The Magistrates Book

This book made me feel sick to my stomach. Not because it was too gory or because what was written disagreed with me in a philosophical way, but because I have grown to care about Kurt Wallander over the eight books I've read -- maybe even seeing a bit of myself in him -- and it's in this book that he is most under siege, and that feeling of being under attack was the feeling that made me feel ill.

His protege, Martinsson, the man he trained in the way his mentor Ryberg trained him, the man he kept in the police force when he was about to quit, the man he most trusted, has been quietly out to get him, undermining him with the police chief, the prosecutor's office, and his other colleagues.

His love life is a shambles, and when he finally sees a glimmer of hope it turns out to be an illusion designed to use him.

His personal relationships are all amok. His daugther is distant; his father is dead; his step-mother is playing at guilt; he can't see the one person closest to him for her closeness, so he keeps pushing her away (or, at least, maintaining his distance); he's even losing people he counted on without knowing it and finding it impossible to connect with the new people that are coming in to take their place.

And each of these bits and piece of Wallander's character made me physically ill. I've been where he's at (I may even be where he's at to some extent), and when all of those personal issues were coupled with real physical danger as a result of the case he was solving, I found myself reacting as if I could be a voice in his head, screaming advice, willing him to make positive decisions, begging him to stand up for himself.

It was an uncomfortable mirror for me, really, and it did its job of building and maintaining tension better than any other Wallander book I've read. It's entirely possible that this tension only works if someone connects with Wallander as I did, but it is there to be found if you are lucky enough (or unlucky enough) to make that connection.