Kukkulan kuningas

Nimi: Kukkulan kuningas
Alkuperäinen nimi: Hodejegerne
Kirjoittaja: Jo Nesbø
Julkaistu: Alunperin 2008, suomeksi 2009 
Genre: Trilleri
Sivuluku: 243


Nowkku tätä jonkun aikaa sitten suositteli kovin Fargomaisena, ja Kukkulan kuningas tarttui sitten eräällä kirjastoreissulla matkaan. Alkuun en ehtinyt/jaksanut kovasti keskittyä kirjaan koska tuli kaikkea yhtäkkiä yllättävää -kuten syliin suunnilleen tipahtanut lemmikkikäärme- mutta kun kirja pääsi vauhtiin ja keskittymiskyky palasi lähes entiselleen, niin eihän tätä taas malttanut päästää käsistään.

Oslolainen Roger Brown on kukkulan kuningas, headhuntereiden kuninkaallinen jonka suosittelema ehdokas aina päätyy huippufirman johtoon. Hänellä on kaunis vaimo joka pyörittää kallista taidegalleriaa, arvokas omakotitalo, ja huutava pula rahasta. Kallista elämää rahoittaakseen Rogerilla on salainen kakkostyö: hän varastaa taideteoksia korvaamalla ne jäljennöksillä, ja myy aidot eteenpäin kovalla voitolla.

Roger voi tuskin uskoa onneaan kun hänen syliinsä tipahtaa täydellinen ehdokas GPS-yrityksen johtajaksi, puoliksi hollantilainen Clas Greve, joka on juuri löytänyt mummonsa salakätköstä toisen maailmansodan aikana kadonneen Rubensin taulun. Jackpot molemmille urille, ja keino päästä veloista eroon, eikö? Niinhän sitä voisi luulla.

Fargo -niin leffa kuin sarja- tuli tosiaan ilahduttavasti mieleen kirjaa lukiessa, ja hupia sekä jännitystä riitti ihan loppuun asti. Ulkohuussikohtauksesta näen kyllä vielä painajaisia. Pitänee kokeilla muitakin herra Nesbøn kirjoja (olen aina luullut häntä naiseksi... live and learn).


   "Odotan innolla tulevaa keskusteluamme, Roger, mutta nyt lähden kotiin ja valmistaudun läksyttämään puuseppiä puolan kielellä. Sano terveisiä hurmaavalle vaimollesi." Greve kumarsi jäykästi, lähes sotilaallisesti, kääntyi kannoillaan ja lähti astelemaan ovelle päin. 
   Diana tuli vierelleni, kun seisoin katsomassa miehen perään. "Miten teillä meni, kulta?"
   "Mahtava yksilö. Katso tuota kävelytyyliä. Ihan kuin kissapeto. Hän on täydellinen."
   "Tarkoitatko että..."
   "Hän osasi jopa teeskennellä, ettei hän ole lainkaan kiinnostunut paikasta. Herrajumala, tuon pään minä haluan seinällleni täytettynä ja torahampaat irvessä."

The Outsiders

Title: The Outsiders
Author: S. E. Hinton
Published: Originally 1967, this was the Kindle version
Genre: Young adult
Pages: 192


Like so many teenagers ever since The Outsiders first came out, I loved this book some 20 years ago. Well, maybe not quite 20 years, but almost. Yikes. I was a big reader then, too, and I'd read everything else by Hinton that I could get my hands on. Around last christmas they showed Rumble Fish on TV, and The Outsiders a little later. Watched both, and got the urge to re-read some books.

Ponyboy Curtis is 14, orphaned with two older brothers, and a Greaser. Greasers are generally considered to be youth delinquents, dropouts, poor and dangerous, whereas the Socs (socials) are the rich kids with fancy cars and bright futures. The two groups fight constantly, and no-one is safe. One night, Ponyboy and his friend, a fellow Greaser called Johnny (I love how even the toughest ones call him Johnnycake), are walking home from a movie when they get jumped by a group of Socs', and things go too far.

S.E. Hinton wrote The Outsiders when she was 15 and 16, and it became a classic that's still going strong over 40 years later. And it was a good read as an adult, too.


   Sixteen years on the streets and you can learn a lot. But all the wrong things, not the things you want to learn. Sixteen years on the streets and you see a lot. But all the wrong sights, not the sights you want to see.

Death of the Little Match Girl

Title: Death of the Little Match Girl
Original title: Smrt djevojčice sa žigicama
Author: Zoran Ferić
Published: 2002
Genre: Murder mystery
Pages: 193


Like I mentioned, the SO and I visited Dubrovnik, Croatia a little while ago. Damn, it was warm. Hot, even. Anyway, during our travels, the SO has more or less transferred unto me her habit of buying a local book. There weren't many translated options in the book store, but as soon as I read the comparison of Mr. Ferić to Monty Python on the cover, it was obvious which one I would buy. The author's own comparison to Twin Peaks on the back sealed the deal.

