Stieg Larsson

The book picks up from the closing scene of Larsson’s previous volume: *The Girl Who Played with Fire*. Lisbeth Salander, after gravely wounding her father, has been rescued by her friend Mikael Blomkvist. She is, however, in critical condition, undergoing surgery and hospital confinement. Meanwhile, a special unit within the secret service attempts to have Lisbeth recommitted to a psychiatric institution to prevent the exposure of plots orchestrated over many years—targeting prominent politicians as well—which hinged upon the figure of Lisbeth’s father. The latter is murdered by a secret service operative, further killings are carried out, and, above all, evidence is fabricated to frame the young woman once again. Complementing the main narrative is the work of Mikael, a true journalist, who gathers information and corroborating evidence to save the girl and unmask the "rogue" secret services. Action is subsequently set in motion by the "good" secret services, who collaborate with Mikael to expose the rogue unit and excise the "cancer" threatening to destroy Swedish democracy. As is typical of the author, other subplots unfold, one of which centers on Mikael’s business partner—and lover—who takes charge of a major newspaper, endures sexually charged smear campaigns, and is ultimately forced to resign after discovering that the paper’s owner exploits child labor in an East Asian country: this does not, however, prevent her from publishing the investigation—as true journalism demands—and ruining the avaricious chairman. Ultimately, everything concludes happily with Lisbeth’s exoneration and the triumph of hard-hitting journalism and of a country that—unlike others—possesses robust institutional antibodies. The book’s underlying theme appears to be the stark confrontation between good and evil: the villainous doctor is contrasted with the benevolent, competent one; the superficial, easily manipulated prosecutor is counterbalanced by honest police officers and judges; and so forth. The conflict is far too overt and so entirely devoid of ambiguity as to become utterly predictable. It is a thriller, yet even more so than the author’s first two novels, the plot unfolds slowly and at times tediously, weighed down by an overabundance of characters and a redundancy of dialogue at the expense of actual action. Furthermore, the formidable operational prowess attributed to a task force made up of secret service retirees strains credulity, making it glaringly obvious from the outset that the threat will be thwarted with ease. Moreover, the sheer multiplicity of themes addressed (rogue intelligence services, the resilience of democratic institutions, the duties of real journalism—which must investigate and speak the truth—sexual intimidation, and women’s uphill battle to assert themselves) produces a sense of fragmentation that undermines the narrative’s cohesion. One gets lost in the digressions, blunting the overall effectiveness of the storytelling. What remains is envy for an honest, investigative journalism so far removed from the Italian variety: if only our own country had a magazine like *Millennium*!!

The novel is, in some ways, a continuation of the previous book. This time the protagonist is the girl, Lisbeth Salander. The opening is slow and leisurely. Lisbeth, now immensely wealthy, lives in the Caribbean and later returns to Sweden, where she resumes a relationship with an old friend and reconnects with her former guardian, hospitalized after a stroke. The journalist, on the other hand, is involved in an investigation into sexual exploitation, conducted by a couple—a university researcher and a journalist. Meanwhile, Lisbeth’s new guardian, a depraved lawyer, seeks revenge against the girl, who holds him in her grip with video footage showing him raping her, and thus enlists a gang of criminals. At this point, the novel takes on a more intense rhythm: the lawyer is murdered with the same gun used that same night to assassinate the university researcher and her cohabiting journalist partner. Lisbeth is accused, dredging up the old narrative of the girl’s psychological instability. The entire country is drawn into the hunt for her, whom both the mass media and the police depict as a psychopath. It is evident that the truth is entirely different: the girl had been branded a psychopath (and consequently first committed to an asylum and later placed under guardianship) because she was the daughter of a notorious Russian spy who had defected to Sweden. The girl’s father was in fact—he, truly—a violent psychopath, and he is behind the murders out of fear that the truth will be exposed. A series of adventures ensues, but in the end the girl is saved, this time, by her journalist friend: > she opened her eyes a little and stared at him for a long moment. Her gaze was unfocused. He heard her murmur something so softly that he could barely make out the words, goddamn Kalle Blomkvist . The themes of sex and sexual violence against women remain the central subjects of the book. Added to these are two others, which gain prominence as the novel unfolds: on the one hand, a corrupt and superficial police apparatus; on the other, child social services, which often operate according to conventional formulas and under pressure from psychologists and experts who are themselves corrupt and dominated by obsessions and stereotypes. Lisbeth was a victim not only of the secret services, who wanted to institutionalize her to avoid complications in managing an inconvenient figure, as her father was, but she also suffers from the entrenched attitudes of the social welfare system, which views «outsiders» as a threat to social cohesion, irrespective of their intelligence and fundamental honesty. It is the antisocial individual who causes disturbance and must somehow be removed. The book is weighed down by too many «digressions» and characters relative to the central plot; at times, the dialogue proves prolix and repetitive, just as certain narrative resolutions appear somewhat predictable and implausible: for instance, the police failing to examine the murdered journalist’s computer, the presence of a giant—incidentally the girl’s half-brother—who seems invincible because he cannot feel pain, yet is easily chained up by Blomkvist, and the girl’s survival, managing to save herself despite having been buried alive.

The novel is a thriller. A journalist is hired by a powerful industrialist, Vanger, to investigate the disappearance of his niece, which occurred twenty years earlier. The journalist thus moves to a remote island in northern Sweden, where the elderly industrialist has retired. Meanwhile, the narrative follows a young woman who works for a security firm and is remarkably adept at computer-based investigations. Owing to her violent, troubled past, the young woman endures the abuses of a lawyer who is supposed to serve as her legal guardian and supervisor. In the meantime, the journalist begins to uncover clues that point to the sexual deviance of a family member: this person tortures and murders women. At a certain point, the journalist and the young woman begin working together, embark on a romantic liaison, and become embroiled in a series of perils, frequently risking their lives. The story draws to a happy resolution with the death of the serial killer, the discovery of the niece—who had fled to Australia to escape the serial killer, her own brother who had been abusing her—and finally the journalist’s triumphant return to his publication. In truth, the story does not end entirely on a positive note, as the young woman has fallen in love with the journalist, only to watch him walk away with another woman. While structured as a thriller, its true underlying theme is men’s attitude toward women. Women are invariably the victims, whether subjected to physical violence or wounded in their deepest feelings. The figure of the journalist is indeed emblematic: driven by intense political conviction, he nevertheless drifts from one woman to the next, favors noncommittal relationships, and fails to realize that he has drawn into a romantic bond a young woman who believed she had finally found an emotional anchor. > "Salander, you really are a pathetic idiot," the girl said aloud to herself. She turned on her heel and set off once more toward her freshly cleaned apartment . At times, the book slips into banality and dwells excessively on the sexual theme. The style is sparse and unadorned, making the reading experience both compelling and engaging.