THE GIRL WHO PLAYED WITH FIRE by Steig Larsson

Maclehouse Press, an imprint of Quercus Books, January 2009, ISBN 9781847245564, £16.99

The second in Larrson's Millennium trilogy, The Girl Who Played With Fire has quite a legacy to live up to. The first in the series sold 3 million copies, garnering a huge amount of attention from both critics and readers.

It is clear from the start that the trilogy has been carefully planned by author Larrson, with plot strands from the first book being swiftly picked up as the narrative thunders along. Its a nice change from The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo which started a little too slowly for this reviewer's tastes, and shows a confidence in the reader that they will be able to cotton on to what has happened before. In a case like this, then, if you haven't read the first novel it will be best to go and play catch up.

The focus here is clearly on the fascinating Lisbeth Salander; the standout character from Larrson's debut novel. A highly introverted mix of control and anger, Salander is a beautiful excercise in contradiction. At one point, a character claims he would have diagnosed her with Aspergers, but that her condition is far more complicated than even that. And while the events of The Girl Who Played With Fire - a title that eventually proves to have at least two meanings in the course of the narrative - may go some way to explaning who she is and how her mind works, there is still a great deal about her that goes unexplained and that is what adds to the intrigue and mystery here.

Larrson is extremely adept at mixing the personal and the political in his complex and winding plot; something that was a little off kilter in The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, which occasionally leant more towards the political polemic than the personal. Here the mix is just right, and Salander is the perfect vehicle for what is clearly Larsson's righteous anger at the evils of the world. The original Swedish title for The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo apparently translated as Men Who Hate Women, a title that could just as easily apply here. Indeed, Larsson's anger at the way society and individuals can treat people burns through the narrative with a righteous indignation, although it does not mean that he shies away from the evil that people may do. No, he often confronts it painfully and directly. And most appealingly he does so without relying too heavily on the bogey-men psychopaths that many thriller writers opt to stand in for evil. Of course, one character who appears to feel no pain comes close, but manages to stay on just the right side of believable.

While Larsson's political and social motivations are worn on his sleeve, he has learned not to let them overshadow the emotional impact of his second novel. It is rare that a novel has me shouting out in anger at characters or situations, but as this one raced (and for such a large novel, with such complex themes, this one moves with incredible pace) towards its climax, there were several moments that had me reading with jaw dropped.

The Girl Who Played With Fire is an excellent second act in what could prove to be a long talked about classic sequence of the thriller genre. With genuine concerns driving the narrative and a showpiece character in the form of the fascinating Lisbeth Salander, the Millennium Trilogy is shaping up to be an exciting and literate series that should excite and incite readers in equal measure.

Russel D McLean for CrimeSceneScotland.com, 05/01/09

Donald E Westlake (Richard Stark) passes

The creator of Dortmunder and (under the name Richard Stark) master criminal Parker has passed away. He died on wednesday 29 December, 2008 aged 75.

At Crime Scene Scotland, as well as enjoying Westlake's lighter, more comic novels, we were massive fans of the Parker books. To us they did everything a good crime novel should and by eschewing unneccesary sentimentality from the narration, Stark was the ideal pen name for these novels and Parker was one of the truly great creations in all of fiction.

A giant figure in the world of crime and mystery fiction, Westlake will be sorely missed.

Obituary in the International Herald Tribune

PARIAH by Dave Zeltserman

Serpent's Tail, 2009, ISBN 978-1846686436, £7.99

Its rare that a meta novel ends up being entertaining as well as clever, but Dave Zeltserman’s excellent new novel, Pariah manages that trick very successfully; at once a noir-ish kidnap novel and an attack on the nature of celebrity memoir, plagiarism and the worst excesses of the publishing industry.

The book itself – the manuscript for a book by Boston gangster Kyle Nevin – takes the form of a first person narrative with editorial notes scattered throughout, presumably to our protagonist’s editor. It is unclear at first why we are seeing these notes, but as the story twists and turns (and, oh, does it twist) these editorial intrusions become not only part of Zeltserman’s meta-commentary but also hint that not everything may be as clear as we think it is.

As the book opens, Kyle Nevin finds himself released from prison, looking for revenge on the old boss who put him there. If there’s one thing Kyle can’t abide, it’s a rat. And his boss was the biggest rat of all. So when Kyle does his time – like a man – he comes looking for revenge and satisfaction. His outright anger and near uncontrollable ego lead him into a kidnapping plot that goes horribly wrong and results in an unexpected celebrity and a publishing deal with a New York House. At this point, Zeltserman’s meta-narrative kicks into overdrive and we’re treated to a sometimes subtle, other times not-so, look at the nature of fame, the pitfalls of celebrity tell-alls and the all out pain of plagiarism. Except this is a noir novel, so there’s plenty more sex (or is there?) and violence to come.

As to that twisting plot, there are enough turns here to make some people car sick and yet the novel runs to under 300 pages. Clearly Zeltserman is in control of his action and his characters and this stripped down narrative moves at a blistering pace. Of course, Zelsterman has set himself a difficult task in his choice of narrative voice, walking the line between his own skills as an author and Kyle Nevin’s general naiveté when it comes to writing a novel. But the end result is more than readable, sometimes painfully punchy and authentic enough to allow us to believe that Nevin is the voice behind the story we’re being told.

Pariah’s central conceit is hardly breaking new ground – we’ve seen the same topics lampooned to one degree or another throughout film and literature before – but feels very appropriate to the current times within publishing and the world in general. Some of the targets do seem a little too obvious, with James Frey and OJ Simpson being rather clearly referenced, and the publishing execs with whom Nevin deals are maybe drawn a little too broadly. although, perhaps this, too, is the point; Nevin clearly sees the world in far more broad colours than most of us would – many of the secondary characters are almost dismissed in his eyes, with the feeling that perhaps they live other lives beyond the page or may not have behaved in quite the way Nevin describes. After all, the unreliable nature of literature is perhaps one of the points Zeltserman is trying to drive home here.

Ultimately, Pariah is another gripping and clever tale from the author of the incredible Small Crimes. Its inventive format holds together well, and while some of the satire may be a little obvious, the novel has a mischievously black sense of humour that more than endears itself to the reader. On top of this, Pariah is just a damn fine tale of noir that continues Zelsterman’s fascination with unreliable protagonists that began in Small Crimes. Highly readable and highly recommended along with Zeltserman’s blistering first novel for Serpent’s Tail, Small Crimes.

Russel D McLean for Crimescenescotland.com, 1/01/09