I Remember You
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A terrifying ghost story from the Queen of Icelandic crime, Yrsa Sigurdardottir, author of the Thora Gudmundsdottir novels. 'Yrsa is one of the most exciting new voices in the crime thriller world.' - Peter James The crunching noise had resumed, now accompanied by a disgusting, indefinable smell. It could best be described as a blend of kelp and rotten meat. The voice spoke again, now slightly louder and clearer: Don't go. Don't go yet. I'm not finished. In an isolated village in the Icelandic Westfjords, three friends set to work renovating a derelict house. But soon they realise they are not alone there - something wants them to leave, and it's making its presence felt. Meanwhile, in a town across the fjord, a young doctor investigating the suicide of an elderly woman discovers that she was obsessed with his vanished son. When the two stories collide the terrifying truth is uncovered . . .
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This was super creepy. Nordic noir is somewhat dominant in the crime genre these days, and Iceland, despite being the smallest Nordic nation, is certainly giving some contributions to this. Yrsa is probably the foremost of the Icelandic noir authors and this, my first dabble into her work, did not disappoint.
Focusing on a small community in one of the more remote parts of Iceland, jumping between a murder enquiry in a small town and a group of ‘friends' trying to build a new B&B in an abandoned fishing settlement the other side of the fjord. The two stories intertwine in an intriguing way with a wonderfully open ending that keeps you questioning. The terrifying isolation of being stuck in an isolated community with people you dont necessary like really adds a layer of paranoia and creep to the novel. The twists and turns remain surprising leading to a very satisfying denouement.
The best crime novel I have read so far this year!
Atmospheric, well written, slow paced mystery. Two stories running side by side with everything linking up very conveniently in the final four chapters. I wasn't particularly surprised by anything, feeling more like “ah yes, so that's what it was”. Very strange last paragraph. Set your whelmometer somewhere in the middle.
