These Icelanders are very bleak indeed. Seems like in every chapter, Inspector Erlunder is driving in the rain, or standing in the pouring rain, or peering through a rain streaked window. And he is gloomy , gloomy while he watches a child's small coffin exhumed from a grave, gloomy while talking to medical researcher who has a private collection of organs in jars, or when excavating the floor of a house to remove a corpse from a rat- and beetle infested cranny underneath the pipes. Typical Erlunder thought: "Sometimes he felt as if his life had deserted him, and only his empty body remained, staring with vacant eyes out into the darkness". It doesn't help that his pregnant junkie daughter pukes in his apartment, and hates his guts, and only visits when she needs money. So cheery!

TO FELLOW NORDIC NOIR fan, VAN bioHAZARD