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Twenty-four minutes of my life that I will never get back... that's how I feel after listening to this... it is nothing like the description... just a turgid description of someone collecting firewood. The worst book I've ever listened to.
5 of 5 people found this review helpful
Kjell Eriksson is never mentioned in the top division of Nordic crime writers. Some say he is too literary for the genre, others blame translations. It is certainly true that his books concentrate on characterisation and procedure rather than fast action. I see that as a plus when too many of the other Nordics seem to be writing with one eye on the potential of a film option, which requires them to include ludicrous murder methods and villains that would be laughable in the Halloween movies. You doubt me? Think about Jo Nesbo's 'Snowman' where someone is going to hang when the snowman they are standing atop, indoors, melts. Dr Phibes would be embarrassed.
Instead of that type of nonsense Eriksson links multiple threads and eras with a sensitive touch. A lot is told through the thoughts of characters. This one starts in the past and then moves between three distinct time periods. It is worth staying with it even if you find the beginning a bit slow. I also find it interesting when the war time affiliations of the Nordic countries are touched upon. The aforementioned Jo Nesbo novels for instance were much more interesting when he put the effort into that kind of research (Redbreast) rather than being 'fiendish'.
The one reservation I have with Eriksson, or any other male author writing as a female character, is when they voice the sexual thoughts and desires of the woman. I always feel that it is the author's fantasy we are being fed.
On a related issue, narrator Julie Maisey does a solid if unspectacular job considering that the majority of the characters she has to voice are male.
2 of 2 people found this review helpful