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The Commandments
Óskar Guðmundsson is the kick-ass breath of fresh air that Icelandic crime fiction has been waiting for – Yrsa Sigurðardóttir Former detective Salka Steinsdóttir finds herself unwillingly pitched into the toughest investigation of her life, just as she returns to the tranquil north of Iceland to recover from a personal trauma.
The victim is someone she had pursued earlier in her career – and had never been able to pin down. Now a killer has taken the law into their own hands and meted out brutal retribution for ancient crimes. Salka is faced with tracking down the murderer of a stalwart of the church and the community, a man whose reputation stretches deep into the past, and even into the police team tasked with solving the case.
As the killer prepares to strike again, Salka and her team search for the band of old friends who could be either killers or victims – or both.
A bestseller in Iceland, The Commandments asks many challenging questions as it takes on some highly controversial issues.
The victim is someone she had pursued earlier in her career – and had never been able to pin down. Now a killer has taken the law into their own hands and meted out brutal retribution for ancient crimes. Salka is faced with tracking down the murderer of a stalwart of the church and the community, a man whose reputation stretches deep into the past, and even into the police team tasked with solving the case.
As the killer prepares to strike again, Salka and her team search for the band of old friends who could be either killers or victims – or both.
A bestseller in Iceland, The Commandments asks many challenging questions as it takes on some highly controversial issues.
271 pages, Kindle Edition
Published January 29, 2021
84 people are currently reading
204 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 27 of 27 reviews
November 6, 2022
I must admit that the discovery of a new Icelandic author brings a certain touch of excitement, as it is well documented how many there are who have yet to be translated internationally. Well, thanks to Corylus Books, and to Icelandic translator extraordinaire Quentin Bates, it’s time to be introduced to Óskar Guðmundsson, and The Commandments, the first book in a crime series featuring detective Salka Steinsdóttir.
As you would expect, knowing how Icelandic crime authors like to ramp up the darkness, Guðmundsson takes a controversial and pernicious crime as the central theme of his book, allowing him to fully explore the effects on the victims of insidious abuse, and the largely laissez-faire attitude of those who instigate the abuse, until their sins return to haunt them. Indeed, the religious motif runs effectively throughout the book, as the twin emotions of retribution and redemption, extend not only to the central crime investigation, but also in some way to the life of the main police protagonist too. Throughout the book and with great effect, Guðmundsson handles the dark and powerfully emotional subject matter in a contained and almost dispassionate way, giving the reader the space and time to draw on their own empathy with the victims, and to examine and endorse the morality of exacting Old Testament style justice on the perpetrators. This is a dark tale that truly focuses on the core message of human weakness and exploitation, that will haunt the reader for a while after reading…
As crime readers expect, Guðmundsson has a multi-faceted and fascinating police detective Salka Steinsdóttir. at the centre of the book, and refreshingly strays away from the usual location of the capital Reykjavík. Although Steinsdóttir has worked for the police in both Reykjavík and London, this book sees her recuperating in the environs of the northern town of Akureyri, where she is swiftly inveigled in this investigation somewhat against her will. The reasons for her break away from the police are slowly revealed, but as we wait to discover more about her, what comes across most strongly is her inner strength, resolute behaviour, and the appearance of herself as a woman who very much lives life, and conducts herself, on her own terms. There is a good balance to her character, where the maudlin doesn’t overwhelm the hard-headedness, and conversely the hard-headedness doesn’t overwhelm the underlying likeability of her character and her occasional moments of introspection. She is tough, and to a degree cynical, but there is more to her than we are initially aware of, and I enjoyed getting to know her better, and to get a gradually unfolding insight into what made her tick.
Although, to be honest, I don’t think The Commandments brings anything especially new to the genre, I think what Guðmundsson very satisfyingly achieves is a taut and deftly written crime thriller, that contains all the single most important features that readers enjoy in the Icelandic and Scandinavian crime fiction genre. By homing in on an incredibly dark and disturbing psychological theme, which truly exposes the worst of human behaviour, and putting at its heart a less than straightforward police detective, I thoroughly enjoyed this series opener, with as usual an excellent translation by Quentin Bates. Heartened by the news that this is only the first of Guðmundsson’s books to appear in English, I very much look forward to discovering more of his writing in the future. Recommended.
As you would expect, knowing how Icelandic crime authors like to ramp up the darkness, Guðmundsson takes a controversial and pernicious crime as the central theme of his book, allowing him to fully explore the effects on the victims of insidious abuse, and the largely laissez-faire attitude of those who instigate the abuse, until their sins return to haunt them. Indeed, the religious motif runs effectively throughout the book, as the twin emotions of retribution and redemption, extend not only to the central crime investigation, but also in some way to the life of the main police protagonist too. Throughout the book and with great effect, Guðmundsson handles the dark and powerfully emotional subject matter in a contained and almost dispassionate way, giving the reader the space and time to draw on their own empathy with the victims, and to examine and endorse the morality of exacting Old Testament style justice on the perpetrators. This is a dark tale that truly focuses on the core message of human weakness and exploitation, that will haunt the reader for a while after reading…
As crime readers expect, Guðmundsson has a multi-faceted and fascinating police detective Salka Steinsdóttir. at the centre of the book, and refreshingly strays away from the usual location of the capital Reykjavík. Although Steinsdóttir has worked for the police in both Reykjavík and London, this book sees her recuperating in the environs of the northern town of Akureyri, where she is swiftly inveigled in this investigation somewhat against her will. The reasons for her break away from the police are slowly revealed, but as we wait to discover more about her, what comes across most strongly is her inner strength, resolute behaviour, and the appearance of herself as a woman who very much lives life, and conducts herself, on her own terms. There is a good balance to her character, where the maudlin doesn’t overwhelm the hard-headedness, and conversely the hard-headedness doesn’t overwhelm the underlying likeability of her character and her occasional moments of introspection. She is tough, and to a degree cynical, but there is more to her than we are initially aware of, and I enjoyed getting to know her better, and to get a gradually unfolding insight into what made her tick.
Although, to be honest, I don’t think The Commandments brings anything especially new to the genre, I think what Guðmundsson very satisfyingly achieves is a taut and deftly written crime thriller, that contains all the single most important features that readers enjoy in the Icelandic and Scandinavian crime fiction genre. By homing in on an incredibly dark and disturbing psychological theme, which truly exposes the worst of human behaviour, and putting at its heart a less than straightforward police detective, I thoroughly enjoyed this series opener, with as usual an excellent translation by Quentin Bates. Heartened by the news that this is only the first of Guðmundsson’s books to appear in English, I very much look forward to discovering more of his writing in the future. Recommended.
October 17, 2021
Dark, powerful, and, at times, quite intense, this book draws you into the story right from the start. There is an almost surreal quality to the opening chapter but a real feeling of foreboding that casts shadows that will permeate the story right to the last page. Whilst there is an almost disconnect from the very dark, quite violent scenes which follow, you get the essence of where this story is leading, to a place which, whilst fiction, could easily have been taken from real life. This is a story of retribution, but. despite the victimology, it really isn't of the divine kind.
