The Man Who Left Too Soon

by Barry Forshaw

APPENDIX A –

  Stieg’s Rivals: Scandinavian Crime Fiction

  Sales of crime fiction in translation from Scandinavian countries have been forging ahead in recent years, and it’s perhaps not hard to see why. This striking vein of new writing offers something that is often more quirky and atmospheric than UK/US fare. But why has the field of crime in translation generally – for so long a backwater – become such a hot ticket? There are several reasons. The astonishing success of Peter Høeg’s Miss Smilla’s Feeling for Snow was a wake-up call: here was crime with all the textural richness of literary fiction, opening up to readers a fascinating new location – Denmark. But Smilla was the tip of the iceberg: the Scandinavian countries offered a sweeping panoply. Henning Mankell’s Sweden was also the haunt of Liza Marklund, with her tenacious investigative journalist heroine. And we had Mari Jungstedt, taking us to the windswept and atmospheric island of Gotland, where violence lurks. Then we could visit Åke Edwardson’s menacing Göteborg, or the Reykjavik of Arnaldur Indridason, and Karin Fossum’s Norway.

  By now, a legion of Scandinavian crime aficionados were spoilt for choice. Who next for a shot of Nordic criminality? Pernille Rygg? Johan Theorin? But better to have an embarrassment of riches than a drought. No danger of the latter though, as new names appear daily – such as the woman who is already a massive success in the Nordic countries: Camilla Läckberg. Interestingly, Läckberg is known to be inspired by British crime writers – showing that crime horizons now stretch from Oxford to Oslo – and back.

  STIEG’S RIVALS: HENNING MANKELL

  Over the years, non-English-speaking crime fiction practitioners such as Georges Simenon have garnered classic status, but if there’s one modern writer who is the Trojan horse for foreign crime in translation, it’s Sweden’s Henning Mankell. His laconic detective Kurt Wallander (something of an alter ego for the similarly laconic Mankell) is one of the great creations of modern crime fiction: overweight, diabetes-ridden and with all the problems of modern society leaving scars on his soul. Wallander is as rounded a character as any in more literary fiction. In such books as Sidetracked and Firewall, British readers were taken into pungently realised Scandinavian settings that were subtly similar to the UK, but also fascinatingly different. Wallander’s Sweden is not a good advertisement for the success of the welfare state – the cracks in the consensus of Scandinavian society widening, Swedish family life riven by deep psychological traumas.

  But like the director Ingmar Bergman (to whose daughter Mankell is married) the writer frequently confounds all stereotypical expectations of Nordic gloom and produces books crammed with humanity and optimism, plus the bloodshed and murder that are prerequisites of the crime genre. The keen social conscience that illuminates Mankell’s books chimes with his own commitment to make disadvantaged people’s lives better: he has done a great deal of theatre work in Africa, and his reach as a writer extends beyond the crime genre, with such books as the ambitious Kennedy’s Brain, Depths and Eye of the Leopard.

  STIEG’S RIVALS: YRSA SIGURDARDÓTTIR

  It’s to be hoped that the children who so avidly consume Yrsa Sigurdardóttir’s juvenile novels don’t accidentally pick up Last Rituals, as the author’s first adult book was a very different kettle of fish from her first work. (‘I had five books worth of bad thoughts I needed to vent – Last Rituals was a sort of release for my darker side,’ she noted.) In fact, new careers are a speciality for Sigurdardóttir; this is (at least) her third, as she’s also a highly successful civil engineer in Reykjavik, with prestigious hydro-construction projects under her belt. The latter clearly wasn’t slaking her creative instincts – good news for lovers of quality crime in translation, as Sigurdardóttir arrived, fully formed it seems, as something of a unique talent in the field. She needs to be – the once rarefied field of Icelandic crime thrillers is now becoming somewhat overcrowded.

