Lisbeth Salander's story, about a 23 year old hacker chic, haunted by a nasty past, in its various renditions, has had electric success for about a decade now. Hey, if you can land Daniel Craig for the U.S. film, you know you're on the money train.
Part of the allure of this pop culture cottage industry - three books, with a fourth on the way, films in both Swedish and English, TV miniseries and graphic novels - generally now known as The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series (or, in some circles, the Millennium trilogy) is the strange tale of the originating creator: Stieg Larsson.
Larsson's story is a tale pregnant with the ironies of, just before. Just before he became a successful novelist, he was a notorious crusader against what he identified as the dark sources of Fascism and plutocracy in Swedish society. And, just before his novelist success produced a rather large personal fortune, he died.
These facts seem to press upon us at least two pertinent questions. One question is: what if he had not died? Might his great wealth, generated by people freely purchasing his books (and tickets for the movies made from his books), have resulted in a revision of his apparent assumption that great wealth was a reliable marker of dissipation and evil? And, the second question: might the two facts from the previous paragraph be related?
Speculation on this latter question has led to some genuine lunacy. As a relatively young man, Larsson embraced Communism and anyone who pays any attention to such matters will be well aware that this creed has always been conspiratorial to its core. As a consequence, there's no astonishment at learning that for Larsson the 80s and 90s were devoted to unearthing the sinister secrets of rightist extremists and crypto-Aryan cabals.
Toward the end of exposing these villains, Larsson established a foundation and magazine, which he also edited, dedicated to the cause. I don't want to be misunderstood, here: I'm not denying that these kinds of people exist. What I am denying is that they're of any importance. Rather, the real conspiracy to my mind is the conspiracy between such plotters and their avowed foes (such as Larsson), to pretend that they're of great historical importance. That way everyone involved get's to bask in delusions of awesome self-importance. I'm quite confident that the next time barbarism descends on the West there'll be no jackboots or swastikas anywhere in sight.
So, to be clear, no, Larsson's "heart attack" on the "anniversary" of Kristallnacht is not the least bit suspicious or peculiar to me. And it's certainly not evidence of anything. Don't you see, if the vile plotters had held off this insidious assassination until 2008, well then, that would have been something else entirely? I mean, 70 years exactly to the day! Because, 70 years has some great relevance, right? Look, this is just the kind of silly way that conspiracy theorists think. I don't take any of it seriously; you'll have to judge for yourself.
Nonetheless, from the perspective of entertainment, Larsson's fixation on right-wing conspiracies paid off handsomely in becoming the thematic and plot milieu of his now much read and cinematically adapted novels. And if anything, they've apparently resonated even more in America than in his Swedish homeland.
It is the conspiracies and debauchery of these right wing Satanist that are exposed by the exploits of super-girl Lisbeth Salander - with the photographic memory, chess-like strategic mind, mathematical skills to make Fermat weep, and the ability to hack into the computers of banks and police departments more or less at will - alongside her journalist sidekick, Mikael Blomkvist. Indeed, in one of the sequels, it appears that maybe coming back from the dead may be added to her list of super hero qualities.
Well, no point mincing words, the whole business is a tad far-fetched. Presumably Larsson thought only a super-hero could bring down the insidious, sinister crypto-villains. But, what the hey, however implausible the suspension of disbelief Larsson may ask of us, his heroic protagonists and their heralded mission provides plenty of entertaining reading (and viewing). And, hey, as the man said, there's no success like market success.
The final irony, in it all, I suppose, is that even a paranoid commie like Larsson could brush lips with the zeitgeist and hit the jackpot. Though, I'm inclined to think that one probably ought not to reflect too deeply upon just what it is that that says about the rest of us.
Part of the allure of this pop culture cottage industry - three books, with a fourth on the way, films in both Swedish and English, TV miniseries and graphic novels - generally now known as The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series (or, in some circles, the Millennium trilogy) is the strange tale of the originating creator: Stieg Larsson.
Larsson's story is a tale pregnant with the ironies of, just before. Just before he became a successful novelist, he was a notorious crusader against what he identified as the dark sources of Fascism and plutocracy in Swedish society. And, just before his novelist success produced a rather large personal fortune, he died.
These facts seem to press upon us at least two pertinent questions. One question is: what if he had not died? Might his great wealth, generated by people freely purchasing his books (and tickets for the movies made from his books), have resulted in a revision of his apparent assumption that great wealth was a reliable marker of dissipation and evil? And, the second question: might the two facts from the previous paragraph be related?
Speculation on this latter question has led to some genuine lunacy. As a relatively young man, Larsson embraced Communism and anyone who pays any attention to such matters will be well aware that this creed has always been conspiratorial to its core. As a consequence, there's no astonishment at learning that for Larsson the 80s and 90s were devoted to unearthing the sinister secrets of rightist extremists and crypto-Aryan cabals.
Toward the end of exposing these villains, Larsson established a foundation and magazine, which he also edited, dedicated to the cause. I don't want to be misunderstood, here: I'm not denying that these kinds of people exist. What I am denying is that they're of any importance. Rather, the real conspiracy to my mind is the conspiracy between such plotters and their avowed foes (such as Larsson), to pretend that they're of great historical importance. That way everyone involved get's to bask in delusions of awesome self-importance. I'm quite confident that the next time barbarism descends on the West there'll be no jackboots or swastikas anywhere in sight.
So, to be clear, no, Larsson's "heart attack" on the "anniversary" of Kristallnacht is not the least bit suspicious or peculiar to me. And it's certainly not evidence of anything. Don't you see, if the vile plotters had held off this insidious assassination until 2008, well then, that would have been something else entirely? I mean, 70 years exactly to the day! Because, 70 years has some great relevance, right? Look, this is just the kind of silly way that conspiracy theorists think. I don't take any of it seriously; you'll have to judge for yourself.
Nonetheless, from the perspective of entertainment, Larsson's fixation on right-wing conspiracies paid off handsomely in becoming the thematic and plot milieu of his now much read and cinematically adapted novels. And if anything, they've apparently resonated even more in America than in his Swedish homeland.
It is the conspiracies and debauchery of these right wing Satanist that are exposed by the exploits of super-girl Lisbeth Salander - with the photographic memory, chess-like strategic mind, mathematical skills to make Fermat weep, and the ability to hack into the computers of banks and police departments more or less at will - alongside her journalist sidekick, Mikael Blomkvist. Indeed, in one of the sequels, it appears that maybe coming back from the dead may be added to her list of super hero qualities.
Well, no point mincing words, the whole business is a tad far-fetched. Presumably Larsson thought only a super-hero could bring down the insidious, sinister crypto-villains. But, what the hey, however implausible the suspension of disbelief Larsson may ask of us, his heroic protagonists and their heralded mission provides plenty of entertaining reading (and viewing). And, hey, as the man said, there's no success like market success.
The final irony, in it all, I suppose, is that even a paranoid commie like Larsson could brush lips with the zeitgeist and hit the jackpot. Though, I'm inclined to think that one probably ought not to reflect too deeply upon just what it is that that says about the rest of us.
About the Author:
To keep taps on developments in the Stieg Larsson posthumous franchise, you need to follow Mickey Jhonny on the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo blog. Mickey's latest writing includes a provocative review of the Michael Apted's amazing 7 Up documentary series for Best Documentaries on Netflix -- you don't want to miss it!
