What do you think?
Rate this book
Inspector Erlendur #5
جثة في الفندق
كعادته، يدخلنا أرنالدور إندريادسون في عالم الجريمة الغامضة، عبر حبكة جنائية معقدة؛ أجاد رسم تحركات أبطالها مستخدماً شخصيات جذابة؛ تبين قدرته على الغوص في عالم الجريمة والتحقيق الجنائي.
قبل بضعة أيام من الميلاد، يتم العثور على غودلاو غور، وهو حارس فندق في ريكافيك يؤدي أحياناً دور سانتا، متنكراً في زي بابا نويل؛ مطعوناً حتى الموت في غرفته الصغيرة البائسة في الفندق الذي يعمل فيه، وفي وضع شائن، وسرعان ما يتبين أن لدى الموظفين والنزلاء شيئاً يخفونه، ولكن أكثر الأسرار غموضاً دفن مع الضحية... وبينما يحاول التحري إرليندور العثور على إجابات، ويفتش عن دلائل يكتشف أن المظهر الهادئ للفندق يخفي وراءه الكثير من الغموض.
رواية ممتعة تضع القارئ تحت خداع مشوق تجعله يبحث مع التحري عن اللغز فيما وراء الأحداث المتسارعة والمتشابكة وهو في طريقه إلى إكتشاف سر الجريمة.
ويجدر الإشارة الى أن هذا الكتاب قد حاز على جائزة الخنجر الذهبي - جمعية الأدب البوليسي لعام 2011.
قبل بضعة أيام من الميلاد، يتم العثور على غودلاو غور، وهو حارس فندق في ريكافيك يؤدي أحياناً دور سانتا، متنكراً في زي بابا نويل؛ مطعوناً حتى الموت في غرفته الصغيرة البائسة في الفندق الذي يعمل فيه، وفي وضع شائن، وسرعان ما يتبين أن لدى الموظفين والنزلاء شيئاً يخفونه، ولكن أكثر الأسرار غموضاً دفن مع الضحية... وبينما يحاول التحري إرليندور العثور على إجابات، ويفتش عن دلائل يكتشف أن المظهر الهادئ للفندق يخفي وراءه الكثير من الغموض.
رواية ممتعة تضع القارئ تحت خداع مشوق تجعله يبحث مع التحري عن اللغز فيما وراء الأحداث المتسارعة والمتشابكة وهو في طريقه إلى إكتشاف سر الجريمة.
ويجدر الإشارة الى أن هذا الكتاب قد حاز على جائزة الخنجر الذهبي - جمعية الأدب البوليسي لعام 2011.
359 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 2002
417 people are currently reading
5699 people want to read
About the author
Arnaldur Indriðason
54 books3,307 followersArnaldur Indriðason has the rare distinction of having won the Nordic Crime Novel Prize two years running. He is also the winner of the highly respected and world famous CWA Gold Dagger Award for the top crime novel of the year in the English language, Silence of the Grave.
Arnaldur’s novels have sold over 14 million copies worldwide, in 40 languages, and have won numerous well-respected prizes and received rave reviews all over the world.
Arnaldur’s novels have sold over 14 million copies worldwide, in 40 languages, and have won numerous well-respected prizes and received rave reviews all over the world.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,074 reviews
August 11, 2025
- في البداية يجب الإشادة بالمترجمة زينة إدريس على هذه الترجمة السلسة المتمكنة،... الكثير من الأعمال التي نقلت الى العربية فقدت خصائصها بفعل اترجمة السيئة، لكن هذا عكس ما حصل في هذه الرواية.
- الرواية رائعة، تندمج الامكنة والأزمنة فيها بكل سهولة وانسيابية، وعادة ما يكون المزج في الزمان صعباً لأنه يضيّع القارئ، لكن ليس في هذه الرواية.
- التفاعلات النفسية للشخصيات فيما بينها، والعقد التي تنحت دواخل الشخصيات، وطريقة وصفها وربطها بالجريمة ومن ثم اعادتها الى مكانها بعيداً عن المشهد
كانت ممتازة.
- تسلسل الأحداث كان شيقاً، ورغم انني في وسط الرواية تقريباً توقعت آخرها، لكنها كانت شيقة، وقفلة الاحداث عند كل قصة كانت جيدة جداً.
- لن الخصها كيلا افسد المتعة على من يرغبون بقراءتها، لكنها تستحق ان تكون في كل مكتبة، خصوصاً اولئك الذبن يعشقون الروايات.
- الرواية رائعة، تندمج الامكنة والأزمنة فيها بكل سهولة وانسيابية، وعادة ما يكون المزج في الزمان صعباً لأنه يضيّع القارئ، لكن ليس في هذه الرواية.
- التفاعلات النفسية للشخصيات فيما بينها، والعقد التي تنحت دواخل الشخصيات، وطريقة وصفها وربطها بالجريمة ومن ثم اعادتها الى مكانها بعيداً عن المشهد
كانت ممتازة.
- تسلسل الأحداث كان شيقاً، ورغم انني في وسط الرواية تقريباً توقعت آخرها، لكنها كانت شيقة، وقفلة الاحداث عند كل قصة كانت جيدة جداً.
- لن الخصها كيلا افسد المتعة على من يرغبون بقراءتها، لكنها تستحق ان تكون في كل مكتبة، خصوصاً اولئك الذبن يعشقون الروايات.
August 21, 2024
IL LUTTO NON SI ADDICE A BABBO NATALE
L’ispettore Erlendur nella sua per ora unica apparizione cinematografica, interpretato da Ingvar Eggert Sigurðsson, nel bel “Mýrin – Jar City” del 2006, mai uscito in Italia, diretto dal bravo e poliedrico Baltasar Kormákur.
La voce del titolo è quella del morto che da bambino aveva una voce bianca e cantava in modo più unico che raro al punto che gli si stava per spalancare davanti una luminosa carriera (già due vinili registrati a suo nome), interrotta bruscamente dal cambio di voce durante un importante concerto.
E così, nel giro di un attimo, dalle stelle alle stalle, dall’altare alla polvere.
Fu vera gloria?
No, non si direbbe: il bambino voleva esaudire le ambizioni paterne più che le proprie. E tutto sommato, una volta che le luci del palcoscenico si sono spente (per lui, ma anche per il padre), il cucciolo d'uomo era quasi più contento.
Se non che nel frattempo era diventato lo zimbello dei coetanei, cresceva la sua omosessualità che teneva nascosta, repressa e sigillata, e sviluppava opposizione verso il genitore rimasto, il padre (la madre morta troppo presto, ahilui).
La sorella, leggermente più grande, avrebbe molto desiderato una parte delle attenzioni dirette al fratello, che a lei venivano sistematicamente negate. Sottratte.
Crescendo, “la voce” diventa portiere d’albergo, e tuttofare, alloggiato nel sottoscala dell’albergo fino al giorno della morte per accoltellamento (a Indriðason piacciono i coltelli). Lo trovano coperto di sangue vestito da babbo natale che stava preparandosi per la festicciola prenatalizia per i piccoli ospiti dell’hotel.
”Mýrin” è l’avventura numero 3 dell’ispettore Erlendur: in Italia il romanzo è uscito col titolo “Sotto la città”.
A Indriðason piace anche accennare a un secondo filone d’indagine, a un altro caso non principale, è sua caratteristica ricorrente: un bambino (un altro) picchiato di brutto – da chi, dai suoi coetanei o invece, come crede la polizia, dallo stesso padre?
E perché a Indriðason piacciono tanto i bambini?
Perché l’ispettore Erlendur che sovrintende alle indagini di tutti i casi di questa fortunata serie (fortunata in quanto a vendite, più che a qualità letteraria) quando aveva dieci anni, quando era quindi ancora bambino, ha perso il fratellino nella brughiera sommersa dalla neve.
Perché lui si è salvato? Perché il fratello è morto? Perché il suo corpicino non è mai stato ritrovato?
Trionfo di senso di colpa, e corposo filone di riflessioni mogie che l’ispettore, per mano di Indriðason, avvia quando occorre una pausa nell’indagine principale.
Altra caratteristica dello scrittore di gialli islandese è che il morto compaia a pagina 1 e per le restanti trecento e rotte pagine si cerchi chi è stato a ucciderlo.
Per farlo, i poliziotti protagonisti (Erlendur e due colleghi, una donna e un uomo) fanno un sacco di domande, incontrano e interrogano un numero sterminato di persone, si lasciano andare a riflessioni e quesiti un po’ banalotti. Del tipo: aver scoperto che nella saliva del presunto assassino ci sono tracce di tabacco da masticare spinge Erlendur a chiedersi che aiuto possa fornire un simile dato. Come se a Reykjavik, o in Islanda, masticare tabacco come facevano i cowboy fosse pratica diffusa (non lo è: il tabacco da masticare è quasi introvabile, è rimasto uno solo a farlo).
Non ci sono altri omicidi nel corso delle trecento e rotte pagine: se muore qualcun altro è per suicidio o incidente.
Non c’è traccia di corruzione, né politica né economica, non compare malavita, criminalità organizzata. Sono delitti molto casuali.
A me verrebbe da definire Indriðason giallista sociologo: più interessato all’aspetto sociologico, alla descrizione della classe mediobassa islandese, di vite stente, che a un robusto plot, o ad approfondimenti psicologici.
Il protagonista, l’ispettore Erlendur, non è molto simpatico: è il solito misantropo solitario pieno di sensi di colpa che chiacchiera a fatica, imbranato con le donne, e con i figli.
Ed è la perfetta negazione dell’aforisma di Oscar Wilde (che invece io sostengo):
Le domande non sono mai indiscrete. Lo sono, talvolta, le risposte.
Per Erlendur, al contrario, le domande che gli fanno sono tutte indiscrete, si rifiuta di rispondere, considera tutti gli argomenti troppo privati per essere affrontati, si arrabbia, ribatte sgarbato. Diavolo d’uomo, meglio non incontrarlo.
Difatti Erlendur asserisce:
Perché hai sempre bisogno di una spiegazione per tutto? Per certe cose non esiste una spiegazione, mentre altre non hanno bisogno di essere spiegate… La gente parla troppo, dovrebbe stare più zitta. Almeno la passerebbe liscia.
E, se non fosse abbastanza chiaro, meno di una pagina dopo il concetto viene interamente ripetuto, più o meno con le stesse parole:
È difficile da spiegare, forse non è nemmeno possibile. Forse non si può spiegare tutto, forse alcune cose è meglio lasciarle così come sono, senza una spiegazione.
Sì, l’editing non è dove Indriðason da il suo meglio.
Anche se io credo che il suo meglio risieda altrove, questo romanzo non mi ha colpito, le lodi sperticate di Giancarlo De Cataldo mi sembrano molto esagerate, immotivate.
L’ispettore Erlendur nella sua per ora unica apparizione cinematografica, interpretato da Ingvar Eggert Sigurðsson, nel bel “Mýrin – Jar City” del 2006, mai uscito in Italia, diretto dal bravo e poliedrico Baltasar Kormákur.
La voce del titolo è quella del morto che da bambino aveva una voce bianca e cantava in modo più unico che raro al punto che gli si stava per spalancare davanti una luminosa carriera (già due vinili registrati a suo nome), interrotta bruscamente dal cambio di voce durante un importante concerto.
