A write-up about a book should not begin with a description
of its cover. But this one should. The cover is white with some kind of cross-stitch
pattern on it. The needlework has skulls in black, large hearts in red, some curlicues
and diamond specks in navy blue. The stitch theme of the cover is actually
quite apt because this book is a set of linked short stories centering around a
character, a woman in her eighties, called Maud. There is no real overarching plot.
Each story, in a way, is ‘stitched’ onto the larger canvas of the narrative.
Maud is a single, old lady who has lucked out due to real
estate laws in Gothenburg, Sweden. She lives in a pretty little apartment in a
fancy area because her family got lucky with some deals and she doesn’t have to
pay market price for rent. She is the only surviving member of her family. Her
life is quiet and simple. She lives off her pension and travels a fair bit.
Sometimes, she comes across people who try to take advantage of her. They try
to get her off her apartment or try to marry her ex-fiancé deceptively – and Maud
kills them.
There is such sweet viciousness in the way Maud’s character
and this set of stories is set up that you can’t help but cheer her on. Well,
if not encourage her, then certainly accept her. You know how much her new
found independence means. She grew up in a family that was considered well off
but her father died, leaving a trail of debtors. Her mother could not cope and
withered away. Her sister turned into a paranoid hypochondriac. When Maud
wanted to let out one of their rooms for rent, the sister wouldn’t allow it. As
a result, they spent a really cold winter huddled in the one room of the house
where they could afford to use heat in (and watch icicles form outside the
windows).
So the descriptions of her getting her one block of cake for
Christmas, her routine of laying out her tray of evening tea, her living room,
her neat stacks of toiletries that she packs of travels – all of them point to hard-won
pockets of peace that she waited for her whole life. When a young, popular, and
rich neighbor eyes her flat and wants Maud to go to a smaller house because she
is…let’s face it…not worth all that much…you can really feel the rage seething.
On the surface, ‘An Elderly Lady…’ is everything one expects in a Scandinavian crime-writing
work (calm on the surface, a chilling unexpected twist, a return to ordinary
soon after.) However, the underlying observation on what is the life of a woman
worth if she isn’t young, rich, or famous? How much “space” can she
occupy?
You don’t often think of crime novels as “wholesome” but
this one is. The setting of people waiting for a bus, local stores where people
know your name and preference of ham, the parcel of salad with tasty dressing –
everything is so nourishing. (On another note, even Graham Norton’s “The
Holding” is a lovely idyllic little whodunit.)
These descriptions of the everyday make you see a number of
things in a benevolent light.
For me, it was aging. It went from a biological determinant
to a stage of unexpected alchemy.
When you’re up to no good, who knows what heights you reach?
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