  In Last Rituals, the body of a young history student is discovered in Reykjavik, his eyes gouged out. He has been researching witchcraft and torture, and his moneyed German parents won’t accept the police theory that he was killed by his drug dealer. What makes Sigurdardóttir’s writing such an exhilarating experience is the fashion in which she takes familiar, perhaps even over familiar ingredients – for example ill-matched, combative detective duo, murder victims with their eyes removed – and throws off a series of dizzying and innovative riffs on these concepts. Sigurdardóttir clearly realises that women writers are obliged to be every inch as gruesome as their male counterparts these days, and matches such writers as Tess Gerritsen and Kathy Reichs in the blood-chilling stakes. But like all the best Scandinavian writers, it’s her acute sense of place that gives such individual character to her work, and readers may feel a keen desire to visit Reykjavik after reading her books.

  STIEG’S RIVALS: HÅKAN NESSER

  When I asked Håkan Nesser why non-Swedish readers should pick up one of his crime novels rather than those by his more celebrated countryman Henning Mankell, he replied, ‘Well, I’m eight inches taller than him…’ But if this isn’t a persuasive enough reason for you to read Nesser, just a few pages of Borkmann’s Point, The Return or The Inspector and Silence will undoubtedly do the trick. This is splendid stuff: Scandinavian crime writing that is so rivetingly written it makes most contemporary crime fare – Scandinavian or otherwise – seem rather thin gruel. Nesser’s tenacious copper, Chief Inspector van Veeteren, is one of the most distinctive protagonists in the field (lauded by no less an authority than Colin Dexter: ‘… destined for a place among the great European detectives’), and the handling of the baffling, labyrinthine cases he tackles has a rigour and logic all too rarely encountered.

  But Håkan Nesser’s is no overnight success story. Being born and raised in Kumla – the most prestigious prison town in Sweden – may have helped put the author on the right criminal path (at least, the kind of criminal path where you’re paid rather than arrested), but it was via his clandestine scribbling away at novels in the classroom for 20 years, when he should have been polishing young Swedish minds, that allowed Nesser to develop into the master he is today. Borkmann’s Point, dealing with two savage axe murders in a sedate coastal town, marked the UK debut of Nesser’s chess-loving copper and instantly established a following. The Return consolidated the success of the earlier book, with van Veeteren investigating a corpse rolled up in a carpet in an otherwise sylvan beauty spot, while a double murderer prowls the area.

  Nesser already has a slew of Scandinavian crime awards under his belt for his novels, which have received enthusiastic welcomes in nine countries. And as his reputation gathers momentum, it is only a matter of time before British fans will be learning how to pronounce his name (a good approximation is ‘Hawk Ann Nessair’).

  STIEG’S RIVALS: MAJ SJÖWALL & PER WAHLÖÖ

  Sjöwall and Wahlöö are the pinnacle of Nordic crime writing – truly sui generis. Now that English readers can sample all the novels of this highly influential husband-and-wife team of crime writers in solid translations, their true achievement – which is considerable – can be fully appreciated. For many years the lamentable fact was that these taut and socially committed novels never seemed to be available all at the same time in the UK and US (they slipped out of print all too quickly). These days, the reputation of Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö is rock solid, with fellow crime authors routinely describing them as the very finest practitioners of the police procedural.

  In Sweden, the Martin Beck series has long had the highest possible standing (the proselytising left-leaning agenda of the books clearly not alienating readers, whatever their individual political stamp). Beck is, of course, one of the great literary detectives, and continues to influence writers long after his creators have laid down their metaphorical pens. Stieg Larsson was, naturally, an admirer of the Beck books – as he was of the British writer Val McDermid’s Tony Hill and Carol Jordan series – the influence of which is also clearly discernible in his books. Jens Lapidus, with his
remarkable Stockholm Noir trilogy, is in some ways a spiritual heir of the duo.

  STIEG’S RIVALS: ARNALDUR INDRIDASON

  After Indridason won the CWA Gold Dagger, many felt that he would be one of the foreign language crime writers who would break the stranglehold that Henning Mankell maintained on this particular branch of the genre. The signs are that this remarkably talented writer has yet to do that… so far. British and American readers may have problems pronouncing his name, but are fully aware of the highly distinctive talents of these Reykjavik-set thrillers. The remarkable success of Silence of the Grave was followed in 2006 by Voices, another taut and beguiling thriller. Indridason’s detective, Erlendur, comes across echoes of his difficult past when the doorman at his own hotel is savagely stabbed to death. The manager attempts to keep the murder quiet (it is the festive season) but Erlendur is, of course, obliged to find out what happened. As he works his way through the very bizarre fellow guests who share the hotel with him, he encounters a nest of corruption that gives even this jaundiced detective pause for thought.

