Monthly Archives: July 2010

An untimely death

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

I’ve just finished Barry Forshaw’s The man who left too soon, a biography of Stieg Larsson, author of the runaway bestsellers, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played with Fire, and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets’ Nest.

The Millennium Trilogy, as the collection is called, was published after Larsson’s death from a heart attack in 2004, aged 50. He was a journalist and an author who, sadly, never lived to see his books in print, or to enjoy the fame and immense fortune they and the ensuing movies generated.

Despite the conspiracy theorists’ popular notion that he was murdered by the teams of misogynists and right wing elements he actively condemned, Larsson died at his desk after struggling up seven flights of stairs. He was extremely unfit, a workaholic, chain-smoked, and was as much a lover of junk food as his protagonist, Mikael Blomkvist. Perhaps writers should take a note here.

Forshaw’s book is a blow-by-blow analysis of Larsson’s books and how they often mirrored the controversial writer’s life, although he would have been most unlikely, and very unlucky, to have actually encountered the other protagonist, the butt kicking, hate-filled, mean machine, Lisbeth Salander.

The Girl Who Played with Fire

The Girl Who Played with Fire

Forshaw also delves into the terrible acrimony surrounding Larsson’s estate, along with the possibility that a laptop exists with notes and drafts for another seven books in the series. How he could accomplish that feat after tying up The Millennium so tidily is anyone’s guess.

In the bio I particularly enjoyed the comments of other successful crime writers around the world. They were remarkably frank, and sans sour grapes, a phenomenon in itself. One publishing figure remarked that the first 100 pages of Larsson’s first book, despite a proper editing process—something the following two books missed out on—were so ponderous (and I agree) that if they represented a submission to a UK publisher by an unknown author, they would never have risen above the slush pile—so much for aiming for a dynamic, nail-biting start to every thriller.

Stieg Larsson was very much aware that most journalism is a matter of preaching to the converted. We generally read publications that confirm our own opinions, so reaching out to convince a reader that there’s an alternative view is difficult. One of Forshaw’s interviewees makes the point that fiction removes the boundaries of fixed opinion, leaving us open to contemplate new perspectives. Some would say open to suggestion.

The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets’ Nest

The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets’ Nest

Forshaw says that Larsson had a crusading personality and a fierce desire to right the wrongs of the world. If his books were, as they seem, a vehicle for his beliefs, it would make his untimely death that much more unfortunate, wouldn’t it? How much more he could have achieved will be cause for much ongoing speculation.

Out of your comfort zone

Ben Elton

Ben Elton

I was reading Ben Elton’s Meltdown the other night when I realised that some of the characters really pissed me off. Well, I didn’t realise it exactly. My wife, prompted by a few too many huffs and puffs, asked me gently if I was alright.

Jane Teresa will often ask me questions. She always has. In fact, from what I understand, she’s had an enquiring mind since she could first speak and, on a number of occasions, drove her mother crazy with queries. I guess that’s what catapulted her into the scientific world and then into her own research into dreams, but that’s another story.

A selfish and grasping character

A selfish and grasping character

I was so deeply engrossed in the book that I hadn’t realised that I was making an issue out of Ben’s characters until JT mentioned my obvious discomfort. I suppose discomfort is the word. Some of the people in the story were dickheads and, as the plot progressed, they developed into obnoxious dickheads. It was making me angry.

Of course that was Ben Elton’s idea. For example, the selfish, grasping, bad behaviour portrayed by one of the protagonists was meant to prickle and upset the reader. Unless they too were selfish and grasping in which case the whole point would be lost. But, again, they wouldn’t be reading the book anyway, would they? Too busy out there grabbing.

When I sat back and thought about it, I wondered if I really wanted to read the book at all. I had to make a decision. I was at the point in the narrative where I would shortly be sucked in and would have to finish the book. It’s happened to me too many times before not to be aware of it. What a choice – continue, knowing that I was going to grind my teeth until I was ready to climb inside the pages and give what’s his name a quick slap, or toss the book to one side and pick up another one without all the angst in it from my burgeoning to-read pile?

There's plenty of happiness around

There's plenty of happiness around

Do we really need to have books upset us? Is avoiding writing that challenges us ducking the realities of life? In my case I know the answer. From time to time my long life has been well drenched in other people’s dramas and sorrows. Conflict and death aren’t strangers to my memories. I’ve pretty much seen it all – very, very good and very bad. I wouldn’t swap my life’s experiences for anything. Well, not a lot anyway and only some things. Why would I choose to immerse myself in a story of bickering and misfortune when there’s so much happiness in the world to enjoy? It just reminds me of the blacker side of real life.

What do you think?

And Ben Elton’s tale? I did finish it. And I did enjoy it.