DEADLY DUO
Masters of dark Scandinavian noir are a cheerful married couple
We represent a new form of the contemporary novel.
We can discuss the failures of society and of individuals while also taking note of the times when people do really good things. It's like a high-pressure moral discussion. Alexander Ahndoril
Lazarus
Lars Kepler Mcclelland & Stewart
There's a moment in the new Lars Kepler thriller, Lazarus, when a human skull is discovered in a freezer.
That's the sort of grisly happening one comes to expect from a Scandinavian crime series whose international sales recently passed the 14 million mark. But there's a further nasty bite to this one because the skull belongs to the late wife of Joona Linna, the haunted Stockholm cop who has been an essential but often troubling fixture of the books from their beginning.
Furthermore, Lazarus resurrects a dreaded character from a previous Kepler novel. And he's perhaps the most terrifying fictional villain since Hannibal Lecter.
Some critics find the violence of these books excessive, a judgment rejected by the husband-and-wife team that writes these books under the Lars Kepler pseudonym.
“We actually hate violence,” says Alexander Ahndoril. “So that's why we describe it as we do.”
On the phone from the couple's home in Sweden, he's calmly professorial in tone.
“Real violence is horrible. It's the worst thing.”
Their books unflinchingly set out to prove it.
Wife Alexandra, warm and buoyant, is now chiming in.
“I think people find our books violent because we avoid glorifying it but write about it as it is, as horrifying as it is,” she says.
The novels always take care to emphasize the devastating effect of violence on the victims themselves — and that, says Alexander, “may be the real reason people find the books so scary.”
Violence, both physical and emotional, has been a hallmark of the series since the 2011 publication of the first novel, The Hypnotist. Lazarus ups the ante: victims are being buried alive and law-enforcement agencies are coping with a succession of gruesome vigilante-style murders throughout Eastern and Northern Europe. As Detective Inspector Joona Linna struggles with the investigation, he finds himself contemplating a possibility that makes him shudder. Could the man he fears most in the world have returned from the grave to wreak more havoc?
In conversation, the Ahndorils are in eerie harmony with each other. It seems entirely natural that they should finish each other's sentences and complete each other's thoughts as they reflect on the success of a series they hope will be viewed as more than just escapist reading.
“We want our books to be entertaining, but we also believe that crime fiction offers the opportunity for discussions about today's society,” Alexander says.
So while the Lars Kepler books may be making their own contribution to the Scandinavian noir genre, Alexander sees something else happening as well.
“We represent a new form of the contemporary novel,” he says. “We can discuss the failures of society and of individuals while also taking note of the times when people do really good things. It's like a high-pressure moral discussion.”
The possibility that today's society can spawn a monstrous villain like Jurek Walter is part of that discussion, his creators say. He's Sweden's most terrifying serial killer — intelligent, manipulative, ruthless and almost supernatural in the ease with which he can mess with people's minds.
Even a seasoned cop like Linna remains terrified by the very mention of Jurek's name — this in spite of the fact this arch-monster was decisively eliminated at the end of an earlier novel, The Sandman.
But did Walter really die? As Linna's investigation continues, he becomes consumed by the fear that his nemesis is still alive. But no one believes him until it is almost too late.
“Jurek was never gone, really,” says Alexandra. “I think he's been a shadow throughout the books. So it was time for him to come back in Lazarus.”
“We are afraid of him and Joona is afraid of him,” Alexander says candidly. “He can get into your mind in a very scary way.”
Although the Ahndorils are admirers of Thomas Harris's The Silence of the Lambs, they're firm in saying that Jurek is not Hannibal Lecter revisited.
“He's not sadistic,” Alexander says. “He's not interested in other people's pain. He's not cannibalistic. But he does get into people's minds in a way that affects people mentally. And he is this serial killer with this need to kill and kill again.”
Long married and the parents of three, Alexander and Alexandra had been pursuing independent writing careers before deciding to team up. Their reason for doing so — loneliness.
“We were writers on our own for many years and we have been married for many many years,” Alexandra says. “But there was also this strange emptiness. Writing individually can be very nice but it's also lonely, and we wanted to break that loneliness.” Alexander takes up the tale. “We knew we loved to do things together and we suddenly thought — why not write together? That would be wonderful.”
This type of teamwork can lead to various writing approaches. The legendary Ellery Queen mysteries, emblematic of the golden age of the 1930s, were the work of two cousins, with one plotting and the other writing. In contrast, the Ahndorils function as a single, seamless unit at desks side by side in their study.
Sometimes that study wall can be entirely filled with Post-its during the months when they are meticulously crafting a new storyline.
“Our way is to share every part of the writing process — the research, the mapping out of the entire plot, and writing together to the very last sentence,” Alexander says. “We are in constant conversation.”
Alexandra cheerfully puts it this way: “I don't think there is a single sentence in this book that only one of us has written.”
This pleasant, matter-of-fact couple writes about frightening things. So what frightens them in real life?
“I'm frightened every time I open the newspaper or turn on the TV and see what people are doing to each other all over the world,” Alexander says. “Maybe that's why we write these books. In fiction we can make things right again.”