E così, nel giro di un attimo, dalle stelle alle stalle, dall’altare alla polvere.
Fu vera gloria?
No, non si direbbe: il bambino voleva esaudire le ambizioni paterne più che le proprie. E tutto sommato, una volta che le luci del palcoscenico si sono spente (per lui, ma anche per il padre), il cucciolo d'uomo era quasi più contento.
Se non che nel frattempo era diventato lo zimbello dei coetanei, cresceva la sua omosessualità che teneva nascosta, repressa e sigillata, e sviluppava opposizione verso il genitore rimasto, il padre (la madre morta troppo presto, ahilui).
La sorella, leggermente più grande, avrebbe molto desiderato una parte delle attenzioni dirette al fratello, che a lei venivano sistematicamente negate. Sottratte.
Crescendo, “la voce” diventa portiere d’albergo, e tuttofare, alloggiato nel sottoscala dell’albergo fino al giorno della morte per accoltellamento (a Indriðason piacciono i coltelli). Lo trovano coperto di sangue vestito da babbo natale che stava preparandosi per la festicciola prenatalizia per i piccoli ospiti dell’hotel.
”Mýrin” è l’avventura numero 3 dell’ispettore Erlendur: in Italia il romanzo è uscito col titolo “Sotto la città”.
A Indriðason piace anche accennare a un secondo filone d’indagine, a un altro caso non principale, è sua caratteristica ricorrente: un bambino (un altro) picchiato di brutto – da chi, dai suoi coetanei o invece, come crede la polizia, dallo stesso padre?
E perché a Indriðason piacciono tanto i bambini?
Perché l’ispettore Erlendur che sovrintende alle indagini di tutti i casi di questa fortunata serie (fortunata in quanto a vendite, più che a qualità letteraria) quando aveva dieci anni, quando era quindi ancora bambino, ha perso il fratellino nella brughiera sommersa dalla neve.
Perché lui si è salvato? Perché il fratello è morto? Perché il suo corpicino non è mai stato ritrovato?
Trionfo di senso di colpa, e corposo filone di riflessioni mogie che l’ispettore, per mano di Indriðason, avvia quando occorre una pausa nell’indagine principale.
Altra caratteristica dello scrittore di gialli islandese è che il morto compaia a pagina 1 e per le restanti trecento e rotte pagine si cerchi chi è stato a ucciderlo.
Per farlo, i poliziotti protagonisti (Erlendur e due colleghi, una donna e un uomo) fanno un sacco di domande, incontrano e interrogano un numero sterminato di persone, si lasciano andare a riflessioni e quesiti un po’ banalotti. Del tipo: aver scoperto che nella saliva del presunto assassino ci sono tracce di tabacco da masticare spinge Erlendur a chiedersi che aiuto possa fornire un simile dato. Come se a Reykjavik, o in Islanda, masticare tabacco come facevano i cowboy fosse pratica diffusa (non lo è: il tabacco da masticare è quasi introvabile, è rimasto uno solo a farlo).
Non ci sono altri omicidi nel corso delle trecento e rotte pagine: se muore qualcun altro è per suicidio o incidente.
Non c’è traccia di corruzione, né politica né economica, non compare malavita, criminalità organizzata. Sono delitti molto casuali.
A me verrebbe da definire Indriðason giallista sociologo: più interessato all’aspetto sociologico, alla descrizione della classe mediobassa islandese, di vite stente, che a un robusto plot, o ad approfondimenti psicologici.
Il protagonista, l’ispettore Erlendur, non è molto simpatico: è il solito misantropo solitario pieno di sensi di colpa che chiacchiera a fatica, imbranato con le donne, e con i figli.
Ed è la perfetta negazione dell’aforisma di Oscar Wilde (che invece io sostengo):
Le domande non sono mai indiscrete. Lo sono, talvolta, le risposte.
Per Erlendur, al contrario, le domande che gli fanno sono tutte indiscrete, si rifiuta di rispondere, considera tutti gli argomenti troppo privati per essere affrontati, si arrabbia, ribatte sgarbato. Diavolo d’uomo, meglio non incontrarlo.
Difatti Erlendur asserisce:
Perché hai sempre bisogno di una spiegazione per tutto? Per certe cose non esiste una spiegazione, mentre altre non hanno bisogno di essere spiegate… La gente parla troppo, dovrebbe stare più zitta. Almeno la passerebbe liscia.
E, se non fosse abbastanza chiaro, meno di una pagina dopo il concetto viene interamente ripetuto, più o meno con le stesse parole:
È difficile da spiegare, forse non è nemmeno possibile. Forse non si può spiegare tutto, forse alcune cose è meglio lasciarle così come sono, senza una spiegazione.
Sì, l’editing non è dove Indriðason da il suo meglio.
Anche se io credo che il suo meglio risieda altrove, questo romanzo non mi ha colpito, le lodi sperticate di Giancarlo De Cataldo mi sembrano molto esagerate, immotivate.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
November 7, 2025
جثة في الفندق رواية بوليسية للكاتب الأيسلندي أرنالدور أندريداسون الذي حصل علي العديد من الجوائز وله الكثير من الروايات من ضمنهم سلسلة المحقق أرلندور وتشتمل هذه السلسلة حتى الآن على 14 رواية وتعتبر هذه الرواية الجزء الخامس منها وقد ترجمت رواياته إلي أكثر من ٢٤ لغة ..
الرواية ممتعة جداً..إسلوب الكاتب سلس ومشوق..الترجمة أكتر من رائعة..
الرواية مش بس عن جريمة قتل ومحاولة معرفة القاتل و لكن الكاتب إستطاع أن يغوص داخل شخصيات الرواية ويركز علي مشاعرهم وماضيهم ويتنقل بين الأحداث في الحاضر و ذكريات لشخصيات الرواية في الماضي بمنتهي السلاسة والبراعة...
يعيب الرواية الأسماء الصعبة جداً اللي تلخبط شوية كما إن النهاية في الأخر جاءت عادية و كان ممكن تكون أحلي..
رواية ممتعة و تعتبر قراءة مختلفة عن ما أقرأه عادة بس فعلاً عجبتني و شجعتني إني ممكن أقرأ روايات بوليسية أكتر في الفترة القادمة..
بالتأكيد ينصح بها...
الرواية ممتعة جداً..إسلوب الكاتب سلس ومشوق..الترجمة أكتر من رائعة..
الرواية مش بس عن جريمة قتل ومحاولة معرفة القاتل و لكن الكاتب إستطاع أن يغوص داخل شخصيات الرواية ويركز علي مشاعرهم وماضيهم ويتنقل بين الأحداث في الحاضر و ذكريات لشخصيات الرواية في الماضي بمنتهي السلاسة والبراعة...
يعيب الرواية الأسماء الصعبة جداً اللي تلخبط شوية كما إن النهاية في الأخر جاءت عادية و كان ممكن تكون أحلي..
رواية ممتعة و تعتبر قراءة مختلفة عن ما أقرأه عادة بس فعلاً عجبتني و شجعتني إني ممكن أقرأ روايات بوليسية أكتر في الفترة القادمة..
بالتأكيد ينصح بها...
January 7, 2019
Despite the holiday rush and the hustle and bustle in Reykjavik, police Inspector Erlendur is feeling anything but jolly in Arnaldur Indridason’s
Voices
, the fifth installment of the series featuring Iceland’s somber detective. Erlendur Sveinsson is called to a large, busy hotel at the peak of the Christmas season. A maid has discovered the body of the hotel doorman, who was dressed in a Santa suit in preparation for a children’s party. The victim, Gudlauger, known as “Gulli,” had been living in a tiny room not much larger than a closet in the hotel’s basement for twenty years. Now, here he is, in his Santa costume sitting on his bed in a compromising position, stabbed to death. Sigurdur Oli, who has accompanied Erlendur to the scene, makes a number of inappropriate but funny remarks about the situation. The exchange between the two struck me as being more humorous than anything I’d read in previous Erlendur books. Maybe the image of Santa . . .
Most of the book, however, is quite typical of Indridason’s Scandinavian noir style. It is mostly dark, and the language is plain and understated, but the themes are complex. Without being able to explain his reasons, even to himself, Erlendur books a room in the hotel as he attempts to interview staff and guests. He meets with reluctance and resistance as he scrapes and claws for clues. Everyone he talks to claims not to have really known the man who was the doorman and unofficial handyman for so many years.
At the same time, Erlendur must cope with his daughter Eva Lind, from whom he has been estranged for most of her life. She is a recovering drug addict, and now they have formed some semblance of a relationship, but each is frustrated with the other as they try to come to terms with their different lifestyles. More importantly, they struggle with their own pasts and self-acceptance while trying to discover what they mean to one another.
Having read Jar City and Silence of the Grave , I had no doubt that Erlendur would eventually piece things together and solve the crime. The plot unfolds slowly. There is a lot of trial and error. We see pieces of Gulli’s past revealed and possible suspects emerge, but there is always doubt until the very end.
There are several subplots that may seem distracting or unimportant. Some may feel that they add unnecessarily to the length of the story. I feel, however, that they support Indridason’s central theme: Family. In the two books I mentioned previously, Erlendur broods about a traumatic event from his childhood. Now, perhaps with Christmas near and his daughter badgering him with questions about their relationship, he is haunted by what happened when he was a boy, and he begins to realize how it has affected his entire life. We also see another detective, Elinborg, updating Erlendur about a child abuse case she was involved in. Then there is a woman who piques Erlendur’s interest, and we see yet another case of family dysfunction. Finally, there is the maid Osp and her brother, whose family ties have disastrous ends. Is it a wonder Erlendur is depressed? Christmas, the season that so many associate with love, joy, and family togetherness, for him is lonely and difficult. Yet, Erlendur is a professional. He does his job, and he does it well.
I think this may have been my favorite of the three books so far. I liked the depth of the characters, the questioning of the past, and perhaps the mixture of fear and hope about what the future might bring.
5 stars
Most of the book, however, is quite typical of Indridason’s Scandinavian noir style. It is mostly dark, and the language is plain and understated, but the themes are complex. Without being able to explain his reasons, even to himself, Erlendur books a room in the hotel as he attempts to interview staff and guests. He meets with reluctance and resistance as he scrapes and claws for clues. Everyone he talks to claims not to have really known the man who was the doorman and unofficial handyman for so many years.
At the same time, Erlendur must cope with his daughter Eva Lind, from whom he has been estranged for most of her life. She is a recovering drug addict, and now they have formed some semblance of a relationship, but each is frustrated with the other as they try to come to terms with their different lifestyles. More importantly, they struggle with their own pasts and self-acceptance while trying to discover what they mean to one another.
Having read Jar City and Silence of the Grave , I had no doubt that Erlendur would eventually piece things together and solve the crime. The plot unfolds slowly. There is a lot of trial and error. We see pieces of Gulli’s past revealed and possible suspects emerge, but there is always doubt until the very end.
