The forward is by the late Henning Mankell, the creator of the Wallander series of novels which are required reading for fans of Nordic-Noir. His thoughts and observations are just as incisive as one might expect from a master of the genre, so no skipping straight to the action.

Set in the 1960s the novel has dated somewhat and now feels more like an historical crime novel, one that has the advantage of authenticity because it was written then. As Mankell notes, nearly everyone smokes, people go to cafes for lunch and the landline telephone is invaluable. Interestingly there is a conversation about cigarettes being deadly in the dialogue. The other observation I would add is public transport and taxis are used throughout, not many contemporary detectives use the subway. Overall, it does seem to capture the optimism of the time, Sweden was much less affected by World War II, here the shackles of the drab austerity years of 1950s Europe are tossed aside, and we have the beginning of the ‘Swinging Sixties.’

The plot is very straightforward, the body of a naked young woman is found in a Swedish canal and the police must first identify her before they can hopefully track down the killer. A pure police procedural with no real distractions or side stories. Style wise it is very different to British crime novels of the period, very focused and streamlined but also with a cold clinical edge as well.

Martin Beck is the central character, and he is always named in full as Martin Beck, unlike the other characters who are usually just a surname. Martin Beck is something of a cold fish, a man seemingly happiest at work or building his model ship. His marriage appears to have dissolved into more of a companionable co-existence, though we discover they once were very much in love. He is emotionally buttoned up and physically a weak specimen, if he hasn’t got a cold he knows he’s going to get one with his bad chest and he’s always suffering with a bad stomach. A hypochondriac? Perhaps, certainly his consumption of coffee and cigarettes coupled with erratic eating habits and long hours are not going to help.

The story is very much plot and procedure rather than character based, other than Martin Beck and the killer the characters are largely forgettable. The killer is what would now be recognised as a high functioning sociopath, here given a well-judged split between charming and deadly. A killer who needed help he didn’t get, so he deserves a tiny bit of empathy.

As with all translated fiction, much depends on the skill of the translator. Here it is good, though definitely feels of the period with some oddities (watching the ‘boob tube’ for watching the television). No doubt a more modern translation would use different vocabulary in some places.

Is it worth a revisit, or picking up if you haven’t read it before? I would say yes. All musicians site their influences, some of whom can be rather obscure, and I’m sure that Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö have influenced many writers in the past and indeed the present. It is a finely crafted novel albeit a little bit dated and I’m sure many studying creative writing could learn from it.

I would like to thanks NetGalley and the publisher for providing access in exchange for a fair review