the problems of 1980s Helsinki: child abuse, alcoholism, prostitution, and teen gangs that have no respect for anyone (especially the police, who fear them), to name a few. There’s also a look at the police force itself — the ridiculous bureaucracy, the lack of officers to handle the ongoing crime problems, and the ineptitude of a few who are supposed to be in charge of others. Joensuu also offers a look into Harjunpaa’s personal life, which as things get worse for this particular case, becomes his safe haven. . . . Readers of Scandinavian crime fiction will enjoy this, as will anyone who likes a good police procedural.

Norm (aka Uriah) does some deducting of his own while analyzing the International Dagger winners over past years. Pretty charts included.

“Euroman” complains that Scandinavian crime fiction writing associations – the folks who award prizes and promote the genre – seem to be less excited about the popularity of the success of their compatriots than everyone else and have sadly neglected Websites.

And finally, the Larsson reports:

The National Post is one of a bazillion news outlets reporting that we can soon buy a boxed set of the Millennium Trilogy, a book about the books, and e-mail exchanges between author and editor. What next, Salander-themed towels and sheets?

This week court must be in session; a number of dissenting opinions on Stieg Larsson are being handed down. Two come from the Huffington Post. Ilana Teitelbaum finds it boring, poorly structured, and thinks the violence against women is exploitative thriller business as usual – and suspects the violence itself is what makes it so popular. Lev Raphael agrees, but acknowledges he’s not a fan of Scandinavian crime fiction (“they just haven’t been my beer, as the Germans say in general”) and is skeptical of books that are packaged by publishers and reps as blockbusters. And Tiger Beatdown’s columnist “the rejectionist” takes issue with the level of violence and questions whether Larsson really was a man who hates men who hates women or if he’s just a typical thriller writer making use of violence against women in a tried-and-true way.

Reading Salander as a feminist icon for our times is a pretty challenging endeavor. About the best thing you can say about her is that, unlike Larsson’s other characters, she at least has some depth.

People who write about dead ladies make a shit-ton of money (see: Patterson, James; Cornwell, Patricia; Koontz, Dean; &c ad nauseum). Even more people want to read about dead ladies than want to write about them; which, as a lady, stresses me out. I like murder mysteries and I like thrillers. But I am getting fucking tired of those stories revolving solely around rape and torture. Packaging that nastiness up as feminist is icing on an ugly cake. There are men who hate women: I am aware of this. Anyone who has ever tried living as a woman is aware of this. I don’t need a ten-page explicit rape scene to bring this point home; I need only to leave my house.

I am certainly curious, as I think are many ladies, as to why some men hate women so much; that, I believe, is a question worth exploring. And since ladies have had little success so far in answering it, perhaps it is time for the gentlemen to start doing some of the heavy lifting around here. But here’s a hint, fellows: writing a story about a father-son pair who dismember hundreds of women in a “private torture chamber [contrived] with great care” is not a successful answer to this question . . . The worst thing about this book is that it seems to be saying the only violence against women that counts is the kind that ends up with us dead. The rest of us, I guess, are just complaining.

The Mail has an excerpt from a book, Stieg Larsson, My Friend, by Kurdo Baksi, which includes the claim that Larsson was haunted by an event when he was a teenager: he witnessed a rape by a group of boys he knew, but didn’t intervene and was dogged by guilt. He also writes “Stieg’s global success has changed my life. I am often invited to lecture about him throughout Europe. It feels almost as if, in a most bizarre fashion, I have become an ambassador for Stieg. But I do it willingly and am happy to have him in my orbit in this way.” I’m not sure who is in who’s orbit, but never mind.