There are several subplots that may seem distracting or unimportant. Some may feel that they add unnecessarily to the length of the story. I feel, however, that they support Indridason’s central theme: Family. In the two books I mentioned previously, Erlendur broods about a traumatic event from his childhood. Now, perhaps with Christmas near and his daughter badgering him with questions about their relationship, he is haunted by what happened when he was a boy, and he begins to realize how it has affected his entire life. We also see another detective, Elinborg, updating Erlendur about a child abuse case she was involved in. Then there is a woman who piques Erlendur’s interest, and we see yet another case of family dysfunction. Finally, there is the maid Osp and her brother, whose family ties have disastrous ends. Is it a wonder Erlendur is depressed? Christmas, the season that so many associate with love, joy, and family togetherness, for him is lonely and difficult. Yet, Erlendur is a professional. He does his job, and he does it well.
I think this may have been my favorite of the three books so far. I liked the depth of the characters, the questioning of the past, and perhaps the mixture of fear and hope about what the future might bring.
5 stars
August 27, 2023
Das Island in Arnaldur Indriðasons hat nichts mit der Postkarteninsel der Touristen zu tun. In ihm gibt es Drogensucht, Prostitution, Lebensüberdruss, Kindesmissbrauch und eben Mord. Also eine "normales" Land für einen Kriminalbeamten. Was Indriðasons Krimis besonders macht ist Kommissar Erlendurs geradezu sanfter Umgang mit seinen Zeugen und Verdächtigen und die Einbettung des Falls in seine eigene Lebenssituation und -geschichte. In "Engelsstimme" versetzt die Ermordung eines ehemaligen Kinderstars den Ermittler in seine eigene Kindheit und lässt ihn das traumatische Verschellen seines Bruders in einem Schneesturm erneut durchleben. Es sind die Fehler der Eltern die über diesem Fall stehen: Die übertriebenen Ambitionen des Vaters des Opfers, die Leichtsinnigkeit Erlendurs Vaters und die Nachgiebigkeit und Bequemlichkeit von Erlendur selbst, der nach der Scheidung nicht auf ein Besuchsrecht seiner Kinder bestanden hatte, und damit zu deren Entfremdung und abdriften in eine Drogenkarriere beigetragen hat. Ein starker, weil bewegender Krimi.
August 27, 2017
In short: A poignant but rather far-fetched police procedural that offers more in the way of a credible psychological angle than a swift and particularly competent wrap-up. The upside is seeing Erlendur’s reflections on his own life and mistakes along the way, and appreciating how a person's childhood can influence their later life. Voices is an investigation that takes the reader closer to Erlendur and his troubled daughter, Eva Lind, than ever before and it is due to this clearer understanding of a father-daughter relationship that I am so keen to continue with the series.
After reading Jar City and meeting Inspector Erlendur and his sidekicks, Sigurdur Óli and Elínborg, I was keen to see them in action tackling another investigation. Jar City combined a fascinating and complex investigation with Erlendur providing the social conscience and overseeing a reflective treatment. First published in Icelandic in 2003, Voices was translated into English in 2006 by Bernard Scudder who has delivered a remarkably fluent and highly readable rendering. In the run-up to Christmas, Reykjavík is awash with visitors and festivities should be in full swing inside one of the cities largest and most illustrious hotels. Hotel doorman, pseudo caretaker and annual wearer of the Santa costume, forty-eight-year-old Gudlauger (“Gulli”) Egilsson, is however discovered stabbed in him grim basement accommodation within the hotel. Still clad in his Santa costume, with trousers hanging by his ankles and a condom hanging off his limp penis, the inappropriate jokes are two a penny from Sigurdur Óli! In the equivalent of a prison cell sized room, it appears that Gudlauger has spent to last twenty-years and the lack of character and paucity of possessions does not offer much in the way of leads. Naturally the call to the police asks for discretion for the guests, however that is the last concern of Erlendur when he assesses the strange circumstances of the victim and the potential suspects. With a scant lack of concern for the victim, and his inconvenient timing, sympathy from his colleagues is distinctly lacking. The sole possessions to be found in the room is a book relating to the history of the Vienna Boys’ Choir and a couple of vinyl records, which offers Erlendur limited opportunity to discover more about the man. It is therefore the presence of saliva on the condom which sees Erlendur taking his first steps and requesting samples, thus necessitating the presence of biotechnician and scene of crime officer Valgerdur, a lady of a similar vintage who also catches the eye of Erlendur.
Despite the obstacles in his path, the indefatigable Erlendur’s unwavering persistence to discover the who and the why at the heart of this matter reveal an unexpected and fascinating life history, with the victim’s shortlived spell as the most admired Icelandic boys soprano coming to an end when nature intervened at twelve-years-old and his voice broke on stage. Tracing the victims history back to Hafnarfjördur Children’s Choir and his former choirmaster, Gabríel Hermannson, Erlendur learns of a life forever blighted by a man's failure to live up to his father's expectations, and marked by crippling bullying and the pattern of self-destruction that such circumstances can set in motion. The most surprising reaction to Gudlauger’s murder comes from his remaining estranged family, a wheelchair bound father and sister, Stefanía Egilsdóttir. What lies behind the decades long estrangement of Gudlauger from his family home and why are his relatives so bitter?
Due to staff cutbacks and the lack of necessity for a full-time doorman the victim had been made redundant but subsequently failed to move out from his digs. The manager and staff are all keen to dissociate themselves from the matter and reveal how little they knew of the victim, despite his service and residence of over twenty-years. The slow stripping back of the goings on at the hotel are stymied by the stroppy chambermaid who found the body, Ösp, only telling a fraction of what she knows (in essence, itself a lie) and belatedly throwing accusations of theft, the subsequent reluctance of the reception manager to make himself available for questioning and the availability of prostitutes for guests. Of the guests, it is the rather shifty and eccentric British vinyl collector, Henry Wapshott, who professes to a specific passion for the music of boys’s choirs and tells of his journey to Iceland on the agreement of meeting the former household name soprano and purchasing any remaining records in his possession. However, when it turns out that it is not the first visit that Wapshott has made to Iceland, or indeed the hotel, his avoidance of providing a DNA sample and attempts to skip the country force Erlendur to get to probe just what Wapshott is so keen to keep hidden. With no sign of Wapshott’s down payment amongst the possession of the dead man, there is clearly much more to a never-ending unravelling.
As Erlendur, reluctant to return to his lonely flat over Christmas, checks into a room at the hotel he is overcome by a malaise as he sees parallels with his own life history and Gudlauger’s, in the death of his younger brother which marred his childhood and left him with survivors guilt. In a sense, Erlendur knows that part of him died that day with his brother freezing to death, and this has in turn impacted his own failure and resolve to be part of his children's lives. Opening up about the raw memory and finally facing the way in which it has affected his life, it feels like Erlendur is attempting to address effectively robbing both his offspring of their childhoods when he walked out of their lives in their early years.
Erlendur has much in common with the brooding and rather introspective detectives familiar to Nordic Noir. Middle-aged, divorced for twenty-years, he is a world-weary figure, with a dogged determination and a man who expects little from his remaining years. His failure to keep contact with either of his children at a young age still haunts him and he feels largely responsible for their addiction battles, with son, Sindri Snaer, having been through rehab for alcohol and daughter, Eva Lind, continually engaged in fighting her addiction to drugs and recovering from losing a stillborn daughter, all caused by her reliance on drugs. Whilst his son is a distant stranger, Erlendur and Eva Lind share an occasionally fiery relationship, marked by honesty and an acceptance of each other's faults. Erlendur’s unstinting support of Eva Lind with her withdrawal never turns into preaching and readers will be of the opinion that he has been through his own internal struggles. Erlendur is a determined and persistent detective with a compassionate and realistic approach to the failings of society and hence, tackling crime. The case itself is more fascinating for combining an intriguing back story of the victim, rather than particularly plausible and what Indridason lacks in terms of strict adherence to procedural rigour he more than makes up for with his his powerful psychological angle. The overriding tone of this affecting and poignant police procedural is rather reflective, with Elínborg simultaneously engaged in giving evidence and attending the trail of eight-year-old assault victim Addi, with his father on trial for causing his brutal injuries and Elínborg taking the case rather personally. Seeing another young life altered chimes with Gudlauger’s situation and evidences how instrumental childhood memories can be in affecting a person's future.
Voices is monumentally more fascinating not for pinning down the perpetrator which is rather loosely detailed, but for the human interest element of the plot and a chance to reflect on the fragility of family life. I wasn’t impressed or particularly convinced by the convoluted denouement, which stretches credibility but I do not think tying down the specifics was Indridason’s primary focus of a poignant novel. Voices comes highly recommended for its insightful and profound take on family life, and how the increasing dependence on drugs and the associated problems of addiction, such as prostitution, have changed modern society. All of this resonates with Eva Lind’s own situation and the stillborn child that threatens to derail her attempts at getting clean. I am keen to see how the future course of this chequered father-daughter relationship progresses after Erlendur’s recognition of how his own childhood has impacted his adult life and indeed, Eva Lind’s own journey. Voices is an emotive story with an excellent psychological commentary and can be read as a standalone without previous knowledge of the series and the timely use of flashbacks illustrates the situations of Gudlauger, Addi and Erlendur well.
After reading Jar City and meeting Inspector Erlendur and his sidekicks, Sigurdur Óli and Elínborg, I was keen to see them in action tackling another investigation. Jar City combined a fascinating and complex investigation with Erlendur providing the social conscience and overseeing a reflective treatment. First published in Icelandic in 2003, Voices was translated into English in 2006 by Bernard Scudder who has delivered a remarkably fluent and highly readable rendering. In the run-up to Christmas, Reykjavík is awash with visitors and festivities should be in full swing inside one of the cities largest and most illustrious hotels. Hotel doorman, pseudo caretaker and annual wearer of the Santa costume, forty-eight-year-old Gudlauger (“Gulli”) Egilsson, is however discovered stabbed in him grim basement accommodation within the hotel. Still clad in his Santa costume, with trousers hanging by his ankles and a condom hanging off his limp penis, the inappropriate jokes are two a penny from Sigurdur Óli! In the equivalent of a prison cell sized room, it appears that Gudlauger has spent to last twenty-years and the lack of character and paucity of possessions does not offer much in the way of leads. Naturally the call to the police asks for discretion for the guests, however that is the last concern of Erlendur when he assesses the strange circumstances of the victim and the potential suspects. With a scant lack of concern for the victim, and his inconvenient timing, sympathy from his colleagues is distinctly lacking. The sole possessions to be found in the room is a book relating to the history of the Vienna Boys’ Choir and a couple of vinyl records, which offers Erlendur limited opportunity to discover more about the man. It is therefore the presence of saliva on the condom which sees Erlendur taking his first steps and requesting samples, thus necessitating the presence of biotechnician and scene of crime officer Valgerdur, a lady of a similar vintage who also catches the eye of Erlendur.
Despite the obstacles in his path, the indefatigable Erlendur’s unwavering persistence to discover the who and the why at the heart of this matter reveal an unexpected and fascinating life history, with the victim’s shortlived spell as the most admired Icelandic boys soprano coming to an end when nature intervened at twelve-years-old and his voice broke on stage. Tracing the victims history back to Hafnarfjördur Children’s Choir and his former choirmaster, Gabríel Hermannson, Erlendur learns of a life forever blighted by a man's failure to live up to his father's expectations, and marked by crippling bullying and the pattern of self-destruction that such circumstances can set in motion. The most surprising reaction to Gudlauger’s murder comes from his remaining estranged family, a wheelchair bound father and sister, Stefanía Egilsdóttir. What lies behind the decades long estrangement of Gudlauger from his family home and why are his relatives so bitter?
