When I reviewed
Gunnar Staalesen's Cold Hearts three years ago (you can link to that here) I responded to
Jo Nesbo's blurb calling Staalesen a 'Norwegian Chandler' by suggesting he might better be seen as a Norwegian Ross MacDonald,
though I thought his character was a bit more of a blank slate than
Lew Archer's. Where Roses Never Die reinforced my idea, but
it's more effective than Cold Hearts precisely because its detective
Varg Veum fills in a lot more of that seemingly blank slate.
Staalesen's work is
actually a bit more Noir than almost all of what is sweepingly called
Nordic Noir, primarily for its moments when Veum deals with his
drinking problems, and when his typically Nordic depressive detective
moves through what is a great setting for a mystery: an architect
designed group of houses facing in on each other, a metaphor for the
people who live there and indeed for the crime Veum is hired to
investigate.
Maja Misvaer hires
Veum to investigate the disappearance of her three-year old daughter
from a sandbox outside her home some twenty-five years earlier. The
statute of limitations is about to expire, which means the policewill
formally close the case, and she wants Veum to take one last look.
Veum rouses himself from his own grief and his alcoholic stupor, and
begins asking questions and turning over rocks and discovering
connections which go back far into the past, and which merge into
another case, a robbery of a jewellery store in Bergen a few years
earlier.
This is very much
like MacDonald at his best: buried secrets come to the surface, the
past haunts the present, and Veum, who was a social worker before
becoming a detective, seems to take a high moral view which implies
the consequences small break downs in personal morality can have. And a case which seems set to focus on child abuse turns into something different.
Bergen is a strange
setting, and not necessarily a very noirish one, but Veum moves among
its lowlife and shows us the underbelly even in a small relatively
prosperous town in a social democracy welfare state. This goes back
to the very start of the great Scandinavian detectives, and Staalesen
works very comfortably within it. There are moments which sometimes
stretch credibility, of coincidence and of violence, but there are
also a number of moments that are moving, and the story underneath
unveils itself with a few surprises. Staalesen remains relatively
unknown and hugely undervalued here; he deserves more attention.
Where Roses Never
Die by Gunnar Staalesen
translated by Don
Bartlett
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