I really liked the edginess to this story. Everything, from the central characters, to the setting, right down to the method of dispatch of the victims, is designed to keep the reader on edge, and yet is is strangely compelling. Whilst there was never any doubt in my mind as to the nature of the crimes the victims were judged to have committed, the identity of the avenger remains very carefully hidden, and it is this mystery, along with the real motive, which kept me completely engaged in the investigation. I had many theories, may suspects, but due to careful manipulation of the investigation and a fair amount of misdirection by the author, the truth remained carefully concealed until the end. Even by that point, for both me and our protagonist, Salka, it could easily have gone one of two ways. I liked that edge, the suspense, and liked the way in which clues were very cleverly and pointedly revealed.
I really liked the character of Salka Steinsdóttir. She is a complex character, determined and focused but clearly haunted by her past and, having only recently returned to Iceland, seeingly reluctant to address her immediate future. She isn't even technically a police officer when she is asked to step in an lead the investigation into a truly brutal and almost ritualistic murder. But as someone who had, in her former career, investigated the victim, she is certainly best placed to determine if those accusations have any bearing on his fate. And it is a very dark fate indeed. It put me in mind of some of the more intense episodes of the TV show, Dexter.
This is a very topical read, a theme which is often repeated in crime novels because of the way in which it has been so prevalent in real life. The abuse of power, betrayal of trust, is at the heart of the novel, and as readers we are placed in a very strange position of perhaps feeling more empathy for the perpetrator of the heinous crimes than we are the victim. We know the how of their crimes, we are present right up to the most critical point of what can only be called an execution. And, whilst not graphically described, the way in which the killer displays their victim is designed, very effectively and in a most visual way, to shock. Can the killings be justified? Never. Understood? That really is where the line becomes perhaps a little less well defined. Óskar Guðmundsson has done a brilliant job of creating that sense of conflict within me as the reader. I wasn't as uncomfortable with the fate of the victims as maybe, morally, I should have been.
There is a kind of tragic inevitability in what she learn about Salka by the end of the novel, something that whilst not entirely unexpected when revealed, is no less emotionally impactful. And it fits the overall tone of the novel, that sadness, melancholy even, tinged with moments of real tension, fear and anger. There is a real cinematic feel to the story, with a real sense of place that puts readers in the heart of the investigation. A big nod to translator Quentin Bates who has managed to capture all that intensity of feeling, and essence of the settings, on the page so perfectly.
If you like your fiction on the darker side, I think this will definitely appeal. I'm really looking forward to reading more from the author in the future.
I really liked the edginess to this story. Everything, from the central characters, to the setting, right down to the method of dispatch of the victims, is designed to keep the reader on edge, and yet is is strangely compelling. Whilst there was never any doubt in my mind as to the nature of the crimes the victims were judged to have committed, the identity of the avenger remains very carefully hidden, and it is this mystery, along with the real motive, which kept me completely engaged in the investigation. I had many theories, may suspects, but due to careful manipulation of the investigation and a fair amount of misdirection by the author, the truth remained carefully concealed until the end. Even by that point, for both me and our protagonist, Salka, it could easily have gone one of two ways. I liked that edge, the suspense, and liked the way in which clues were very cleverly and pointedly revealed.
I really liked the character of Salka Steinsdóttir. She is a complex character, determined and focused but clearly haunted by her past and, having only recently returned to Iceland, seeingly reluctant to address her immediate future. She isn't even technically a police officer when she is asked to step in an lead the investigation into a truly brutal and almost ritualistic murder. But as someone who had, in her former career, investigated the victim, she is certainly best placed to determine if those accusations have any bearing on his fate. And it is a very dark fate indeed. It put me in mind of some of the more intense episodes of the TV show, Dexter.
This is a very topical read, a theme which is often repeated in crime novels because of the way in which it has been so prevalent in real life. The abuse of power, betrayal of trust, is at the heart of the novel, and as readers we are placed in a very strange position of perhaps feeling more empathy for the perpetrator of the heinous crimes than we are the victim. We know the how of their crimes, we are present right up to the most critical point of what can only be called an execution. And, whilst not graphically described, the way in which the killer displays their victim is designed, very effectively and in a most visual way, to shock. Can the killings be justified? Never. Understood? That really is where the line becomes perhaps a little less well defined. Óskar Guðmundsson has done a brilliant job of creating that sense of conflict within me as the reader. I wasn't as uncomfortable with the fate of the victims as maybe, morally, I should have been.
There is a kind of tragic inevitability in what she learn about Salka by the end of the novel, something that whilst not entirely unexpected when revealed, is no less emotionally impactful. And it fits the overall tone of the novel, that sadness, melancholy even, tinged with moments of real tension, fear and anger. There is a real cinematic feel to the story, with a real sense of place that puts readers in the heart of the investigation. A big nod to translator Quentin Bates who has managed to capture all that intensity of feeling, and essence of the settings, on the page so perfectly.
If you like your fiction on the darker side, I think this will definitely appeal. I'm really looking forward to reading more from the author in the future.
November 21, 2021
The Commandments is a fairly short novel that packs a massive emotional punch. The author deals with some of the darkest issues, and does it extremely well. It's often violent, it's always shocking, and it's put together so very well. The translation from the Icelandic to English by Quentin Bates is superb, and the reader is transported to the small town where the events take place.
Salka Steinsdóttir has returned to her hometown after spending time in London. She's carrying a lot of emotional baggage, although the reader is not yet aware of what has happened to her. Spending her time fly fishing and fielding off constant enquiries from her Mother, she's starting to heal. However, Salka soon finds herself back at work, recruited by the local police to investigate some violent and bloody crimes.
There's been a murder, and the dead man is a local priest and Salka knows him. She questioned him years ago as part of alleged offences against young people. He escaped conviction, has somebody finally given out their own punishment?
Salka is a an interesting character and one that readers will empathise with. She's very human, has flaws but is determined. She's not averse to a handsome face either! Her inner sadness and pain go a long way to make her who she is today and certainly impact upon her investigations.
Sharp, precise and with a real sense of place, The Commandments is a novel that I found both compelling and fascinating. The author is never afraid to deal with dark issues, and he does it very well. Although I had my suspicions throughout the story, I didn't get it quite right, and I like that. I enjoy being taken on ride, especially one as clever as this one.
A welcome addition to the Icelandic crime fiction scene.
Salka Steinsdóttir has returned to her hometown after spending time in London. She's carrying a lot of emotional baggage, although the reader is not yet aware of what has happened to her. Spending her time fly fishing and fielding off constant enquiries from her Mother, she's starting to heal. However, Salka soon finds herself back at work, recruited by the local police to investigate some violent and bloody crimes.
There's been a murder, and the dead man is a local priest and Salka knows him. She questioned him years ago as part of alleged offences against young people. He escaped conviction, has somebody finally given out their own punishment?
Salka is a an interesting character and one that readers will empathise with. She's very human, has flaws but is determined. She's not averse to a handsome face either! Her inner sadness and pain go a long way to make her who she is today and certainly impact upon her investigations.
