Skip to main content

The Princess of Burundi by Kjell Eriksson: A review

The Princess of Burundi (Ann Lindell, #4)The Princess of Burundi by Kjell Eriksson
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

When I picked this book to read, I was under the impression that it was the first in a series featuring female police inspector Ann Lindell of Uppsala, Sweden. It soon became apparent that it was not the first. Evidently, it is actually the fourth in the series but was the first to be translated into English.

Never mind. The author actually does a good job of providing the backstories of his main characters, so I did not feel as lost as I might have.

This is a police procedural, much in the vein of Ed McBain or Sjowall and Wahloo. It features a unit of the Uppsala police that is led by Inspector Lindell, but, in fact, in this particular book, Lindell is on maternity leave and she is only tangentially involved in the investigation of the crimes detailed. This is where it would have been useful to have read the previous book in order to get the full story of how she came to be where she is in her life.

She has a nine-month-old baby son named Erik. She is a single mother, living alone with the baby in an apartment, and she is getting very antsy because she misses her job and the daily contact with her co-workers. We learn a bit about Sweden's social safety net for new mothers, which seems quite impressive. Some readers might find such details extraneous, but I actually found them fascinating.

There are two murders to investigate, as well as an assault on a woman, and it is not clear at first whether there is a connection between them. All of this is handled by the unit which Lindell left behind when she went on maternity leave. She actually doesn't make an appearance in the book until about the halfway point. But with the murder of a young man that she knew from having interviewed him in relation to a crime that happened several years ago, she feels inexorably drawn to the investigation and can't help getting involved.

I really quite liked this group of police officers. They are presented as simply ordinary, everyday people, who are engaged and involved in their community and who are trying to do the best job that they can to protect it. We get to know some of their flaws as well as their strengths. There are no bad guys among them - although one of them does have a bit of a xenophobic streak - and they go about their jobs methodically and by the book. They are quite different from some of the messed-up Scandinavian police characters we've come to know through Henning Mankell and Jo Nesbo, for example. No dour, psychosomatic, angry policemen (or women) here. And, yes, I was quite taken with the idea of having a woman lead the team. How refreshing!

I felt the plot and the characters were well-developed and the way the story was told did give me some insight into Swedish society and expanded my horizons. I like that in a book.

The one thing that really puzzled me at first was the title. What does The Princess of Burundi have to do with Uppsala, Sweden? But eventually we do learn where the title comes from, although even then, I felt it was a bit misleading.

I like Kjell Ericsson's style of writing and felt that this book showed great promise. I look forward to reading more in the series.





View all my reviews

Comments

  1. Sounds like you found yet another fascinating series to read. :-)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I do enjoy reading series and this one does show promise.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters!  Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...