Customer Reviews

Jar City: A Reykjavi­k Thriller

5 star:		(42)
4 star:		(34)
3 star:		(8)
2 star:		(3)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

I've never come across an Icelandic murder mystery before, and wasn't sure what to expect. But this tightly drawn police procedural turned out to be a rare treat. Reyjavik police inspector Erlendur Sveinsson is called to investigate the apparent murder of "Holberg", an elderly man found lying dead in his basement flat with his skull bashed-in. Erlendur has little to go on - Holberg led a solitary life and there were no witnesses. But an obscure three-word note apparently left behind by the murderer, and an unidentified photo of the grave of a child long since buried, lead Erlender and his CID team down a complex path of murder, rape, and, surprisingly, genetically transmitted oncological diseases. Holberg, as Erlendur partner Sigurdar Oli dryly points out, "was no model citizen."

In a setting sure to dismay The Icelandic Bureau of Tourism, "Jar City" features bleak urban settings with apartments built on swamps and more rain than "Blade Runner". Combined with a Scandinavian brand of stoic fatalism, the end result is a deeper shade of noir uncommon in standard pop fiction. Absent from "Jar City" are the annoying comic book cardboard super-characters with super model looks and Ph.D. brains quipping witty one-liners. Author Arnaldur Indridason's Erlendur, the grizzled and crime-hardened cynic, leads a solitary life only a step away from the criminals he pursues, bringing to mind Martin Cruz Smith's Arkady Renko or Ian Rankin's John Rebus. And like the best of Rankin or Smith, "Jar City" is an intelligent, skillfully crafted murder mystery, well paced, well plotted, and well read. Take a step off the well-beaten track and give this little jewel a try.

Iceland native Arnaldur Indridason's "Jar City" is an outstanding police procedural written in a style reminiscent of the superb Scandinavian crime authors Mankell and Wahloo & Sjowall.

Indridason's protagonist Reykjavik police inspector Erlendur is summoned to investigate the bludgeoning murder of a reclusive old man named Holberg is his foul smelling basement flat. Aided by his colleagues Sigurdur Oli and Elinborg they discover a mysterious note on the corpse and a black and white photo of a gravesite.

Erlendur meticulously begins to unravel clues that enable him to gain insight into the identity of the victim. It is determined that Holberg, a truck driver had a sordid past, being accused by not convicted of rape many years ago. As Erlendur peels away more layers of Holberg's past he realizes that there are connections to other unsolved and unreported`criminal acts. Following these leads he is able through modern genetic techniques in criminology to navigate his way towards solving this atypical case.

Indridason sucessfully endows a sense of believability to his characters with a considerable degree of developement to their personnae. Eldendur is portrayed as an "everyman" not a superhero. He's a fiftyish long divorced father of two in declining health, who struggles with the fact that both of his kids are drug addicts.

Indridason creates a sense of reality in his portrayal and gives us a taste of the lifestyle in the remote confines of Iceland.

One of my major problems with many police procedurals is that the plots often go completely off the deep end and become wildly improbable messes (among Scandinavian authors, I think Henning Mankell is frequently guilty of this). So, it's somewhat refreshing to come across a relatively straightforward story like this award-winning series debut from Iceland. In it, we are introduced to Detective Inspector Erlendur, a classic 50ish, divorced, rumpled, morose, tactless, and running-to-seed character who nonetheless possesses the requisite instinct to be a top detective. Although he lacks some of the perfunctory traits often assigned to such characters (for example, he isn't a gourmand, or jazz aficionado, or anything like that), he's very much in the mold of Sejer, Rebus, Resnick, and other such policemen protagonists.

We meet Erlendur as he is called in to investigate the apparent murder of an elderly man in Reykjavik. It doesn't take long for the police to discover that the old man was a nasty character who had been accused of rape almost 40 years ago. With little to go on, other than the possibility that it was a random break-in gone wrong, Erlendur leads his team deep into the past, to try and uncover who might have had a motive for killing the old man. The further they dig, the more nasty secrets they uncover, and the more they must engage in very uncomfortable interviews that dredge up hidden pain. The plot and solution hinge on an aspect of Icelandic society that is rather unique, and it's nice to see the author taking advantage of this to good effect. Another subplot (which is rather extraneous) involves a runaway bride, and meanwhile, Erlendur must also try to deal with his drug addict daughter who flits in and out of his life. Their relationship is quite interesting, and possibly the most compelling reason to seek out the next book in the series (Silence of the Grave).

