What can you more request this rainy holiday month than a brand-new crime novel of Leif GW Persson , as thick and smug as Commissioner Evert Backstrom?
Evert Backstrom – the comic contrast to Persson’s intuitive Police geniuses Jarnebring and Lars Martin Johansson – is only a few pages in the Bombmakaren and his woman . And as good as that. In The true story of Pinocchio Nasaf robbery in 2013 had Backstrom play the lead role and it was not. The humor became stagnant and convulsive and Action lost ground. Persson seem to have had the sense to get tired of Backstrom just before readers could do it.
Bombmakaren and his woman follows a group of unlikely skilled and knowledgeable security police track they received from their British colleagues: a family of Somalian terrorists intend to kill the entire Swedish government in a suicide attack. The group’s leader, bombmakaren, has already carried out a rare cold blooded attack on a football stadium in Manchester. Now Stockholm on luck.
But something woody main character Lisa Mattei unsure: Can some one hundred percent of the data from London or MI6 and their American contacts its own agenda?
Bombmakaren and his woman is classic GW. The dramaturgy is impeccable; the cumbersome descriptions of paperwork, police procedures and meetings is a prerequisite for speed increase in the book’s final third. The frequent references to criminal cases from reality creates credibility. Here and there are traces of the dry humor that made Professor Persson of Sweden’s most popular television personality Olle Björklund .
It seems that Persson has set his mind to show that he is the man to write a police novel with women of all supporting roles. Here they are everywhere: tough, decisive, witty – and fiendishly cruel. Here are even a couple högbarmade counterparts to Sjöwall-Wahlöös Kristiansson and Kvant.
The male police officers – for example, the two-meter tall black massajkrigaren Frank Motoele – depicted on a prose worthy E L James : “… that he could hardly have a clue about the dark secrets lurking in Motoeles generously cut jeans.”
So no one should come and say Professor Persson neglect the women. But the fact is that the splendid and enviable happily married Lisa Mattei not been able to inspire its creators Jarnebring or Johansson did.
The perspective is consistently Police: neither the FBI or the author makes no serious attempt to understand the bomb maker’s motives . It’s just the usual talk about Muslims who expect seventy-two virgins in paradise after completion attacks.
The dramaturgical construction is good, as I said. The tension tightened in an intelligent way, not through more violence but by the ground goes from the reader thought they knew. All is well until page 543. It turns the author into an almost parodic Hollywood Showdown which was then topped with his handy expedite our existing government and form a new one after his own mind.
But who has the stomach to complain about in this weather? Even Shakespeare had difficulty getting out of her plays sometimes.