Sharp, precise and with a real sense of place, The Commandments is a novel that I found both compelling and fascinating. The author is never afraid to deal with dark issues, and he does it very well. Although I had my suspicions throughout the story, I didn't get it quite right, and I like that. I enjoy being taken on ride, especially one as clever as this one.
A welcome addition to the Icelandic crime fiction scene.
November 12, 2021
In a village close to the Arctic Circle, the local priest is the victim of a violent murder. Salka Steinsdóttir, a former police detective who returned to the peaceful countryside in order to recover from a traumatic family episode, is in charge with the investigation. There are personal encounters which may interfer which may distract her, but just for a while. Her policewoman habits are stronger than love, a proof of her strength of character and resilience.
There are hints about the reasons of the crime from the very beginning, and the reader may be convinced sometimes that justice was delivered, although in a relatively non-conventional way. However, the story is more complex than that and within this predictable framework, the author creates suspense and introduces unexpected twists.
Approaching a topic of continous actuality - mainly the cases of sexual abuses among the members of the Iceland clergy - The Commandments is a dark depiction of raw feelings, driven by revenge and wounded by abusive behavior tolerated until the social pressure became too strong to keep hiding everything under the carpet. The matter-of-factness of those involved, particularly the priest, is part of the moral ambiguity pertaining to some of the questions raised by the book.
This unique take on crime writing makes this book, as a representative of Iceland Noir, a very strong literary contribution to the genre. For many, Iceland may sound as a happy place, where nothing bad can happen - except some banking collapse once in a while. It makes the reader curious to see the country beyond the travel listicles and stereotypical Nordic Lights recommendations. Although in a very dark way, it makes the country and its story real and enticing.
A special mention for the cover, which resonates fully with the Gothic ambiance of the book.
The Commandments is intended to be the first installment of a series featuring Salka Steinsdóttir and I can´t wait to read more by Óskar Guðmundsson.
Rating: 4.5 stars
Disclaimer: Book offered as part of a book tour but the opinions are, as usual, my own
There are hints about the reasons of the crime from the very beginning, and the reader may be convinced sometimes that justice was delivered, although in a relatively non-conventional way. However, the story is more complex than that and within this predictable framework, the author creates suspense and introduces unexpected twists.
Approaching a topic of continous actuality - mainly the cases of sexual abuses among the members of the Iceland clergy - The Commandments is a dark depiction of raw feelings, driven by revenge and wounded by abusive behavior tolerated until the social pressure became too strong to keep hiding everything under the carpet. The matter-of-factness of those involved, particularly the priest, is part of the moral ambiguity pertaining to some of the questions raised by the book.
This unique take on crime writing makes this book, as a representative of Iceland Noir, a very strong literary contribution to the genre. For many, Iceland may sound as a happy place, where nothing bad can happen - except some banking collapse once in a while. It makes the reader curious to see the country beyond the travel listicles and stereotypical Nordic Lights recommendations. Although in a very dark way, it makes the country and its story real and enticing.
A special mention for the cover, which resonates fully with the Gothic ambiance of the book.
The Commandments is intended to be the first installment of a series featuring Salka Steinsdóttir and I can´t wait to read more by Óskar Guðmundsson.
Rating: 4.5 stars
Disclaimer: Book offered as part of a book tour but the opinions are, as usual, my own
November 27, 2022
The first by Oskar and a top-notch Nordic-Iceland-Scandi noir mystery. Having read many (probably too many) Nordic mystery writers I was pleasantly surprised at what was, to me, a really strong offering. Quite complex crime(s) with a host of suspects that kept me guessing who the perpetrator was. And thinking I knew; Oskar fooled me and twisted me several times.
Be warned the crimes are heinous and grisly and the topic involves clergy and youngsters. I liked the cast and supporting characters and thought the protagonist lady detective, Salka, was a good combination of soft and tough. I hope this is the first of a series as it, IMO, rises above the "average" Nordic Noir offerings. See reviews by the "pros" for details :-)
Aside: if you are new to the genre, the names of people and places are especially difficult to pronounce in English. A pronunciation guide is common in many Scandinavian/Icelandic books. I prefer just to use my own mental picture/pronunciation of them...
Be warned the crimes are heinous and grisly and the topic involves clergy and youngsters. I liked the cast and supporting characters and thought the protagonist lady detective, Salka, was a good combination of soft and tough. I hope this is the first of a series as it, IMO, rises above the "average" Nordic Noir offerings. See reviews by the "pros" for details :-)
Aside: if you are new to the genre, the names of people and places are especially difficult to pronounce in English. A pronunciation guide is common in many Scandinavian/Icelandic books. I prefer just to use my own mental picture/pronunciation of them...
November 29, 2021
Guðmundsson’s brilliantly plotted and satisfyingly suspenseful first book in a series featuring Detective Inspector Salka Steinsdóttir, a strong female protagonist, shows unmistakably that he well deserves a compliment recently received from one of the top bestselling Icelandic authors of crime fiction. Ragnar Jónasson called Guðmundsson “one of the leading new talents of Icelandic crime fiction.” I agree. The Commandments, first published under the title Boðorðin in Icelandic by Bjartur, is Guðmundsson’s debut English translation. I can’t wait for more translations of his books. Having read the novels of many of the best Icelandic crime fiction authors in recent years, I’ll open this review with my opinion that The Commandments is as good as Icelandic crime writing gets.
The distinctive cover of The Commandments suggests that there is a religious theme to the book. It features a cross, the most recognized icon of Christianity. A blood smear forms its transverse bar, and a corroded Roman-era iron nail its upright post. That immediately put me in mind of crucifixion, the method of capital punishment used by the Romans and others in which they nailed the convicted person to a large wooden beam affixed to a post and left them to hang until their eventual death from exhaustion and asphyxiation. Combined with the cross, the title called to mind the Ten Commandments given by God to Moses. So, before I’d opened the book, I assumed there was a religious theme to the book and that perhaps someone had broken the fifth commandment, “You shall not kill.” That assumption proved correct as I started reading, but I soon learned that the fifth commandment wasn’t the only commandment someone broke.
Salka Steinsdóttir is a former police detective and most recently a former civilian crime analyst with the Metropolitan Police CID team in London after she and her husband Eysteinn moved to Britain from Iceland some years previously. We meet Salka after she has returned to Iceland, on hiatus while sorting some difficult marital problems. But when someone brutally murders a local priest in Akureyri, her hometown, members of the short-staffed Akureyri police recruit her to help with the investigation. At first, Salka refuses. Besides her marital problems, she is also back in Iceland because she’s concerned about her aging father, who is in failing health. She isn’t even sure she intends to return to police work after the break. But once she learns the victim is the priest she once investigated for sexual abuse, the murder piques her interest. She agrees to take a look at the crime scene at least and to offer her opinions.
Something I found interesting is we don’t meet Salka, the novel’s main character, until the fifth chapter. That’s unusual since the usually accepted convention is that authors should introduce the main character in the first chapter of a novel, if not the very first page. Some books open with a preliminary first chapter that sets the scene or tone of what’s to come before the main character enters. But I can’t recall ever reading the first four chapters of a novel before the protagonist appears. Yet, the story doesn’t suffer as a result. That’s because Guðmundsson cleverly and effectively used those early chapters to quickly build momentum and suspense by teasing out bits of information to the reader that he then uses to plant questions in our minds that we want to be answered. That keeps us turning the pages.
