Lisbeth Salander becomes more interesting. The author has become more comfortable with her fierce intelligence and her glacial reserve and allows her character to slowly emerge.

A very interesting thread that Larsson introduces is how easy it is to stigmatize a character, first as just a woman, and then when that doesn't work, as a pyschotic insane bitch. I look forward to the third book, where judging from Palmgren's assessment that Blomquist was going a little overboard with sterling assessment of her character, we may see the real Salander emerge from the protective coloration she has always worn.

What makes this book so compelling is the boundless and controlled rage at Salander's core. Justified, and justifiable, we start to see how it is possible for one woman to withstand true horror of an everyday life. I'm just sorry she didn't steal more money in the first book.