An adequate thriller, though without Larsson’s deft touches; sure to please church-hating readers of the Hitchens-Dawkins...
More nasty Baltic hijinks from Swedish mysterian Läckberg (The Ice Princess, 2010, etc.), one of several heirs apparent to Stieg Larsson.
If you think that a bicycle trip into the Swedish woods is a pleasant way to take a vacation, you’d certainly almost always be right. It’s just that statistical blip that’ll get you, and then, like the victims of an unknown killer in the precincts of the hick town of Fjallbacka, you wind up dead. Like Larsson, Läckberg delights in peeling the scrubbed white pine veneer off Swedish society and showing the wormy nastiness that lies beneath it. She acquaints us at the outset with a pair of hillbilly rednecks—yes, Sweden has them—who live like fat and happy parasites on vacationers from the big city, the matriarch of the family a former beauty who has now become morbidly obese and sharp-tongued. The two seem an ideal clutch to dig up a few skeletons and drape freshly dead young women atop them for entertainments too foul to tell, but then that wouldn’t be much of a story, not when there are fatter fish to fry still, among them members of a weird religious sect and their outwardly respectable leader. Well, any reader of mysteries knows that behind every respectable Bible-thumper lies a psycho, but also that behind every red-letter Bible lies a red herring. Caught up in all the brouhaha is police detective Patrik Hedstrom, who has been looking forward to family-values time with pregnant girlfriend Erica but who is now eaten up, in patented Swedish angst worthy of a Bergman flick, by the thought of a world in which terrible things happen to nice people. But is all that nastiness really enough to make Hedstrom talk like Barney Fife (“The whole Hult family feels like a hornets' nest," nudge, nudge)? It’s enough to make the reader suspect that the translator is hatching plots of his own, though it could be that Patrik really is a stiff among stiffs, if not a sheep among religious crazoids.
An adequate thriller, though without Larsson’s deft touches; sure to please church-hating readers of the Hitchens-Dawkins set.Pub Date: May 15, 2011
ISBN: 978-1-60598-173-4
Page Count: 432
Publisher: Pegasus
Review Posted Online: April 6, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 15, 2011
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.
Are we not men? We are—well, ask Bigfoot, as Brooks does in this delightful yarn, following on his bestseller World War Z(2006).
A zombie apocalypse is one thing. A volcanic eruption is quite another, for, as the journalist who does a framing voice-over narration for Brooks’ latest puts it, when Mount Rainier popped its cork, “it was the psychological aspect, the hyperbole-fueled hysteria that had ended up killing the most people.” Maybe, but the sasquatches whom the volcano displaced contributed to the statistics, too, if only out of self-defense. Brooks places the epicenter of the Bigfoot war in a high-tech hideaway populated by the kind of people you might find in a Jurassic Park franchise: the schmo who doesn’t know how to do much of anything but tries anyway, the well-intentioned bleeding heart, the know-it-all intellectual who turns out to know the wrong things, the immigrant with a tough backstory and an instinct for survival. Indeed, the novel does double duty as a survival manual, packed full of good advice—for instance, try not to get wounded, for “injury turns you from a giver to a taker. Taking up our resources, our time to care for you.” Brooks presents a case for making room for Bigfoot in the world while peppering his narrative with timely social criticism about bad behavior on the human side of the conflict: The explosion of Rainier might have been better forecast had the president not slashed the budget of the U.S. Geological Survey, leading to “immediate suspension of the National Volcano Early Warning System,” and there’s always someone around looking to monetize the natural disaster and the sasquatch-y onslaught that follows. Brooks is a pro at building suspense even if it plays out in some rather spectacularly yucky episodes, one involving a short spear that takes its name from “the sucking sound of pulling it out of the dead man’s heart and lungs.” Grossness aside, it puts you right there on the scene.
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.Pub Date: June 16, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-9848-2678-7
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Del Rey/Ballantine
Review Posted Online: Feb. 9, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK TO SCREEN
Dark and unsettling, this novel’s end arrives abruptly even as readers are still moving at a breakneck speed.
Ten years after her teenage daughter went missing, a mother begins a new relationship only to discover she can't truly move on until she answers lingering questions about the past.
Laurel Mack’s life stopped in many ways the day her 15-year-old daughter, Ellie, left the house to study at the library and never returned. She drifted away from her other two children, Hanna and Jake, and eventually she and her husband, Paul, divorced. Ten years later, Ellie’s remains and her backpack are found, though the police are unable to determine the reasons for her disappearance and death. After Ellie’s funeral, Laurel begins a relationship with Floyd, a man she meets in a cafe. She's disarmed by Floyd’s charm, but when she meets his young daughter, Poppy, Laurel is startled by her resemblance to Ellie. As the novel progresses, Laurel becomes increasingly determined to learn what happened to Ellie, especially after discovering an odd connection between Poppy’s mother and her daughter even as her relationship with Floyd is becoming more serious. Jewell’s (I Found You, 2017, etc.) latest thriller moves at a brisk pace even as she plays with narrative structure: The book is split into three sections, including a first one which alternates chapters between the time of Ellie’s disappearance and the present and a second section that begins as Laurel and Floyd meet. Both of these sections primarily focus on Laurel. In the third section, Jewell alternates narrators and moments in time: The narrator switches to alternating first-person points of view (told by Poppy’s mother and Floyd) interspersed with third-person narration of Ellie’s experiences and Laurel’s discoveries in the present. All of these devices serve to build palpable tension, but the structure also contributes to how deeply disturbing the story becomes. At times, the characters and the emotional core of the events are almost obscured by such quick maneuvering through the weighty plot.
Dark and unsettling, this novel’s end arrives abruptly even as readers are still moving at a breakneck speed.Pub Date: April 24, 2018
ISBN: 978-1-5011-5464-5
Page Count: 368
Publisher: Atria
Review Posted Online: Feb. 5, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 2018
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