Crabbycat’s Bookblog

 Navigating the Scandinavians

I’ve often wondered about people--particularly people in “the business”--who don’t find the time to read. Admittedly my reading habits have a lot to do with the fact that I don’t drive and I never board the bus without a book. Being submerged in the world of print takes me away from the ever present frustrations of being stuck in rush hour traffic surrounded by the inane chatter of the hordes on cellphones. And there’s something oddly comforting in reading about murder.

So what the hell do you read when you’ve finished with Larsson? By now everyone’s read Stieg Larsson’s Girl With the Dragon Tattoo trilogy and is ready for the next installment. There’s supposed to be another languishing on his laptop but due to the ensuing wrangling over the late author’s literary estate, fat chance we’ll encounter Lisbeth Salander any time soon. I wish I could say the bookshops abound with plenty of other Scandinavian sleuths but they are there to be found if you ask. And do ask--bug the owners to bring them in--don’t just go on-line. Your computer will always be there, not so your local bookshop. 

The other Larsson is even more addictive than Stieg. It’s been awhile since a new Asa Larsson hit the shelves and for some reason her books have never achieved the acclaim of her male counterpart’s.  It’s about time they do.

Her Rebecka Martinsson books--the first two start off with the death of a priest--feature a heroine as emotionally crippled as the rest of us. And Larsson’s such a fine fine writer that she can place her main character in the background of her third book, The Black Path, and never lose her.

Then there’s the old master, Henning Mankell. Forget everything but the Wallander books. Yes, the other stuff’s well-written but who cares? It’s Wallander we want and not Linda but Kurt. 

A couple years ago, Random House re-issued the Martin Beck mysteries by husband/wife team, Per Wahloo and Maj Sjowall.  Now with introductions by younger writers like Jonathan Franzen and Jo Nesbo, the series transcends its original settings of the Sixties.  And at a couple hundred pages a piece, the books are decidedly more totable for the beach or the bus.

Jo Nesbo’s the Norwegian responsible for Detective Harry Hole, who’s a bit more American in his shoot-em-up style. The first three, The Redbreast, Nemesis and The Devil’s Star, read as an enthralling trilogy. Unfortunately, the writing falls off a bit with The Redeemer and The Snowman.

Arnaldur Indridason is the Icelandic eye opener. His  Inspector Erlender mysteries revolve around Reykjavik and the haunting disappearance of his younger brother. Throw in a little Cold War frisson with the inevitable animosity between the locals and overconfident American interlopers and you have a fine lesson in recent Icelandic events.

Yrsa Sigurdardottir’s another Icelander, Camilla Lackberg another Swede: the chicks of the bunch, not too girly but not as gritty. And Karin Fossum’s grittier but not as gripping --just try to remember her characters from one novel to the next.

Two other Scandinavians you mustn’t miss will take a bit more effort to find. Helene Tursten’s a Swede, with three books translated into English: Detective Inspector Huss, The Torso and The Glass Devil. Unfortunately, just as you get into the inspector’s family dynamics, the series disappears.

Anne Holt, a former justice minister, was quoted just recently in the Globe and Mail about the massacre in Norway. Annoyingly, only two of her books are available here. Even more annoying, each are available under two titles: Punishment also as What is Mine and The Final Murder as What Never Happens in its American edition. Maddeningly, there seems to be a book missing between the two. The characters, Adam Stubo and his partner, Joanne Vik are so likable,their relationship so recognizable, you won’t want to leave them. So the question is: where’s the missing book? And where’s the next? (Penguin Books: please tell me...I’m begging you.)