Novels gave you a completely false idea about life, they told lies and they implied there were endings when in reality there were no endings, everything just went on and on and on.Etter å ha sett hva Kate Atkinson kunne gjøre med struktur, måtte jeg bare se hva slags krimforfatter hun var, og jeg ble ikke skuffet. Her har vi det igjen – fire–fem (svært sørgelige) historier flettet elegant inn i hverandre. Et par av sakene løser faktisk Jackson Brodie, en annen løser på sett og vis seg selv. Og alle historiene er befolket av ekstremt levende og feilbarlige folk (for eksempel den arme Theo, som mister datteren Laura, «Laura who was still a virgin (he knew because she had told him, to his embarrassment), which made him feel immensely relieved even though he knew she couldn’t stay one for ever, Laura who kept a tank of saltwater tropical fish in her bedroom, whose favourite colour was blue, whose favourite flower was the snowdrop, and who liked Radiohead and Nirvana and hated Mr Blobby and had seen Dirty Dancing ten times. Laura whom Theo loved with a strength that was like a cataclysm, a disaster»). Ikke minst er Jackson Brodie minst like mye av et kasus som klientene sine.
Dessuten foregår det i Cambridge. Og det er ofte morsomt oppi all elendigheten. Og ja, jeg gikk direkte løs på den neste.
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