My relationship with Jo Nesbø’s Harry Hole-thrillers is symmetrical with the protagonist’s relationship to alcohol. At some point I know he’s going to indulge, and the same happens to me.
I finished Panssarisydän in two days (and a long night inbetween).
And despite the maximal pace, I got a lot out of the experience. The book ranks amongst the very top of the series (in addition to the preceding Lumiukko).
The novel starts with action, and while the plot clicks on and on at a steady speed, it never feels too fast, nor does it slow down too much.
There’s far more travel involved than in the previous installments, and that’s pretty much the only sore spot. Sudden trips to the darkest Africa on the budget of the Oslo police department do stretch credibility a little.
But that’s hardly a factor in yet another well-crafted multi-layered puzzle. A serial killer is once again loose in Norway, and he has laid out a puzzle with gory special effects and struggles against mother nature, too.
Looking forward to the next part, but that does require a weekend with a cleared-out schedule. Just like proper binges do. I worry for Harry Hole, though – he gets increasingly damaged and correspondingly self-destructive by each book.