"Sweden is cold and dark and cold and icy and dark. And the food is all boiled fish and potatoes. There's strange bad guys aplenty up Scandinavia way: immigrant-hating Aryans, Russians, Latvians – they've got the whole Eastern block floating over to kill people. And everybody in Sweden has a Nazi past, if you can just find where they hid their Axis gold.
But here is what makes these novels awesome: they're set in an ever-so-slightly alternate universe called “Sweden.” And in Sweden, you don't know what anything means. How much is a Krona worth? If someone earns 250,000 Krona a year, are they rich? If they steal ten million Krona, is that a lot? I have no idea. And I like not knowing. And you have never heard of any of the cities. If the detective is driving from Malmo to Uppsala, is that far? What about from a kidnapping from Lund to Helsingborg? The not knowing is part of the fun. For someone who barely knows a kilogram from a kilometer, giving into this willful bliss of Nordic ignorance is like downing an ice cold shot of aquavit – it nicely freezes the brain."
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