Lilja Sigurdardóttir Archives

Reading books about criminals, thugs, and lowlifes is an escape for me. Hell, reading books about people like me acting in complete desperation is even an escape, an odd one I will grant you that. I also enjoy reading books by authors that are different than me, an old white straight guy. I try to search out for these authors, but given my choice of genre is dark crime fiction, the pickings are slim in the small press world.

So I branch out in the mystery genre to the more popular stuff like serial killer thrillers, cozies, psychological thrillers, police procedurals, and PI book. And when I read these, I am usually disappointed. Hell, I’m even more disappointed when I read these books published by the Big 5, look at my reviews of Meg Gardiner, CJ Tudor, and Steve Hamilton as proof. The way many of these books resuscitate old worn tropes I find tiring and lazy, but many readers do find pleasure in them.

Here’s my problem. If I don’t try are read books outside of what I like, the authors I review will skew 85% male and 15% female, 85% white and 15% writers of color. I know this because those were my stats from last year. Not only is that an issue for readers of this blog, but most importantly this is an issue for me as a reader. Reading over a large pool of writers gives me an opportunity to hear voices that I would not normally be acquainted with and I like that.

So I continue my search of books in the expanded mystery genre that includes many writers who I am unfamiliar with in hopes of finding something good, something I enjoy. And, boy, do I like finding them.

For example, the only reason I picked up Marietta Miles’s “Route 12” was that it was written by a woman and I’m more than happy I read it. “Route 12” has stuck with me these past two years like no other book and it is one I believe that should be in the canon of contemporary crime fiction. Seriously, it’s that good.

I’ve also been lucky a few more times in my search of the mystery genre with JJ Hensley’s “Bolt Action Remedy”, Leye Adenle’s “Easy Motion Tourist”, Stephen Mack Jones’s “August Snow”, and Lilja Sigurdardóttir’s “Snare”. Even with all the crap I have to sort through, these are the books and writers that make it worthwhile to read outside my comfort zone.

This post started as a review of Carol Wyer’s “The Birthday” (Bloodhound Books), but it changed drastically as I wrote. “The Birthday” wasn’t for me at all, but if you dig the typical police procedural that is out there today, this may be for you. Buy: Amazon

Thanks for stopping by Unlawful Acts and reading this article.

Snare by Lilja Sigurdardóttir

I’ve stayed away from Nordic Noir over the last year because, from Henning Mankell to Jo Nesbø and hundreds of more, there seems to be no escape from its cold white death-like grip. But even in my fifties, I succumbed to peer pressure. First I reviewed Anthony Neil Smith’s Castle Danger: Woman on Ice, blurbed as “Nordic crime – American style”. Then there’s Orenda Books run by Karen Sullivan. Orenda is not only a great supporter of new writers like Steph Broadribb but also a big proponent of world crime fiction. Finally, there is the cover of Lilja Sigurdardóttir’s Snare. I do not know who designed the cover of the book, but good lord is it beautiful. Now here I am, caught in my own Nordic Noir snare.

So I bought a copy, started reading, and was immediately blown away by Lilja Sigurdardóttir’s Snare (Orenda Books). Sigurdardóttir effortlessly moves the reader from multiple perspectives throughout the book: a drug smuggler, a customs agent, and a bankster.

Set in the aftermath of the 2008 collapse and Iceland’s wonderful investigations and convictions of the bankers who caused the crash, we meet Sonja, the drug smuggler, switching bags with an unsuspecting family in the Copenhagen airport. Sonja is trapped into smuggling drugs into Iceland using an oh-so-real threat to her son’s life who lives with her ex-husband. A drug mule with no choice, Sonja dreams of getting out, but the gangsters keep her reeled in.

We also meet Bragi, a 69-year-old customs inspector, who enjoys his job but lonely as his wife is cared for in a government-run nursing home. He then discovers a bruise on his wife which he duly reports and then is brushed aside by the manager. Needing to get his wife out of there and somewhere better, Bragi begins to feel desperate.

The most interesting character in Lilja Sigurdardóttir’s Snare is Agla. In an alcoholic downward spiral, Agla is a bankster who is the subject of the government’s investigation. A few years prior, Agla hooked up with Sonja. Agla is more comfortable at stealing peoples money than she is being a lesbian. Not only is alcohol her coping mechanism for all the shit she is about to face, it is the primer that helps her knock on Sonja’s door late at night.

As Sonja pulled up outside the shabby block where she rented an apartment after her long round-about journey home, she saw Agla’s car was already there. She really had a knack for turning up at the wrong time. Sonja parked as Agla was getting out of her car and they met on the steps of the block.

‘I’ve missed you,’ Agla said, kissing her.

Sonja could smell the booze on her breath. It was no surprise. Agla never showed up unless she’d had a drink or two.

‘You drove here drunk?’ Sonja asked as they climbed the stairs to her apartment.

‘I had a drink after work, and then I started to miss you.’

‘Drinks, you mean, judging by the smell,’ Sonja said, putting her key in the lock.

Agla followed her in, shrugged off her coat and dropped it on the hall floor.

‘Come here.’ She pulled Sonja to her and her hands slipped inside Sonja’s clothes.

‘I need to sort stuff out after the trip…’ Sonja protested, but Agla interrupted.

‘Don’t talk shit,’ she ordered. ‘Kiss me.’

I greatly enjoyed Lilja Sigurdardóttir’s Snare as Lilja Sigurdardóttir deftly moved all the stories along to the book’s denouement. I felt the book wrapped up a little too neatly, but I’m willing to give it a pass for two reasons. First, Sigurdardóttir’s characters seemed as real as they were messed-up and, second, because Snare is the first book of a trilogy, so things might not be exactly “wrapped up”.

A quick shoutout to Quentin Bates, whose translation reads as though it was originally written in English.

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