I mentioned last time that I really dislike reading series out of order. In the case of Helene Tursten's Inspector Huss series, jumping from the beginning to the most recent as I have with The Fire Dance (2005; Soho Press in translation 2014) has been a benefit. Missing the middle six books has kept me from reading the at-times cringe-inducingly banal prose that is the major flaw of this otherwise perfectly pleasant series.
The Irene Huss books can clearly stand alone, as I didn't feel particularly out of the loop on any plot elements that might have been pulled forward from earlier books. In fact, the few references that stood out were to the very first book, reviewed here. In The Fire Dance our appealing Heroine, Irene, is investigating the disappearance and obvious murder of a young woman named Sophie Malmborg, who had been a central, if enigmatic, figure in a case Irene had been involved with 15 years earlier. The earlier situation had involved a death in a fire, and much suspicion was leveled at Sophie, although nothing was ever proved. Her death now in a fire raises all kinds of question about her and her family's involvement in the earlier affair. Sophie is a complicated case - a dancer, with a pretty dysfunctional family, and some behavioral issues of her own. Unlike in the first book I read, Irene mostly investigates this situation on her own, with just support from a few of her colleagues.
Is the point of the great boom in Nordic crime that we're supposed to feel happily horrified that such crimes and behavioral exist in otherwise placid, healthy Scandinavia? Delighted that those otherwise competent and practical and above all unemotional Norsemen and women in fact have some pretty nasty stuff going on inside? So, okay, but I never feel entirely sucked in to these stories like I do with some others. I do wonder if it is the aspect of reading in translation. One feels here, and in Henning Mankel's works as well, at some slight remove from everything, like you are watching the story unfold through a tidy window. And then there is the depression, the endless soul-sucking depression, which is of course central to Mankel's Hero Kurt Wallander and even shows up here with Irene. She's not as morose as Wallander, but her constant questioning of her efforts at work at home tempers my engagement with the story. Not that I want a superwoman or jolly-hockey-sticks Heroine, but I can't help thinking that everyone here has a case of SAD and just needs a good vacation. Which is entirely possible, given how dark in can get in the winter in these parts, and then of course everyone knows how they all go crazy around midsummer.
But I digress. In terms of plot, I'd had the key aspect figured out pretty quickly - it is kind of obviously presented - so the final bit in which all is revealed is actually just more explanatory than revelatory. Some other crimes factor in here, and Irene's teenage twins figure engagingly if ultimately peripherally in the plot. Their participation does add a frisson of tension - will Katarina get caught up in something? But the whole bit about the overworked Krister (her husband) and his breakdown, just feels tacked on and unnecessary. Maybe it is supposed to mirror the thread about mental illness but I didn't see it.
In fairness, I have to say that what irritated me about the writing in the first book, and on my initial foray into this latest one, did seem to drop away as I picked the book up for a second go-round. I think it is just that there is too much too carefully explained. Example:
"They'd deviated from the line of questioning Irene had intended to follow before the meeting and she was now improvising. The whole idea had been to get Sophie to talk. Still, Irene felt that there were many other questions in this investigation that still needed answers. With each response, a whole new bevy sprang up. Perhaps Irene would still get a few pieces of the puzzle from the mother." (25)
Bevy of questions, pieces of the puzzle - the vocabulary is trite, and we've heard several times in the preceding pages that the point of the interview was to get the silent Sophie to talk and to get info from the mother as well. Does the author really write this way, or is the translator just hyper-conscientious? Either way, it doesn't serve the story well, and makes one read a bit fast and on the surface. All of this said, I like Irene, despite her endless debates about whether she's serving her work and her family and herself well enough. I like reading about Goteborg, and trying to pronounce the Swedish place names. This series isn't bad, far from it, but it hasn't put down roots on my bookshelf.
Showing posts with label Detective Inspector Huss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Detective Inspector Huss. Show all posts
Friday, March 7, 2014
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Detective Inspector Huss
Can it be - a reasonably cheerful Swedish detective? And not just one, but several, all working together? Yes, at least in the charming southern Swedish city of Göteborg (pronounced, per Lonely Planet, "yer-te-bor"). This is not far from Malmö, around where that depressive Kurt Wallander hangs out, but miles away psychically.
And, literar-ily too. In the end, I enjoyed Helene Tursten's Detective Inspector Huss, but more because I liked the cops and the setting, NOT because this was a particularly well-written book. There was the same stiltedness that I assume comes from translation as one finds in a Henning Mankel novel, but compounded with a really dreadful reliance on cliche and excess verbiage. The writing was distracting to the point that I had to put the book down for several weeks after getting a few pages in. Try this paragraph:
"Irene spent a few hours bringing Jimmy up to speed. She had not complaints about his interest. He hung on every word she said. It couldn't be denied that she envied him his enthusiasm faced with this intricate mystery. His puppylike eagerness was sure due to his youth, but his questions were intelligent. Her instinct had been correct. These days, the more complicated things got, the more tired she felt. But she remembered how it had been the first few years. The excitement, the aroused hunting instincts, and the feeling of triumph when the case was solved. Of course, she still had these feelings, but noticeably attenuated. Far too many cases had not left being the sweetness of victory, but rather a bitter aftertaste. You become either jaded or cynical in this profession, she thought in her darker moments. But she didn't want to become either jaded or cynical! You had to go on, keep moving forward. You couldn't stop and dig yourself a hole. The job she had chosen was not without its dangers, but she had never wanted to do anything else and had always enjoyed her work. The past few years she had begin to notice an insidious feeling that hadn't existed before. Only recently had she been able to identify it. Terror. Terror of people's indifference to the human value of others and terror of the ever-increasing violence." (205)
See what I mean? The slightly stilted construction, larger-than-necessary words, change in subject (she to you), obvious emotions (hunting, cynicism, indifference) - John le Carre would have said all that in about four sentences. Actually, he wouldn't have written it at all. But I digress. I'm just starting A Delicate Truth, and am in the thrall of that perfect use of language. Since Detective Inspector Huss is a work in translation, and I don't speak Swedish, it is impossible to know if it the author or the translator, Steven T. Murray, who is the source. I'm a little surprised to see this difficult writing coming from the usually reliable Soho Press, didn't anyone copy edit this book? Given its surprising length - 371 pp. - I'm guessing maybe not.
