Jar City by Arnaldur Indridason
The sole evidence left by the murderer after a lonely old man is discovered dead in his Reykjavk apartment is a mysterious message and a picture of a young girl’s burial. Inspector Erlendur learns that the victim had been accused of rape many years prior but had not been found guilty. Was the old man’s history haunting him now? In reopening this extremely cold case, Erlendur follows a trail of peculiar forensic evidence and unearths mysteries that are much bigger than the death of a single elderly man.
Jar City by Arnaldur Indridason
138 used from $0.99
Free shipping
Amazon.com
Despite the fact that almost everyone in it is strange, idiopathic, stilted or weird in their speech, practically autistically disconnected from reality, and committed to viewing everything generically and without depth or dimension, as though through the filter of a bad fifties cop drama, this novel manages to maintain the reader’s interest and has an intriguing atmosphere. Dragnet, perhaps, but without Joe Friday’s optimism and compassion. The main character, Erlendur, is a worn-out, depressing, frequently exhausted, and ineffective police inspector with the emotional intelligence of a defective gibbon who always, always says and does the wrong thing when ordinary human sensibility is required.
However, as events move from parental negligence to witnessing abuse to the desecration of a child’s grave to the completely predictable deadly ineffectuality of Erldur’s final attempt to prevent Einar’s suicide, the story somehow gathers more traction and Erlendur approximates minimal human warmth evermore. In the epilogue, Erlendur sits with his pregnant, drug-addicted daughter, whom he had earlier abandoned on the streets, eating the meat stew she had made, and oddly sensitively suggests that she name her daughter after the lost kid who serves as the drama’s main victim.
The setting for the story is Iceland, where the author currently resides. We have a glimpse of this island country in and around its capital city Reykjavik. The plot is incredibly gloomy and dark, much like the weather all year round. We also discover that it is customary in Iceland to address people by their first names rather than their last names. This is because Scandinavian last names, like mine, which means “son of Soren,” might cause confusion about who Soren’s son might be. As a result, the majority of the characters in the book are just given their first names.
An elderly man who resided in a basement flat was killed. An enormous green ashtray has hit him over the head. It must be decided if he is a murder victim or a victim of an unintentional act motivated by emotion. The Reykjavik Police Detective Inspector Erlendur has been sent to the crime scene. The victim’s name was Holberg, and it appears that he knew his assailant because there are no visible traces of a struggle. A note with a message scrawled on it is found on the man’s body, and a nightstand contains a picture of a young girl’s burial. Erlendur must now get to work learning more about Holberg and determining who or why could seek to have him killed.
Erlendur is assisted in the investigation by two of his subordinates in this tale that follows various different lines of inquiry. The hunt for a second lady who might have been raped by Holberg, the genetic puzzle of why Audur dies of a malignant tumour at such a young age, and, finally, the mystery of why a Holberg associate vanished so long ago, are the three main plot lines. An accomplice who could have shot the picture that led Erlendur to the deaths of Kolbrun, Audur, and possibly Holberg.
The writing is excellent. The book was extremely effectively translated from Icelandic to English, and the author has a rhythmic writing style that is enjoyable to read. The main character and principal detective in this crime series are Detective Erlender, who I found to be really endearing. He is a very flawed human being but is also dedicated and determined. His persona exuded authenticity, which I adore.
