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In The Undesired, Yrsa Sigurdardottir demonstates once again that she is a master of a very particular genre, the eerie, part crime, part horror novel.

The Undesired opens with the death of the main character, Odinn. He is intoxicated, brain overwhelmed by carbon dioxide, half-aware that he and his daughter are sitting in a running car in a shut up garage filled with exhaust fumes. He struggles to remember where he is, and why, what is happening to him and Run. Just as the answers coalesce in his mind, as he begins to realise how this has come to be, the fumes overcome him. He will think no more.

We then travel backward in time, to a point some time before the deaths, to follow the unwinding of the life of Odinn Hafsteinsson. Odinn is an engineer by training, but he works for the State Supervisory Agency. He’s been assigned to take over an unfinished project from a recently deceased colleague, assessing whether any of the surviving children who had lived in a now closed home for delinquent boys - a home where two boys had died in suspicious circumstances - suffered harm or abuse that the state might be liable for.

Odinn is also a single father. His marriage ended a number of years ago, and he has been a weekend father for most of this time. But his former wife, Lara, died in an accident - a fall from a window in her flat - and now he is raising his eleven year-old daughter Run. He’s been in a state of shock, not really acknowledging that she’s dead, and to try to bring himself to face reality, he forces himself to read the police files on her death that he was given after the investigation was closed - only to discover that there were some unanswered questions, and that some of the witness testimony suggested that Lara had been arguing with someone just before her death. But investigation could find no one other than their daughter Run who could possibly have been in the flat, and she had been asleep when the police had brought her grandmother - who lived close by - to be with her when they went into the apartment.

The second viewpoint character is Aldis, whose sections are set in the 1970s, when the Krokur home was open, and Aldis worked there as a domestic. The environment she describes is cold, grey and isolated - a farm on a peninsula well away from the city, run by a cheerless, uncharitable couple who concealed the death of their newborn, fatally deformed child. Most boys who arrive here have the life and hope drained from them - no schooling, no recreational activities, just work on the farm. Aldis is not happy there either - her employers are unpleasant, there’s no social life, and she has been hearing odd noises, seeing strange things that she can’t quite make sense of.

Then a new resident arrives. Einar, older than many of the youths - older, in fact, than he should be, to be sent to a youth care facility rather than being dealt with as an adult - is intelligent, prone to breaking the rules, and just a little bit mysterious. Aldis, who is barely a year or two older than Einar, feels strangely drawn to him, and they begin an affair.

As one expects in a novel by Sigurdardottir, there are unexpected connections between characters, and between past and future. The events that took place in the lonely care facility, including the death of the two residents, have an all too disturbing bearing on both Lara and Odinn’s deaths, one that only becomes fully clear at the very end of the novel, when we discover the deep and enduring pain that set these events into motion, and we realise that the cycle has not yet run its course.
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Yrsa Sigurdardottir’s novel “Why Did You Lie?” opens with a dramatic scene - a helicopter attempting an open sea rescue of a person reported lost at sea near an isolated lighthouse on a rugged rock formation offshore. What the occupants of the helicopter see is two bodies at the base if the rock tower, and at the top, beside the lighthouse, two people, one on the ground, the other kneeling over him with a knife. The date is January 28, 2014.

The timeline then splits, going backwards, to tell us about four people headed to the lighthouse two days prior - Helgi, a photographer, and Ivar, Tóti and Heida, making a scheduled maintenance visit.

Even further in the past, January 20, and we are with Nina, a police officer who has recently gone through extreme trauma. Her husband has survived a suicide attempt but is severely brain-damaged. She has been the victim of sexual harassment on the job, and a demoralising experience when, during a domestic assault call, the husband assaulted her as well and her partner just stood and watched. After issuing a complaint, she’s been banished to the dead files room in the basement to do clerical work. One if the first folders she opens to work on, unexpectedly, has a misfiled page - one that mentions her husband, and a statement he gave when only a teenager, twenty years ago.

