Martin Beck was an inspiration for Henning Mankell and Jo Nesbø, and as it’s all about Scandinavian noir at the moment I had to read it. It’s set in the same social democratic Scandinavia with a seedy underbelly and a guilt that the prosperity and liberal policies of the majority haven’t benefited one part of the population at all. It’s nowhere near as bleak or gory as Wallander or Harry Hole, and concentrates on police procedural. I’m gonna have to read more though.
Fred pronounced last night that he was going to dream about horses doing a poo. I’ taking him to the cinema on Saturday for the first time. The new Spielberg Tintin film is showing, and as that’s his choice of reading at the moment, it should keep him entertained. No doubt I’ll be bristling with rage with the liberties taken, the uncanonical nature of the work and why Belgians have American accents, but that’s because I’m an arse.
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