  The particular pleasure of these books is the combination of the familiar and unfamiliar – while the detective is cut from the familiar cloth, the locales and atmosphere are fresh and surprising for the non-Scandinavian reader. In Jar City (2003), the body of an old man is found in his apartment in Reykjavik; DI Erlendur has only an enigmatic note found on the body to go on. The murdered man’s computer contains pornography, and it transpires that he has been accused of rape in the past. A photograph of the grave of a young woman leads Erlendur towards a solution quite unlike anything he has encountered in his career. It was inevitable that this Scandinavian crime novel would be compared with previous successes by Henning Mankell, and that DI Erlendur would be racked up against the former’s Kurt Wallander. Both readers and critics did not find Indridason or Erlendur wanting in the comparisons. The cop here is much given to philosophical speculations, and has a very dark view of human nature. Science (and not just forensics) is a crucial part of the plot, and as with Mankell, the scene-setting has a freshness and novelty that are very striking to the non-Scandinavian reader. As a debut novel for yet another saturnine copper, this pushes all the right buttons.

  STIEG’S RIVALS: KARIN FOSSUM

  At one time, the crime novels of Karin Fossum were something of a well-kept secret, known to a growing band of aficionados but not to the larger crime readership. Not any more. In fact, Fossum’s highly atmospheric and involving books are among the best being produced in the genre today, and her work certainly deserves the widest possible audience. Don’t Look Back was a psychological thriller that was both economical and forceful, and He Who Fears the Wolf (2003) is an even more persuasive piece of writing. In an isolated village, a horribly mutilated body has been found, and the suspect (spotted in the woods nearby) has recently been committed to a psychiatric institution. Then a violent bank robbery occurs, with the thief grabbing a hostage and escaping. As the gunman becomes more and more desperate, paradoxically a strange calm seems to descend on his hostage. And as the hunt continues for the murderer, only the young suspect’s doctor maintains his innocence.

  Like the best of Ruth Rendell, this is a dark and unsettling novel about the reasons people commit crime and the devastating effect it has on the protagonists’ lives. All the characters here are exuberantly drawn, notably the resourceful police inspector Sejer and the under-suspicion misfit Errki. But for the English reader, it’s the evocation of Nordic society (not a million miles away from our own) that is so effective here. Fossum’s novels featuring Konrad Sejer have been published in 16 languages, and so it’s only a matter of time before mainstream English readers take these books to their collective bosom.

  STIEG’S RIVALS: CAMILLA LÄCKBERG

  As readers in Britain and America eagerly seek out other Nordic writers, the discovery of Camilla Läckberg was something of a no-brainer. Already celebrated in her native Sweden with much accomplished work to her credit, she has been introduced to the UK with The Ice Princess and has earned the sobriquet of Sweden’s new Agatha Christie, which isn’t quite the whole story. True, in this book there is a Christie-style small village (Läckberg’s birthplace, Fjällbacka) and a slew of candidates for a grisly killing. Also in the style of The Queen of Crime is the effortless plotting – but Läckberg takes on social issues assiduously, serving up a vision of Swedish society that is acute and trenchant. Erica Falck is a writer who has travelled to her home town after the death of her parents, but discovers a divided community. A friend, Alex, has been found with her wrists cut, frozen solid in a bath that has turned to ice. Erica opts to pen a book about the secretive Alex, dealing with her own writer’s block as well as the puzzle of Alex’s death. As with her other equally accomplished novels (such as The Stonecutter), Läckberg shows here that she is another star in the Nordic pantheon.

