The Water’s Edge, by Karin Fossum

Not long ago I heaped high praise on Norwegian author Karin Fossum’s police novel, Don’t Look Back. I’m sorry to say that the book I read as a follow-up, The Water’s Edge, did not live up to my expectations.

In this book, Inspector Sejer, a police detective in a town in the Oslo area, along with his assistant, Skarre, investigate the rape and murder of a small boy, found dead in a wooded area near a lake.

What makes this novel bad (in my view), and bad in a particularly Norwegian way, is what I might call the author’s considerateness. She’s considerate of everyone—victims, grieving parents, pedophiles, and policemen. She goes into everyone’s thoughts and lets them make their own cases. I approve of this to an extent—I like a villain to be three-dimensional—as long as the author remembers which side he or she is on. Fossum is willing to condemn murder, of course, but when a pedophile character complains that society just hasn’t advanced enough to embrace his particular philia, as it is now embracing homosexuality, no really strong counterargument is given. (Or so it seemed to me.) This injects a genuine creepiness into the whole enterprise.

The problem is aggravated by the fact that Fossum seems to have lost control of her characters. Sejer and Skarre, who came off as well-realized personalities in Don’t Look Back, have gotten all muddled. In their conversations, they seem to switch attitudes toward the legal system back and forth for no discernible reason.

And over all stands the fact (in which the policemen seem to take some pride) that Norway isn’t barbaric like the United States, and compassionately puts all criminals, even child murderers, back on the streets after a maximum of 21 years.

The point of it all would appear to be that we’re all equally guilty, but some of us have better luck than others. I accept that theologically (to an extent; I believe in degrees of guilt and sanctification), but in terms of the law it frankly offends me.

So consider my endorsement of Karin Fossum’s work withdrawn for the time being.

Classics Reworked

Flavorwire recommends ten novels that are based on classics, such as Ursula K. LeGuin’s novel about Aeneas’ second wife, Lavinia, based on Virgil’s poetic epic. They quote Philip Pullman saying his trilogy, His Dark Materials, is based on Paradise Lost. I didn’t know that.

A Documentary on Walker Percy

Walker Percy, preview two from Winston Riley on Vimeo.

This one-hour program on author Walker Percy will be worth any booklover’s time. Image Journal notes:

Now, it would hardly be true to say that Percy’s been forgotten—two major biographies of him have been published and his books continue to sell well. But we are convinced he should be even more widely read. . . . The experts consulted are extremely well chosen, and include the Pulitzer Prize-winning writer and psychiatrist Robert Coles, novelist Richard Ford (who has long cited Percy’s Moviegoer as his inspiration for becoming a writer), the late historian and novelist Shelby Foote, Paul Elie (author of The Life You Save May Be Your Own), and biographer Walter Isaacson (whose most recent book was about Steve Jobs).

In which the old Viking picks some nits



There will be no scenes like this, filmed on the Hardangerfjord in Norway, in the History Channel’s miniseries.



If I had cable TV I’d be all excited about the miniseries on the Vikings they’re filming for broadcast on The History Channel next year.

I trust it’ll show up on Netflix eventually.

Of course, if the final product follows the hallowed tradition of previous Viking movies, it’ll probably stink like a Saxon in summer in any case.

This article tells us that Gabriel Byrne, the Irish actor, has signed to play a character named “Earl Haraldsson” in the series.

The casting part is fine. Byrne is a good actor, and generally elevates any project he participates in.

The name “Earl Haraldsson” bothers me, though.

The news item doesn’t make clear whether this guy is supposed to be a Viking or not. One assumes he is, because Haraldsson is a Viking name.

The problem is that it’s not a Viking first name. “Haraldsson” is a patronymic. Not exactly a last name, but it serves the same function, differentiating a particular person from all the other guys who share his first name.

And we’re not given the first name. This makes no sense. “Earl” is a title, and ought to be followed by a first name. We don’t say “Queen Windsor.” We say “Queen Elizabeth.” If you have an earl, you’d call him “Earl Sigurd” or “Earl Olaf” or some other first name. And then, if you needed to, you’d add the patronymic, “Haraldsson.”

This choice of name (unless it’s just a case of bad reporting) bodes ill for the historical accuracy of the miniseries. If the writers are naming characters this way, then they just don’t get it, and aren’t listening to the technical advisors (note to Hollywood: I’m available for that gig).