In terms of supporting characters, Erlendur's two main colleagues fail to leave much of an impression: there's the yuppie Sigurdur ?li, and El?nborg, whose main trait is that she's a woman. Hopefully they will be developed a good deal more in subsequent books, as will Erlendur's mysterious mentor Marion. Having been to Iceland for a few days several years ago, I certainly recognized the bleak weather and its constant presence in the lives of the characters. However, it would have been nice to get a little more description of Reykjavik, which is a very interesting looking place, and its people. There's not a lot of local color, and the result is a setting that is at times rather anonymous. The overall tone of the book is somewhat sad and bleak, and I certainly wouldn't recommend it to anyone who has lost a child at an early age (this is a key thread in the story). Overall, an solid and interesting debut, but not anything that's going to blow you away.

Okay, I paid the full fare, bought the book, and read the entire thing. This is a dreary novel, populated with one- or two-dimensional characters, with an implausible plot (two rapes and two pregnancies? Who'da guessed? Oh yeah, Erlendur). The drug-addicted, pregnant daughter is a distracting soap opera that adds little to the narrative, even as a sidelight for Erlendur's personality and life style. He is a protagonist too unappealing and too manufactured to get into.

Overall,the writing is turgid (or maybe the translation is poor...all you know is what you see). Too little is left for the reader to infer and imagine; too much is simply stated as terse fact. There is blessed little description of the place in which these events occur. I kept waiting for some broader views of the environment -- that might have made the story itself more accessible. As it stands, I'm just afraid this tale could have been set virtually anywhere. The dialog sounds like it's written by someone trying to make up dialog.

Except for some ambiguous loose ends (is the body in the cellar actually Gretar??), the ending is reasonably tidy, if you can stomach the plod that takes you to it. But the last couple of lines are simply a maudlin and heavy-handed attempt to tug at your heartstrings.

It rains in Iceland. Not a surprise, and a reasonable story element. But it rains in lots of places; rain doesn't tell you beans about Iceland per se. The novel is not "atmospheric" except for the bad weather. You'll learn essentially nothing about Iceland or its people, in any large sense, or about the local environments in which the story takes place, from this book. I thought the map at the beginning of the book would be helpful to understand the story; it wasn't. The siting of events is inconsequential to understanding the flow of the narrative.

I really, truly do not understand the enthusiasm evinced in other reviews for this book. It contains pedestrian writing and hokey plotting, and is generally unengaging, to my eye. Spend your money on other, better mysteries, better constructed and better written.

I'll say off the bat that I'm currently reading the sequel to Jar City, Silence of the Grave, and finding it pretty good. But Jar City: not so much.

Jar City isn't terrible, but it seems to me to suffer from two flaws. First, the plot is implausibly complex. The basic premise behind it--a kind of biomedical detective story--is clever enough. But the chain of evidence that leads the protagonist Erlendur ultimately to the murderer is torturous. Author Indridason himself must sense this, because he has Erlendur's subordinate cops, Elinborg and Sigurdur Oli, questioning the wisdom of their boss's dogged insistence on following up on flimsy clues. At the end of the day, Indridason wants to portray Erlendur as a sage cop with a good nose. But the reader, along with Elinborg and Sigurdur Oli, is left incredulous.

Second, the characters never really come alive. Elinborg and Sigurdur Oli have little more than walk-on roles, and Erlendur himself, a middle-aged man riddled with regrets and angst, never quite reveals himself to the reader. At the end of the novel, the impression he leaves is visual--rumpled suit and hair, muddy shoes, etc--rather than psychological. Even his relationship with his addict (and pregnant) daughter Eva Lind never quite develops. And since what seems to drive Erlendur in this case is empathy with a long-dead little girl who was an indirect victim of a crime, you'd think that Indridason would've more fully played out the relationship between father and daughter.

Still, perhaps Indridason intends to develop his characters incrementally as the series of novels describing their adventures unfolds. And the plot of Silence of the Grave so far seems much more plausible. So it's worth sticking with Indridason a while longer.

Inspector Erlendur Sveinsson is a homicide detective. He isn't as rough around the edges nor is he quite as libertarian in his approach to law enforcement but Harry Bosch has got nothing on Erlendur when it comes to toting a heavy load of psychological baggage. Long divorced at age 50, Erlendur leads a lifestyle that isn't particularly healthy. He's convinced he has heart issues but, like so many misguided men, is unwilling to go to a doctor to confirm what he is convinced will be bad news. Eva Lind, his penurious, greedy, self-centered daughter is pregnant and carries her arrogant attitude in a very large chip on her shoulder.

Erlendur is investigating the murder of Holberg, an angry old man who was accused and acquitted of rape many years earlier. The only clues are an odd note apparently left by the killer ("I am HIM") and a old photograph of a young girl's grave, misplaced, lost or hidden underneath a desk drawer. "Jar City" can't really be called suspense because there's nothing of that bone-chilling anticipation or frisson of fear that readers experience from the very best suspense thrillers. It's much more of a police procedural, a top quality and utterly compelling psychological drama that follows Erlendur, who proves himself a very skilled and intuitive detective, down a very twisted but entirely realistic trail of forensic clues to a haunting, bleak and emotional climax.