Due to staff cutbacks and the lack of necessity for a full-time doorman the victim had been made redundant but subsequently failed to move out from his digs. The manager and staff are all keen to dissociate themselves from the matter and reveal how little they knew of the victim, despite his service and residence of over twenty-years. The slow stripping back of the goings on at the hotel are stymied by the stroppy chambermaid who found the body, Ösp, only telling a fraction of what she knows (in essence, itself a lie) and belatedly throwing accusations of theft, the subsequent reluctance of the reception manager to make himself available for questioning and the availability of prostitutes for guests. Of the guests, it is the rather shifty and eccentric British vinyl collector, Henry Wapshott, who professes to a specific passion for the music of boys’s choirs and tells of his journey to Iceland on the agreement of meeting the former household name soprano and purchasing any remaining records in his possession. However, when it turns out that it is not the first visit that Wapshott has made to Iceland, or indeed the hotel, his avoidance of providing a DNA sample and attempts to skip the country force Erlendur to get to probe just what Wapshott is so keen to keep hidden. With no sign of Wapshott’s down payment amongst the possession of the dead man, there is clearly much more to a never-ending unravelling.
As Erlendur, reluctant to return to his lonely flat over Christmas, checks into a room at the hotel he is overcome by a malaise as he sees parallels with his own life history and Gudlauger’s, in the death of his younger brother which marred his childhood and left him with survivors guilt. In a sense, Erlendur knows that part of him died that day with his brother freezing to death, and this has in turn impacted his own failure and resolve to be part of his children's lives. Opening up about the raw memory and finally facing the way in which it has affected his life, it feels like Erlendur is attempting to address effectively robbing both his offspring of their childhoods when he walked out of their lives in their early years.
Erlendur has much in common with the brooding and rather introspective detectives familiar to Nordic Noir. Middle-aged, divorced for twenty-years, he is a world-weary figure, with a dogged determination and a man who expects little from his remaining years. His failure to keep contact with either of his children at a young age still haunts him and he feels largely responsible for their addiction battles, with son, Sindri Snaer, having been through rehab for alcohol and daughter, Eva Lind, continually engaged in fighting her addiction to drugs and recovering from losing a stillborn daughter, all caused by her reliance on drugs. Whilst his son is a distant stranger, Erlendur and Eva Lind share an occasionally fiery relationship, marked by honesty and an acceptance of each other's faults. Erlendur’s unstinting support of Eva Lind with her withdrawal never turns into preaching and readers will be of the opinion that he has been through his own internal struggles. Erlendur is a determined and persistent detective with a compassionate and realistic approach to the failings of society and hence, tackling crime. The case itself is more fascinating for combining an intriguing back story of the victim, rather than particularly plausible and what Indridason lacks in terms of strict adherence to procedural rigour he more than makes up for with his his powerful psychological angle. The overriding tone of this affecting and poignant police procedural is rather reflective, with Elínborg simultaneously engaged in giving evidence and attending the trail of eight-year-old assault victim Addi, with his father on trial for causing his brutal injuries and Elínborg taking the case rather personally. Seeing another young life altered chimes with Gudlauger’s situation and evidences how instrumental childhood memories can be in affecting a person's future.
Voices is monumentally more fascinating not for pinning down the perpetrator which is rather loosely detailed, but for the human interest element of the plot and a chance to reflect on the fragility of family life. I wasn’t impressed or particularly convinced by the convoluted denouement, which stretches credibility but I do not think tying down the specifics was Indridason’s primary focus of a poignant novel. Voices comes highly recommended for its insightful and profound take on family life, and how the increasing dependence on drugs and the associated problems of addiction, such as prostitution, have changed modern society. All of this resonates with Eva Lind’s own situation and the stillborn child that threatens to derail her attempts at getting clean. I am keen to see how the future course of this chequered father-daughter relationship progresses after Erlendur’s recognition of how his own childhood has impacted his adult life and indeed, Eva Lind’s own journey. Voices is an emotive story with an excellent psychological commentary and can be read as a standalone without previous knowledge of the series and the timely use of flashbacks illustrates the situations of Gudlauger, Addi and Erlendur well.
September 2, 2016
Arnaldur Indridason es, quizás junto con Henning Mankell, uno de los autores de novela negra “surgidos del frio” que más me satisfacen. Hay muchos más, todos con tramas oscuras e invernales, como el clima en el que viven, pero si tuviera que elegir me quedaría con estos.
Esta es la quinta entrega del inspector Erlendur, y aún no comprendo porque sus obras se han ido traduciendo sin sentido cronológico, algo que también le ocurre a Jo Nesbo, otro fabuloso escritor noruego.
En esta entrega tendremos una visión más profunda del inexistente entorno familiar del inspector, (personaje solitario, y fracasado en su faceta tanto de marido como de padre), y aunque a veces no es fácil comprender sus comportamientos, acabas sintiendo una gran empatía hacia el personaje.
De la trama no es necesario apuntar nada, ya hay suficientes reseñas en esta página. Tan sólo diré que la novela me ha ofrecido lo que esperaba, grandes reflexiones sobre una sociedad corrupta y amarga, y la resolución de un asesinato a fuego lento, sin espectaculares persecuciones al volante, ni asesinatos en cadena, ni nada de lo que los escritores americanos (y soy un gran seguidor de muchos de ellos) nos tienen tan acostumbrados.
Por cierto, recientemente he recorrido algunos de los paisajes que se describen en las novelas de los escritores mencionados, lo que me ha hecho comprender muchos aspectos de las descripciones, así como encapricharme más aún de los países del norte de Europa. Unos países donde el verano (corto) se disfruta a tope, y donde el invierno (inacabable) te deja en un estado de languidez perpetua. No es de extrañar por tanto que, a pesar de su gran belleza, sean los países donde más suicidios se cometen. Digresiones aparte, he disfrutado mucho con esta novela.
Esta es la quinta entrega del inspector Erlendur, y aún no comprendo porque sus obras se han ido traduciendo sin sentido cronológico, algo que también le ocurre a Jo Nesbo, otro fabuloso escritor noruego.
En esta entrega tendremos una visión más profunda del inexistente entorno familiar del inspector, (personaje solitario, y fracasado en su faceta tanto de marido como de padre), y aunque a veces no es fácil comprender sus comportamientos, acabas sintiendo una gran empatía hacia el personaje.
De la trama no es necesario apuntar nada, ya hay suficientes reseñas en esta página. Tan sólo diré que la novela me ha ofrecido lo que esperaba, grandes reflexiones sobre una sociedad corrupta y amarga, y la resolución de un asesinato a fuego lento, sin espectaculares persecuciones al volante, ni asesinatos en cadena, ni nada de lo que los escritores americanos (y soy un gran seguidor de muchos de ellos) nos tienen tan acostumbrados.
Por cierto, recientemente he recorrido algunos de los paisajes que se describen en las novelas de los escritores mencionados, lo que me ha hecho comprender muchos aspectos de las descripciones, así como encapricharme más aún de los países del norte de Europa. Unos países donde el verano (corto) se disfruta a tope, y donde el invierno (inacabable) te deja en un estado de languidez perpetua. No es de extrañar por tanto que, a pesar de su gran belleza, sean los países donde más suicidios se cometen. Digresiones aparte, he disfrutado mucho con esta novela.
January 20, 2021
Com’è triste Reykjavik
Il delitto che, otto mesi dopo La signora in verde, richiede l’intervento di Erlendur e della sua squadra ha luogo in un albergo di lusso in piena attività per le imminenti festività natalizie, ma noi fedeli lettori di Erlendur, ormai abituati a conoscere i più sordidi e malfamati luoghi di Reykjavik, non dobbiamo preoccuparci perché non mancherà la dose abituale di disagio sociale, emarginazione, solitudine e sofferenza.
Reykjavik d’inverno.
Dopo aver letto cinque romanzi di Arnaldur Indriðason non posso fare a meno di chiedermi se la capitale islandese sia un luogo così triste e desolato, dove non mi verrebbe mai in mente di abitare nonostante il fascino che hanno su di me i luoghi nordici; o forse la domanda corretta è se gli islandesi siano proprio così infelici e insoddisfatti, preda di violenza e depressione. Sicuramente questa è la visione dell’autore, che sia per esplicita contrapposizione all’immagine ufficiale, patinata e magica, del suo paese o sia una scelta narrativa per spiazzare il lettore non ha molto importanza: certamente è difficile (almeno per me) seguire Erlendur nelle sue indagini senza sentirmi oppressa, scoraggiata e insoddisfatta per le battaglie, spesso inutili, del vivere quotidiano. Insomma, mi sento come i personaggi di Indriðason e leggo i suoi romanzi identificandomi con lo spirito islandese (o almeno quegli aspetti che l’autore vuole farci conoscere): questa capacità di contagio emotivo è l’aspetto che io apprezzo maggiormente. Viceversa, non sempre l’indagine mi sembra ben costruita ed è proprio il caso di questo romanzo poiché alcuni elementi, palesi sin dall’inizio e nodali per l’individuazione del colpevole, non vengono colti dagli agenti di polizia che girano a vuoto per un bel po’. Si può ipotizzare che questo girare a vuoto sia proprio quello che permette a Indriðason di condurci nelle più recondite pieghe dell’animo umano (almeno di quello islandese), anzi io ne sono convinta!
Kleppur, l’ospedale psichiatrico di Reykjavik.
Il delitto che, otto mesi dopo La signora in verde, richiede l’intervento di Erlendur e della sua squadra ha luogo in un albergo di lusso in piena attività per le imminenti festività natalizie, ma noi fedeli lettori di Erlendur, ormai abituati a conoscere i più sordidi e malfamati luoghi di Reykjavik, non dobbiamo preoccuparci perché non mancherà la dose abituale di disagio sociale, emarginazione, solitudine e sofferenza.
Reykjavik d’inverno.
Dopo aver letto cinque romanzi di Arnaldur Indriðason non posso fare a meno di chiedermi se la capitale islandese sia un luogo così triste e desolato, dove non mi verrebbe mai in mente di abitare nonostante il fascino che hanno su di me i luoghi nordici; o forse la domanda corretta è se gli islandesi siano proprio così infelici e insoddisfatti, preda di violenza e depressione. Sicuramente questa è la visione dell’autore, che sia per esplicita contrapposizione all’immagine ufficiale, patinata e magica, del suo paese o sia una scelta narrativa per spiazzare il lettore non ha molto importanza: certamente è difficile (almeno per me) seguire Erlendur nelle sue indagini senza sentirmi oppressa, scoraggiata e insoddisfatta per le battaglie, spesso inutili, del vivere quotidiano. Insomma, mi sento come i personaggi di Indriðason e leggo i suoi romanzi identificandomi con lo spirito islandese (o almeno quegli aspetti che l’autore vuole farci conoscere): questa capacità di contagio emotivo è l’aspetto che io apprezzo maggiormente. Viceversa, non sempre l’indagine mi sembra ben costruita ed è proprio il caso di questo romanzo poiché alcuni elementi, palesi sin dall’inizio e nodali per l’individuazione del colpevole, non vengono colti dagli agenti di polizia che girano a vuoto per un bel po’. Si può ipotizzare che questo girare a vuoto sia proprio quello che permette a Indriðason di condurci nelle più recondite pieghe dell’animo umano (almeno di quello islandese), anzi io ne sono convinta!