  STIEG’S RIVALS: ÅKE EDWARDSON

  The British – as opposed to many non-Russian nations – felt an instant connection with the work of Anton Chekhov, recognising a common cause with the Russians of his plays. These morose, stoic types in their inhospitable climate dreamt of bettering their lives, and lacked the unrealistic optimism of, say, the Americans. Long after Chekhov’s death, in the now popular genre of crime in translation, residents of Albion have latched on to Scandinavian essays in murder and detection – the bleaker, unvarnished view of life in these novels has a surprisingly British air, as does the uncritical acceptance of eccentricity. But while the ex-journalist and novelist Åke Edwardson hasn’t yet enjoyed the success of his better-known colleagues, the auguries are good, with the youthful Inspector Winter (and his older, more saturnine colleague Ringmar) bidding fair to make a breakthrough in the fashion of Mankell’s copper Kurt Wallander.

  In, for instance, Frozen Tracks, the narrative has a Mankell-like grip: autumn in Göteborg, and two unpleasant series of events are to cause headaches for DCI Erik Winter. Two children have been lured into a car by a man proffering sweets. Reports are filed, but as different day nurseries and different police stations are involved, the reports are not correlated (Edwardson implies that a lack of joined-up thinking is just as endemic to Swedish policing as it is to British). As in such books as Never End, Edwardson shows his skill in both his succinctly characterised coppers and a nicely labyrinthine plot. The queasy glimpses into the psyche of a dangerous paedophile are intelligently and responsibly handled, and the narrative has all the fastidious skill of the best crime writing.

  STIEG’S RIVALS: ÅSA LARSSON

  Are readers ready for another Scandinavian crime writer called Larsson? As the popularity of crime in translation grows apace, such novels as Åsa Larsson’s The Savage Altar are devoured by aficionados searching for something innovative in the field. Åsa Larsson takes us to different locales (here, a vividly rendered Sweden unlike that of the subject of this book) and plotting of more heft and character than may be discerned in many UK or US crime novels.

  Åsa Larsson’s gritty novel boasts a pithily realised heroine who is to feature in future works: corporate lawyer Rebecka Martinsson, arm-twisted by her friend Sanna, who is under suspicion regarding the grisly murder of a celebrated writer of religious books, Viktor Strandgård, who has been mutilated – both hands and eyes removed in a church in Northern Sweden. Also caught up in the subsequent investigation is canny police inspector Anna-Maria Mella, dragooned into the case by a colleague, despite being incapacitated by her advanced state of pregnancy. Like Lynda la Plante’s Jane Tennison, these are women who are struggling in a world of unsympathetic men and Larsson – like her male namesake – peoples her cast with some extremely nasty males. But Åsa Larsson’s writing is more ambitious than her British colleague, with a level of plotting that excels in both ambition and achievement. It will be interesting to see what the author cooks up for her beleaguered heroine in future books.

  APPENDIX B –

  Writers on Stieg Larsson

  WRITERS ON STIEG LARSSON: JOAN SMITH


  Larsson’s connection with ordinary readers has been astonishing in its range and passion – but equally remarkable is the response he has engendered in his fellow crime fiction practitioners and critics. Several were happy to talk to me about their Larsson enthusiasms for this book – while others grimaced and said ‘Can I tell you what I really think about him?’

  Joan Smith is celebrated as a crime novelist (for such impressive books as A Masculine Ending), but it is perhaps as a journalist and commentator that her work most coincides with that of Stieg Larsson, with a particular concern for male violence against women and the repression of women in Islamic societies – two issues which much exercised the late Swedish writer.

  ‘I was an early supporter,’ she says. ‘It is Stieg Larsson who most describes an incredibly detailed vision of modern Sweden. He presented it as a modern European country – there isn’t that small-town, gossipy feel we’d had before, the notion that time is passing, but things don’t really change very much. This wasn’t what Stieg Larsson presented in his creation of a city of the modern era, an incredibly recognisable modern world.

  ‘The other element that intrigued me about the first book was, of course, something that is summed up in the original Swedish title of the novel, Men Who Hate Women. Even if I had not known at the beginning, I would have realised that Larsson was as fascinating and horrified as I am by the whole phenomenon of misogyny and the deep-seated hostility some men have towards women. It’s unusual to find a man who makes that absolutely the central theme of his novels – obviously, a lot of men are aware of it, but to tackle the subject as directly as Larsson does, for a male novelist is unusual.’