Despite her earlier reluctance, Salka ends up taking charge of the murder investigation, which candidly came as no surprise. She starts gathering pieces of the puzzle and works out the probably why behind the murder, well before she identifies the who—the murderer. Guðmundsson offers up enough believable suspects to keep us guessing right along with Salka until almost the very end.
Beyond the murder investigation, Salka muses about the dwindling prospects that her marriage will survive the difficulties even though a part of her wants things to work out. Also, she’s distracted by her father’s failing health and a casual romance that entwines her. The book is full of interesting, well-drawn characters. Still, Guðmundsson devotes most of his attention to Salka, revealing a complex, multi-layered—somewhat flawed but fascinating protagonist.
This ambitious Icelandic crime tale will resonate with readers who enjoy fast-paced, suspenseful thrillers that double as legitimate whodunits with a strong female main character who can take care of herself. There is a truly mind-blowing twist at the end, which I never saw coming, something I always enjoy. The Commandments is among the best Icelandic crime novels I’ve read this year, perhaps ever, and I’ve read many excellent ones. Translator Quentin Bates does his usual extraordinary job delivering an outstanding English translation that reads as smooth as glass. Fans of the genre won’t want to pass this one up. It’s that’s good.
The distinctive cover of The Commandments suggests that there is a religious theme to the book. It features a cross, the most recognized icon of Christianity. A blood smear forms its transverse bar, and a corroded Roman-era iron nail its upright post. That immediately put me in mind of crucifixion, the method of capital punishment used by the Romans and others in which they nailed the convicted person to a large wooden beam affixed to a post and left them to hang until their eventual death from exhaustion and asphyxiation. Combined with the cross, the title called to mind the Ten Commandments given by God to Moses. So, before I’d opened the book, I assumed there was a religious theme to the book and that perhaps someone had broken the fifth commandment, “You shall not kill.” That assumption proved correct as I started reading, but I soon learned that the fifth commandment wasn’t the only commandment someone broke.
Salka Steinsdóttir is a former police detective and most recently a former civilian crime analyst with the Metropolitan Police CID team in London after she and her husband Eysteinn moved to Britain from Iceland some years previously. We meet Salka after she has returned to Iceland, on hiatus while sorting some difficult marital problems. But when someone brutally murders a local priest in Akureyri, her hometown, members of the short-staffed Akureyri police recruit her to help with the investigation. At first, Salka refuses. Besides her marital problems, she is also back in Iceland because she’s concerned about her aging father, who is in failing health. She isn’t even sure she intends to return to police work after the break. But once she learns the victim is the priest she once investigated for sexual abuse, the murder piques her interest. She agrees to take a look at the crime scene at least and to offer her opinions.
Something I found interesting is we don’t meet Salka, the novel’s main character, until the fifth chapter. That’s unusual since the usually accepted convention is that authors should introduce the main character in the first chapter of a novel, if not the very first page. Some books open with a preliminary first chapter that sets the scene or tone of what’s to come before the main character enters. But I can’t recall ever reading the first four chapters of a novel before the protagonist appears. Yet, the story doesn’t suffer as a result. That’s because Guðmundsson cleverly and effectively used those early chapters to quickly build momentum and suspense by teasing out bits of information to the reader that he then uses to plant questions in our minds that we want to be answered. That keeps us turning the pages.
Despite her earlier reluctance, Salka ends up taking charge of the murder investigation, which candidly came as no surprise. She starts gathering pieces of the puzzle and works out the probably why behind the murder, well before she identifies the who—the murderer. Guðmundsson offers up enough believable suspects to keep us guessing right along with Salka until almost the very end.
Beyond the murder investigation, Salka muses about the dwindling prospects that her marriage will survive the difficulties even though a part of her wants things to work out. Also, she’s distracted by her father’s failing health and a casual romance that entwines her. The book is full of interesting, well-drawn characters. Still, Guðmundsson devotes most of his attention to Salka, revealing a complex, multi-layered—somewhat flawed but fascinating protagonist.
This ambitious Icelandic crime tale will resonate with readers who enjoy fast-paced, suspenseful thrillers that double as legitimate whodunits with a strong female main character who can take care of herself. There is a truly mind-blowing twist at the end, which I never saw coming, something I always enjoy. The Commandments is among the best Icelandic crime novels I’ve read this year, perhaps ever, and I’ve read many excellent ones. Translator Quentin Bates does his usual extraordinary job delivering an outstanding English translation that reads as smooth as glass. Fans of the genre won’t want to pass this one up. It’s that’s good.
November 27, 2021
In The Commandments, Guðmundsson has encapsulated all the elements that make for a chilling Nordic Noir. It is a dark and sometimes surprisingly emotional story; that emotion catching you unawares at points. He also manages to show us what it is like to live in a small country. It’s not so much that everyone knows everyone else; that’s patently not the case, but still there are so many connections that make it difficult to pass entirely under the radar, especially when you are part of a police force.
Salka Steinsdóttir had been working for the Met in London as a crime analyst and has now come home to Akureyi, to take a break following the breakdown of her marriage. But fate has other plans for Salka and the local Superintendent of Police needs Salka’s expertise after a gruesome murder. He especially wants Salka because she was involved in an earlier case involving the murdered man, Hrobjartur back in 2010. So somewhat reluctantly, Salka ditches her plans to spend her days in contemplation over some deep fly fishing and prepares to go back to work.
I liked Salka. Her history and the reasons for the break-up of her marriage are slowly drip fed throughout the book, but what you get from a sense of her is of an organised woman, used to being in charge who, without any sense of arrogance, knows who she is and what she wants. Any vulnerabilities are tucked down deep and she comes across as tough and independently minded.
The case Salka has been asked to investigate harks back to 1995. Anton has been involved with an amateur dramatics company led by Helgi, a local religious community leader who has created a theatre group to give focus to a group of troubled teens. But behind the façade of religion and good works lies an evil that is so dark it really disturbs Anton. His relationship with the church is shattered and he lashes out at the local protest, after which he is never seen again.
Now that same local priest has been found murdered in his own church, displayed in front of the altar for all to find. It is a vicious and deeply violent murder and Salka quickly establishes that several years ago the dead man, Hrobjartur together with a number of other priests were acquitted after claims of sexual abuse against a number of young boys could not be substantiated.
This story of abuse is not new to crime readers, but here Guðmundsson allows us to feel the full terrible impact of such on the life of at least one of these men, while showing us how positions of trust and privilege get in the way of a thorough and unbiased police investigation. Such is part of the problem of living in a small country with close knit communities.
Guðmundsson shows only too well how easy it is for power to be abused, how simple for those in positions of trust to manipulate and take advantage. The Commandments gives just enough detail for us to realise how horrific these crimes were without becoming too graphic, though the actual murders are pretty horrific. What is of more interest though is the way that he homes in on the mental impact over many years of this type of crime and how that leaves its victims feeling both betrayed and seriously diminished.
