Apart from a few movies like Häxan (1922) and Hour of the Wolf (1968), Scandinavian horror has never been on my radar. It wasn't until I read Let the Right One In after seeing the movie that I started thinking about paying attention to it more. I probably won't go out of my way to search for it, but I'm definitely not as prejudiced towards it (especially the contemporary side) as much as I was. I've wanted to read more Lindqvist for a while now, so I figured I'd try what his zombies are like.

Although Handling the Undead has a couple of creepy scenes that fit in the traditional concept, there's mostly a heavy underlying sadness to it. Recovering from grief isn't easy, but it's even harder when the loved ones rise from the dead in varying states of preservation. They hover in the world of living like they don't belong anywhere. Sitting, walking, staring at the void. Not after your delicious mushy brains but not great company either. What to do with people like that? Living with them is unrealistic, but it's not like the government can just nuke them.

Zombies aren't generally my favorite thing, but I liked the quietness and realism of Lindqvist's interpretation. It's a real page-turner, too, making me stay up at all kinds of odd hours to steal one more chapter. Not as good as Let the Right One In, but still a nice mixture of macabre and melancholy.

"Frodo: I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.
Gandalf: So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."

4.5 stars. After so many fruitless efforts to re-read this didn't seem to take off, I decided at the end of last year that 2021 would be the year. Luckily, I found a Finnish group read where people were enthusiastic, knowledgeable, supportive, and fun, so doing this with them felt less daunting and more rewarding.

The movies have always been my absolute favorites, but at my heart I'm a horror girl. High fantasy isn't the genre I feel most at home in (and if I dabble in it sometimes, it's through movies). I don't know if it's because I'm now 18 years older (wow), because I haven't seen the movies for who knows how many years, or because I read this in English, but this time I was able to tolerate the slow parts much better. There were still moments where I felt defeated, but they managed to simply melt into parts of the journey. All journeys inevitably have them.

So many more things outshined the gratuitous details: the descriptions of a slow and oppressive approach of darkness, the friendships, the depictions of corruption of power, the incredibly extensive world-building (for good and ill), fascinating villains, the heroism of unassuming people... Middle-earth felt more and more like a real world I didn't want to leave. More importantly, even though there's a clear dichotomy between good and evil (often to an uncomfortable degree), there are occasions when characters show glimpses of fallibility or uncertainty.

I may not be a hard-core admirer of The Lord of the Rings to the point that I would read it dozens of times, learn Elvish, or consider Tolkien as a completely unique fantasy author, but for me personally The Lord of the Rings has done to epic fantasy what H. G. Wells did to sci-fi: I'm more open to dive into worlds unknown. And maybe the timing was just right in more ways than one: "But in the end it's only a passing thing, this shadow; even darkness must pass".

A blast from the past! I used to read this as a child for countless times. The poor battered library copy was about to fall to pieces, and later as an adult I was glad to discover that the library of my new hometown had it as well. Unfortunately, when a few weeks ago I had a sudden urge of nostalgia again, I noticed they had gotten rid of it. No worries, though, Internet came to the rescue and I got my own copy!

There are several puzzle books in this series, and it's no surprise that the ghost one is my jam. Sure, it's not great literature, but it's great fun. The detailed illustrations are always entertaining (loved the mouse taking a bath in a pot), and some of the puzzles are easy to solve but then there are those I just can't get right even as a 31-year-old. My brain just freezes, but I know I will gladly do it all over again someday.

A glimpse to American society in the 1930s, the narrative is a series of scenes from the post-college lives of a group of women who desperately try not to become their parents. So much potential, but actually a rambling and clinical mess, and the characters were more like mouthpieces for various topics from architecture to birth control than actual people. The following is absolute top tier:

"Her confidence fled as she passed the butter to Harald; only the other night, they had had quite a debate, ending in tears on her part, about margarine vs. butter - margarine, Harald maintained, was just as tasty and nourishing, but the butter interests had conspired to keep the margarine people from coloring their product; he was right, yet she could not bear to have that oily white stuff on her table, even if her reaction to the whiteness was a conditioned reflex based on class prejudice."