And from January 23, a family returns from holiday. Nói, Vala and their son Tumi have been in the US, after arranging a house swap with an American family visiting Iceland. When they arrive home, they are unhappy to find the the Americans have left some things behind, and have not left the keys to the house and their chalet where they were asked too - in fact, the keys are missing altogether.

There is no hint, initially, of how these threads will be connected. Just mysteries. What happened at the remote lighthouse on Thrídrangar? Who put that page in that file fir Nina to find, and why? And what is it that seems subtly wrong about the departure of the Americans?

As the three timelines advance, odd things begin to pile up - creating an eerie feeing of suspense and discomfort, not quite fear at first, but growing toward it. This is something that Sigurdardottir does with consummate skill. You know something is wrong, you know it’s going to be bad, the only question is, how bad will it be?

Like so many of Sigurdardottir’s suspense novels, the evil behind the strangeness, the fear, the pain and death that follow, has its roots in the past, in darkness that has never been brought into the light, in madness born of loss and grief. And like the horror stories that Sigurdardottir borrows her sense of building atmosphere and tension, when all the threads come together and the full picture is revealed, something of the evil remains leaving us to fear what will come after.
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Yrsa Sigurdardottir is primarily known for her crime novels featuring Thora Gudmunsdottir, lawyer and mother who keeps being drawn into strange and sometimes flatly eerie cases. Given the sometimes spectral atmosphere of her detective novels, which often link past wrongs with present crimes, it’s not all that surprising that Sigurdardottir would branch out into horror.

I Remember You is a ghost story, told in two parts. In one if the threads, three woefully underexperienced and poorly equipped city folk - married couple Garðar and Katrin, and their recently widowed friend Lif - buy an abandoned house in Hesteyri, a summer fishing community on a remote peninsula, and make a DIY project out of renovating it, hoping to make a living by operating it as a guesthouse. It’s winter, they are alone, and the nearest human is two hours away by boat - if they can climb the steep hill to get mobile reception to make a call, and if the water is calm. But as the days go by, they begin to feel that they are not, in fact, alone. Glimpses of someone - someone with the appearance of child, hooded, who never looks up - where no one ought to be, things going missing, strange sounds in the night. And two broken off crosses, memorials to a woman and child who died in the same year - a mother drowned trying to save her son - taken from the local cemetery and placed near their house.

In the other thread, set in the town of Ísaforþur - the closest year-round community to Hestryri - police office Dagny, confronted with a disturbing case of vandalism in the local school, asks physician and psychiatrist Freyr, her neighbour and maybe boyfriend, for his professional opinion. Unpleasant as it is to have such a thing happen in a small community, the mystery deepens when one of Freyr’s patients, an old man dying on cancer who taught in the same schoolhouse sixty years ago, tells him about a similar act of vandalism that took place then - an act so similar that the same words had been scrawled in the walls. This is followed by another disquieting event, the suicide of a woman from a nearby village, who hung herself in a church - a church which we later learn was moved from Hesteyri to its new home in Súðavík in 1960. Exploration of the two cases, and the earlier act of vandalism, reveal connections between the dead woman, the first violation of the school, several other residents of the area who have died under strange circumstances in recent years, and the unsolved disappearance of a young boy named Bernodis in the community sixty years ago. Over these things hangs the shadow of Freyr’s missing son, Benni, who disappeared three years earlier while playing hide and seek with some friends, and is presumed to be dead - and whose name appears in the suicide note of the dead woman.

As the two narrative threads develop, the sense that all of these things - the strange events on the island, the vandalism, the deaths of several old classmates and, strangest of all, the disappearance of Freyr’s son, are somehow connected to old tragedies, lost children whose ghosts remain, seeking some kind of closure. Connections build slowly, linking Freyr and his son to the group stranded in Hestreyi through a chain of coincidence, linking the lost child Bernodis to the house that Garðar, Katrin and Lif bought in Hestreyi.