The Commandments often makes for grim reading. It’s dark and forceful and the story reaches out and grips you round the heart, squeezing tight as the awful crimes have a terrible impact on the victims. This is a tale of complicity, corruption and retribution that hits hard and spares no-one. I found it sad and sometimes very emotional and that makes for a very powerful read indeed.
The sense of place is strong and well-rooted and Quentin Bates translation is sensitive and portrays the darkness in these souls all too well.
Verdict: I liked this novel, not least because, as I said earlier, this kind of crime is not new, but right up until the end Guðmundsson offers the reader surprises and jaw dropping moments, even as he reveals more about Salka and what led her to try and take a break. Highly recommended.
Salka Steinsdóttir had been working for the Met in London as a crime analyst and has now come home to Akureyi, to take a break following the breakdown of her marriage. But fate has other plans for Salka and the local Superintendent of Police needs Salka’s expertise after a gruesome murder. He especially wants Salka because she was involved in an earlier case involving the murdered man, Hrobjartur back in 2010. So somewhat reluctantly, Salka ditches her plans to spend her days in contemplation over some deep fly fishing and prepares to go back to work.
I liked Salka. Her history and the reasons for the break-up of her marriage are slowly drip fed throughout the book, but what you get from a sense of her is of an organised woman, used to being in charge who, without any sense of arrogance, knows who she is and what she wants. Any vulnerabilities are tucked down deep and she comes across as tough and independently minded.
The case Salka has been asked to investigate harks back to 1995. Anton has been involved with an amateur dramatics company led by Helgi, a local religious community leader who has created a theatre group to give focus to a group of troubled teens. But behind the façade of religion and good works lies an evil that is so dark it really disturbs Anton. His relationship with the church is shattered and he lashes out at the local protest, after which he is never seen again.
Now that same local priest has been found murdered in his own church, displayed in front of the altar for all to find. It is a vicious and deeply violent murder and Salka quickly establishes that several years ago the dead man, Hrobjartur together with a number of other priests were acquitted after claims of sexual abuse against a number of young boys could not be substantiated.
This story of abuse is not new to crime readers, but here Guðmundsson allows us to feel the full terrible impact of such on the life of at least one of these men, while showing us how positions of trust and privilege get in the way of a thorough and unbiased police investigation. Such is part of the problem of living in a small country with close knit communities.
Guðmundsson shows only too well how easy it is for power to be abused, how simple for those in positions of trust to manipulate and take advantage. The Commandments gives just enough detail for us to realise how horrific these crimes were without becoming too graphic, though the actual murders are pretty horrific. What is of more interest though is the way that he homes in on the mental impact over many years of this type of crime and how that leaves its victims feeling both betrayed and seriously diminished.
The Commandments often makes for grim reading. It’s dark and forceful and the story reaches out and grips you round the heart, squeezing tight as the awful crimes have a terrible impact on the victims. This is a tale of complicity, corruption and retribution that hits hard and spares no-one. I found it sad and sometimes very emotional and that makes for a very powerful read indeed.
The sense of place is strong and well-rooted and Quentin Bates translation is sensitive and portrays the darkness in these souls all too well.
Verdict: I liked this novel, not least because, as I said earlier, this kind of crime is not new, but right up until the end Guðmundsson offers the reader surprises and jaw dropping moments, even as he reveals more about Salka and what led her to try and take a break. Highly recommended.
November 14, 2021
Written by Óskar Guðmundsson and translated by Quentin Bates, this is a story that draws the reader in from the start. We first see the setup of the situation in 1995, it is not pleasant, and the indications are clear from the off. Then we jump to 2014 and then the real action begins. Headlines in the paper that state: “Church covers up child abuse, victims tell all” really set the scene for what’s going to happen through the book. This story deals with grooming and corruption on many levels and how powerful men will cover up for others, until the victims are left powerless and unbelieved.
The writing in this book, the plot and subplots, flow naturally and well, there isn’t a wasted scene. There is plenty of misdirection and hints at a great many things, some of which turn out to be real and some don’t. As a reader you don’t really know which are which until the end, which is great because it keeps you guessing and reading.
All the characters are really well-drawn, they feel like real people with real lives, another huge positive. The investigator, Salka is an interesting character, a lost and lonely woman with a past, and real potential for the future – assuming she doesn’t blow it. Her reality only truly reveals itself on the very last page and it a surprise, but it also explains so much about the way she is as a woman and as a police officer.
The final resolution is two-fold, the first revelation surprised me, which it probably shouldn’t have done. The second didn’t, though it probably should have. I like that I was surprised, it means I was kept guessing till the end and a good crime novel should do that.
The thing that tripped me up through the book was the names. Obviously, they are Icelandic and most of them were no problem at all, the people (except one) were easily nameable, and I think I’d make a good attempt at pronunciation – but I’ve no idea how to say many of the mentioned places. Reykjavik, Grenvik, those were fine, in my head the others slowed me right down and I had to really think to read them syllable but syllable, which in turn threw me out of the rhythm of the story. This is most definitely an issue with me and not with the book, I’m reporting this as my reader experience not criticising the book.
The subject matter of this book is a tough one and I think that it was handled with care and sensitivity. However, the nature of the subject did make for a tough emotional read at times. It makes the reader stop and think, which again a good book should.
I can easily see why this book will get a great many 5* reviews, however, I’m giving it 4*. The reason for this is that it didn’t have that undefinable quality that meant I just had to keep reading – don’t get me wrong once I was reading it, I loved it, it really is well written/translated. But there were several times when I thought, oh I could sit and read now, that the idea of reading this particular book meant I didn’t. This is clearly much more of a me issue than an issue with the book, so other readers shouldn’t necessarily be put off by my assessment. In reviewing I have to be totally honest, and the stop-the-world-I-have-to-read-this-now factor was missing for me.
I really do think that a great many crime readers will absolutely love this book, and I would highly recommend it.
The writing in this book, the plot and subplots, flow naturally and well, there isn’t a wasted scene. There is plenty of misdirection and hints at a great many things, some of which turn out to be real and some don’t. As a reader you don’t really know which are which until the end, which is great because it keeps you guessing and reading.
All the characters are really well-drawn, they feel like real people with real lives, another huge positive. The investigator, Salka is an interesting character, a lost and lonely woman with a past, and real potential for the future – assuming she doesn’t blow it. Her reality only truly reveals itself on the very last page and it a surprise, but it also explains so much about the way she is as a woman and as a police officer.
The final resolution is two-fold, the first revelation surprised me, which it probably shouldn’t have done. The second didn’t, though it probably should have. I like that I was surprised, it means I was kept guessing till the end and a good crime novel should do that.
The thing that tripped me up through the book was the names. Obviously, they are Icelandic and most of them were no problem at all, the people (except one) were easily nameable, and I think I’d make a good attempt at pronunciation – but I’ve no idea how to say many of the mentioned places. Reykjavik, Grenvik, those were fine, in my head the others slowed me right down and I had to really think to read them syllable but syllable, which in turn threw me out of the rhythm of the story. This is most definitely an issue with me and not with the book, I’m reporting this as my reader experience not criticising the book.