Kleppur, l’ospedale psichiatrico di Reykjavik.
October 25, 2017
رواية ممتعة وقدرة الكاتب علي التنقل بين الأزمنة والأحداث فيها انسجام رهيب .. واقعية ،أحداث متلاحقة عن ناس ممكن يكونوا في حياتنا ... للأسف حاول يبقي غامض في بعض الأحيان بس فشل .. سبب الجريمة الطبيعي الفلوس ومحاولته إنه يخلي الأشخاص المحاطين بالقضية متهمين في نظرنا فشلت برضه بس محاولة رائعة... نجح في مزج ماضي البطل وأحاسيسه ومخاوفه وفشله في حياته الشخصية مع المشتبه فيهم .. أحاسيس الضياع وعدم الأستقرار والبحث عن الاهتمام ووجود فرصة للحب كانت موفقة في أكتر من شخصية وتميز في إنه قدر يخلطهم كلهم مع بعض فتولد احساس إن الشخصيات كلها مترابطة حتي لو في تخيلك ... كنت اتمني يبقي في حبكة بوليسية اكتر
استمتعوا ..
دمتم قراء ...❤❤❤
استمتعوا ..
دمتم قراء ...❤❤❤
August 25, 2013
روايه جميله جدا اسلوبها راقى واعجبنى
واعجبنى اكثر القصص الثلاث عن علاقه افراد العائله ببعضهم عرض المؤلف ثلاث قصص مؤلمه جدا عن علاقه الأبناء بالأباء ونسجها بصوره عبقريه فى روايه واحده وهذا اكثر شىء عجبنى
انصح الجميع بقرأتها فهى اكثر من مجرد روايه بوليسيه او تتحدث عن جريمه ما
الشىء الوحيد الذى قد يؤخذ عليها من وجهه نظرى انها مليئه بجو من الأحباط والأسى ...ولكن هذا ايضا اعجبنى :)
واعجبنى اكثر القصص الثلاث عن علاقه افراد العائله ببعضهم عرض المؤلف ثلاث قصص مؤلمه جدا عن علاقه الأبناء بالأباء ونسجها بصوره عبقريه فى روايه واحده وهذا اكثر شىء عجبنى
انصح الجميع بقرأتها فهى اكثر من مجرد روايه بوليسيه او تتحدث عن جريمه ما
الشىء الوحيد الذى قد يؤخذ عليها من وجهه نظرى انها مليئه بجو من الأحباط والأسى ...ولكن هذا ايضا اعجبنى :)
May 3, 2018
Natale in albergo
Indridason è sempre piacevole, tuttavia La voce mi è piaciuto meno dei precedenti. La storia ha un suo spessore ma non offre quella vista sulla società e storia islandese che mi avevano affascinato in La signora in verde e Sotto la città. L’atmosfera introspettiva e malinconica sono quelle consuete e occupano circa la metà del libro, il suo Erlendur prende una stanza in albergo, anonima per definizione (e col riscaldamento non funzionante) pur di sfuggire al vuoto della sua casa, come se lo scenario cambiasse la sostanza dei fatti. Tuttavia i pensieri non restano appesi nell’armadio ma se li porta dietro e animano i suoi sogni.
Indridason è sempre piacevole, tuttavia La voce mi è piaciuto meno dei precedenti. La storia ha un suo spessore ma non offre quella vista sulla società e storia islandese che mi avevano affascinato in La signora in verde e Sotto la città. L’atmosfera introspettiva e malinconica sono quelle consuete e occupano circa la metà del libro, il suo Erlendur prende una stanza in albergo, anonima per definizione (e col riscaldamento non funzionante) pur di sfuggire al vuoto della sua casa, come se lo scenario cambiasse la sostanza dei fatti. Tuttavia i pensieri non restano appesi nell’armadio ma se li porta dietro e animano i suoi sogni.
July 2, 2025
With an upcoming trip to Iceland in the works, I wanted to tick off two boxes: a better understanding of the country and some crime thrillers to entertain me. I found this series by Arnaldur Indriðason, which has me even more excited. In the English translation’s third novel, Inspector Erlendur Sveinsson visits a popular hotel in Reykjavik at Christmas to investigate a murder. The hotel Santa is found dead and in a compromising position. Suspects are plentiful, putting Inspector Erlendur on the offensive to get answers. Juggling this case and his troublesome daughter, Erlendur will have no shortage of issues as Christmas Day approaches. Indriðason keeps readers hooked once more!
It is always busy at Christmas time in Iceland, though times are not always positive. When Inspector Erlendur Sveinsson is called to a local Reykjavik hotel to investigate a murder, he cannot have expected what he would find. The hotel Santa is found murdered and in a compromising position that leaves many to wonder if there might have been a sexual angle to the crime.
Inspector Erlendur and his team begin exploring all angles. The list of suspects is plentiful, both hotel staff and International travellers. Multiple secrets emerge about the victim and those who knew him. Inspector Erlendur struggles to piece it all together as Christmas Day approaches.
Erlendur keeps the case on the front burner, but also finds his daughter being more difficult as she copes with drug addiction and the loss of her pregnancy. He is also working on trying to determine if a romantic interest has anything that might come to fruition. Inspector Erlendur Sveinsson has no shortage of coals in the fire this holiday season. Indriðason sheds much light on the series and its protagonist in this novel.
Arnaldur Indriðason has been someone whose books I wanted to read, but it is only now, with tickets to Reykjavík purchased, that I chose to take the plunge. I love Scandinavian noir thrillers, in which I would label this book. The book not only builds a strong narrative, but seeks to shed added light on the life of Inspector Erlendur Sveinsson. The story builds effectively and uses flashbacks of the protagonist’s life to balance the message. Characters are well developed and flavour things well. Arnaldur Indriðson uses plot to keep the reader engaged and wondering until the final pages. I am excited to keep up the reading binge!
Kudos, Mr. Indriðason, for a stellar story that uses great storytelling abilities to capture the elements of a thriller.
Love/hate the review? An ever-growing collection of others appears at:
http://pecheyponderings.wordpress.com/
It is always busy at Christmas time in Iceland, though times are not always positive. When Inspector Erlendur Sveinsson is called to a local Reykjavik hotel to investigate a murder, he cannot have expected what he would find. The hotel Santa is found murdered and in a compromising position that leaves many to wonder if there might have been a sexual angle to the crime.
Inspector Erlendur and his team begin exploring all angles. The list of suspects is plentiful, both hotel staff and International travellers. Multiple secrets emerge about the victim and those who knew him. Inspector Erlendur struggles to piece it all together as Christmas Day approaches.
Erlendur keeps the case on the front burner, but also finds his daughter being more difficult as she copes with drug addiction and the loss of her pregnancy. He is also working on trying to determine if a romantic interest has anything that might come to fruition. Inspector Erlendur Sveinsson has no shortage of coals in the fire this holiday season. Indriðason sheds much light on the series and its protagonist in this novel.
Arnaldur Indriðason has been someone whose books I wanted to read, but it is only now, with tickets to Reykjavík purchased, that I chose to take the plunge. I love Scandinavian noir thrillers, in which I would label this book. The book not only builds a strong narrative, but seeks to shed added light on the life of Inspector Erlendur Sveinsson. The story builds effectively and uses flashbacks of the protagonist’s life to balance the message. Characters are well developed and flavour things well. Arnaldur Indriðson uses plot to keep the reader engaged and wondering until the final pages. I am excited to keep up the reading binge!
Kudos, Mr. Indriðason, for a stellar story that uses great storytelling abilities to capture the elements of a thriller.
Love/hate the review? An ever-growing collection of others appears at:
http://pecheyponderings.wordpress.com/
April 4, 2019
Τελικά, από όλον αυτόν το χαμό που έγινε με την Σκανδιναβική Αστυνομική λογοτεχνία και αφού διάβασα σχεδόν όλους τους πολυδιαφημιζόμενους συγγραφείς του είδους, κατέληξα ότι σε εμένα ταίριαξε ο Ιndridason. Καλά, και η Sigurdardottir αλλά από αυτήν έχω διαβάσει μόνο ένα, οπότε επιφυλάσσομαι.
Έχω διαβάσει τα τρία από τα τέσσερα βιβλία του που κυκλοφορούν στα Ελληνικά, αλλά όχι με τη σειρά που έχουν γραφτεί. Αυτό έχει ως αποτέλεσμα να διαβάσω λίγο μπερδεμένα την προσωπική ιστορία του Έτλεντουρ, αλλά δεν πειράζει, τώρα με αυτό το βιβλίο μπήκαν όλα στη σωστή τους θέση.
Ως ιστορία και πλοκή οι "Φωνές" μου άρεσαν πολύ. Μάλιστα το θεωρώ σχεδόν ισάξιο με τη "Σιωπή του τάφου" (ο "Άνθρωπος της λίμνης" δεν μου άρεσε ιδιαίτερα). Δεν μάντεψα τον δολοφόνο αλλά αυτό δεν έχει ιδιαίτερη σημασία, ο τρόπος που προχωρούσε η ιστορία μου κράτησε το ενδιαφέρον. Ασχολείται με ένα αρκετά σοβαρό κοινωνικό θέμα το οποίο καταφέρνει και αναλύει καλά, αν και ελαφρώς επιφανειακά. Δίνει όμως το έναυσμα να σκεφτείς λίγο παραπάνω- και μιλάω φυσικά για το ρόλο που παίζουν οι γονείς στην πορεία της ζωής των παιδιών τους με τις απαιτήσεις που έχουν από αυτά και την πίεση που νιώθουν τα παιδιά να ανταπεξέλθουν στις γονικές προσδοκίες.
Όλο το βιβλίο είναι καλογραμμένο, αν και κάποιοι μπορούν (δικαίως) να πουν ότι είναι αργό και ίσως του λείπει ένταση. Για εμένα όμως αυτά ισοφαρίζονται από τον συναισθηματισμό που δίνει στους πρωταγωνιστές του και από το αδιόρατο χιούμορ του. Το μόνο παράπονο που έχω είναι ότι θα ήθελα να βρει τρόπο να εντάξει στην πλοκή περιγραφές των τοπίων της Ισλανδίας.
http://kiallovivlio.blogspot.gr
Έχω διαβάσει τα τρία από τα τέσσερα βιβλία του που κυκλοφορούν στα Ελληνικά, αλλά όχι με τη σειρά που έχουν γραφτεί. Αυτό έχει ως αποτέλεσμα να διαβάσω λίγο μπερδεμένα την προσωπική ιστορία του Έτλεντουρ, αλλά δεν πειράζει, τώρα με αυτό το βιβλίο μπήκαν όλα στη σωστή τους θέση.
