There’s something about taking literary characters out of their traditional settings and exploring how the environment changes their dynamic. It’s a ploy Samuel Bjørk uses in Dead Island, the fifth instalment of his Munch and Krüger series, taking the detective duo out of their more familiar haunts of Oslo onto the remote island of Hitra, located off the coast of Trondheim in Northeastern Norway.
It’s a change of pace for the detectives but there’s a sense of wider change at play here. Mia Krüger has returned to Hitra to escape the traumas of previous murder investigations, but her quiet life is soon shattered. Her former boss Holger Munch is also undergoing his own traumas, both domestically and professionally. Divorce and the disbanding of the Homicide Unit in Oslo he led forcing him to evaluate life.
When a murder takes place on Hitra both detectives once again join forces to uncover dark truths in the outwardly idyllic island. Does the murder have any links to the disappearance of a young boy years earlier and what significance does the wedding of the year of the heir to one of Norway’s richest fortunes have on the case?
Bjørk’s series has always focused on the process and personal interactions rather than the gore of murder, which continues here in Dead Island. In many ways murder is a secondary theme, centre stage is the flawed humanity in both detectives, their own personal pain having to be concealed for professional reasons.
Krüger may have resigned from the force in Oslo, unable to cope with the trauma but she’s unable to resist that inner voice that drives her to find the truth in any mystery. Munch may see an uncertain future but like Krüger there’s professional pride instilled in his soul.
Shed of most of the supporting cast of other detectives from earlier novels, this is a much slower-paced, more reflective narrative but don’t let the pace fool you, Bjørk still weaves in his trademark psychological depth and enough twists to keep the reader guessing to the end.
Dead Island is also a fascinating glimpse into the strains of living in a small, isolated, community. A community where everyone knows everyone else’s background and business and yet secrets still emerge. What is making the young novice vicar so nervous, what is the lone local police officer trying to hide and is the local psychologist actually helping his clients or the cause of their troubles?
Anyone who has lived in a small community will recognise many of the troupes at play here but Bjørk never falls into stereotype, instead playing with the pre-conceived notions of community life.
Some elements don’t fully work – the relationship between the community and the super-rich, superstar, family, for example, isn’t fully explored. The family’s Hello Magazine style wedding, a central plot device, is somewhat thinly drawn, while some characters need more fleshing out – but overall, it’s an addition to the series that gives us a more personal insight into Munch and Krüger.
It is also an addition to the series that leaves us pondering whether there will be a book six in the series. There’s an unclear future for the pair with both potentially facing life outside of the Norwegian Police. It’s a question Bjørk leaves unanswered, but then again, all the previous four novels have never suggested sequels and so we shall have to wait and see if there’s more to come from this slightly unconventional, yet utterly compelling duo.
Dead Island by Samuel Bjørk, translated by Charlotte Barslund, is published by Transworld and out now.