The subject matter of this book is a tough one and I think that it was handled with care and sensitivity. However, the nature of the subject did make for a tough emotional read at times. It makes the reader stop and think, which again a good book should.
I can easily see why this book will get a great many 5* reviews, however, I’m giving it 4*. The reason for this is that it didn’t have that undefinable quality that meant I just had to keep reading – don’t get me wrong once I was reading it, I loved it, it really is well written/translated. But there were several times when I thought, oh I could sit and read now, that the idea of reading this particular book meant I didn’t. This is clearly much more of a me issue than an issue with the book, so other readers shouldn’t necessarily be put off by my assessment. In reviewing I have to be totally honest, and the stop-the-world-I-have-to-read-this-now factor was missing for me.
I really do think that a great many crime readers will absolutely love this book, and I would highly recommend it.
November 17, 2021
In the last two years, Corylus Books have brought us the first two English translations of Solveig Pálsdóttir which have further enhanced the breadth and depth of translated Icelandic crime fiction. Now they have done so again with a very different author Óskar Guðmundsson. While this is not his debut novel, it is the start of a series based centred on police detective Salka Steinsdóttir. Having taken time out of active service, after working in Reykjavík and London she is brought back into service in the northern town of Akureyri which is Iceland's second largest urban area with a population of around 20,000.
As the name suggests, there is a biblical theme to this story and Salka and her team are brought in to investigation a particularly gruesome and ritualistic murder. The victim is someone that Salka had previously investigated in the past. As the reader is made aware in the first few chapters set in 1995, the roots of the story hail back much earlier. In time it becomes apparent that the killer is not yet satisfied. In order to find him or her, Salka Steinsdóttir discovers many who had the motive; but who had the opportunity?
With a focus on Akureyri and the local fishing village of Grenivík, there is a quite a different feel to this novel from many Icelandic novels set in the capital city. While the subject nature is very dark at times, the narrative is capitating we follow Steinsdóttir’s investigation, her conversations and thought processes as subsequent bodies are discovered. I particularly enjoyed reading paragraphs such as the one below which showed how she demonstrated her strong all and found a way to deal with many of the unsavoury characters that she would meet:
“Gunnleifur glared at Salka. She joined in the battle of wills, staring back at him in silence, and making sure that she allowed herself a glimmer of a smile. She reckoned that would serve to irritate him.”
As with any novel translated by Quentin Bates, the narrative always flows naturally and there are also a few changes in font when the narrative is being told from a different angle or time. Our key protagonist also demonstrates that she is unafraid of physical contact when required although as the story develops we also become aware of her more vulnerable side and the cause of her recent trauma. Not that this blunts in anyway her perceptions as she starts to feel some doubts towards some of those closest to her.
If it’s not already clear, this novel is far away from cosy crime, but in my view the two are rarely compatible. While some of the descriptions of crime scenes can be a little graphic, this is a very intelligently written novel with many facets to the storyline. Guðmundsson approaches some difficult subjects that other crime writers tend to avoid. It makes for an absorbing read and I’m keen to read the further adventures of Salka Steinsdóttir.
As the name suggests, there is a biblical theme to this story and Salka and her team are brought in to investigation a particularly gruesome and ritualistic murder. The victim is someone that Salka had previously investigated in the past. As the reader is made aware in the first few chapters set in 1995, the roots of the story hail back much earlier. In time it becomes apparent that the killer is not yet satisfied. In order to find him or her, Salka Steinsdóttir discovers many who had the motive; but who had the opportunity?
With a focus on Akureyri and the local fishing village of Grenivík, there is a quite a different feel to this novel from many Icelandic novels set in the capital city. While the subject nature is very dark at times, the narrative is capitating we follow Steinsdóttir’s investigation, her conversations and thought processes as subsequent bodies are discovered. I particularly enjoyed reading paragraphs such as the one below which showed how she demonstrated her strong all and found a way to deal with many of the unsavoury characters that she would meet:
“Gunnleifur glared at Salka. She joined in the battle of wills, staring back at him in silence, and making sure that she allowed herself a glimmer of a smile. She reckoned that would serve to irritate him.”
As with any novel translated by Quentin Bates, the narrative always flows naturally and there are also a few changes in font when the narrative is being told from a different angle or time. Our key protagonist also demonstrates that she is unafraid of physical contact when required although as the story develops we also become aware of her more vulnerable side and the cause of her recent trauma. Not that this blunts in anyway her perceptions as she starts to feel some doubts towards some of those closest to her.
If it’s not already clear, this novel is far away from cosy crime, but in my view the two are rarely compatible. While some of the descriptions of crime scenes can be a little graphic, this is a very intelligently written novel with many facets to the storyline. Guðmundsson approaches some difficult subjects that other crime writers tend to avoid. It makes for an absorbing read and I’m keen to read the further adventures of Salka Steinsdóttir.
November 15, 2024
3.5 Stars
Earlier this summer, I read Óskar Guðmundsson’s book The Dancer (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/...). It impressed me enough that I decided to read this one, an earlier release.
Salka Steinsdóttir, having returned to Iceland after some time in England with her ex-husband, is asked to investigate the brutal ritualistic murder of a priest, Hróbjartur. She had previously worked on a case involving him and other priests charged with sexual abuse. The charges had been dismissed. Salka works with Gisli, a young, inexperienced police officer.
Events take place in Akureyri and the nearby village of Grenivík where everyone knows everyone. This can help an investigation, but it can also present complications as friendships and family connections can affect objectivity. The discovery of more bodies also complicates the investigation.
A lot of clues are provided so it’s not too difficult to at least guess who is involved. The number of adoptions amongst the characters, the convenient absences of people at critical moments, and the reactions of individuals are all telling. It is also not difficult to guess what happened in Salka’s marriage.
Salka is an interesting character. She is intelligent and determined. Though she appears to possess inner strength, the reader learns she is emotionally fragile. She has difficulty opening up and mov
ing on with her life. Her vulnerabilities make her very human and relatable.
Like The Dancer, this book explores the effects of childhood trauma, especially when justice is not done for the victims. The story of Anton is especially heart-breaking. The methods used to groom and brainwash children are explored, but so is the way that people often turn a blind eye to such abuse. I have to admit I found myself uncomfortable with the fact that I didn’t feel more uncomfortable with the retribution exacted on the sexual abusers of children.
This is not a cozy mystery; it is dark and disturbing with several scenes of brutal violence. I can certainly see this as the first book in a series featuring Salka. If that turns out to be the case, I’ll certainly pick up the next installment.
Please check out my reader's blog (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/) or substack (https://doreenyakabuski.substack.com/) for over 1,100 of my book reviews.>/b>
Earlier this summer, I read Óskar Guðmundsson’s book The Dancer (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/...). It impressed me enough that I decided to read this one, an earlier release.