As with so many of the best ghost stories, the roots of the haunting and the horror lie in the cruelty of humans, in lies and deceits and torments that result in unintended consequences that haunt those responsible until the truth is finally uncovered. Yet this is more than just a morality tale, it’s a look into the darknesses of the human soul, and a reminder that horror breeds horror.
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Silence of the Sea, Yrsa Sigurdardottir’s sixth novel featuring lawyer and often unintentional detective Thora Gudmundsdottir, begins in a dramatic fashion. It’s the middle of a cold Icelandic night, at Reykjavik harbour. A large private yacht is due to come into port.

But this isn’t simply an end to an ordinary pleasure jaunt. The ship’s voyage is linked to the resolution committee appointed to wind up the affairs of one of Iceland’s failed banks - when the luxury yacht’s owner proved unable to pay back his loans, the committee had repossessed the vessel, sending a representative to collect the yacht and sail it back from the Continent to Iceland, to be advertised for sale on the international market.

Waiting for its arrival are a handful of people - some port officials, concerned that there may be a problem, as the yacht has not answered radio signals, the port’s security guard, and a few relatives of the passengers and crew. But when the craft appears out of the darkness, it’s moving too fast, on a collision course with the quay. Racing to the crash site, the officials are shocked to discover the ship has come into port with no one aboard.

Confused, and struggling with bureaucratic details, the elderly parents of the commission representative seek out Thora for legal advice and assistance. There is a sizeable insurance policy, and the question of who will be given custody of the man’s daughter, since both he and his wife were on board the yacht, and everything is complicated by the question of whether the people who disappeared are alive or dead. One of the things Thora will have to do to solve her clients’ problems is prove beyond reasonable doubt that Aegir Margeirson and his wife Lara are dead. And thus Thora is drawn into another mystery.

Sigurdardottir tells the story in two time sequences, alternating between Thora’s persistent search for the truth if what happened to the passengers and crew of the ill-fated Lady K, and the sequence of events, from the departure from Lisbon to the final departures of the last humans alive on board. By the time the novel reaches its end, we know the whole story, even the parts that Thora can only guess at based on the evidence, and the parts that only one of those on board the Lady K knew for certain.

Sigurdardottir is a master at slowly unveiling the horrors that the human heart is capable of encompassing, and Silence of the Sea is a clear indication that she has not lost her touch.
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A fatal hit-and run seems to lead to a haunting of the house where the dead girl used to babysit.

A late night talk show host is tormented by mysterious phone calls and emails from someone who seems to know him all too well.

A paralysed girl who can only communicate through eye movements has a terrible secret.

And Thora Gudmundsdottir receives a strange request from a serial child molester being held at Iceland's major facility for the criminally insane. He want to hire her to investigate a closed case to see if there are grounds for the verdict to be set aside - but it's not his own case. Jósteinn Karlsson wants her to prove the innocence of a severely mentally handicapped young man who is one of his fellow inmates, who was charged with arson and the murder of five people - four of them residents of a community living project for people with disabilities and the fifth an employee there - who died in the fire.

Thora's investigation will ultimately cross the paths of all these people, and uncover the truth behind all these mysteries - or at least, all the truth that can be found.

In Someone To Watch Over Me, Yrsa Sigurdardottir has shaped another fascinating, atmospheric mystery, with just a touch of the strange and inexplicable - but she also gives us a journey into the world of the physically and developmentally disabled, and those who care for them, their fears and frustrations and vulnerabilities. Looming over everything is the shadow cast by the global recession, affecting almost everyone in one way or another. Sigurdardottir's gift is to set her mysteries in a complex and detailed world where there is always much more to be seen than just the crime and the investigation.

