Wolf Winter by Cecilia Ekback

A book set in the Swedish Lapland, in 1717, is new terrain for this reader, while the cluster of homesteads on Blackasen Mountain is a fresh start for the Paavo, Maija and their daughters, fourteen-year-old Frederika and her six-year-old sister Dorotea. They are from Finland having exchanged a property with an uncle. On arrival they discover a house in poor repair and neighbours who are suspicious and nervous. Not that they meet the neighbours until the girls discover the body of a man while herding their goats.
    Paavo holds back but Maija has enough gumption to have a look for herself, and  do something about it. She walks to the nearest house to get help and slowly gets to meet the neighbours: Gustav, an ex-soldier with what we might call post-traumatic stress disorder, Henrik and Lisbet who are more helpful, and Elin Eriksson, the wife of the deceased. At first it is assumed that Eriksson was killed by a wolf, but when Maija helps wash the body, the wound has marks to suggest a blade.
    The story is in part a mystery around Maija's determination to discover what really happened. Frederika, who has a kind of sixth sense and frequently feels the presence of the dead man, also gets involved. Then as summer lapses into autumn, the arrival of the Lapps who leave their goats with Maija, adds complications. Frederika is drawn towards the shamanism that the Lapps have been forced to give up for Christianity, on pain of death. Elin Eriksson has also been suspected of sorcery and is still not trusted.
    It is left to the priest, a one-time royal favourite named Olaus, to uncover the culprit and to ensure the farmers and villagers alike adhere to the strict dictates of the church, but he has faults of his own and a wavering confidence. Olaus and Maija form an unlikely alliance, however, in their quest for the truth.
    While the novel carries the reader along with the gradual revelations that will lead ultimately to the unmasking of the murderer as well as secrets that have been hidden for years, this book is so much more. I was fascinated by the setting, the descriptions of the hardships of a Nordic winter, the glimpses of the Lapps' way of life, but particularly the historical period of a Sweden constantly at war, and a memory of witch hunts which creates a sense of unease and powerlessness among ordinary people.
    The translation of Wolf Winter is never clunky, there is a sense of immediacy in its narrative style which really draws you in and the characters are very likeable. There is just so much to enjoy here - a gripping story and an evocative atmosphere. Marvellous.

Redemption by Jussi Adler Olsen

Adler-Olsen is one of those crime writers who juxtaposes scenes showing his killer - in the case of Redemption he's an evil kidnapper/child killer - with scenes from the point of view of his detective. It's another novel featuring Department Q, a cold-case team led by curmudgeonly DI Carl Morck. This changing-viewpoint narrative makes things uncomfortable for the reader from the outset, and knowing what to expect, I was somewhat reluctant to pick this book up.
    I guess I am still a bit nostalgic for those old crime novels where the reader and the investigator work side by side, discovering clues and working out whodunit together. But really, Ader-Olsen makes the storyline steam along with these narrative shifts because, while Morck thinks he's dealing with a cold case, it is only the reader who seems to know that our killer is still at work and unless the police get a move on, another youngster is likely to die within a number of days.
    What really hooks you in at the outset, however, is the message in a bottle scenario that the author has cooked up. Our killer would have carried on unnoticed if it hadn't been for young Poul, who tied up in a boat shed, believes he and his brother will be murdered. As the elder of the two, he feels he should do something, so he finds paper, an old bit of newspaper, and making a pen out of a splinter of wood and ink from his own blood - all with his hands tied together - he writes a detailed description of his kidnapper and their situation.
    The bottle eventually turns up in Scotland, where it adorns the window sill of a remote police station for a couple of years until it piques the curiosity of a visiting computer expert. When it winds up in Department Q, Morck already has a lot on his hands with a visiting Health and Safety inspector in the pipeline and his basement bolthole out of bounds due to an asbestos scare. There's also a number of cases his team have been struggling with and he doesn't need another.
    Thank goodness Morck's quirky underlings, Rose and Assad, have other ideas. And it's also lucky that a few clues are thrown up by the message,  even though many of the words have become illegible. The team manage to track down the newspaper and that gives them an area to hone in on. It transpires that the boys were part of a large family from a religious community who have long since left the area.
    While the Q team track the family down, our mysterious kidnapper has his sights on another family who belong to The Mother Church and the tension winds up a notch. In the background are grim scenes showing our killer's childhood, his possessiveness towards his own wife and child. There are some humorous scenes from Morck's own private life - the wife who wants to return, his 'thing' for Mona the psychologist and Morck's recurring guilt.
    There's a ton of action too: car chases, stake outs and a particularly tense scene in a bowling alley. And all the while the clock is ticking. It's a gripping story that barrels along, which is a good thing, because sometimes reading a translation like this throws up a few curly phrases you don't want to linger over. That's a small niggle, for overall Jussi Adler-Olsen has created another superb crime-thriller, a surprisingly quick read for a book over 600 pages long. I certainly hope there's a few more Department Q novels in the pipeline as sometimes a good Scandinavian mystery is just the ticket.

