While the English book market is (comparatively) flush with Swedish, Norwegian, and now, Icelandic crime novels, it seems that Denmark's translated fare tends to favor more genre-bending prototypes(think Christian Jungersen's The Exception or any one of Leif Davidsen's poli-pop-thrillers). Translated Danish 'crime-fiction,' displays less of an interest detectives and cold cases, and more of an interest in the psychology of its main characters and the circumstances that brought them to their extra-societal actions. Gross generalizations, of course, but until we get a better market for translated fiction--or I'm able to read in Danish--this is the best explanation I can offer.
I discovered Anders Bodelsen because his book Taenk på et Tal (English: Think of a Number) was made into a film starring the excellent Elliott Gould. And happily, it seems that my suspicions about Danish crime fiction do apply here--according to DanishLiterature.info (the state-sponsored literature database and journal), "Bodelsen´s preferred genre is the individual-psychological short story and the social-realistic thriller...In his two most successful books, the thrillers Tænk på et tal (The Silent Partner, 1968) and Hændeligt uheld (One Down, 1968), Bodelsen deals with the ordinary middle-class person who becomes a criminal. According to the author, the key-word is identification. 'Could it have been me?'"
The story opens just before Christmas, when solitary, apathetic bank clerk Flemming Borck uncovers a plot to rob his bank. (It's a convoluted set-up, so we'll just leave it at that.) After doing a little rookie recon, Borck identifies the would-be bank robber as a faux shopping-mall Santa Claus, and counter-plots to steal the money himself and let Santa take the blame. This works out about as badly as you might imagine, and our bumbling protagonist spirals further and further away from the carefree, laconic lifestyle he had hoped to ensure for himself.
In Flemming Borck the reader is offered a relatively sympathetic character--a man who almost arbitrarily decides to steal upwards of 170,000 kroner and then can't figure what to do with it. A good portion of the book is spent with Borck trying to retrieve the money he's stolen and hidden, and the most scathing criticism leveled at him throughout the novel is that he's an "amateur." For the brief moment that everything is going right for maladroit Flemming Borck, however, we can all feel good. He's got money to spare, an exotic retreat from his hum-drum life, and the excitement of having a secret--of being capable of something more daring than anyone thinks he is.
It's no surprise that the novel was made into a movie--Andersen's handling of suspense and scene-setting is distinctly cinematic. (The closing scenes, set in Tunis, practically jump off the page as film stock.) Andersen truncates action and hops from character to character, allowing his readers the pleasure of a panoramic perspective and the ability to predict the many shortcomings of Borck's off-the-cuff plotting. However, this panorama is often distorted in the service of suspense, and Bodelsen's sometimes dodgy prose can complicate situations to the point of confusion.
In the height of his success, during a long vacation in the Mediterranean, Borck thinks to himself, "Three weeks in the sun with a beautiful girl, a cool house for his siestas, wine you uncorked without giving it a thought: what more could you wish for?" That such simple desires come at such cost is then what Think of a Number really asks us to consider.