Salka Steinsdóttir, having returned to Iceland after some time in England with her ex-husband, is asked to investigate the brutal ritualistic murder of a priest, Hróbjartur. She had previously worked on a case involving him and other priests charged with sexual abuse. The charges had been dismissed. Salka works with Gisli, a young, inexperienced police officer.
Events take place in Akureyri and the nearby village of Grenivík where everyone knows everyone. This can help an investigation, but it can also present complications as friendships and family connections can affect objectivity. The discovery of more bodies also complicates the investigation.
A lot of clues are provided so it’s not too difficult to at least guess who is involved. The number of adoptions amongst the characters, the convenient absences of people at critical moments, and the reactions of individuals are all telling. It is also not difficult to guess what happened in Salka’s marriage.
Salka is an interesting character. She is intelligent and determined. Though she appears to possess inner strength, the reader learns she is emotionally fragile. She has difficulty opening up and mov
ing on with her life. Her vulnerabilities make her very human and relatable.
Like The Dancer, this book explores the effects of childhood trauma, especially when justice is not done for the victims. The story of Anton is especially heart-breaking. The methods used to groom and brainwash children are explored, but so is the way that people often turn a blind eye to such abuse. I have to admit I found myself uncomfortable with the fact that I didn’t feel more uncomfortable with the retribution exacted on the sexual abusers of children.
This is not a cozy mystery; it is dark and disturbing with several scenes of brutal violence. I can certainly see this as the first book in a series featuring Salka. If that turns out to be the case, I’ll certainly pick up the next installment.
Please check out my reader's blog (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/) or substack (https://doreenyakabuski.substack.com/) for over 1,100 of my book reviews.>/b>
November 13, 2021
Corylus continues to bring excellent European fiction to readers of English, with The Commandments being the first of Óskar Guðmundsson's novels to be published in English. A standalone featuring former detective Salka Steinsdóttir, home in Iceland from the UK amidst a messy divorce, I can see this kicking off a series if Guðmundsson wants to do that - I would love to find out more about Steinsdóttir, a rather effectively rendered and sympathetic central character, and her background. That said, be prepared for some darkness. The present-day events of The Commandments - a series of gruesome torture-murders - are grim enough, but the history in which they're rooted point to disturbing events in the recent past and, perhaps even worse, to ongoing collusion and collective silence about those events.
The opening of the novel reflects both those strands. After a disturbing intro, set in 1995, we're introduced to Steinsdóttir on a fishing trip, staying near (but not with!) her parents. Guðmundsson makes clear that there is some private trauma or conflict going on - Steinsdóttir's father is ill, but there seems to be more to it than that. Soon, she is approached by the local police, who are short-handed, to help out with the investigation of a cold-blooded and sadistic crime and of course - and fortunately for us! - she eventually agrees. To a degree this all seems very informal - Steinsdóttir has been working with the Met Police in London and apparently has a formidable reputation, and she was in the Icelandic police before, but still, there is an impressive lack of bureaucracy to this appointment (and perhaps, consequent sulking from some of the new colleagues).
Never mind. The story takes off from here, deftly blending a number of themes.
There's Steinsdóttir's personal life - she rapidly discovers she rather fancies one of the other cops, although there's still some family background that isn't quite clear, and she seems rather reluctant to sign the divorce papers that a miffed soon to be ex-husband is pressing on her.
There's the team she's joined, involving both a resentful colleague who clearly wants the interloper gone, a young and keen (but rather inept) officer and the various specialists who fly in and out and who, endearingly, Steinsdóttir keeps forgetting the names of (I can relate). Overall, we get a vibrant and convincing portrayal of shifting team dynamics without any of the cliches of detective fiction - no unreasonable boss banging the door of his office, no washed-up wrecks of detectives who've given their all to the job and ruined their lives.
And, of course, there's the mystery itself - the horrific series of murders taking place (will it be possible to stop them, or will the police always be playing catch-up?) and, lurking somewhere behind, the historic crime - it's clear there has been one. Guðmundsson is very good at drawing out the connections between present and past. The damage that can be caused by things that happen to people at a vulnerable age leading to trauma and loss in later life. The more specific ways in which the past can shape the present. The unseen victims. In the frame for much of this is the Church, which it would be fair to say takes a bit of a kicking here. I know very little about the Church in Iceland but (I should declare my interest here as the husband of a Church of England priest) we all know the various historic scandals which have been exposed over the years around the world and so the web of cover-up, looking the other way and plain denial is all too credible.
All in all, The Commandments is a tautly-written (and crisply translated) crime novel with engaging characters and a fair bit of action that unflinchingly takes on a historical scandal. If at times it is a bit condemnatory, well, it's hard to complain about that.
Whether as a standalone or potentially the start of a series, this left me wanting more from Guðmundsson.
The opening of the novel reflects both those strands. After a disturbing intro, set in 1995, we're introduced to Steinsdóttir on a fishing trip, staying near (but not with!) her parents. Guðmundsson makes clear that there is some private trauma or conflict going on - Steinsdóttir's father is ill, but there seems to be more to it than that. Soon, she is approached by the local police, who are short-handed, to help out with the investigation of a cold-blooded and sadistic crime and of course - and fortunately for us! - she eventually agrees. To a degree this all seems very informal - Steinsdóttir has been working with the Met Police in London and apparently has a formidable reputation, and she was in the Icelandic police before, but still, there is an impressive lack of bureaucracy to this appointment (and perhaps, consequent sulking from some of the new colleagues).
Never mind. The story takes off from here, deftly blending a number of themes.
There's Steinsdóttir's personal life - she rapidly discovers she rather fancies one of the other cops, although there's still some family background that isn't quite clear, and she seems rather reluctant to sign the divorce papers that a miffed soon to be ex-husband is pressing on her.
There's the team she's joined, involving both a resentful colleague who clearly wants the interloper gone, a young and keen (but rather inept) officer and the various specialists who fly in and out and who, endearingly, Steinsdóttir keeps forgetting the names of (I can relate). Overall, we get a vibrant and convincing portrayal of shifting team dynamics without any of the cliches of detective fiction - no unreasonable boss banging the door of his office, no washed-up wrecks of detectives who've given their all to the job and ruined their lives.
And, of course, there's the mystery itself - the horrific series of murders taking place (will it be possible to stop them, or will the police always be playing catch-up?) and, lurking somewhere behind, the historic crime - it's clear there has been one. Guðmundsson is very good at drawing out the connections between present and past. The damage that can be caused by things that happen to people at a vulnerable age leading to trauma and loss in later life. The more specific ways in which the past can shape the present. The unseen victims. In the frame for much of this is the Church, which it would be fair to say takes a bit of a kicking here. I know very little about the Church in Iceland but (I should declare my interest here as the husband of a Church of England priest) we all know the various historic scandals which have been exposed over the years around the world and so the web of cover-up, looking the other way and plain denial is all too credible.
All in all, The Commandments is a tautly-written (and crisply translated) crime novel with engaging characters and a fair bit of action that unflinchingly takes on a historical scandal. If at times it is a bit condemnatory, well, it's hard to complain about that.
Whether as a standalone or potentially the start of a series, this left me wanting more from Guðmundsson.