That said, I did end up finishing this story, and would not turn away the next in the series. It is a pleasure to read a story filled with interesting female characters. Some are strong and together and generally wholesome like Our Hero Irene Huss. And some are hysterical or slutty. But Tursten is to be praised for offering an alternative to the male-dominated world of police procedurals.
In this story, a rich and famous man is murdered a few weeks before Christmas. Everyone in his deeply dysfunctional family is a suspect, and when another person is killed in an assassination attempt that is clearly directed toward the first dead guy, you know things are going to get complicated. The story quickly spins outward to include adultery, gangsters, drug trafficking, skinheads, motorcycle gangs, and that evergreen staple of mysteries, missing keys. I felt like it covered a lot, but you know, it did all kind of make sense in the end.
And, while I found the writing hard to follow, I loved the setting of Göteborg , even if I couldn't pronounce half the names and had no idea where I was most of the time. (Again, a map would help! Why don't more books utilize them? Mankel does, and it is so helpful.) The subplot with the twin daughters turned out to be more interesting than I'd expected. I think the whole thing did, actually, although the final scene (pre-epilogue) kind of wraps things up a little too neatly when the individual pretty much confesses to everything under careful questioning so all of our questions are quickly answered.
Should you read this book? That depends on your tolerance level for awkward writing. If you aren't distracted by it, then yes, you'll enjoy Huss. If you are, step away from the victim.
And, literar-ily too. In the end, I enjoyed Helene Tursten's Detective Inspector Huss, but more because I liked the cops and the setting, NOT because this was a particularly well-written book. There was the same stiltedness that I assume comes from translation as one finds in a Henning Mankel novel, but compounded with a really dreadful reliance on cliche and excess verbiage. The writing was distracting to the point that I had to put the book down for several weeks after getting a few pages in. Try this paragraph:
"Irene spent a few hours bringing Jimmy up to speed. She had not complaints about his interest. He hung on every word she said. It couldn't be denied that she envied him his enthusiasm faced with this intricate mystery. His puppylike eagerness was sure due to his youth, but his questions were intelligent. Her instinct had been correct. These days, the more complicated things got, the more tired she felt. But she remembered how it had been the first few years. The excitement, the aroused hunting instincts, and the feeling of triumph when the case was solved. Of course, she still had these feelings, but noticeably attenuated. Far too many cases had not left being the sweetness of victory, but rather a bitter aftertaste. You become either jaded or cynical in this profession, she thought in her darker moments. But she didn't want to become either jaded or cynical! You had to go on, keep moving forward. You couldn't stop and dig yourself a hole. The job she had chosen was not without its dangers, but she had never wanted to do anything else and had always enjoyed her work. The past few years she had begin to notice an insidious feeling that hadn't existed before. Only recently had she been able to identify it. Terror. Terror of people's indifference to the human value of others and terror of the ever-increasing violence." (205)
See what I mean? The slightly stilted construction, larger-than-necessary words, change in subject (she to you), obvious emotions (hunting, cynicism, indifference) - John le Carre would have said all that in about four sentences. Actually, he wouldn't have written it at all. But I digress. I'm just starting A Delicate Truth, and am in the thrall of that perfect use of language. Since Detective Inspector Huss is a work in translation, and I don't speak Swedish, it is impossible to know if it the author or the translator, Steven T. Murray, who is the source. I'm a little surprised to see this difficult writing coming from the usually reliable Soho Press, didn't anyone copy edit this book? Given its surprising length - 371 pp. - I'm guessing maybe not.
That said, I did end up finishing this story, and would not turn away the next in the series. It is a pleasure to read a story filled with interesting female characters. Some are strong and together and generally wholesome like Our Hero Irene Huss. And some are hysterical or slutty. But Tursten is to be praised for offering an alternative to the male-dominated world of police procedurals.
In this story, a rich and famous man is murdered a few weeks before Christmas. Everyone in his deeply dysfunctional family is a suspect, and when another person is killed in an assassination attempt that is clearly directed toward the first dead guy, you know things are going to get complicated. The story quickly spins outward to include adultery, gangsters, drug trafficking, skinheads, motorcycle gangs, and that evergreen staple of mysteries, missing keys. I felt like it covered a lot, but you know, it did all kind of make sense in the end.
And, while I found the writing hard to follow, I loved the setting of Göteborg , even if I couldn't pronounce half the names and had no idea where I was most of the time. (Again, a map would help! Why don't more books utilize them? Mankel does, and it is so helpful.) The subplot with the twin daughters turned out to be more interesting than I'd expected. I think the whole thing did, actually, although the final scene (pre-epilogue) kind of wraps things up a little too neatly when the individual pretty much confesses to everything under careful questioning so all of our questions are quickly answered.
Should you read this book? That depends on your tolerance level for awkward writing. If you aren't distracted by it, then yes, you'll enjoy Huss. If you are, step away from the victim.
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