Tuesday, May 04, 2021

The Girl Who Died by Ragnar Jónasson

 
First Line: Una awoke with a jerk.
 
It's 1986. Thirty-year-old Una is dissatisfied with her life. She lives in a shabby yet expensive apartment. She has no love life. Her savings are rapidly disappearing, and she can't find a permanent teaching position in Reykjavik. When she sees the ad in the newspaper, it looks like the answer to her prayers. How hard can teaching two little girls in a remote fishing village, population ten, be?
 
But once she gets there, her car is on its last legs, the people are civil but not welcoming, and the lack of a television bothers her more than she'd like to admit. As the days grow shorter and the winter darkness closes in, Una spends more and more time in her attic apartment with endless glasses of wine. The young Thór is the only person she really feels a connection with, but he goes out of his way to keep her at arm's length. No, it's Una and her wine in her apartment in the attic that's supposed to be haunted... and her nightmares of a young girl dressed in white who sings a lullaby. 
 
When a tragedy occurs, the villagers become hostile to Una, and she's left on her own to uncover a secret that's long been buried in the tiny village's past.
 
~
 
No one does claustrophobic like Ragnar Jónasson. A tiny remote fishing village during an Icelandic winter is the perfect setting for The Girl Who Died. I really enjoyed the mystery Jónasson created, and I'm still angry with myself for not figuring out a very major clue, although math has never been my strong point. There are some interesting threads woven into the story; one about a World War II British and American lookout post for example, and then literary allusions that can remind readers of books like The Haunting of Hill House.

If I had any problem with the book at all, it was my reaction to Una, the whiner. Una, the terminally dissatisfied. First, she's glad to be out of Reykjavik. She doesn't miss the city at all. Then when the reality of the tiny village grows on her, she misses the luxuries she'd become accustomed to. Then she decides that she does, indeed, miss the city after all. She bemoans the fact that none of her friends make any real effort to get in touch with her, but I'm of the firm opinion that they're all undoubtedly rejoicing in the absence of her whining. It's hard to feel any sympathy for a character who's never ever happy about anything, a character who spends almost all her free time in wine-soaked pity parties.
 
There's quite the dichotomy in my reaction to The Girl Who Died. On the one hand, I really enjoyed the mystery itself and the spookiness and unease of the setting. On the other, I wanted to tape Una's mouth shut and lock her away in the attic. In conclusion, there's only one more thing I want to say about this book, and it's this: I had the opening bars of a song running through my mind during the last half of the story. I don't think I'll be the only one who thinks of The Girl Who Died as the Icelandic Hotel California.

The Girl Who Died by Ragnar Jónasson
eISBN: 9781250793744
Minotaur Books © 2021
eBook, 275 pages

Standalone Thriller/Suspense
Rating: B+
Source: Net Galley

13 comments:

  1. Too traumatized by the book by him that I read with an awful ending. Won't read his books.

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    1. I know. You've mentioned this several times, but I'm going to keep reading him, so just think to yourself every time you see my review of one of his books, "Well, there's one book I won't be adding to Mt. TBR!" :-)

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    2. Go right ahead and read whatever you want. We're all different readers. Some books various people agree on; some not. With friends to whom I loan books, same thing.
      It's also different tolerances among readers. Some of my friends won't read anything with murders, except Donna Leon.

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  2. This does sound absolutely full of tension and atmosphere, Cathy. And I always do like an Iceland setting. I know what you mean about Una; if the main character isn't interesting or appealing, it's harder to really sustain interest in the story. Still, it sounds like an overall good read, and I'm glad you found a lot to like about it.

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    1. He's much too good a writer not to have lots to like about the book.

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  3. A coincidence this a.m. Kathy - you reviewed the new Jonasson book and my name come up for the reserve at the library. His other two series were favorites of mine. This should be his first stand-alone, we'll see how I get on with Una. Ev

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    1. Oh, good! Please let me know what you thought of her once you've finished the book.

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  4. Wow, a village of ten? In Iceland? That it is claustrophobic!

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    1. You better believe it-- especially in all that winter darkness!

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  5. I'm with you, Cathy. I have a hard time connecting to a main character that is a whiner.

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    1. Probably has something to do with the fact that I wasn't allowed to whine as a child. Sounds as though you weren't either. ;-)

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  6. What a great setting, though I have to admit that I would probably do a lot of whining myself if I had to spend more than a few days in a place like that. :-)

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    1. There's no way on God's green earth that I would willingly take on that teaching position! There's a fabulous mystery conference in Reykjavik called Iceland Noir. I've heard Jónasson talk about it. I'd love to go. It's held during the dark of winter, and I'm pretty sure I could handle just a few days of that because I could always keep the thought in mind that I'd be leaving soon!

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