Recently I’ve read a few Scandinavian mysteries, and I’ll review them as I find time. I downloaded this one, Chasing the Storm by Martin Molsted, because it attempts to do something highly counterintuitive – creating a modern Norwegian action hero. Also this hero is named Torgrim Rygg, and Rygg is one of my ancestral names.

The story starts in Hamburg when Rygg – a former soldier in some sort of special force, now working in business and missing the action – witnesses an assassination attempt on a man, and instinctively sets out in pursuit of the assailant. He doesn’t catch him, but the intended victim, a Russian named Marko Marin, is so impressed with his response that (after doing some research on him) he asks him to help him with a dangerous project. This leads to perils and complications, and soon Rygg has happily bid farewell to conventional life and joined forces with Marko, who is a “journalist” of some sort, investigating an international conspiracy connected with the hijacking of a ship in the Baltic.

The whole thing is a little overcooked for my taste – frequent hops from one exotic place to another, danger at every turn… I had trouble believing the characters’ motivations and persistence. Also there are some odd sexual elements, such as Rygg’s cold-blooded seduction of a lonely, middle-aged woman in pursuit of information, and the three-cornered relationship he comes to enjoy with Marko’s beautiful girlfriend, Lena.

Entertaining in a Hollywood action movie sort of way, I found Chasing the Storm good enough for passing the time in the hospital, but nothing I strongly recommend. Cautions for just about everything you imagine.

Recently I’ve read a few Scandinavian mysteries, and I’ll review them as I find time. I downloaded this one, Chasing the Storm by Martin Molsted, because it attempts to do something highly counterintuitive – creating a modern Norwegian action hero. Also this hero is named Torgrim Rygg, and Rygg is one of my ancestral names.

The story starts in Hamburg when Rygg – a former soldier in some sort of special force, now working in business and missing the action – witnesses an assassination attempt on a man, and instinctively sets out in pursuit of the assailant. He doesn’t catch him, but the intended victim, a Russian named Marko Marin, is so impressed with his response that (after doing some research on him) he asks him to help him with a dangerous project. This leads to perils and complications, and soon Rygg has happily bid farewell to conventional life and joined forces with Marko, who is a “journalist” of some sort, investigating an international conspiracy connected with the hijacking of a ship in the Baltic.

The whole thing is a little overcooked for my taste – frequent hops from one exotic place to another, danger at every turn… I had trouble believing the characters’ motivations and persistence. Also there are some odd sexual elements, such as Rygg’s cold-blooded seduction of a lonely, middle-aged woman in pursuit of information, and the three-cornered relationship he comes to enjoy with Marko’s beautiful girlfriend, Lena.

Entertaining in a Hollywood action movie sort of way, I found Chasing the Storm good enough for passing the time in the hospital, but nothing I strongly recommend. Cautions for just about everything you imagine.

This new novel by Derek B. Miller, of whom I’d never heard (he’s an American living in Norway, and the book was first published in Norwegian), was recommended to me as something well-written and interesting in the Leif Enger mode. And it is, except that Enger’s work is mainly rooted in Christianity, while Norwegian by Night is essentially Jewish, though with some genial nods to Christianity.

Start with a sort of homage to Huckleberry Finn, and to Mark Twain’s idea of God. Mix in the Book of Job. Move it all to Norway, of all places. That’s what you’re dealing with in Norwegian by Night.



Sheldon Horowitz is an old, embittered New York Jew, still grieving the death of his wife and – years before – his guilt at encouraging his son to enlist for service in Vietnam, where he was killed. His only surviving relative, his granddaughter Rhea, who loves him dearly, asks him to come and join her new husband Lars in their home in Oslo. Sheldon goes, but feels unconnected. There are only about a thousand Jews in the whole country. His wife thought – and Rhea is unsure – that he’s sliding into dementia. He claims to have won medals as a sniper in Korea, though he’s lost the evidence. He sometimes thinks North Korean snipers are hunting him. Now and then he gets visits from a dead friend, who seems to be speaking for God.

Then, one morning while Sheldon is alone in the house, he overhears a violent fight between two neighbors – immigrants from the Balkans. When the woman runs downstairs and he sees her through the peephole, looking for a place to hide, he opens his door to her. She has her little boy with her.

