Reading is similar to watching movies in that context is everything. My two previous reads this summer had been about grim subjects and I was searching for a story that didn't share such a bleak view of the human condition. Based on a recommendation of a trusted friend (Thank you Gonzo) I picked up Arnaldur Indridason's Silence of the Grave. I have to admit to being skeptical about this venture. I thought this was another author riding on the coat tales of Steig Larsson and the Dragon Tattoo series (which I greatly enjoyed).
This book had me from the first sentence. "He knew at once it was a human bone, when he took it from the baby who was sitting on the floor chewing it." That piqued my interest, and while it took me a while to battle through Icelandic names, I enjoyed this story.
A bit ironic that a story about a wife beater would be the tale that I find redemptive in my quest for good summer reads. Three and half paws up for this title.
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