She's Never Coming Back by Hans koppel

When Ylva, a loving mother and wife, fails to come home from work, her husband is not initially suspicious. But as time passes he becomes frantic with worry. And by the time he finally contacts the police, he is almost hysterical. Given the mysterious circumstances of her disappearance, he becomes the number one suspect.

But what no one knows is that she's being held hostage in the cellar of the house opposite her own. 

 

A camera is rigged against her house and Ylva can only watch her family on the screen. They cannot see her - and they most certainly cannot here her scream...

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This book is a crime novel with a twist. Not only do we get to see the story unfold from the point of view of the detectives but also the victim, her family, friends and past acquaintances. The story transitions between the narratives of each of these unique characters with ease, and each person allows the reader to see a new side to the victim. This enables both negative and positive qualities to be discussed and really gives the character of Ylva some depth. 

 

I really enjoyed reading this book. It was a fast read as the font was large but it still made a thrilling and exciting book. It is a translation of a book from Sweden and so I did have trouble remembering who each character was because the names were unusual to my ear. I did however grasp who the main characters were as the story progressed and I became accustomed to the names. 

 

I was gripped until the final page. The author was able to keep the story tense and dangerous until the very last chapters. It could honestly have ended in many ways and I had no idea what the final outcome would be until I read it.  At times I sat in disbelief at how uncaring the detectives were, I really wanted to shake them but sadly as they are fictional characters that was impossible.  The victims husband was written wonderfully, his confusion, fear and isolation simply jumped from the page. I believe it was his character that really made the book stand out for me. 

I highly recommend this book, especially for fans of crime fiction.  It was a quick, exciting, nail biting read and it's great for anyone who wants a book that can be devoured with ease after a long day at work.

I rate this book 4 out of 5 stars. 

It was a very entertaining story which kept me on the edge of my seat. The characters were well written and the plot interesting. Its a nice easy read and great for a few hours escape as it quickly draws you in.  

 

 

Fragment Friday

She's Never Coming Back by Hans Koppel

She'd written that she liked walks in the forest and cosy nights in and was looking for a man with a twinkle in his eye. It was almost a joke, like a parody of the blandest person in the world. She'd also sprinkled her post with smileys. Not a row without a face.

They'd spoken on the phone the night before and agreed to meet at Gondolen.

Anders thought she sounded older than thirty-two. He made a joke about it, said she'd maybe posted a photo that had been taken a few years ago, when she was a few kilos lighter. That was when she sent the most recent one, taken just before going to bed, holding her mobile at arm's length.

Anders looked at it and thought to himself that she could be a hundred and thick as a plank, he couldn't care less.

A drink was best. It usually took about half a minute to decide whether it was worth the effort or not. Dinner was digging your own grave. Sitting there suffering for hours, with a fixed smile. No, anyone with any experience met for a drink. If things went well, you could always go on.

Fragment Friday

The Grapes of Wrath By John Steinbeck

Pa stepped inside, clearing the door, and Tom looked in at his mother. She was lifting the curling slices of pork from the frying pan. The oven door was open, and a great pan of high brown biscuits stood waiting there. She looked out the door,but the sun was behind Tom, and she saw only a dark figure outlined by the bright yellow sunlight. She nodded pleasantly. 'Come in,' she said. 'Jus' lucky I made plenty of bread this morning.' 

Tom stood looking in. Ma was heavy, but not fat; thick with child-bearing and work. She wore a loose Mother Hubbard of grey cloth in which there had once been coloured flowers, but the colour was washed out now, so that the small flowered pattern was only a little lighter grey than the background. The dress came down to her ankles , and her strong, broad, bare feet moved quickly and deftly over the floor. Her thin, steel-grey hair was gathered in a sparse wispy knot at the back of her head. Strong, freckled arms were bare to the elbow, and her hands were chubby and delicate, like those of a plump little girl. She looked out into the sunshine. Her full face was not soft; it was controlled, kindly. Her hazel eyes seemed to have experienced all possible tragedy and to have mounted pain and suffering like steps into a high calm and superhuman understanding. She seemed to know, to accept, to welcome her position, the citadel of the family, the strong place that could not be taken. And since old Tom and the children could not know hurt or feat unless she acknowledged hurt and fear, she had practised denying them in herself. And since, when a joyful thing happened, they looked to see whether joy was on her, it was her habit to build up laughter out of inadequate materials. But better than joy was calm. Imperturbability could be depended upon. And from her great and humble position in the family she had taken dignity and a clean calm beauty. From her position as healer, her hands had grown sure and cool and quiet; from her position as arbiter she had become as remote and faultless in judgement as a goddess. She seemed to know that if she swayed the family shook, and if she ever really deeply wavered or despaired the family would fall, the family will to function would be gone. 

She looked out into the sunny yard, at the dark figure of a man. Pa stood near by, shaking with excitement. 'Come in,' she cried. 'Come right in,mister.' And Tom a little shamefacedly stepped over the doorsill. She looked up pleasantly from the frying-pan. And then her hand sank slowly to her side and the fork clattered to the wooden floor. Her eyes opened wide,and her pupils dilated. She breathed heavily through her open mouth. She closed her eyes. 'Thank God,' she said. 'Oh, thank God!' And suddenly her face was worried. 'Tommy, you ain't wanted? You didn't bust loose?'