Before that terrible morning is over, the woman will be dead, and Sheldon will have decided to go on the run with the boy, to keep him out of the hands of the murderer, in a country where neither of them speaks the language. In this iteration of Huckleberry Finn it’s Jim who speaks, and Huck is silent, but the great issues of life are confronted just the same.

There is much talk of God in Norwegian by Night, and I generally don’t endorse it. It calls up the liberal Jewish arguments (I think they’re liberal Jewish arguments) that man has become better than God, and God owes man an apology (Mark Twain would have loved it). But the questions are important, and Sheldon is a man worth getting to know. I enjoyed the book, but it’s not for everyone. Cautions for language and violence.

This new novel by Derek B. Miller, of whom I’d never heard (he’s an American living in Norway, and the book was first published in Norwegian), was recommended to me as something well-written and interesting in the Leif Enger mode. And it is, except that Enger’s work is mainly rooted in Christianity, while Norwegian by Night is essentially Jewish, though with some genial nods to Christianity.

Start with a sort of homage to Huckleberry Finn, and to Mark Twain’s idea of God. Mix in the Book of Job. Move it all to Norway, of all places. That’s what you’re dealing with in Norwegian by Night.



Sheldon Horowitz is an old, embittered New York Jew, still grieving the death of his wife and – years before – his guilt at encouraging his son to enlist for service in Vietnam, where he was killed. His only surviving relative, his granddaughter Rhea, who loves him dearly, asks him to come and join her new husband Lars in their home in Oslo. Sheldon goes, but feels unconnected. There are only about a thousand Jews in the whole country. His wife thought – and Rhea is unsure – that he’s sliding into dementia. He claims to have won medals as a sniper in Korea, though he’s lost the evidence. He sometimes thinks North Korean snipers are hunting him. Now and then he gets visits from a dead friend, who seems to be speaking for God.

Then, one morning while Sheldon is alone in the house, he overhears a violent fight between two neighbors – immigrants from the Balkans. When the woman runs downstairs and he sees her through the peephole, looking for a place to hide, he opens his door to her. She has her little boy with her.

Before that terrible morning is over, the woman will be dead, and Sheldon will have decided to go on the run with the boy, to keep him out of the hands of the murderer, in a country where neither of them speaks the language. In this iteration of Huckleberry Finn it’s Jim who speaks, and Huck is silent, but the great issues of life are confronted just the same.

There is much talk of God in Norwegian by Night, and I generally don’t endorse it. It calls up the liberal Jewish arguments (I think they’re liberal Jewish arguments) that man has become better than God, and God owes man an apology (Mark Twain would have loved it). But the questions are important, and Sheldon is a man worth getting to know. I enjoyed the book, but it’s not for everyone. Cautions for language and violence.

I had been reading for some time of Olen Steinhauer as a superior writer of espionage novels. So I bought a copy of The Tourist, one of his Milo Weaver trilogy.

My perception is that there are two major strains of spy novel. One is the rah-rah thriller, in the tradition of James Bond and Jack Ryan, where the emphasis is on action but there’s little or no question who are the good guys.

The other strain is the John Le Carré school, probably more technically realistic, where the tendency is to reduce the conflict between freedom and tyranny to a game played by cynical and generally dispassionate professionals. In this kind of story it’s hard to tell one side from the other; in fact, our side generally comes off looking worse, as we get a closer look at its transgressions.

Judging by The Tourist, Olen Steinhauer seems to belong to the second group.

His hero, Milo Weaver, is a former “Tourist,” a roving professional assassin for the CIA. Now he has settled down happily with a wife and stepdaughter. Then he’s recalled to join the hunt for a famous assassin, loose in the USA. Once he catches him he learns things that lead him to question some of his most cherished relationships. Caught in a power struggle between the CIA and Homeland Security, he must take the risk of trusting an old enemy, and take the chance of losing everything that has made his life worth living.

The writing’s good, and Milo is an engaging character. But I disliked the cynicism of the story, the assumption that there’s really nothing to choose between America and any other world power. There isn’t much hope in this book. Cautions for language and mature subject matter.