Pathologist Fero returns to his home island on northern Croatia's shore to attend the funeral of his old friend's small daughter. What a cheery opening for a book, the funeral of a six-year old. While there, another old friend, now the local police, asks for his opinion on the body of the island's only prostitute, the Little Match Girl. The gaping hole on her neck suggests it wasn't a very natural death. The island isn't large so there is only a limited number of suspects, even adding the tourists, and they all seem to be equally odd.

In addition to the strangeness and absurdity of Monty Python and Twin Peaks, Death of the Little Match Girl also reminded me of Trainspotting. Only with less drugs and more dead transvestites. There were bits when I was completely lost and wondered whether I should leave the book unfinished and jump straight into Foxglove Summer, but with less than 200 pages, I wasn't going to give up. That was the right decision: the ending tied the whole thing together, and was fucking unexpected. I want to re-read the whole thing soon-ish, just to appreciate the whole ride.


   Then Mungos said, "Bring her in now! For Fero to see!"
   The policeman disappeared into one of the dark rooms. When he came back he was pushing a gurney with a body covered with a white sheet in front of him. There was blood on the fabric around the head in irregular stains that reminded me of modern art. At that moment the policeman's Motorola creckled and his hand went to his waist. Somebody needed to talk to Mungos, and they retreated into the next room. The conversation was obviously confidential and about the corpse on the gurney. I watched the gurney and the dead body on it in the semi-darkness, aware that it would need to be pushed right under the lamp for me to really see anything. 
   But then the thing on the stretcher moved. I saw the sheet rising around the stomach and then slowly lower. I had a very bad feeling about this. I was used to dead bodies from my job, but I wasn't too pleased about corpses that moved.
   "Your body's moving," I muttered when the policeman and Mungos came back. Something in my throat prevented me from saying it more distinctly.
   "Eh! Bullshit," said Mungos, writing down something he had evidently been told over the radio. "You'd better take a look."

Foxglove Summer

Title: Foxglove Summer
Author: Ben Aaronovitch
Published: 2015
Genre: Urban Rural fantasy
Pages: 333


And straight to the fifth (there was a book I read between 4 and 5, pretending for a few minutes that I wasn't going to jump straight into this one as soon as that was done. I didn't believe me either.)! In which Peter takes a trip from London to Herefordshire, to see its little villages, sprawling rivers and retired wizards.

Two young girls have gone missing, and since there indeed is a retired wizard in the area, Peter needs to make sure that he isn't somehow involved. Just pure routine. Back in London by supper. But suspicious things start to pop up, and Peter finds himself involved deeper and deeper in the disappearance, doing all he can to find the girls. Luckily the area is full of interesting people, both human and not-quite-so. And beeeeees! Quite unusual bees, actually.

Even though there's about as much action as in the previous ones, Foxglove Summer feels a bit like a break, a calm before the storm of what's to come with the Big Bad Guy. I don't mind, it was perfect for the end of my summer holiday, and left me eagerly awaiting the next one. Speaking of, good news! The next one is coming out in November! Wohoo!


   ...   The Police never saw a noun they didn't want to turn into a verb, so it quickly became 'to action', as in you action me to undertake a Falcon assessment, I action a Falcon assessment, a Falcon assessment has been actioned and we all action in a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine.

... a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine.

Broken Homes

Title: Broken Homes
Author: Ben Aaronovitch
Published: 2014
Genre: Urban fantasy
Pages: 369


It's already the fourth book in the so far five-part series! And I just jumped straight in after finishing #3. No thought for 'saving it till later'. Oh dear. And it's a quiet day at the office, and I'm abusing that fact by getting some writing done here. That still makes me a productive member of the workplace, right? At least I look busy.

This one's a little different from the previous books: instead of one big magical case to hit his head against until something breaks, Peter is saddled with several smaller ones that may or may not be magical. An unidentifiable female body is found in a shallow grave in the woods. A man with no reason to kill himself jumps in front of a Tube train. An old but important book of magic pops up from a shady seller. Little by little, everything starts to connect up, and all the leads point to the south of the River Thames, and towards the Big Bad Guy.

There are so many returning and new characters in these books that I sometimes have trouble keeping up with all of them with my flaky head, but that's just about my only complaint, and I can easily check up who's who on the internet. The books are just pure fun, Peter is a brilliant narrator, and the action never stops for long. Not until there comes... that bit... and it leaves you screaming in disbelief with your cup of coffee and tomato sandwich and you have to take deep breaths before screaming some more.

NEXT!


   I felt weirdly panicky all the way back across the river, and through the vile traffic around Elephant and Castle. But I couldn't work out why.
   'Somebody tried to kill us a couple of days ago,' said Lesley when I mentioned it. 'I'm amazed we're not on psychiatric medical leave.'
   'That which does not kill us,' I said, 'has to get up extra early in the morning if it wants to get us next time.' 

