Henrik Ibsen once said “A thousand words will not leave so deep an impression as one deed.” Murder is the deed that will leave the darkest, deepest impression. And it leaves a darker, deeper impression in Scandinavia than it does here. First, it's rare. The murder rate in Norway is one eighth the rate in the USA. No wise cracking cops eating doughnuts while they go over the mayhem of another crime scene there. They haven't gotten used to it. Every murder is still shocking. Second, the community is closer. They live in towns where everybody knows everybody. They know the victim. It’s not a case of whodunnit, it’s more ”how could this happen here? How could this happen to us?” And of course, in the land of stoic depression, there’s lots of psychology. A place where summers are brief and winters are dark and non-ending, is going to have lots of introspection about everything. American crime readers often complain Nordic novels are too slow, too cerebral - too “Seventh Seal” and not enough “Seven.” I say it’s an acquired taste, like Lutefisk. C’mon, try it. Take a bite. It's not like it's going to kill you. The SDG will meet seven times (every other week) over fourteen weeks.

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