As a sidelight, I also saw an article recently on a Norwegian news site (can’t find it, and you couldn’t read it if I could), which complained that the History Channel people had wanted to film at least part of the miniseries in the fjords of Norway (as Kirk Douglas did with his The Vikings movie [see clip above], back in the fifties). But production costs were just too high, so they’ll do the whole thing in Ireland.

Do you understand this, liberals? Big government is the enemy of art!

Multiple matters of moment

Several things to comment on today. All of them important, but I’ll touch lightly on them and pass on, like an obsessive-compulsive in a faucet factory.

First of all, today is the anniversary of the D-Day invasion of Normandy in 1944. Fewer and fewer there are among us who were there and can tell the story. A grateful nation honors the living and the dead.

And, as Phil mentioned, Ray Bradbury died today. I think I read most of his books in high school. Though I wasn’t a huge fan, I remember liking Something Wicked This Way Comes and The October Country.

Andrew Klavan illuminates both culture and the creative process in an article at The City Journal, No Joke. (In case you’re wondering, I found the joke amusing, but not hilarious. I guess that explains why Klavan’s famous and I’m not.)

Here’s a link to video from yesterday, when the Viking ship replica The Dragon Harald Fairhair was set in the water and christened in Haugesund, Norway. The video’s in Norwegian, but it’s mostly visual anyway. A fellow reenactor complained to me about the propeller that’s visible near the stern. According to the project web site, Norwegian law requires them to have an engine (for emergencies, one assumes). But they’re not planning to cheat. This is a sailing and rowing vessel.

And last but least, my test went fine, and the doctor said things looked good. Thanks for your prayers and good thoughts.

Ray Bradbury Died This Morning

Ray Bradbury, 91, died this morning in Los Angeles. He received a long overdue national medal of arts from President Bush, a special Pulitzer citation, and National Book Foundation recognition only a few years ago.

In which I am cruel to be kind

Sunday was Danish Day at the Danish American Center in Minneapolis. You may recall that I came out of that event damaged last year, with a finger broken. This year I’m OK, largely because I did no fighting at all. There were a couple young guys to carry the load, and I’m still trying to fight off this bronchitis that’s draining my energy like a gestating alien in my chest cavity.

Sold a few books, and one of my buyers expressed interest in becoming an author. I tried not to encourage him too much, since only a sadist would point anyone in the direction of that pitiless muse.

“Being an author would be great,” he said. “You could travel all over the world and deduct it!”

I had to burst that little bubble, as it was burst for me long years since. “Unfortunately, that’s not true,” I said. “If you travel to attend a professional conference, or do a lecture, or something like that, you can deduct it. But just going someplace to get local color for your story—the IRS considers that a vacation, and you can’t deduct it.”

I could see the hope die in his eyes.

Which is, of course, a good thing.

Tonight I am prepping, in a way I shall not detail, for a medical text I shall not identify, scheduled for tomorrow morning. If I don’t post anything in the evening, it’ll be because I’m too mellow.

Reading Flannery

Biographer Jonathan Rogers is hosting discussion on stories by Flannery O’Connor all summer. See the reading list here. The first story is up this week, “A Good Man Is Hard to Find.”

There’s Nothing Worse

This is for our friend, Hunter Baker of Union U.

  1. There’s nothing worse than having a billboard block your view of a gorgeous sunrise. That’s why I use The Awayinator, an environmentally safe dashboard ray gun that will zap those billboards into the nothingnessville. Ahh! A clear view with the touch of a button. (A Doofenshmirtz Evil Inc. Invention)
  2. There’s nothing worse than unrequited love. That’s why I use Money, a technique scientifically proven to keep women from falling out of love with you. Try it yourself today. Where all quality products are sold. Seriously, everywhere.
  3. There’s nothing worse than getting your key stuck in the ignition when the zombies are storming your parking lot, except perhaps eating a stale Rice Krispy treat when you sit there thinking what a dummy you are for paying $3 for what looks like a big, marshmallowy treat that can’t be stale because it’s $3 for Pete’s sake and yet in the back of your mind a little voice says it’s going to be stale and you argue with that little voice, spend the money, and take a bite–man, I hate that.