"Jar City" aside from being a first-rate mystery, also delves into important, timely issues related to privacy of medical data and the use or misuse of genetic information. (For those readers that are not aware of this, because of its limited and highly isolated gene pool, Iceland is one of the world leader's in the collection of genetic information and its susbsequent use in epidemiological research related to genetic illness.) Author Indridalson also tugs mightily on his readers' heart-strings as he develops the on-again, off-again tempestuous relationship between Erlendur and his wayward daughter.

A riveting plot, a dense psychological drama, a unique setting with a very special set of localized characteristics and tense, heartbreaking emotional moments make "Jar City" a very special debut novel that deserves a space on any mystery lover's shelves. Highly recommended.

Paul Weiss

I know where the translator got "jar city" but it isn't the title. The book is called "The North Moor".

Far darker than Mankell, so depressing that it killed (if only temporarily) my long standing desire to visit Iceland. Description of people and place is outstanding, but far less takes place in the mind of police inspector than in a Wallender mystery. I can only say: the author can write!

This review is based on the Norwegian translation "Myren", "The Moor".

Award winning Icelandic author Indridason makes a compelling American debut with this first in a series featuring Reykjavik police Inspector Erlendur, a long-divorced loner who smokes too much, doesn't take care of himself, and worries about his angry, drug-addicted daughter.

Murders don't happen much in Iceland and when they do, the solution is usually obvious. So when an old man is found with his head bashed in in his basement flat, a blood-covered heavy glass ashtray on the floor, and the flat door left open, Erlendur's team assumes it's a break-in gone awry. But Erlendur fastens on the cryptic note left on Holberg's body.

As he digs into the murdered man's background, he discovers a rape, a dead child, a suicide. Holberg was a perpetrator before he was a victim. More unsavory details come to light as Erlendur pursues the case across the country and into the past. His team, baffled by the unexplained tasks he sets them, begins to lose patience, though they keep their rebellion to a muttering. The case grows deep roots, which spread into the police force and the very foundations of Icelandic society.

Quiet, morose, dryly witty Erlendur makes a fine, complex companion. His floundering efforts to save his daughter range from rage to pity, all rooted in self-condemnation, and his shock over various revelations in the case is curiously refreshing. The Icelandic setting - from the endless bone-chilling autumn rain and growing darkness, to the inevitable insularity of a population that doesn't even use surnames - is vividly realized.

Those who enjoy Karin Fossum, Henning Mankell or Janwillem van de Wettering will welcome this new series.

Inspector Erlendur has to solve the murder of an elderly man, Holberg, who is found in his house with his skull smashed in. During the investigation it becomes more and more clear that Holberg was a real beast and that his past has finally caught up with him. His search leads Erlendur through pouring Icelandic autumn rains via rapes, heartless policemen, illegal children and past murder to a solution that has everything to do with the present. And meanwhile he has chest pains and tries to convince his daughter Eva Lind that she should stay off drugs.

A book I read in one go, a skillful mixture of a detective novel and literature.

The sombre fall weather in Iceland can have a depressing influence on the people of Reykjavik. Even when it is not raining, the clouds are hanging deep over the city and the short days of light are preparing for an even darker winter. Arnaldur Indridason depicts the atmosphere brilliantly. A bleak, yet not uncommon environment for excellent thrillers. In Iceland, crime is usually straightforward, the motive evident and the case quickly resolved, muses Inspector Erlendur Sveinnson of the local police. He is of the brooding, morose kind, fitting well with the climate. Everybody knows somebody who is known to you - the geography of the island leads to these interconnections. However, when called to an apparent murder of 69 year-old Holberg, the pattern does not appear to fit. There doesn't seem to be a motive - nothing was stolen, for example. Did the victim know his attacker? Ponderous Erlendur has an eye for detail and that skill leads him down some unexpected paths in the hunt for the killer. Holberg also is not the quiet solitary retiree his neighbours think he is - a nasty past comes to light as Erlendur's perseveres, even when faced with opposition by his colleagues, should show results. The case requires digging deep into the past of the various victims that come to light. Secrets are buried deep in this close-knit society.

"Jar City", Indridason's the first novel translated into English, is an excellent introduction into Icelandic crime fiction. Erlendur's personality is very well developed. His complex personality is further revealed through his relationship to his daughter. Similarities to his Swedish detective colleague Kurt Wallender (by Henning Mankell) come easily to mind. Both are multifaceted and tested by personal as well as professional challenges. The social environment of the investigators, the victims and the villains is craftily portrayed. Clues go into all directions, yet tension is kept to the unpredictable end. [Friederike Knabe]