by Jo Nesbo
Chosen, rather reluctantly, by our book group. When asked what I thought, I said it was a “good read” and so it is, though I won’t be rushing out to read anything else by Nesbo.
The story has plenty of murders and false leads to the murderer – in fact I got rather tired of the number of would-be murderers who turned out not to be the real thing. Though the murders are suitably gruesome, there were few if any really creepy moments in the book. Perhaps the most chilling was right at the start of the book – a scene-setting that is only later shown in its full significance.
I didn’t manage to guess who the murderer might be, though some of my fellow book group members claimed that they had guessed. There was a vast array of characters, most of them stereotypes and somewhat two-dimensional. None of them is memorable, except perhaps the detective, Harry Hole.
After rushing to complete One Hundred Years of Solitude so that I would have a couple of days in which to read The Snowman, I found that this book raced along, being – as this genre of book tends to be – very much plot-driven (whereas 100 Years has no plot to speak of).
I would still call this a good read, and it fits the genre – you know what you are going to get.