Book review: 'Hypothermia' by Arnaldur Indridason

This is one of a series of crime novels concerning Icelandic detective Erlendur. At 314 pages I managed to read it during a two-hour 'plane flight. Published in 2009, it came into my hands from a colleague who thought that I might be interested to read it. Having been to Iceland in 2006, its haunting landscape was familiar to me, and had visited Thingvellir national park and seen the view over the lake Thingvallavatn, where much of the action takes place.

Like any detective story, there are a number of threads which initially appear to be unrelated, but are drawn together in the last few pages of the book. Erlendur fits the Scandinavian mould of the somewhat tortured middle-age male detective who is divorced and has a fractured relationship with his family. The story is almost a morality play about the negative consequences of infidelity and how both anger and the desire to be free can drive murderous intent and a fabric of lies and deception. It is also a story about an innocent love story that ends in tragedy, the impact of tragedy and loss over a lifetime, the ghosts that live on, the question of life after death and its intersection with medical madness. It is somewhat poignant that tragedy and loss also enveloped Erlendur's own family in his childhood.

The book is clever in terms of its twists and turns and the way in which the various clues are gradually revealed, and 'putting it all together' really does come down to the last few pages when our suspicions that an apparent suicide was really a murder are confirmed. There is of course a certain element of 'willing suspension of disbelief' as the elements of the plot are spun together, and we are left wondering whether the murderers will in fact 'get away with it'. I was left feeling very sorry that the victim, who was on the verge of getting her life back together again, was so cruelly robbed of this opportunity, and did wonder about things like why would the police not check the plastic rope in the noose for fingerprints, and why would someone who was so afraid of the dark and hated being left alone voluntarily go to stay in an isolated cottage on the edge of Thingvallavatn without the author making more of this inconsistency?

Since I love Iceland, and this is a reasonably good yarn that allowed me to have a few stabs at where it was all heading towards the end, which is always fun, I am going to recommend it! There are apparently several other novels in the series by the same author if you are interested in reading more.