Intriguing beginning, interesting set up, boring performance.
Do editors even read the last third of a book?
This is a novel that cries out for a hard-nosed, competent editor to sit the author down and tell him frankly he has lost focus and credibility.
Let’s start with the endings, shall we? The author rushed to three separate endings, none of which had any believable relation to the next. Was he thinking of movie rights? Did he perform an “audience poll” to see what would be most conventional to the paying public? Or did he just get bored with his own story. I vote for the last.
Ending number one: the author just takes us by the necktie and throws us into the solution to serial murders of women. He doesn’t develop the present day murders committed by Harriet’s brother Martin. He has given us little hint that these murders were even committed. Hang a light on it, I guess – it must be that Martin is so much better at stalking and capturing his victims than was the hideous Nazi-loving father. Sure. Try another tactic. Poor story development. Lazy, in fact.
Ending number two: Harriet is still alive, in Australia, very rich, a shining example of a perfect woman. Cecilia’s almost twin sister Anita helped Harriet off the island, gave Harriet her own passport. Harriet runs to Switzerland and lives in a convent until she meets a landed Australian. Marries him. Moves to Australia. Manages a sheep farm. They get rich. She’s a shining example of a WONDERFULLY competent woman. Comes back to the island and turns the Vanger family business around. Tears and applause all ‘round.
We have no hint that Harriet would be this person. Last we heard of her, she was vacillating in the ‘tween teen world of church-girl and wanton-bitch. And during the gratuitously violent sex-scene with “suddenly revealed as crazy” Martin, we find she was abused by both her father and her brother – abuse that began only when she became a young adult; is that really possible in the world of ugly, sadistic hate-filled men that Larsson presents? One cannot suspend disbelief that far. These men would have been hurting her from the time she was a young child. But that would not support Larsson’s story-line because otherwise how could Harriet have had an authentic relationship with Uncle Henrik? So normal and authentic that he would obsess over her disappearance for forty years and never suspect that Ugly Man was having his way with a vulnerable child? So camouflaged, in fact, Uncle Henrik did not even have a hint of suspicion that ugly brother Martin was abusing the teen. Doesn’t wash. Not believable.
Ending number three: Mikael exacts revenge on the nasty, bad industrialist who sent him to prison for libel. Which wasn’t libel, the author says. Mikael just didn’t have the goods on the industralist. Lisbeth provides the data, obtained through illegal hacking, that brings boogey man capitalist down, down, down. The author has Mikael striking a pose for ethical behavior in prosecution. How many lines does he devote to this purist stance against pressure of his two colleagues? Oh, just a few lines. The conversation that explores this dilemma reads like a wart on the nose, it is so disconnected to the themes of the novel. It sounds like someone asked, what about the moral principle here? So the author deals with it just enough to strike a pose of ethical purity but must have the protagonist give in to unethical behavior just for the revenge to proceed.
And speaking of moral principles, what of the girls that Martin and his ugly father tortured and murdered? Martin conveniently kills himself rather than suffer the disgrace of being tried in the courts. Therefore with this convenient plot twist, the Vanger family avoids nasty exposure because of this convenient death. Only Mikael and Lisbeth could pull the plug from that drain and let loathsome sewage roll down to the gutter. But if author Larsson would let that happen, there would be no business left for the shining example of a WONDERFULLY competent woman (Harriet) to rescue. The author must find a way to avoid that catastrophe even if poor murdered women and their families are denied justice. Oh, find out who they were and give them money under the table. Money covers all sins, whether one is a hated industrialist or a crusading Trotskyite journalist. Disgusting example of moral failure.
And on the subject of disgusting examples of moral failure, what of Mikael’s casual and bloodless relationships with women? First: This affair with his business partner where she divides her time so smoothly, so casually between the beds of her artiste husband and “little head” Mikael is strange and improbable. It is flatly two-dimensional characterization and an expression of male fantasy, clear and simple. It is not an issue of religious morality but rather heart-deep, fundamental feminine reality. When a woman behaves this way, there is a profound emotional dysfunction underneath the behavior, usually a history of abuse resulting in a lifeless emotional life. The author proves himself incompetent and inept by avoiding any issue there.
Then, Mikael’s casual habit of slipping the little head into any available slot whenever presented with no thought of consequences. Vanger niece Cecilia throws herself at him. Poor abused girl with the dragon tattoo forces herself on him. Gotta do it if it is available. Male fantasy. Nonchalant masculine callousness.
And the killer example of the author’s lack of coherent emotional connection is Mikael’s relationship with his daughter. She was just a plot device for Larsson. The sperm donor father is a cardboard cut-out man. Sad.
What about this novel has so many people uttering such slobbering acclaim? I wonder if they read the same book I did, gushing as they are in unbridled praise and all aflutter with excitement. The book is amateurish, uses falsely dramatic plot devices, wraps up unsatisfactorily and is downright boring. The author started off with strong character descriptions and an interesting plot projection. The story seemed believable at first but as various lines played out, I became less and less interested and thoroughly disengaged. A true disappointment.
The book has only one saving grace; it is evocative of place.
If I lost this book in the middle of reading it I would not go out and buy a new copy to find out what happens. I just do not care. I’ll sell this paperback at my next garage sale for fifty cents.
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