In prepping for my move from the south to the Midwest in winter I asked some folks for reading suggestions in two categories: light fluffy happy things to cheer my spirits, and dark winter-y tales to remind me things could be worse, in a schadenfreude sort of way. This is the latter, and it definitely delivered.
Set in rainy chilly Iceland, an old man is found murdered in his home. Motive unclear, and nothing too strange other than a note left on the body that says, “I am HIM.” Inspector Erlendur heads the investigation and what begins as a puzzling mystery spirals back into the past and family secrets, some long buried (pun-intended) are uncovered.
This was a great mystery, lots of twists and turns, but in ways that were logical and pulled the reader in. Erlendur is a great character with his own problems (drug-addicted daughter, possible health concern) and the novel weaves together his story, and that of the victim in a way that neither storyline suffers. And I loved the title, but will say nothing about what it means, or its relevance. (Spoilers, love).
The only issue I have is that I’m not terribly familiar with Icelandic names so stumbling over them took me out of the story. I might try the next installment on audio just to get a feel for those details.
This is the third of the Erlendur series, though the first to be translated into English, and I definitely plan to pick up the next in line.