The Shadow District (2013)

Indridason displays all his best sides … a very well written book, full of memorable characters.

Indridason’s fans, unhappy that Erlendur, eater of sheep’s heads, has left the stage, can rejoice in the fact that they now have The Shadow District to read. Step forward Konráð, a brand new police officer, albeit a retired one, whom it looks as if readers will be getting to know better in books to come. He also has a difficult childhood behind him, as well as some adventures hinted at but not explained further. We wait with bated breath. There are, actually, three policemen in the spotlight, as we have two stories here; a murder in 1944 as well as one in the present time, and Flóvent and Thorson, who investigated the earlier killing, are also well-crafted and interesting characters whom, alas, we shan’t be getting to know better. And yet, who knows? Indridason’s hallmark as a crime writer is his fondness for his characters; investigators and victims alike spring into life in the reader’s mind, as do criminals and suspects. The Shadow District is no exception in this respect, and despite the hideousness of their crimes, the perpetrators are drawn with a sense of humanity that makes it impossible for readers to hate them—all except for one. The central mystery of the investigation is the murder in 1944, and it transpires that the present-day murder is directly linked to it. Indridason describes the atmosphere of the age and the conditions of life extremely well, and by making one of the investigators a Canadian ‘West-Icelander’ who is not too familiar with local conditions, he manages to sneak in all manner of reflections on hot topics from 1944 in the form of conversation between him and Flóvent, without this becoming forced or disruptive to the narrative. The whole development of events is believable, too, in contrast with what often happens in crime novels, and the reader becomes deeply involved in the investigations as never before. The identity of the murderer is almost irrelevant, it is the lives of the people involved in the story that create the interest and excitement. The construction of the story is extremely professionally crafted. The two period settings flow effortlessly into one another, and the way they are knit together is faultless. The style is vintage Indridason, no flourish or affectation, and the dialogues are more carefully crafted than often before—there is no hint of literary language or pretence, and you believe every word. The Shadow District does not mark a watershed in Indridason’s career, it represents a continuation of the development of his style and construction we have seen in recent years, and is a well-crafted and carefully thought out story which moves the reader on many levels and raises in his or her mind the perennial question whether we really have made positive progress during the years Iceland has been a republic. Conclusion: A well-crafted and carefully thought out story in two time periods. The mise-en-scène, characterisation and construction combine to make The Shadow District one of Indridason’s best books.

The Shadow District seems full of everlasting chill, northerly winds, cold and storms, and you can almost feel the snowflakes in the air. Indridason succeeds in creating an atmosphere that pierces you to the bone ... The Shadow District is, like all Indridason’s books, an exciting story, but it is not a fast tempo, flying bullets or mangled bodies that keep the reader awake until the early hours. What keeps you enthralled are the characters – human, frail and real, and while some of them are far from being particularly likeable, you cannot help but care about them and worry about their fate.

The best has never been better. Arnaldur Indridason is one of the world's top thriller writers, and his latest book Skuggasund is quite simply terrific on all levels. The author's virtuosity shines through every single page of this amazing work. For this book, Indridason recently won the 2013 RBA International Prize for Crime Writing; this highly prestigious prize, worth €125,000, is awarded annually in Spain for novels in pre-publication, which are submitted under noms de plume. Speaking about the prize in an interview with the newspaper Morgunbladid, Indridason said, "I look upon this award above all as a literary recognition. It's a recognition of Icelandic crime fiction and Icelandic literature in general, and of what Icelandic writers are concentrating on." He has forged a new path and attained a previously unknown level of achievement. In The Shadow District he excels himself. In this book Indridason focuses on the Reykjavík of 1944, linking an unsolved murder from that time to the recent death of an elderly man. He captures you right from the first page, keeping you enthralled to the very end. His characters, both present-day and wartime, spring vividly to life, and his descriptions of places cast light on one world that is hidden from many, and another that the reader would benefit from becoming better acquainted with. Indridason's brilliant narrative technique is at its best here; making a connection with Manitoba through one of the book's central characters is a great idea, a clever way of emphasizing the important relationship with our Western friends in Canada. This is one of Indridason's best books ever, and if anybody deserves a standing ovation it is Arnaldur Indridason for The Shadow District.