As stated before Jo Nesbø’s Harry Hole-sequence brings out the worst voracious reader-habits in me.
The eighth in the series, Aave was no different. I consumed vast chunks of the novel in two days, and came off slightly dazed in the end.
The plot moves on multiple levels once again, and this time the crime touches Harry’s extended family closer than ever before. But that perspective is just one of many in a thick book that once again highlights cruel torture, corruption in the ranks of the officials and the need to make things right.
A perfect recipe for disaster for the protagonist, who has a close call with the reaper several times in the course of the book, and ends up in the hands of the juiciest cliffhanger in a long long while.
Aave is a great book, but doesn’t rise to the heights established by the two preceding Harry Hole-novels. But it’s obviously warmly recommended for all fans of the pseudo-suicidal norwegian policeman.