Remember my lists from the other day? I am happy to tell you that despite no knitting, no list or blog updating, no opening of between five and ten letters a day and no further decision making about the PhD, I did finish a book. Whoo hoo. Eleven down in six months, eighty-nine to go in the next six. I wonder if it is physically possible. I feel a challenge building itself in my annoying and fever-addled brain. Maybe if I can just focus on skinny ones rather than, as I am, Don Quixote, David Copperfield and War and Peace.
The completed novel was Mons Kallentoft's Midwinter Sacrifice, the first in the series starring the flawed 'Nordic Noir heroine', Malin Fors, crime thrillers set in the Swedish town of Linköping (pronounced Lin-shopping). It always sounds quite laborious to solve murders in the coldest, darkest reaches of northern winters. The novel was a little unusual in its genre because it employed the trope of having, effectively, a voice-over from the deceased. It was ambiguous, never a deus ex machina, but slightly unnerving and seemingly out of place. I read my version on the kindle and I am not sure if the sudden changes of focus were more obvious in the text version, but I was thrown often by the displacement from one scene to another with not even a paragraph space. I read this one because I accidently bought the second in the series. I'm glad the second book isn't a waste. I'm more than happy to read the angst ridden and slightly odd investigative exploits of Malin for at least another book. And then we'll see how we go from there.
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