Whispers Under Ground

Title: Whispers Under Ground
Author: Ben Aaronovitch
Published: 2012
Genre: Urban fantasy
Pages: 322


I bought Whispers Under Ground for the Kindle almost as soon as I finished the previous book (Moon Over Soho), but didn't get to reading it until summer holidays hit again. These are great quick and fun reads, just the thing to enjoy on a holiday, and if I haven't mentioned it a hundred times before, I love London. The SO and I went on a trip to Dubrovnik, Croatia, and after I finished Sourcery on the first or second night there, this was next.

And even though Dubrovnik is a beautiful place with turquoise water all around, the Old town and cheap beer, Whispers Under Ground didn't take long to finish. And I kind of went and got the next one and started that, too... I keep confusing what happened in which as I write this. Right! This is the one that started with the body at Baker Street Tube Station, with chapter names after the Tube stations. Young American art student James Gallagher has been stabbed to death with what appears to be... magical pottery. Peter is called to help with the investigation, while trying to keep any and all magical bits a secret from the FBI agent sent to help as well.

Both Christmas and James' senator father are coming as Peter follows the leads, as you can guess from the title, under the ground. You have to read the book yourself to find out what's hidden under the streets. Go on, these books are wonderful!


   The Metropolitan Police has a very straightforward approach to murder investigations. Not for them the detective's gut instinct or the intricate logical deductions of the sleuth savant. No, what the Met likes to do is throw a shitload of manpower at the problem and run down every single possible lead until it is exhausted, the murderer is caught, or the senior investigating officer dies of old age. As a result, murder investigations are conducted not by quirky Detective Inspectors with drink/relationship/mental problems but a bunch of frighteningly ambitious Detective Constables in the first mad flush of their careers. So you can see I fit in very well. 

Sourcery

Title: Sourcery
Author: Terry Pratchett
Published: 1988, 2009 as an e-book
Genre: Humour fantasy
Pages: 336


I kept getting distracted again, so this one took a while. Plus there was a holiday abroad, and I spent it blissfully away from all internets. That was fun!

Sourcery! The fifth Discworld book. A good explanation on why the wizards are not allowed to have families. The eighth son of the eighth son tends to be a wizard. The eighth son of the eighth son of the eighth son? A wizard squared: a sourcerer, extremely powerful, able to bend even reality itself to his whim. And Ipslore the wizard is the eighth son of an eighth son, and his eighth son has just been born, leaving him a widow. Ipslore himself is dying, and manages to cheat Death itself to be able to guide his son the sourcerer to the top of the world. Him, and all wizardkind.

Of course this is not such a good idea, really. Not with all the reality-bending and stuff. Our favourite failure of a wizard, Rincewind, is roped in to help save the world with some unlikely heroes. I like the poking fun of hero stereotypes in this one. But at least they're a bit better at it than Rincewind!


   "I meant," said Ipslore bitterly, "what is there in this world that makes living worthwhile?"
   Death thought about it. 
   CATS, he said finally. CATS ARE NICE.


I like Death.

Misfortune

Title: Misfortune
Author: Wesley Stace
Published: 2006 by Vintage (orig. 2005)
Genre: Historical drama
Pages: 519 + appendix


The urge to re-read Misfortune kept growing over some days, so I eventually just gave in and picked it up. If possible, I loved it even more than the first time! Maybe it's because I knew what was coming, and the bits that seemed slow last time just flew past.

A newborn baby is abandoned on a trash heap in the seedier parts of London in 1820. Lucky for him, one of the richest men in the kingdom happens to pass the heap on his way home, and picks the baby up. An eccentric fellow, Young Lord Loveall completely ignores the fact that the baby is a boy, and decides to raise him as a daughter, Rose. Our heroine.

Rose grows up happy with her best friends, the daughter and son of the Loveall family secretary. She is loved by her family and the villagers, but there are people in the household who would love nothing more than to cause trouble, and tell the truth to the ghastly family members who are after the riches and the grand house.

Rose narrates the story herself, through joy and sorrow, and the 500+ pages just fly by, making the reader both laugh and cry.


   "Rose, you're not the only person doing the empress!" She laughed good-naturedly.
   "The what?"
   "Doing the empress. That is what they call it: men who..." I felt quite sorry for her as she stumbled over her explanation.
   "I am not doing anything, Victoria. The members of the Inslip Club have nothing in common with me, nor shall I seek their society. Theirs is a hobby: I presume that they impersonate women. I am not doing an impersonation. You cannot imitate that which you really are, Victoria, and what you see now is me."
   "Rose, I certainly didn't mean..." Though she tried to mollify me, I was warming to my theme. I started to walk with a longer stride. 
   "I may represent a challenge to others, but I am perfectly happy with who I am. In fact, I fear that it is not men but women who are the great female impersonators, and growing even more so!" I indicated two women with ridiculous bustles and absurdly accentuated corsets waddling down the other side of the street. "Present company excepted, of course," I added, raising my eyebrows at her cropped hair and collared work shirt.