Swedish mysteries/thrillers are currently enjoying exceptional popularity with international audiences. The trend began in the 1960s and 70s with the ten-novel
Report of a Crime series by the husband and wife team of Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö who used the crime genre to undertake a forensic examination of the dream of social democracy in Swedish society. Henning Mankell, who has publicly acknowledged his debt to Sjöwall and Wahlöö, continued in that vein during the 1990s with his Kurt Wallander novels whereby he revealed Sweden to be increasingly racist, xenophobic and intolerant of immigrants. Building on his experience as a crusading journalist who exposed far right organizations in Swedish society, Stieg Larsson brought this tradition to fruition with his
Millennium trilogy that laid bare the corrupt underpinnings of government agencies. In the process, he introduced a new type of character into crime fiction: a damaged, brutalized young woman with no social skills but who possessed extraordinary computer skills and knew how to exact revenge on those who perpetrated violence against women. Despite some turgid writing, much inferior to that of Mankell, he achieved vast commercial success with his three mass-market blockbuster thrillers that led to Swedish film adaptations and a
superior American remake of the first novel. One result of the Larsson phenomenon is that other writers have abandoned the social criticism and returned to the police procedural with an eye to producing a book that can be adapted for an international audience.
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Mikael Persbrandt and Lena Olin in The Hypnotist |
The thrillers of Lars Kepler (the pseudonym for a husband-wife team) are quintessential
examples of this type of writing. Both the 2011 debut,
The
Hypnotist (McClelland & Stewart)
and its 2012 successor,
The Nightmare (McClelland & Stewart) possess
filmic qualities with over one hundred short swift scenes (chapters),
a surfeit of dialogue and the minimum exposition needed to further
the narrative. Although set in Sweden, the characters, the ghastly
crimes committed and the dogged effort of the police to track down
the killers could be anywhere. Both novels possess a universal
resonance with their focus on the fraying and the reestablishing of
family bonds, and an abiding preoccupation with the nature of evil.
The Hypnotist is
the better book because it has a narrower focus and its most
compelling character is not the police inspector, the brilliant but
immodest, Joona Linna, but the eponymous psychiatrist, Erik Maria
Bark, whose skills are called upon after three members of a family
are brutally murdered. Only the fifteen-year-old boy survives the
attack, and Joona is convinced that the boy must be hypnotized in the
hope that he can identify the attacker and that other lives can be
saved. Bark is most reluctant and has avowed not
to hypnotize anyone again because of an incident that happened ten
years previously. Under pressure, he does and the results are not
what either he or the inspector had envisaged. The hypnosis triggers
a chain of unsettling events, more graphic violence, some of it by
criminals Bark had once treated with group therapy, drugs and
hypnosis. The decision to reach into the unconscious recesses of the
boy’s mind reverberates throughout the novel impinging directly on
Bark’s own family when his son is kidnapped and his marriage
deteriorates. Although Kepler writes with panache in this tautly
paced page-turner, few readers will find the bon
mot or the penetrating insight that
distinguishes some writers of the crime genre.
If The Hypnotist is organized around personality disorder, The Nightmare is more
political as it veers into the murky waters of international law and
arms embargoes Here Linna does not have the talents of a Bark to
complement his own undeniable strengths: his intuition, his insight
and an ability to speculate from few details what has transpired.
Through a photo, he is able to connect what appear to be unrelated
events: the suicide of an arms-export official and the death of a
young woman found on a boat. In a remarkable scene before his
colleagues, Linna demonstrates how the young
woman died. He does, however, receive assistance from a minor
character, Axel Riessen, the arms- export official with both a troubled past and present, who has been chosen to succeed the deceased
civil servant. Not only is Riessen willing to demonstrate courage and
integrity in his official capacity, he is able to elaborate on
Linna’s intuition into the significance of that photo; a
celebratory moment at a chamber music concert of four persons that
included a military advisor to Sudanese president Omar al-Bashir; and
an international arms dealer and fixer, Raphael
Guidi. Riessen’s skill as a violinist and a musicologist is
pivotal in solving this complex case that involves a professional hit
man and the wealthy arms dealer who makes the Paganini Contract that
requires the individual to reveal his worst nightmare; if the
contract is broken, the nightmare is enacted. The most terrifying
moments occur when we witness that enactment. Yet Guidi, who loves
the violin and collects them, considers himself a civilized man.
Think Reinhard Heydrich.
Although his writing is
leaner than Larsson’s, The Nightmare is marred by too many
subplots and Kepler’s decision to provide a backstory for what
seems all his minor characters. The chase scenes near the beginning
as a young couple outruns the hit man and the climatic scenes on a
boat where the imperturbable Linna manages to survive Guidi and his
thugs do strain our credulity. Yet there is no denying its
readability and fast pace. It should not surprise that The
Hypnotist is already a movie and was the Swedish entry into the
foreign category for the 2013 Academy Awards. It did not make the
final cut. The Nightmare is currently in the pre-production
stage. I expect both of them will be pruned of some subplots and
backstories. Whether the films have aesthetic merit remains to be
seen.
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(photo by Keith Penner) |
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