Exploding onto the Scandi-Crime scene in 2009 with Hypnotisören (The Hypnotist in English translation), Lars Kepler became something of a publishing phenomenon in what was even by then a near-saturated market. Unlike other novelists in the same field, "Kepler" wrote under a pseudonym, which resulted in an early debate over "his" identity. One strong candidate, apparently, was none other than Henning Mankell. In late 2009, "Kepler's" identity was revealed as the married couple Alexander and Alexandra Ahndoril.
Originally published in 2010 under the enigmatic title Paganinikontraktet, the second Kepler effort saw English release in 2012 as The Nightmare. The original Swedish title ("The Paganini Contract") does eventually make sense towards the end of the novel, but I suspect the change was designed to grab the Anglophone reader's attention, as well as to relate slightly better to the bulk of the plot.
And what a plot it is! In stark contrast to Mankell - who would have seriously gone out on a limb were he the author of these novels - The Nightmare is a full-tilt, pedal-to-the-metal thriller, much as The Hypnotist was earlier. While this is the second appearance of Kepler's series character, the Finland-born Swedish policeman Joona Linna, there's very little in the way of character development in this novel, and I doubt that a reader who hasn't already met Linna in his earlier case would be disadvantaged by jumping in at this point.
The Nightmare begins with the discovery of a woman's body on a deserted boat in the Stockholm Archipelago. She's been drowned, but her clothes are completely dry. Almost simultaneously, a routine police check uncovers the body of a man hanging from a noose attached to his ceiling...with seemingly no way for him to have got up to the noose in the first place.
Linna begins to suspect something when the woman is identified as the sister of a prominent Swedish peace activist, particularly as the hanged man was the head of the committee charged with approving arms exports from Sweden. And so begins what can only be described as a high-concept cinematic plot involving chases over several islands of the Archipelago, hitmen, explosions, some alarmingly graphic torture scenes and one remarkable set-piece in the German embassy in Stockholm.
As mentioned earlier, we don't really learn an awful lot about Linna over the course of the novel. He is Finnish, at least to the extent that he reverts to his native language under pressure, suffers occasionally from migraines and has what can only be described as a hesitant relationship with a woman called Disa. If there are more clues to his physical appearance, I can safely say that I didn't pick them up as there was more action going on.
The same can be said for the other characters here, which is the weakness of Kepler's writing style. While we want to know what's going to happen next (the very short chapters frequently end with people bursting into rooms, seeing pursuers closing in on them or generally being left in a tense situation), the lack of characterisation reduces practically everyone to the level of a cypher.
Linna's somewhat reluctant Säpo opposite number, Saga Bauer, is briefly described as being quite beautiful, but even her physical appearance seems to be a means to an end as it allows people to underestimate her strength, speed and analytical skills. Meanwhile, characters with almost no long-term relevance to the plot are unexpectedly given back-stories. Sometimes, this has the effect of creating some level of empathy for the character, but the level of detail is uneven. There are also quite possibly too many characters who have a strong affinity for classical music.
In the hands of a master storyteller like a Mankell, these inconsistencies would be ironed out, and it's not as if the Ahndorils had never written a word before teaming up to be Kepler (although it appears that they had been perhaps more "consciously literary" before being inspired by Stieg Larsson's Millennium series to try crime fiction). It does make the impact of the novel slightly less than it could have been, but in fairness this is a novel all about the action rather than the characters.
One other quirk of The Nightmare is its unusual use of tense. Most of the novel is written in present tense, with unannounced flashbacks arriving in past tense. This can be slightly disconcerting for the reader initially.
There is also an unusual reliance on what I can only term the "jump-cut". As in most thrillers, plenty of the action takes place simultaneously, and the secret of the craft lies in keeping all the threads of the story moving rapidly. It's not surprising to see one chapter from one character's perspective and then the next to be events at the same time from someone else's view. Occasionally, though, events turn out to have been in a different order - a phone call proving that one character is still alive, for example, is "received" in one scene some 25 pages before the scene in which it's "made", which is peculiar. Again, a slightly more deft hand in the writing process - or the editing process - would probably have tightened this up.
Also, a quick word on the translation. This generally keeps the plot moving without seemingly inserting extraneous details. I do have to take issue with the consistent rendering of Stockholm street names as "Sveavägen Boulevard", though, which just doesn't make sense.
While I've been critical of this novel, it's simply because I hold Scandi-Crime to a very high standard. The Nightmare doesn't quite hit those marks, but is still streets ahead of the average Anglo-American "airport thriller".
3 stars.
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