The Girl Who Played With Fire

I am so enthralled with the first book that I immediately read the second.  Then forget to blog about it.  What sticks out in my mind months later...

This book is the revelation of the genesis of Salander.  She is such an odd, intriguing character.  I don't totally love her.  Her awkwardness and strangeness borders on the overly contrived.  I'm not sure if the author totally "gets" her.  I mean, what is the point of getting breast implants given her background of trauma and attitude of utter societal defiance. But I want to believe in her so I applaud her feistiness and fortitude.

Darkness plays perhaps even a greater role here.  This world is more sadistic.  Some of the newly introduced characters are so rotten as to be almost caricatures.  There is no decent human side to them.  They lack a certain dimension.  To me, the best villains are those who have good as well as bad sides.  Because then you  will open your heart to them.  You will feel a certain amount of mixed emotion when they get their just rewards.  Here, there is no emotion other than - what a creepy awful person yuck.

I don't remember much else.   When I read a book,  I can hear, feel, and see that world better than if it were a movie.  When I'm done, I'm done.  I don't hold onto memories.  The characters don't continue to reside in me. I close the book, and put it away.  And in this case, I give it a B.