The Scandinavian Noir police genre is really strong these days. Stieg Larrson, Jo Nesbo, Arnaldur Indriðason, Henning Mankell, Karin Fossum: there seems no end of extremely talented novelists. Unfortunately, Hakan Nesser doesn’t belong on that list. His offering is as bland and meh and ineffectual as the police investigation at the core of this book. Give it a pass.
1.7 million dollars. That’s how much a Swedish Chauffeur working at the United Nations is claiming in damages for injuries sustained after falling off a ladder while assembling an Ikea wardrobe for his employer.
No word yet how many husbands will now have legal precedent to sue their wives for forcing them to buy the self-assembly flatpacks conceived by the devil.