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I don't quite remember how Sigurdarsdottir's novels came to my attention earlier in the year, but before I was even half-way through the first of her mystery/detective/thriller novels featuring lawyer and single mother Thora Gudmundsdottir, I was already searching for anything else by her that I couod find in translation. I managed to find the next three Gudmundsdottir novels quite quickly, and devoured them one after another in delighted gulps. There are two more novels so far in this series, both avaikable in Engkish translation. Sigurdarsdottir has also written several stand-alone thrillers and has just released the first novel in a new series, but not all of these have been translated.

What captured me in these novels is not just the delight of a well-written and tightly-plotted mystery featuring a strong and competent and female protagonist - though that would have been enough. The four novels i've read to date also have a significant lean toward the horror end of the detective thriller genre, which appeals to me. At the same time, they are lightened by Thora's wit, making for a very enjoyable combination of suspense and humour. And they have all been strongly grounded in both place and history, which I have found quite fascinating in terms of the way it illuminates Icelandic (and in one instance, Greenlander) culture. It's fun to read books that aren't from your home culture.


Last Rituals

This was a wonderful introduction to Thora Gudmundsdottir. I was quite intrigued by the background to the murder mystery, which drew on historical aspects of witchcraft practice and persecution in Germany and Iceland, in solving a gruesome modern death. The novel begins with the murder of university student Harald Guntlieb, who appears to have been doing research into the history of witchcraft in medieval Iceland. Guntlieb is the scion of a wealthy German family, who hire a German investigator, Matthew Reich, and Icelandic lawyer Thora Gudmundsdottir to conduct a fuller investigation than the police have been inclined to - having found a seemingly credible suspect already. Digging into Guntlieb's associates, research and family history, Thora and Matthew uncover new directions and long-hidden secrets - and the real murderer.


My Soul to Take

Another good murder mystery, with some (apparently) supernatural elements and a connection between present crimes and past events. This time, Thora is drawn into the mystery at a health spa/resort which may be haunted - but whether by spirits or by tragedies going back to the Second World War is something that Thora must determine in order to solve two murders. It may be a "formula" but I'm enjoying it quite a bit. I'm also enjoying the glimpses into the protagonist's personal life - her relationship with her former husband, her teen-aged son, his pregnant girlfriend, and her six year-old daughter, to say nothing of the German paramour she acquired in the previous novel - which certainly add to the flavour and make the protagonist a well-rounded character.


Ashes to Dust

Another engrossing murder mystery from Yrsa Sigurdardottir. Again, the author links a modern crime both to events in Iceland's history and to secrets from the past. This time, the historical context is the volcanic eruption in Iceland’s Westmann Islands in 1973, which precipitated a massive and chaotic evacuation. Now, an archeological project has dug up several of the long-buried homes, long-buried murder victims have been unearthed, and one of Thora's clients is suspected of the decades-old crimes. There is nothing here of the supernatural element that played a role in the two previous novels about of this series, but lots of twists and surprises as the truth slowly surfaces under Gudmundsdottir's determined investigation.


The Day is Dark

Another solid mystery novel, this time set in a remote mining station on the inhospitable east coast of Greenland. Things look bad - interpersonal relations at the station have soured, one woman has gone missing, performance is behind schedule, the employees on Winter furlough refuse to return, and the two people remaining at the station have stopped communication with the outside world. The Icelandic bank that underwrote the venture sends in a team of specialists to find out what happened, and Thora Gudmundsdottir is one of them. Of less interest to the European miners but of great significance to the truths underlying the mysterious occurrances is the firm belief of the aboriginal inhabitants of the nearby village that the station has been built on a place that is cursed and forbidden to the living.

As in the other books I've read by this author, sense of place and past history are inextricably tied up with the modern mystery being investigated. The tinge of the supernatural found in some of Sigurdarsdottir's previous novels is present here, as well as an underpinning of horror - isolation, and a classic if highly modified "haunted house" setting in which some peoole have gone missing and strange things are happening ensure it. Add to this an ultimately sympathetic portrait of the damage arising from the cultural clash between colonising Europeans and the eastern Greenland Inuit peoples, some of whom followed traditional ways well into the 20th century. Another excellent read.

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