Ως ιστορία και πλοκή οι "Φωνές" μου άρεσαν πολύ. Μάλιστα το θεωρώ σχεδόν ισάξιο με τη "Σιωπή του τάφου" (ο "Άνθρωπος της λίμνης" δεν μου άρεσε ιδιαίτερα). Δεν μάντεψα τον δολοφόνο αλλά αυτό δεν έχει ιδιαίτερη σημασία, ο τρόπος που προχωρούσε η ιστορία μου κράτησε το ενδιαφέρον. Ασχολείται με ένα αρκετά σοβαρό κοινωνικό θέμα το οποίο καταφέρνει και αναλύει καλά, αν και ελαφρώς επιφανειακά. Δίνει όμως το έναυσμα να σκεφτείς λίγο παραπάνω- και μιλάω φυσικά για το ρόλο που παίζουν οι γονείς στην πορεία της ζωής των παιδιών τους με τις απαιτήσεις που έχουν από αυτά και την πίεση που νιώθουν τα παιδιά να ανταπεξέλθουν στις γονικές προσδοκίες.
Όλο το βιβλίο είναι καλογραμμένο, αν και κάποιοι μπορούν (δικαίως) να πουν ότι είναι αργό και ίσως του λείπει ένταση. Για εμένα όμως αυτά ισοφαρίζονται από τον συναισθηματισμό που δίνει στους πρωταγωνιστές του και από το αδιόρατο χιούμορ του. Το μόνο παράπονο που έχω είναι ότι θα ήθελα να βρει τρόπο να εντάξει στην πλοκή περιγραφές των τοπίων της Ισλανδίας.
http://kiallovivlio.blogspot.gr
March 1, 2018
It may seem like I’m skipping books in the series, but I just read the ones the Hungarian publisher deemed appropriate for our poor hearts.. this does not bother me at all.. really.. not. at. all.
May 21, 2015
خمسة ...
أجل خمسة من خمسة .. اكاونتي وانا حر فيه يا اخي !
صححت الرواية عندي بداية النظرة الى الرواية الإسكندنافية البارة والتي انهارت بسبب رواية قصر الجليد التي صاحبها زخم اعلاني لا تستحقه
رغم ان الكاتب من (آيسلند) للدقة إلا انه كله عند العرب صابون .. ما الذي نعرفه عن آيسلندا سوى رقصة البطريق
الرواية اعادتنا غلى عالم الرواية البوليسية الكلاسيكية .. على طريقة أجاثا كريستس .. هناك قاتل .. من هو .. نبحث .. انتهى
على عكس الروايات الحديثة التي اصبحت معقدة إلى درجة السخافة ..
سأبحث اليوم عن بقية مؤلفات الكاتب
أجل خمسة من خمسة .. اكاونتي وانا حر فيه يا اخي !
صححت الرواية عندي بداية النظرة الى الرواية الإسكندنافية البارة والتي انهارت بسبب رواية قصر الجليد التي صاحبها زخم اعلاني لا تستحقه
رغم ان الكاتب من (آيسلند) للدقة إلا انه كله عند العرب صابون .. ما الذي نعرفه عن آيسلندا سوى رقصة البطريق
الرواية اعادتنا غلى عالم الرواية البوليسية الكلاسيكية .. على طريقة أجاثا كريستس .. هناك قاتل .. من هو .. نبحث .. انتهى
على عكس الروايات الحديثة التي اصبحت معقدة إلى درجة السخافة ..
سأبحث اليوم عن بقية مؤلفات الكاتب
February 8, 2019
Yine harika bir kitap. İzlanda’nın soğuk sokaklarından birinde bir otelin kapıcısı odasında ölü bulunur. Defalarca bıçaklanmıştır ve uygunsuz bir durumdadır. Başrollerimiz Erlendur, Sigurdir Oli ve Erinborg yine müthiş bir iş çıkardılar. Kitabın gerilimi çok iyiydi ve son sayfaya kadar kim olduğunu merak ettirdi. Arnaldur’un bayağı iyi bir kurgusuydu.
Kitabı okurken yine İzlanda’yı hayal etmekten kendimi alamadım. Reykjavik de çok merak ettiğim bir şehir.
Polisiye seviyorsanız ve bulmaca gibi bir cinayet okumak istiyorsanız elinizde tuttuğunuz bu kitap çok doğru bir seçim 🤲🏻
Kitabı okurken yine İzlanda’yı hayal etmekten kendimi alamadım. Reykjavik de çok merak ettiğim bir şehir.
Polisiye seviyorsanız ve bulmaca gibi bir cinayet okumak istiyorsanız elinizde tuttuğunuz bu kitap çok doğru bir seçim 🤲🏻
October 6, 2023
Maybe a little to static for my taste, but that's not a bad book. There are two remarks I would like to make:
- it seems that people in the Nordic countries are much stranger and more inclined to sin than we think; not to say some of them are quite rude morons (Eva Lind).
- writing novels for money is like selling goods (cars, grocery, toilet paper...) so it is hardly understandable why authors don't make their main characters more pleasant.
- it seems that people in the Nordic countries are much stranger and more inclined to sin than we think; not to say some of them are quite rude morons (Eva Lind).
- writing novels for money is like selling goods (cars, grocery, toilet paper...) so it is hardly understandable why authors don't make their main characters more pleasant.
March 23, 2019
In einem Hotel in Reykjavík wird der Portier erstochen in seinem Zimmer aufgefunden - im Weihnachtsmannkostüm. Der Portier lebte sehr zurückgezogen, hatte kaum bzw. keine Freunde oder Familie. Wo also liegt das Motiv? Der Kommissar muss lange rätseln und viele Leute befragen, bis er Stück für Stück mehr über den Portier - und über seine Vergangenheit, die eine wichtige Rolle zu spielen scheint - erfährt.
Mein Leseeindruck:
Ich mag die Bücher von Arnaldur Indriðason sehr gerne, so auch dieses. "Engelsstimme" hat mich überzeugen können, denn die Geschichte ist sehr spannend, zunächst rätselhaft und einfach unterhaltsam. Auch mag ich die düstere Stimmung und Atmosphäre; sie passt zur Geschichte. Es gefällt mir ebenfalls sehr gut, dass die Lösung des Rätsels in der Vergangenheit zu finden ist. Das macht es für mich nur noch spannender.
Ich werde bestimmt noch weitere Bücher aus dieser Krimi-Reihe lesen!
Mein Leseeindruck:
Ich mag die Bücher von Arnaldur Indriðason sehr gerne, so auch dieses. "Engelsstimme" hat mich überzeugen können, denn die Geschichte ist sehr spannend, zunächst rätselhaft und einfach unterhaltsam. Auch mag ich die düstere Stimmung und Atmosphäre; sie passt zur Geschichte. Es gefällt mir ebenfalls sehr gut, dass die Lösung des Rätsels in der Vergangenheit zu finden ist. Das macht es für mich nur noch spannender.
Ich werde bestimmt noch weitere Bücher aus dieser Krimi-Reihe lesen!
October 14, 2019
Topla preporuka za sve koji vole stil pisanja skandinavskih autora. Prilično hladni i disfunkcionalni odnosi, blago depresivni detektivi, generalno uz redovnu krimi priču i slučaj koji se rešava u knjizi uvek postoji i priča o emocionalnim problemima većine likova u priči.
Priča o samoj istrazi ubistva je zanimljivo vodjena. Pratimo istragu iz dana u dan, i kao i detektiv prebacujemo sumnju sa jednog lika na drugog, uz svaki novi trag koji se otkrije.
Priča o samoj istrazi ubistva je zanimljivo vodjena. Pratimo istragu iz dana u dan, i kao i detektiv prebacujemo sumnju sa jednog lika na drugog, uz svaki novi trag koji se otkrije.
August 28, 2022
رواية جميلة ذات إيقاع هادى وقضايا مؤثرة.
رحلة استكشافية للنفس من خلال أبطال الرواية وماضي كل منهم وجروحه وآلامه.
تركتني شديدة التأثر..
لهذا الصدق والعمق الهادئ أحب الأدب البوليسي الاسكندنافي. ❤️
رحلة استكشافية للنفس من خلال أبطال الرواية وماضي كل منهم وجروحه وآلامه.
تركتني شديدة التأثر..
لهذا الصدق والعمق الهادئ أحب الأدب البوليسي الاسكندنافي. ❤️
July 19, 2018
Mentre aspettava, osservò gli articoli in vendita a cifre esorbitanti; piatti con dipinti la cascata di Gulfoss e Geysir, statuette del dio Thor armato di martello, portachiavi con ciuffi di pelo di volpe, poster che illustravano tutti i cetacei avvistabili dalle coste del paese, giacche di pelle di foca che costavano quanto un suo stipendio. Meditava di comprarsi qualcosa che gli ricordasse quell’Islanda strana, da turisti, che in realtà esisteva solo nell’immaginario degli stranieri ricchi, ma non trovò nulla di abbastanza economico.
Si avvicina il Natale e un omicidio porta l’agente Erlendur in uno dei più importanti hotel di Reykjavík: turisti, decorazioni, musica… tutto molto distante dalla sua vita. La vittima di questo romanzo è un uomo vestito da Babbo Natale che in passato è stato un bambino prodigio, una voce bianca.
Quanto può essere intensa una voce? Quanti e quali ricordi sepolti sotto la tempesta può far riaffiorare? Erlendur lo scoprirà mettendo un 45 giri sul giradischi.
In questo romanzo Indriðason intreccia almeno tre linee narrative: il caso di “Babbo Natale”; il passato di Erlendur; il caso su cui sta indagando Elínborg. A legare le tre storie è il complicato rapporto genitori-figli e non può quindi mancare, anche in quest’occasione, la relazione tra Erlendur e sua figlia Eva Lind, che si sviluppa da un romanzo all’altro.
Come al solito ho apprezzato questo giallo tanto freddo, l’intreccio mi è sembrato molto buono e l’ambientazione nel particolare mondo della musica interessante. Erlendur, con la sua rara capacità di ricredersi e di riconoscere i propri errori, è un personaggio che mi piace molto, anche se temo che in quest’occasione Indriðason abbia esagerato con la sua ingenuità: possibile che un agente della omicidi ci metta tanto a capire la caratteristica della vittima? Possibile che con il suo mestiere e le sue esperienze personali non riconosca l’odore dell’hashish?
E poi certo, un po’ di editing non avrebbe guastato, perché leggere di Erlendur che sta bevendo uno Chartreuse Verde qualche riga prima di essere arrivato al bar lascia abbastanza spiazzati.
Si avvicina il Natale e un omicidio porta l’agente Erlendur in uno dei più importanti hotel di Reykjavík: turisti, decorazioni, musica… tutto molto distante dalla sua vita. La vittima di questo romanzo è un uomo vestito da Babbo Natale che in passato è stato un bambino prodigio, una voce bianca.
Quanto può essere intensa una voce? Quanti e quali ricordi sepolti sotto la tempesta può far riaffiorare? Erlendur lo scoprirà mettendo un 45 giri sul giradischi.
