Well, well. Well, well, well. This one is a little odd. First, I *never* see a movie before reading the book and second, there are people who want to ban this book. Long story short: My mom called me up this summer very anxious to see the film and I told her I hadn’t read the book yet, nor did I have the time to. But, she’s my mom, so I went to see the movie. Given that it is, on one level, a mystery, I really didn’t see the point of reading the book after seeing the film. Then, TPTB said we should ban this book and then I had to read it! Not easy to put away a 465 page tome while taking a graduate-level class while working full-time. But, given determination and a three-day week (gift of the GODS), I was able to pull it off. So first, the review. The book is very good. Very very good. What I don’t know, and will never know, is the degree to which the movie influenced my take on it. That being said, the movie struck me as film noir. I expected the novel to border on pulp fiction. I could not have been more wrong. The book, entitled “Men Who Hate Women” in Swedish, is part of a complex, dense series that covers everything from corporate exploitation to government conspiracy to Nazis to the abuse of women in that nation. Most notably, the first book in the series has something the film does not – humor. The series was a form of Stieg Larsson’s personal diaries, so to speak. The tale reads much like his own life and is far less dark than the film. It is no wonder that every person reading the Millenium series has a different take. One reader describes the first book as a detective/crime novel, another sees it as a cry against right-wing extremism, yet another person sees it as a love story. Unlike the movie, which I felt was a crucible for the character of Lisbeth, the book to was a layered exploration of humans and the varied threads that we weave. The book is not filled with literary allusion, but it has tremendous depth, and Larsson virtually channels Dickens in his high degree of detailed description. And yet, I found myself powering through the chapters. Was it because I knew what was coming or because Larsson was able to provide a teasing through-line even during the driest of conversations? The book has such disparate storylines that the author himself makes fun of the style, remarking that his investigative journalist character Blomkvist (the alter-ego of Larsson) wrote a book which shouldn’t have hung together, but did. This story shouldn’t hold together, but it does. Another possible theme could be extracted here ... “everything is connected.” So, from a personal perspective, it was a good read. My two complaints are minor. One, the publisher used a rag-edge binding which makes page-turning difficult. Two, while one expects significant changes from the book to the film, I took exception with one change, which portrayed a minor event with Lisbeth’s laptop in a completely different way and made it far more violent in the film than in the book. There was simply no need to do this other than to hype the darkness of the film up another notch.
Now, on to the banning issue. The complaint is that the book has “one of the most brutal rape scenes” ever published. How surprised was I to find that the sexual assaults in the book are actually milder than those in the film? Okay, I know I’m visual, but the first assault in the book comes after some 170 pages, lasts less than a page, and is less specific than your average romance novel. It is blunt. And it is distressing. But it’s not exactly the strongest stuff I’ve read. The second assault is slightly more graphic, as the assault itself goes further. But again, the event is covered in about a page of text and doesn’t include the lengthy screams that made the film version so difficult to watch. Interestingly enough, it is the “retribution” section that gets very, um, specific. I’m not sure which of these attacks was objectionable to TPTB, but I would say they are very in character for an adult book that uses strong language from the beginning, blithely covers the exploits of Mikel Blomkvist (a man who likes his women) and begins section headings with statistics on female assaults in Sweden. Do I keep the book? Yes. The huge popularity of the book causes people to pick it up, but I know of four people so far (two adults and two teens) who began the book and didn’t get through the first 100 pages. It would take a dedicated reader to get to the pages where the violence is portrayed (and let’s be honest, it is a concern about violence, not sex). I have previously justified similar titles (no, I’m not saying what they are) for the same reason – their very length and mature content turns off most casual readers. Readers looking for something salacious will have to wade through many many chapters filled with detail on the Swedish economy and its business interests before getting to anything with prurient value. The book is well-written, it is well-reviewed, it does come from a known and respected publisher and it does "encourage reading." At the point last fall when the concern was voiced, every copy in the system was checked out. Does it merit a warning sticker? No. I’ve done that before and it only leads to more people wanting to check something out that may not be appropriate. We will do what we always do, and explain that we have reading materials for our entire population, which means that not every book is right for every person. This book may not speak to the bulk of our population, but it spoke to me. The power of a young woman standing up despite brutal abuse is a tale that should be told, must be told. The spirit of Lisbeth Salander is one which will make some readers cheer. The fact that the character was based on a real victim only makes the tale more poignant. Brava, Lisbeth. And Brava to those who read that which they are told not to.
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