The Stockholm cruise is something of a cultural institution in Finland. The ferries − perhaps more aptly described as "floating shopping malls" − take passengers between Helsinki or Turku and Stockholm, with a brief stop at Mariehamn to get the alcohol sales exempt from the famously high Nordic alcohol taxation. The cruises themselves are dirt cheap, and discount vouchers and special offers are the norm rather than the exception. I've had a cabin to myself for 15 euros.
It is a very comfortable way to travel between Finland and Sweden, if one has the time to spare. The ferry companies can undercut even the cheapest of discount airlines, because they are far better positioned to sell their passengers food. And alcohol. Especially alcohol. My view is from the Finnish side, but the only way the Swedes seem to look at the concept differently is that they call it the Finland boat.
There also exists the concept of the 23-hour cruise, where the ship stops at each end of the trip just to let out and take on passengers, who then disembark the next day at the same port where they stepped aboard. The trip itself is the destination. The boat is the attraction. Though there's stuff to keep children occupied, overall the air is of an adult amusement park. Booze is cheap, there's karaoke, a fine selection of restaurants, and the promise of meeting people you will never meet again. What happens on the Stockholm ferry stays on the Stockholm ferry.
This also means you can't get out. There's a wealth of horror fiction about the Stockholm ferry.
I took Ristely − "The Cruise" − as my reading just before a student cruise, finishing it in the bar waiting for the boarding to start. I was far less interested in the cruise after that.
It's ostensibly a vampire novel, though because of how Strandberg's interpretation of vampirism works, I would rather classify it as a zombie story, with the exception that there are a pair of clear villains, a child vampire and the has-been night club singer.
The story is told in chapters from the points-of-view of its different protagonists − a child with an unhappy family, a former employee who brought his boyfriend to see where he once worked, an older woman who booked the cruise on a lark, a younger woman out to party, the nightclub singer, and most importantly, the ship herself, Baltic Charisma. The ship is the most interesting of the lot. The book's description of the cruise experience is loaded with bile in a way that had me nodding my head. There's the buffet restaurant that's not quite as high-end as it's letting on, complete with customer-operated wine taps. There are the violent drunks, the barf in all the wrong places, the passengers thinking it's glamorous, the worn-out and faintly dirty cabins whose bathrooms invariably smell of death.
It's a far too familiar ship.
Throughout the first half of the book, the people engage in their personal problems, while the vampire infection still spreads unnoticed. Then it can no longer be contained and the rest of the book becomes a zombie story, and people start dying left and right in graphic ways that veer very close to splatter without, I think, quite crossing over. This part of the book is much less interesting, but the first half quite makes up for it. The characters are interesting. Zombies I have never found interesting.
Strandberg's vampire mythology also comes with a suspension of disbelief issue. Vampirism is extremely easily transmitted and turns the victim initially into a rage zombie that then, over days or months, would reclaim a personality. There's just no damn way I can see how something like that would be able to uphold a masquerade for any length of time. It works for the length of a single novel, though.
Overall, Risteily was a fun book, and someone who dislikes zombies less than I do would probably enjoy it even more. I especially appreciated the cruise descriptions, which felt far too true to life. I was already feeling done with the Stockholm boat, but Mats Strandberg may have delivered the coup de grace. This is not a bad thing.