November 15, 2021
Óskar Guðmundsson´s first novel, Hilma, was lauded by critics when it came out in 2015. The Commandments, Óskar’s first novel to be translated into English is poised to become equally as successful.
From the first pages Guðmundsson sets the bar high in terms of tension and atmosphere. It’s 1995 and a local theatre company just finished the run of a successful play. Helgi, the theatre director has done a great deal for the community. For years he has been responsible for the amateur dramatics society, creating an environment for teenagers from unhappy homes. An esteemed member of the church, he also was a relief religious education teacher, which is where Anton first met him. There’s no doubt that Helgi isn’t what he seems to be, and the nineteen-year-old Anton knows first-hand that Helgi’s enthusiasm for youth work is just a smokescreen for something decidedly more evil.
Full review: https://westwordsreviews.wordpress.co...
From the first pages Guðmundsson sets the bar high in terms of tension and atmosphere. It’s 1995 and a local theatre company just finished the run of a successful play. Helgi, the theatre director has done a great deal for the community. For years he has been responsible for the amateur dramatics society, creating an environment for teenagers from unhappy homes. An esteemed member of the church, he also was a relief religious education teacher, which is where Anton first met him. There’s no doubt that Helgi isn’t what he seems to be, and the nineteen-year-old Anton knows first-hand that Helgi’s enthusiasm for youth work is just a smokescreen for something decidedly more evil.
Full review: https://westwordsreviews.wordpress.co...
November 23, 2021
Corylus Books has delivered an array of fascinating translated crime fiction from countries such as Romania and France and this time it is Iceland's turn with The Commandments, a dark novel written by Óskar Guðmundsson, an author whose work has never been translated into English until now. Quentin Bates, an acclaimed writer and translator does a terrific job in capturing the distinct, unnerving tone of the original text and his work augments the overall quality of this publication. Guðmundsson chooses a theme that is overused in Nordic crime fiction and his storyline involves the horrific child sexual abuse by people in power, nevertheless his approach stands out due to its particular sense of detachment from the subject matter and the plausible characters who act and behave like normal human beings.
To read my full review, visit https://tapthelinemag.com/post/blog-t...
To read my full review, visit https://tapthelinemag.com/post/blog-t...
November 30, 2021
This book had some good elements - I loved the slow reveal of the protagonist's personal life and history. I also liked the subject matter, which revolved around a series of murders of priests who were accused of sexual abuse years ago.
What I didn't love was how the author chose to deal with this subject matter. The atrocity of what the priests did was weirdly softened and blurred by the writing, until it was made to feel like a not-so-terrible crime. I'm not sure if that was the author's intention, or if it was an effect of the translation, but I found it unsettling and it diminished my enjoyment of the plot.
What I didn't love was how the author chose to deal with this subject matter. The atrocity of what the priests did was weirdly softened and blurred by the writing, until it was made to feel like a not-so-terrible crime. I'm not sure if that was the author's intention, or if it was an effect of the translation, but I found it unsettling and it diminished my enjoyment of the plot.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
November 7, 2021
Because I read a very good review -- thank you Kristopher Zgorski -- I added this book to my TBR pile. Now I wait for the next in what I hope will be a long series. This is Iceland Noir at very nearly its best. A bit gory in the beginning, it evolves into a character study. I look forward to getting to know Salka and company even better in the coming years.
If Oskar Gudmondsson had included an appendix of the pronunciation of the Icelandic names, I would give this book five stars. It was distracting for me, being unable to "hear" the names of many of the principle players.
If Oskar Gudmondsson had included an appendix of the pronunciation of the Icelandic names, I would give this book five stars. It was distracting for me, being unable to "hear" the names of many of the principle players.
November 23, 2025
Ending has surprise after surprise
Salka takes some time off to go fishing near her hometown in northern Iceland. The police chief calls her in from her vacation to investigate the murder of a priest who Salka had investigated for child sex abuse many year prior. The murder was gruesome and very little evidence could be found. This will not be the first priest targeted.
The plot of this book plugged along, and then came the final few chapters. So many surprises.
Salka takes some time off to go fishing near her hometown in northern Iceland. The police chief calls her in from her vacation to investigate the murder of a priest who Salka had investigated for child sex abuse many year prior. The murder was gruesome and very little evidence could be found. This will not be the first priest targeted.
The plot of this book plugged along, and then came the final few chapters. So many surprises.
January 4, 2023
Terrifyingly true
I never knew that things like described this book could happen in Iceland. But stories are.coming to light dozens.of years later of abuse of young boys by the men of the church. Terrible things that did happen. This is an unbelievable horror that has happened in my country.
I never knew that things like described this book could happen in Iceland. But stories are.coming to light dozens.of years later of abuse of young boys by the men of the church. Terrible things that did happen. This is an unbelievable horror that has happened in my country.
November 27, 2023
I waited soooooo long to get my hands on this authors work and it did not disappoint!
Thanks to translater & I got a kindle copy after I missed my chance at a paperback.
It’s about a detective called Salka who ends up back home and working for the local force and the murders she is called in to help solve.
It’s gritty and dark and I’m looking forward to more from this author.
Thanks to translater & I got a kindle copy after I missed my chance at a paperback.
It’s about a detective called Salka who ends up back home and working for the local force and the murders she is called in to help solve.
It’s gritty and dark and I’m looking forward to more from this author.
March 20, 2024
Excellent mystery. Well worth reading.
Having visited Iceland a number of times, I have a feel for the locations. This is a well presented story with believable characters involved in church-involved child predators. Real suspense. I hope the author continues to write. Iceland, for its size, has produced a surprising number of fine mystery writers.
Having visited Iceland a number of times, I have a feel for the locations. This is a well presented story with believable characters involved in church-involved child predators. Real suspense. I hope the author continues to write. Iceland, for its size, has produced a surprising number of fine mystery writers.
Read
June 18, 2022Hard to put down.
Óskar Guðmundsson is a good storyteller and this story is hard to put down. You are always guessing and there is always a sense that things ( and people) are not as they seem. The flow of the story is excellent and I highly recommend reading it.
Óskar Guðmundsson is a good storyteller and this story is hard to put down. You are always guessing and there is always a sense that things ( and people) are not as they seem. The flow of the story is excellent and I highly recommend reading it.
November 3, 2021
A tad gruesome in a few parts, but quite an interesting slow reveal of the plotline - but with a bit of a hurry-along in tying up loose ends at the finish.
January 18, 2022
I love Icelandic noir and was thrilled to find this book recommended by Bookbub. I will definitely read more by this author. A brilliant, gripping read.
January 5, 2024
Mediocre and clumsily-written. Character relationships and characters pretty unbelievable. The opposite end of the scale from Jo Nesbo in terms of quality and skill. An airport potboiler.
January 7, 2024
A difficult subject - hard to read at times - yet sensitively handled, and a gripping plot - excellent debut into English! Looking forward to more from this talented author.
March 11, 2024
A quick, reasonably engaging read.
April 2, 2024
Soooo good! You cannot possibly gress how this is going to end... lovede it.want to know mire? Read it yourself!
December 29, 2024
First read by this author.
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