Tag Archives: Chris Ould

‘The Fire Pit,’ by Chris OUld

In the Faroes you’re overshadowed by mountains wherever you go, and now – in their absence – I realized I’d got used to their overbearing presence, like a stern father, always looking on disapprovingly.

I’ve raved about the previous two novels in Chris Ould’s Faroes series, and I’m happy to report that The Fire Pit is just as good. Maybe better. It is unclear whether the series is intended to go on from here, as most of the unresolved plot threads from the previous books get tied up here. But I hope there will be more.

Suspended English detective Jan Reyna is still in the Faroes when The Fire Pit begins, but he’s preparing to leave. He needs to go home and settle his problems on the job, one way or the other. But first he’s stopping off in Denmark, to see the place where his mother committed suicide when he was 5 years old, and see if he can spark any memories. While he’s there, his autistic Danish researcher will discover that his mother worked at a secretive mental institution, which she fled suddenly just before her death.

Meanwhile, his Faroese detective friend Hjalti Hentze must investigate the apparent suicide of a reclusive man. Then he’s called to the site of an abandoned hippie commune from the 1970s. There two skeletons have been discovered in secret graves – an adult woman and a female child. This is the same commune where Jan’s mother lived for a while – and before long Hjalti will be joining Jan in Denmark, their mysteries having merged.

The Fire Pit (and all the Faroes mysteries) are exactly the kind of detective novels I like best. Although there is action and suspense, the emphasis is on character and motive. There’s even a moment of Christian wisdom (though provided, sadly, by a woman pastor).

I was also pleased that Horsens, Denmark, where my Danish ancestors hailed from, gets a couple mentions.

I highly recommend The Fire Pit along with its predecessors. Top-notch Scandinavian Noir, unmarred by nihilism.

‘The Killing Bay,’ by Chris Ould

Heljarayga was a small, natural cove no more than a hundred yards wide at its midpoint. Beyond that I couldn’t see much. The mist hung like a damp dust-sheet over the headlands and above the almost mirror-smooth water it appeared to ebb and flow slightly, gossamer fine. The stillness made you want to hold your breath. Nothing and nobody moved.

I knew a few things about the Faeroes before I started reading Chris Ould’s mystery novels. One of my Norwegian cousins (gone now) was married to a Faeroese woman (still around). The hymn, Tiðin rennur, which Sissel sings so beautifully, comes from there…

And they still hold an annual whale hunt in the old Norse tradition. The old Norse tradition was to herd whales into a bay or inlet and beach them in the shallows, then kill them there. It was an important element of survival in a subsistence economy. (My own ancestral home in Norway is a farm called Kvalavåg, which means “whale bay” or “whale inlet.”) But the custom has been abandoned in most places. In the Faeroes it still continues, stubbornly maintained as a central element of local culture. This has not entirely escaped the notice of anti-whaling organizations, and that fact generates the central conflict of The Killing Bay, second of Ould’s Faeroes mysteries.

Our hero, Jan Reyna, is still in the Faeroes. He’s an English police detective (born in the Faeroes but raised in England) currently on suspension, not sure if he even wants to go home. He rather likes the Faeroes, and most of the relations he’s met there, but he doesn’t really feel at home.

The female cousin who’s hosting him brings him along to witness the grindadráp, the whale hunt. He’s not enthusiastic about the thing, but doesn’t feel qualified to judge. While there he meets Erla Sivertsen, a female Faeroese native who’s working as a photographer for an environmental protest group, documenting the kill. While there Erla clashes with Finn Sólsker, a local fisherman, but violence is averted.

Not long after, Erla is discovered murdered, and the local investigators, led by Jan’s new friend Hjalti Hentze, have it as their first job to check whether Finn has an alibi. (This is awkward because Finn happens to be his son-in-law.) When Erla’s coat and hat are discovered hidden in Finn’s fishing hut, Hjalti is forced to arrest him, but he’s not convinced of his guilt. In addition, why is he getting pressure from his superiors to close the case before he’s examined all possible leads?

The mystery in The Killing Bay was well-constructed and solid, but it was the setting that really riveted me, as it did with the previous book, The Blood Strand. Author Ould does a masterful job of evoking the setting and atmosphere of the islands. I felt like I’d been there.

Highly recommended. Cautions for language and mature themes. Environmental politics are treated with an even hand.

‘The Blood Strand,’ by Chris Ould

I spent the day balancing the pains in my ribs, shoulder and head with painkillers and doing a passable impression of Elizabeth Barrett Browning on the sofa.

I knew nothing of Chris Ould or his Faeroes mystery series before I bought The Blood Strand. But I got a deal on it, and it was set in the Faeroes, a Nordic community I’d never visited fictionally (or in real life) before. I’m used to being depressed by Scandinavian Noir stories, but this one turned out to be a pleasant surprise.

Jan Reyna is an English police detective. He was born in the Faeroes, but his mother divorced his father and took him away when he was very young. Then she died, leaving him to be raised by relatives in England. He only met his father once, and then they got into a fistfight. But now the old man is hospitalized in the Faeroes following an accident and a stroke, and Jan succumbs to his aunt’s pressure to go and see his father while he’s still alive.

Arriving in the Faeroes, whose language he’s entirely forgotten, he finds his father (who turns out to be rich) unable to communicate. He meets his two half-brothers, one openly hostile, the other friendly. He also meets a local detective, Hjalte Hentze, who’s trying to figure out why Jan’s father was found in his car with a shotgun in the footwell, blood on the door, and a briefcase full of money in the trunk. That curiosity only increases when a young man’s body is found washed up on the shore with shotgun wounds. When he asks Jan to help out, Jan has nothing better to do… except for trying to find out why his mother left his father all those years ago.

I liked Jan Reyna and the other characters in The Blood Strand. The descriptions of Faeroese culture and scenery were interesting, and the unfolding mystery kept me fascinated. Though set in a historically Scandinavian setting, this book was not actually written by a Scandinavian, which may explain why it didn’t try to depress me to death. I had a good time reading it, and I look forward to the sequels.

Recommended. Not much offensive content either. References to Christianity (the Faeroese seem to be pretty religious) were mostly respectful.