i lost track on how where I found out about this book. It's really a odd duck, this one. It's not that the writing is bad, it's actually good. Interesting topic, mistery of a lost wife with background of a crumbling town. It called out to my mistery, snobbish lit and urban enthusiast soul. But, at some point, an overpowering feeling just appeared. Suddenly it's like I'm reading A Series of Unfortunate Events for adult. The black premonition, puzzle clues scattered everywhere, the feeling that world goes unhinge, that nobody is who they tell you they are, unrealistic imagination(show spoiler)
and this image of all-encompassing-evil-puppeteer(show spoiler)
. It's just too much and I just read it to the end and still not quite sure what I've read.
PS: The amount of cigarettes smoked and people sponging for one from Sven is remarkable!! nobody in that whole town buy ciggy except him. Makes me wonder if Lundgren was on withdrawal or have had too many people bleeding him to death for cigarettes.