In questo romanzo Indriðason intreccia almeno tre linee narrative: il caso di “Babbo Natale”; il passato di Erlendur; il caso su cui sta indagando Elínborg. A legare le tre storie è il complicato rapporto genitori-figli e non può quindi mancare, anche in quest’occasione, la relazione tra Erlendur e sua figlia Eva Lind, che si sviluppa da un romanzo all’altro.
Come al solito ho apprezzato questo giallo tanto freddo, l’intreccio mi è sembrato molto buono e l’ambientazione nel particolare mondo della musica interessante. Erlendur, con la sua rara capacità di ricredersi e di riconoscere i propri errori, è un personaggio che mi piace molto, anche se temo che in quest’occasione Indriðason abbia esagerato con la sua ingenuità: possibile che un agente della omicidi ci metta tanto a capire la caratteristica della vittima? Possibile che con il suo mestiere e le sue esperienze personali non riconosca l’odore dell’hashish?
E poi certo, un po’ di editing non avrebbe guastato, perché leggere di Erlendur che sta bevendo uno Chartreuse Verde qualche riga prima di essere arrivato al bar lascia abbastanza spiazzati.
July 16, 2009
This may be Indridason's best yet...it is simply outstanding. I thought the last one (Silence of the Grave) was excellent, but I liked this one even more. It is one of the darkest mysteries I've ever encountered and the time flew by as I was reading. I couldn't put it down. Most highly recommended -- for serious mystery readers and those who enjoy Scandinavian mysteries and haven't yet discovered this author. You may wish to read them in order, however.
Voices begins with the discovery of a dead ex-doorman in his basement room at the hotel where he used to work. It's Christmas time in Reykjavik, and the doorman has been found wearing a Santa suit (he was supposed to play St. Nick at a hotel Christmas party), the pants down around his ankles and stabbed through the heart. There is very little for the police to go by except for a condom. As he begins his investigation, Erlendur, along with his team Sigurdur Oli and detective Elinborg, realizes that there is no one who really knew the dead man at the hotel, even though he had worked there for years. Obviously this makes his job more difficult. He begins delving into the life of the doorman and his investigations lead him into the doorman's rather strange past -- but does it have anything to do with his death? That's what Erlendur must discover. There's also some strange happenings at the hotel, a case of severe child abuse, and Erlendur has his own daughter Eva Lind to contend with as well. And it's Christmas -- a depressing time for many people.
It's a police procedural but it's also a psychological look at what makes families tick & why family relationships are often the way they are. It's humorous in spots, but overall, this is a bit morose and dark. The mystery is solid and readers will not be disappointed. Highly recommended.
Voices begins with the discovery of a dead ex-doorman in his basement room at the hotel where he used to work. It's Christmas time in Reykjavik, and the doorman has been found wearing a Santa suit (he was supposed to play St. Nick at a hotel Christmas party), the pants down around his ankles and stabbed through the heart. There is very little for the police to go by except for a condom. As he begins his investigation, Erlendur, along with his team Sigurdur Oli and detective Elinborg, realizes that there is no one who really knew the dead man at the hotel, even though he had worked there for years. Obviously this makes his job more difficult. He begins delving into the life of the doorman and his investigations lead him into the doorman's rather strange past -- but does it have anything to do with his death? That's what Erlendur must discover. There's also some strange happenings at the hotel, a case of severe child abuse, and Erlendur has his own daughter Eva Lind to contend with as well. And it's Christmas -- a depressing time for many people.
It's a police procedural but it's also a psychological look at what makes families tick & why family relationships are often the way they are. It's humorous in spots, but overall, this is a bit morose and dark. The mystery is solid and readers will not be disappointed. Highly recommended.
May 10, 2020
Vrlo dobar krimić, na trenutke usporen i pun severnjačke melanholije, ali ipak interesantan sa dobrim likovima i radnjom.
September 21, 2015
Το τρίτο βιβλίο του Indridason και, παρότι θεωρείται το καλύτερό του, μπορώ να πω ότι δεν ήταν τόσο ενδιαφέρον όσο "Η σιωπή του τάφου", το ακριβώς προηγούμενό του. Και εδώ ο συγγραφέας στήνει μια αστυνομική ιστορία προκειμένου να σχολιάσει την κοινωνική ζωή της Ισλανδίας, μέσω των χαρακτήρων που εμπλέκονται στο φόνο και οι οποίοι ζουν σε έναν κόσμο σκοτεινό, με ένοχα μυστικά και γεμάτο πόνο. Ο ήρωας εξακολουθεί να αντιμετωπίζει τα δικά του οικογενεικά και προσωπικά προβλήματα, τα οποία εκτυλίσσονται παράλληλα με τη διαλεύκανση της υπόθεσης. Σαν βιβλίο θεωρώ ότι δεν ήταν τόσο στιβαρό, η εξέλιξη της ιστορίας δεν ήταν αρκετά έντονη ώστε να καθηλώσει τον αναγνώστη, και σε ορισμένα σημεία μου έμεινε η αίσθηση ότι οι περιγραφές ήταν μάλλον 'διαδικαστικές' ώστε να προχωρήσει η πλοκή. Συμπερασματικά, είναι ένα βιβλίο μάλλον υποτονικό για τα γούστα μου, ωστόσο εξακολουθώ να πιστεύω ότι ο Indridason είναι ένας συγγραφέας ο οποίος ξεχωρίζει από το σωρό των λοιπών αστυνομικών συγγραφέων, κυρίως γιατί γράφει βιβλία γενικότερου κοινωνικοπολιτικού ενδιαφέροντος αντί για στείρες αστυνομικές ιστορίες. (5/10)
December 2, 2022
Such a wonderfully melancholic series featuring a sullen-steeped lead investigator slowly learning to understand himself over the course of each book's mystery. Just a pleasure to read....
4 1/2 Stars
4 1/2 Stars
May 26, 2022
İçerdiği mesaj ile de, planı ve anlatım tarzı ile de çok beğendim.
Yazarın Türkçeye çevrilmiş tüm eserlerini okudum. Kitaplar her ne kadar birbirinden bağımsız olsa ve ana olaylar birbirini takip etmese de, detektif Erlandur’un özel hayatı ile ilgili bazı detaylar devamlılık oluşturduğundan, serinin orijinal yayınlanma sırasına göre okunmasını öneririm.
Serinin ana karakteri dedektif Erlandur ve ekibini, olayların geçtiği mekanı, ve ortamı, her kitabın içerdiği farklı mesaj ile hikayelerini, kitapların kurgusunu, planını ve anlatım tarzını çok beğendim.
Erlandur’un, sadece çözmüş olduğu davalara yaklaşımını değil, aile ilişkilerindeki özeleştiriyi, değişim çabasını ve yeniden kurulmaya çalışılan ilişkilerini de sevdim.
Kitapların -biri hariç (Sırlar Şehri)- çevirileri güzel ve akıcı.
Yazarın Türkçeye çevrilmiş tüm eserlerini okudum. Kitaplar her ne kadar birbirinden bağımsız olsa ve ana olaylar birbirini takip etmese de, detektif Erlandur’un özel hayatı ile ilgili bazı detaylar devamlılık oluşturduğundan, serinin orijinal yayınlanma sırasına göre okunmasını öneririm.
Serinin ana karakteri dedektif Erlandur ve ekibini, olayların geçtiği mekanı, ve ortamı, her kitabın içerdiği farklı mesaj ile hikayelerini, kitapların kurgusunu, planını ve anlatım tarzını çok beğendim.
Erlandur’un, sadece çözmüş olduğu davalara yaklaşımını değil, aile ilişkilerindeki özeleştiriyi, değişim çabasını ve yeniden kurulmaya çalışılan ilişkilerini de sevdim.
Kitapların -biri hariç (Sırlar Şehri)- çevirileri güzel ve akıcı.
August 10, 2012
ICELANDIC literature hasn't been known for its murders since the days of the sagas, but thanks to Arnaldur Indridason, that's about to change.
Indridason, a former journalist, has made his living with eight detective stories and two thrillers, all set in Iceland.
He won the Nordic Crime Novel Glass Key Award for Tainted Blood and for its sequel, Silence of the Grave, which also won the Crime Writers' Association Gold Dagger Award.
His Reykjavík mysteries feature blunt police detective Erlendur Sveinsson, and his cohorts Sigurdur Oli and Elinborg. In Voices, first published in 2002 and newly translated into English, they must unravel the death of a hotel doorman in the days leading up to Christmas.
The doorman, Gudlaugur, seems to have neither close friends nor family, and his former co-workers scarcely give his passing a thought. Erlendur, estranged from his own family, takes the case.
Indridason's lean prose lets his characters' actions speak for themselves. Erlendur checks into the hotel where the murder took place to prowl the scene as much as to avoid a Christmas at the homes of his well-meaning colleagues.
The hotel manager only cares about his former employee insofar as death may scare away business. "I should never have allowed him to live down there in the basement," he declares. "Bloody kindness will be the death of me."
Erlendur retorts, "You positively ooze it."
Indridason uses Gudlaugur, a child-star choir soloist, to probe the national psyche of Iceland, a country of 300,000. "No one is ever allowed to excel in this dwarf state," Elinborg complains upon learning Gudlaugur was bullied. "No one's allowed to be different."
That may be true of Erlendur himself. His dogged refusal to call the case closed, despite nabbing a prime suspect, alienates his colleagues. But as in Indridason's other novels, that stubbornness is key to unravelling the truth.
There's still room for humour, however. Erlendur deliberately sends the mildly homophobic Sigurdur Oli to interview a homosexual character witness.
Upon hearing that "half the population is gay and the other half pretends it is," he chokes on his tea, saying it's a bit strong -- but that's just the way he likes it.
As well, the occasional victory stands out in the darkness of the winter solstice. Erlendur reaches an understanding with his daughter, despite her bitterness over his walking out years earlier. He shares a deep secret with her, and it stops her in mid-tirade.
It's worth noting that Bernard Scudder's translation retains the feel of the original. British vocabulary aside, he nimbly illustrates differences in the original's idiom.
Erlendur corrects a maid for saying "should of," which has no direct correlation in Icelandic, but Scudder nevertheless conveys Erlendur's linguistic propriety without the original's digression into Icelandic "dative sickness."
Indridason has turned the fictional Iceland into a place where crime novels can take place -- and given his ability to tell a gripping story, murder just might be good for its tourist industry.
David Jón Fuller is managing editor of Lögberg-Heimskringla, the Icelandic community newspaper.
Republished from the Winnipeg Free Press print edition October 29, 2006
http://www.winnipegfreepress.com/hist...
Indridason, a former journalist, has made his living with eight detective stories and two thrillers, all set in Iceland.
He won the Nordic Crime Novel Glass Key Award for Tainted Blood and for its sequel, Silence of the Grave, which also won the Crime Writers' Association Gold Dagger Award.
His Reykjavík mysteries feature blunt police detective Erlendur Sveinsson, and his cohorts Sigurdur Oli and Elinborg. In Voices, first published in 2002 and newly translated into English, they must unravel the death of a hotel doorman in the days leading up to Christmas.
The doorman, Gudlaugur, seems to have neither close friends nor family, and his former co-workers scarcely give his passing a thought. Erlendur, estranged from his own family, takes the case.