Mercy by Jussie Adler-Olsen

What is it about maverick Scandinavian detectives that we like so much? Eager to read beyond Nesbo and Mankell, I took a punt on Danish author, Jussi Adler-Olsen, and read the first in his Department Q series.  Mercy introduces us to his taciturn, difficult detective, Carl Morck. Of course we expect him to be taciturn and difficult (aren't they all?), but this guy is verging on antisocial, and who can blame him?
    Morck has just come back from extended leave, after a shooting which left him wounded, one fellow officer dead and another paralysed for life. He is bitter and burdened by guilt when he turns up at work, where he discovers he is to be in charge of Department Q. The government wants some high profile cold cases solved, and are happy to throw money at a police force which is critically under resourced, while Morck's boss is happy to siphon off a chunk of the funding to other departments.
    Morck's new office is in the basement and his only staff will be a kind of janitor dogsbody, a Syrian refugee named Assad. This is fortunate, as Assad is everything his boss isn't: willing, cheerful and polite. Assad is also smart, methodical and has contacts who know about forged documents. Somehow this comes in handy later on. Clearly he's a character full of mysterious potential that will slowly unfold as the series progresses.
    The two make up one of those oddball couples which detective fiction is peppered with, going back to Holmes and Watson. And it works really well, giving a potentially harrowing story a bit of light relief.
    By chance, one of the first cases that interests them is the disappearance of prominent young politician and party hopeful, Merete Lynggaard, assumed drowned. This is just as well, as all the while we have been getting to know Morck and his new set-up, Adler-Olsen has been feeding us scenes from Merete's imprisonment. For five years Merete has been locked in an underground bunker, which her captors leave in darkness, unless they feel like turning the lights on 24/7. You can imagine what that does for Merete's body-clock.
    Her captivity is lacking in basic sanitation, she's on minimal rations, and there is periodically an increase in the air pressure. Meanwhile she is left to try and figure out why she is being punished in this way. The reader is soon aware of two possibilities. In her political career Merete seems to have annoyed quite a few people and stirred up some potential jealousy. Or does the reason go back to her teens, when she was involved in a terrible car crash which destroyed two families? Her private life has been secretive, revolving around caring for her younger brother, whose mind was destroyed by the accident - a situation she tells no one.
    Whatever the reason, Merete's time is running out, and what seems to be a cold case has a sudden urgency which Morck and Assad take time to discover. There's nothing like a dose of dramatic irony to ramp up the tension in a story and it certainly delivers the goods in Mercy. The plot surges towards a dramatic showdown that makes the shooting described at the beginning of the book seem like a minor scuffle.
    Mercy is a brilliant opening to a very promising series, with enough page-turning action and nail-biting suspense to keep you interested, nicely balanced with interesting characterisation and wry humour. It is as well that the story tends to sweep you along, because I found some of the writing a little clunky - probably due to the translation into English - something I've never experienced reading Mankell. It won't stop me picking up the next books in the series though.