Friday, September 23, 2016

Backstrom puts the speed on the genre – Göteborgs-Posten

Kulturartiklar To the novel’s highlights belong – of course – the initial portrayal of policing, writes Malin Lindroth. To the professor of criminology knows what he’s talking about is not noticeable at least on the dialogues that are credible in a way, that gets police-tugget in dussindeckarna to fade.

Say what you want about Evert Bäckström. But he has in all cases set the speed on the eternal gråvädersmåndag prevailing in the Swedish genre. Unlike the pack of troubled, divorced, scarred middle-aged men who now populate the spänningsfiktionen are no depressive of Leif GW Persson’s commissioner. He super, svinar and skrävlar about his "supersalami" with the same healthy mood, as he is wallowing in sexist skitprat and matorgier at the pub.

That the estimated professional Bäckström is not driven by its high standard of morality or of humanity is by now more than obvious. In the new book, you Can die two times? you can still ana the shade of a limber thoroughfare in the middle of it parodying mansgriseriet. Backstrom says they dismiss the people as much as he dislikes animals and plants. But the neighbor boy Edvin think he’s probably still a little bit about? When Edvin shows up at the home of Bäckström, dressed in sjöscoutskjorta and with a skull in a plastic bag, Bäckström anyway not to late to let him in. Soon it turns out that the ten with the help of experienced googling has the situation completely under control and get it right in their suspicions: the skull, which he found when he picked the mushrooms on the sjöscoutslägret turns out to belong to a woman, who come from far away.

the Story winds between the police headquarters in Solna, Ofärdsön in the lake, and Thailand. To the novel’s highlights hear – of course! – the initial portrayal of police work. That professor of criminology knows what he’s talking about is not noticeable at least on the dialogues that are credible in a way, that gets police-tugget in dussindeckarna to fade.
the Focus is on everyday policing and the reader who wishes to action can certainly be disappointed: they shall never rise from the desktops? For my part, I gratefully accept a crime novel that skips over the worn-out competitive approach, which in recent years has become the standard in the genre. No, this is no nameless killer that baffles the reader with the internal monologue in italics. Neither an orgy of violence, which is weakly hides the lack of plot. Instead, the old-fashioned, solid, long-lasting tension, which entirely lies in the solving of the intricate riddle: how did the skull on an island in lake Mälaren? When it turns out that the dead woman is declared dead and buried already for several years ago, thickens the tension a bit. Soon, Bäckström and colleagues to seek their answers in the aftermath of the tsunami disaster in 2004.

I have not been a friend of Evert Bäckström in the past. As the sharp mansgris he is, he had perhaps worked in a farce of a summer theatre. But as the main character in stories about crimes where no one else is portrayed in the same buskisartade way? Where have I most experienced him as otrovärdig and tiring. When She cranks on about his damned supersalami which all women craves and I can’t write it – "salamiritten" is not enough shame pillow. Then I want to have a completely skämstält to crawl into. Thus I am surprised when the being now after all the years in any case sporadically, will out like a real man.

Bäckström is the same grossly crude mansgris as he always has been. However, in the encounter with the neighbor boy Edvin, I get the view of the commissioner in a slightly new way. The portrait of the lillgamla Edvin, "thin as a dental floss", is all that the portrait of His not – responsive, sincere and credible – and it spills as well as over on Bäckström. I never thought I would say it. But when Edvin and Bäckström, in the book’s öppningsscen sitting in the sofa at the home of Bäckström and together contemplate a skull, may I, for the first time sympathy for the osympatiske. It’s remarkable. However, in the encounter between these two odd existences – a nerdy sea scouts with an adult vocabulary and a jättebebis to the commissioner – it will be almost… well, touching.

Leif GW Persson himself has a lot of fun when he writes there is no doubt about that. Sometimes it becomes so fun that She ends up in the background and you only see Leif GW. That when it is referenced to the författarkollegor, who "suffered a severe life crisis and started to write bögromaner" ("What is wrong with the where Hamilton?") The kind of flashes I had not missed if they disappeared.

the Book is almost five hundred pages thick. Sometimes, it may feel talkative. But mordgåtan keep the interest up and the entertainment value is high. In the same moment I put away from me the novel, I begin to forget it. But as long as I read it is sträckläsning.


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