Little Star

August 13, 2012
Lindqvist’s third novel released in English (ably translated by Delargy) ignores the supernatural elements of his previous works, instead providing terror via a group of sociopaths and artists. When abusive, washed-up rocker Lennart finds an abandoned baby in the snow, he’s taken in by her perfect pitch, and he and his wife, Laila, decide to raise her in secret. Awkward, quiet Theres grows into a listless adolescent, murders Laila and Lennart, and ends up living with her adoptive adult brother, Jerry, himself a former convict charged with assault and robbery. He enters her in a Swedish performance competition, where she catches the attention of another awkward outcast teen, Teresa, and they form a violent partnership. Lindqvist (Harbor) mixes in satire of popular music, multiple character POVs, often biting commentary on teen life, and many sudden and horrific acts. Not everything sticks, but there’s enough to make a truly gripping horror novel. Agent: Anneli Høier, Leonhardt & Høier Literary Agency.

September 15, 2012
Another atmospheric neogothic yarn, drenched in Scandinavian anxiety and lots of gore, by horror-meister Lindqvist (Handling the Undead, 2010, etc.). Not overtly creepy at first, at least not in the spine-tingling way of Lindqvist's debut, the great Let Me In (2007), this latest outing takes its time building up a head of steam--or, better, a head of extremely bad vibes. Lennart Cederstrom, folksinger, musicologist and amateur mycologist, is wandering about in a boreal forest looking for chanterelles, that being the sort of thing one does in a socialist paradise. He finds, instead, a small, shallow grave and inside it, "a baby girl, just a few days or weeks old." Lennart rescues the baby, noting that her crying was like nothing his attentive ears had ever taken in--and pitched at a perfect E, "an E that rang like a bell and made the leaves quiver and the birds fly up from the trees." You'll be forgiven for wanting to tell Lennart, right now, to run away, since a baby so vocally equipped is likely to have other eldritch powers; but he does not run, and instead, he hides the baby away in the depths of his well-oiled and well-scrubbed apartment, where he lives with his dissatisfied, adulterous wife. They have a creepy kid already, but he's been living away from home for years. "At some point during Jerry's worst years, Lennart had wished his son dead," Lindqvist writes, meaningfully. When the mayhem begins and the blood starts spurting, things do indeed move in fatal directions. But there's more than mere mass murder in these pages; in between spasms of the supernatural, Lindqvist charts the parallel transformation of a lonely teenage girl whom Theres, now a singing sensation, has taken it upon herself to protect. Teenage angst, psychopathy, Eurovision and wild wolves: What more could you want? The story is complicated, and it doesn't always add up. When it does, though, it's enough to make you put your fingers over your eyes. Good, spooky fun.

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May 1, 2012

Lindqvist's Let the Right One In was made into an award-winning Swedish film whose American remake, Let Me In, was called the best American horror film in 20 years by Stephen King. Fans will seek out his latest, about an encounter between two girls--one abandoned as a baby--that stirs up evil.

Copyright 2012 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

Starred review from August 1, 2012
Lindqvist (Let Me In, 2007) makes a series of dauntless leaps and ends up the better for it in this long, fitful work that leaves an impression, despite endeavoring to be as unlikable as possible. In the major story line, a smarmy, abusive former recording artist and his meek wife come upon a peculiar baby, Theres, in the woods. She seems to be pure music her musical ability is innate from infancyand so the couple lock her in the basement and greedily foster her talent. Years later, antisocial loner Theresa finds herself obsessed with Theres' appearance on a TV singing competition and, through kismet, the two become confederates: Theres, the emotional alien, the goddess of music; and Theresa, the devoted acolyte willing to follow her messiah anywhere. ( It would take a knife, a sharp knife to separate them; there would be a whole lot of blood. ) Rather than dive straight into the plotty, gruesome developments of the book's latter half, Lindqvist chews through a couple hundred pages of tracking his oddball protagonists from babyhood to teenhoodexhaustive, sometimes unnecessary, but ceaselessly fascinating. It's a confounding novel: irredeemable villains become admirable heroes; major characters are sacrificed in abrupt, shocking ways; and important players pop up late in the game. But it's audacious, to say the least, and spirals toward an ending that is as senseless and brutal as it is weirdly poetic.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2012, American Library Association.)