Indridason's lean prose lets his characters' actions speak for themselves. Erlendur checks into the hotel where the murder took place to prowl the scene as much as to avoid a Christmas at the homes of his well-meaning colleagues.
The hotel manager only cares about his former employee insofar as death may scare away business. "I should never have allowed him to live down there in the basement," he declares. "Bloody kindness will be the death of me."
Erlendur retorts, "You positively ooze it."
Indridason uses Gudlaugur, a child-star choir soloist, to probe the national psyche of Iceland, a country of 300,000. "No one is ever allowed to excel in this dwarf state," Elinborg complains upon learning Gudlaugur was bullied. "No one's allowed to be different."
That may be true of Erlendur himself. His dogged refusal to call the case closed, despite nabbing a prime suspect, alienates his colleagues. But as in Indridason's other novels, that stubbornness is key to unravelling the truth.
There's still room for humour, however. Erlendur deliberately sends the mildly homophobic Sigurdur Oli to interview a homosexual character witness.
Upon hearing that "half the population is gay and the other half pretends it is," he chokes on his tea, saying it's a bit strong -- but that's just the way he likes it.
As well, the occasional victory stands out in the darkness of the winter solstice. Erlendur reaches an understanding with his daughter, despite her bitterness over his walking out years earlier. He shares a deep secret with her, and it stops her in mid-tirade.
It's worth noting that Bernard Scudder's translation retains the feel of the original. British vocabulary aside, he nimbly illustrates differences in the original's idiom.
Erlendur corrects a maid for saying "should of," which has no direct correlation in Icelandic, but Scudder nevertheless conveys Erlendur's linguistic propriety without the original's digression into Icelandic "dative sickness."
Indridason has turned the fictional Iceland into a place where crime novels can take place -- and given his ability to tell a gripping story, murder just might be good for its tourist industry.
David Jón Fuller is managing editor of Lögberg-Heimskringla, the Icelandic community newspaper.
Republished from the Winnipeg Free Press print edition October 29, 2006
http://www.winnipegfreepress.com/hist...
September 21, 2013
You don't pick up an Indridason book for its sunny faith in humankind; these books set in Iceland are as noire as Scandinavian Noire can possibly be. And Inspector Erlendur Sveinsson is as pathetic as he is brilliant.
This book has a particularly troubling cast of characters revolving around the death of a hotel Santa who was once a famous choirboy. Does this past have anything to do with his death and the horribly compromised position in which he is found? And what about the odd record collector who is trying to find the rare recordings of the former choirboy? And what of the dead man's strange and dysfunctional family (not to mention Erlendur's strange and dysfunctional family)? Almost all of the action takes place in and around the hotel, which gives the book an almost claustrophobic air. And Erlendur's team is collectively and individually laboring under the stresses of the Christmas season as well as the investigation. So what's the attraction? Because Indridason is a master manipulator of prose and his translator, Bernard Scudder, captures every morsel.
Not being a true mystery fan, I find myself reading Indridason because his explorations of the inner worlds of his characters, and especially Erlendur, are sophisticated and insightful. He is, to use an outdated word, an existentialist novelist who tries to figure out what it means to be human in a world that frequently seems absurd. One of his favorite themes is the way in which our past enslaves us, and the struggle it takes to break free.
In Voices, that theme comes through loud and clear. Erlendur begins to come to terms with his ghost-haunted past; in hearing Erlendur's ghost story, Eva Lind understands her own demons a bit better; the murder victim, Gulli, had been running from his past his whole life; and a subsidiary case of child abuse that Elinborg is working on once more illustrates the theme. Good stuff; the kind of writing that invites the reader to explore his or her own ghosts.
Author Arnaldur Indridason is one of Iceland's great contemporary writers, and I'm so glad his work is available in English. He is a brilliant writer who goes deep below the surface to explore the dark corners of human nature. This, then, is far more than a murder mystery, though it's a good one. It is a story about lost innocence, ruined childhood and family secrets and it's brilliantly done.
The translator for the first three of Arnaldur's books was Bernard Scudder who died in late 2006. Scudder (who was English) had spent many years in Iceland (his wife and two daughters are Icelandic) and did a phenomenal job of translation. I hope the translators of the next Arnaldur books do as well.
This book has a particularly troubling cast of characters revolving around the death of a hotel Santa who was once a famous choirboy. Does this past have anything to do with his death and the horribly compromised position in which he is found? And what about the odd record collector who is trying to find the rare recordings of the former choirboy? And what of the dead man's strange and dysfunctional family (not to mention Erlendur's strange and dysfunctional family)? Almost all of the action takes place in and around the hotel, which gives the book an almost claustrophobic air. And Erlendur's team is collectively and individually laboring under the stresses of the Christmas season as well as the investigation. So what's the attraction? Because Indridason is a master manipulator of prose and his translator, Bernard Scudder, captures every morsel.
Not being a true mystery fan, I find myself reading Indridason because his explorations of the inner worlds of his characters, and especially Erlendur, are sophisticated and insightful. He is, to use an outdated word, an existentialist novelist who tries to figure out what it means to be human in a world that frequently seems absurd. One of his favorite themes is the way in which our past enslaves us, and the struggle it takes to break free.
In Voices, that theme comes through loud and clear. Erlendur begins to come to terms with his ghost-haunted past; in hearing Erlendur's ghost story, Eva Lind understands her own demons a bit better; the murder victim, Gulli, had been running from his past his whole life; and a subsidiary case of child abuse that Elinborg is working on once more illustrates the theme. Good stuff; the kind of writing that invites the reader to explore his or her own ghosts.
Author Arnaldur Indridason is one of Iceland's great contemporary writers, and I'm so glad his work is available in English. He is a brilliant writer who goes deep below the surface to explore the dark corners of human nature. This, then, is far more than a murder mystery, though it's a good one. It is a story about lost innocence, ruined childhood and family secrets and it's brilliantly done.
The translator for the first three of Arnaldur's books was Bernard Scudder who died in late 2006. Scudder (who was English) had spent many years in Iceland (his wife and two daughters are Icelandic) and did a phenomenal job of translation. I hope the translators of the next Arnaldur books do as well.
April 21, 2013
I find it curious that a small (300,000-some population) can produce so many good writers. There are at least that many people within a one-mile radius of where I live, and all we ever manage to produce falls neatly under the heading of jack-shit.
It is Christmas, and the doorman of a ritzy Reykjavik hotel is found dead in a sexually interesting position while wearing a Santa Claus outfit, or at least part of one. After playing Santa for an upcoming Christmas party, he was to have been fired and (since he occupied a basement room in the hotel) evicted. Inspector Erlendur Sveinsson and his associates try to track down the killer. Being a bit gloomy during this time of year, Erlendur decides to stay in an unheated room in the hotel until the case is solved.
Fortunately, the story is as much about Erlendur as it is about poor murdered Gulli. That is one of the more interesting things about the Arnaldur Indridason detective novels, and Voices is no exception. I feel for Erlendur, even when I am disgusted with the victim, his family and friends. One feels like offering him a drink and saying "There, there!" in sympathy:
Indridason's Erlendur Sveinsson detective novels are good reads. My only complaint is that I felt too sympathetic with Gulli's murderer. If it weren't for the fact that, at novel's end, the emphasis shifts to Erlendur, I would have been disappointed.
It is Christmas, and the doorman of a ritzy Reykjavik hotel is found dead in a sexually interesting position while wearing a Santa Claus outfit, or at least part of one. After playing Santa for an upcoming Christmas party, he was to have been fired and (since he occupied a basement room in the hotel) evicted. Inspector Erlendur Sveinsson and his associates try to track down the killer. Being a bit gloomy during this time of year, Erlendur decides to stay in an unheated room in the hotel until the case is solved.
Fortunately, the story is as much about Erlendur as it is about poor murdered Gulli. That is one of the more interesting things about the Arnaldur Indridason detective novels, and Voices is no exception. I feel for Erlendur, even when I am disgusted with the victim, his family and friends. One feels like offering him a drink and saying "There, there!" in sympathy:
Erlendur felt no excitement about it. None of the expectation or sense of triumph that accompanied solving a case. All he felt was fatigue and sadness because the case had stirred up all manner of associations with his own childhood, and he knew he had so much left to come to terms with in his own life that he had no idea where to begin. Most of all, he wanted to forget about work and go home. Be with Eva Lind [his druggie daughter]. Help her get over the troubles she was dealing with. He wanted to stop thinking about others and start thinking about himself and his own people.One interesting development is the possibility of a relationship with a forensic technician named Valgerdur. As I am slated to read at least two more Indridason works this spring, I would interested in seeing whether anything comes of it.
Indridason's Erlendur Sveinsson detective novels are good reads. My only complaint is that I felt too sympathetic with Gulli's murderer. If it weren't for the fact that, at novel's end, the emphasis shifts to Erlendur, I would have been disappointed.
December 18, 2011
Rating: A frosty, grim, depressed 3* of five
Dear Goddess, can Iceland really be this bleak?! This is one of the grimmest, saddest, most joy-sapping books I've ever read. And I quite simply couldn't put it down. I was vacuumed into the book's slipstream as soon as I read the first page...who uses the word "fracas" to describe a murder investigation?...and it kept me flipping pages until 2:40a EST.
But no way in Hell do I want to make a trip to Reykjavik now! It would be too gruesome, seeing all the places I now know from Arnaldur Indriðason's sad slay-fests. And I'd be looking at every 50-ish redheaded man a little too intensely, just to make sure I didn't cross paths with Mr. Bad Luck Erlendur. *shiver* I get the feeling he'd leach the body heat out of passers-by, he's so frozen inside.
Would I recommend it? Yeah, but not to the tender of spirit. Just no, no, no for the delicate. (mckait, the Terris, Linda) Caro and Mark'll love it. It's a nicely built book, though in common with the first one it's got some very untidy dingle-dangles that make me itch, hence the three stars. I feel like a mystery isn't fully ready for market until the clues are woven up, and if you're gonna tell me more than one story, the second one better be important to the first in SOME way. *grrr*
Dear Goddess, can Iceland really be this bleak?! This is one of the grimmest, saddest, most joy-sapping books I've ever read. And I quite simply couldn't put it down. I was vacuumed into the book's slipstream as soon as I read the first page...who uses the word "fracas" to describe a murder investigation?...and it kept me flipping pages until 2:40a EST.
But no way in Hell do I want to make a trip to Reykjavik now! It would be too gruesome, seeing all the places I now know from Arnaldur Indriðason's sad slay-fests. And I'd be looking at every 50-ish redheaded man a little too intensely, just to make sure I didn't cross paths with Mr. Bad Luck Erlendur. *shiver* I get the feeling he'd leach the body heat out of passers-by, he's so frozen inside.
Would I recommend it? Yeah, but not to the tender of spirit. Just no, no, no for the delicate. (mckait, the Terris, Linda) Caro and Mark'll love it. It's a nicely built book, though in common with the first one it's got some very untidy dingle-dangles that make me itch, hence the three stars. I feel like a mystery isn't fully ready for market until the clues are woven up, and if you're gonna tell me more than one story, the second one better be important to the first in SOME way. *grrr*
Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,074 reviews