Arctic Chill by Arnaldur Indridason

64. Arctic Chill - seventh in the Inspector Erlendur series by Arnaldur Indridason
translated by Bernard Scudder and Victoria Cribb
mystery, 2005
finished, 10/16/10

When I begin an Arnaldur Indridason book, I sink into it as one would a big upholstered chair. From the very first sentence, it is a reading experience like no other.

I am fascinated by Detective Erlendur's preoccupation with missing persons in Iceland. Every single book features this to a greater or lesser degree. He describes disappearances as 'a distinctly Icelandic crime.'

His theory was that Icelanders were indifferent about people who went missing. In the great majority of cases they believed there were 'natural' explanations, in a country with a fairly high suicide rate. Erlendur went further and linked the nonchalance about disappearances to a certain popular understanding, extending back for centuries, about conditions in Iceland, the hard climate in which people died of exposure and vanished as if the earth swallowed them up. Nobody was better acquainted than Erlendur with stories of people who had frozen to death in bad weather. His theory was that crimes were easy to commit under the cover of this indifference.

Each book teaches me something new about the country. Arctic Chill focuses on how the Icelanders are dealing with a new population from Thailand. I read here that in 2005 when this book was written, there were about 500 Thais in Iceland.

A young boy is found stabbed to death on a frigid January afternoon when it is dark at 4 pm.

Reykjavik at mid-day - Photo by Aaron Sylvan

He is the son of an Icelandic father and Thai mother. The police haven't had much experience with racially motivated crimes, and wonder if this may be one. Then the mother's other son disappears.

'Could it be that Sunee [the mother] no longer feels safe among us?' Erlendur said. 'Here in Iceland. Could that explain why she's hidden her son? We can't begin to understand what it's really like for immigrants in this country. We can't begin to understand what it's like for someone from the other side of the globe to move over here, settle, start a family and try to integrate into Icelandic society. ... Racism may not be an everyday occurrence here but we know that not everyone's happy with the way society is going.'

This is a heart-wrenching situation for all concerned, and is further complicated for Erlendur because he is getting occasional phone calls from a woman who says, 'Oh, God, I can't do it.' Is she a woman whose marriage has broken up, who has also disappeared? And why does she call him?

As always, I don't want to give away too much about the story. What I will say is that this writer is one of the best I've ever read. The detail, the quiet exploration of people and society, the slow way the reader gets to know not only Erlendur but his family and co-workers is different from any other books. Arnaldur Indridason really stands alone for me. There's no one like him. If you haven't begun to read his work, I really do encourage you to do so. He is a wonderful writer and his books are excellent.