McCarthy said in an interview that the story is supposed to be funny, but saying I didn't care about any of it would be a horrific understatement. Clearly our senses of humor don't match. Sure, there's more frank sex than you would expect from a 1960s novel (at least to my knowledge; I haven't read enough from that time period), but the rest is the equivalent of folding laundry. At least with the movie you don't have to suffer through McCarthy's writing. Instead, you get good performances and period fashion.

"Monsieur Rougon, would you like me to do you, when you're addressing the chamber?"

Ah, French classics. Rarely do they disappoint. I've been putting off reading this next installment, because my knowledge and interest in 19th century politics is minimal. Well, my fears turned out to be warranted. However, it's my personal problem, not Zola's fault, that I dozed off in the deeply political parts and only stirred when there was plotting, beautiful writing, or when somebody was naked or chased in a stable by bull-like Eugène. Instead of the specific complicated machinery of the Second Empire, the themes that are still relevant in today's world (freedom of press etc.) are more interesting.

As a continuation of the first novel, it's interesting to see Eugène (who was involved in the 1851 coup d'état and helped his parents to gain power and fortune in Plassans) maneuver in Paris's corrupt political climate. It's all about leeching on to somebody as long as there's profit to be had, and even Eugène's most passionate dream of keeping "the mob under his heel", whip in hand, can be in danger of coming to an end. But just like the spirit of the power hungry and intelligent Clorinde (both Eugène's adversary and kindred spirit), a symbol of authority can never truly be extinguished.

"The dogs leapt forward and fell upon the offal, their savage barking subsiding into low growls as they shuddered in delight. The bones cracked. There was great satisfaction on the balcony and at the windows. The ladies smiled viciously, clenching their white teeth. The men breathed heavily, bright-eyed, some of them twirling toothpicks brought from the dining room."

Cruises between Sweden and Finland. If you know, you know. Cabin parties, drunk people everywhere, karaoke, bingo, watery cocktails, tax-free shops, buffets... Strandberg writes from a Swedish point of view, but he still captures the familiar atmosphere. This ship, however, turns into an even more of a world of its own, because there's something horrific on board. Nothing surprising or new, but horrific nevertheless when you think about that something chasing you down those claustrophobic corridors.

Although Blood Cruise is way too long for its own good, the characters with their individual problems are believable, which makes them more than just monster fodder. When the nightmare unfolds, the dramatic thread is never lost. The beginning is basically Stephen King and the rest is more of a splatter movie. Just one of many kinds of horror I like to enjoy with a donut after a long and frustrating workday.

Oops, I just noticed I took a kind of a big break from my DT project. That's okay, I still remember everything that's happened, but this just reminds me why I'm not a series person. While I'm reading The Talisman (only the sequel is connected to DT, but I don't want to get into it before the first part), let's continue with four books I haven't written anything about yet.

Now, The Wind Through the Keyhole was written eight years after the series ended. While I criticized Wizard and Glass for its length, this is a nice short diversion into Roland's past without bogging down the whole series.

But, since Wizard and Glass already exists, I question whether Keyhole is actually necessary. I like the structure of a story within a story, but there doesn't seem to be anything of importance or new information. If I didn't do the extended version of the series, I would have been pissed if instead of Salem's Lot I would have had to read this right after Wizard and Glass. Worth to check out, not worth the extra attention.

The Dark Tower Project
"Night Surf" from Night Shift (1978)
The Stand: Complete and Uncut Edition (1990)
The Eyes of the Dragon (1987)
The Dark Tower I: The Gunslinger (2003 Revised Edition)
The Dark Tower II: The Drawing of the Three (1987)
The Dark Tower III: The Waste Lands (1991)
The Dark Tower IV: Wizard and Glass (1997)
"Little Sisters of Eluria" from Everything's Eventual (2002)
"Jerusalem's Lot" from Night Shift (1978)
Salem's Lot (1975)
"One for the Road" from Night Shift (1978)
The Dark Tower: The Wind Through the Keyhole (2012)
The Dark Tower V: Wolves of the Calla (2003)
The Dark Tower VI: Song of Susannah (2004)
Insomnia (1994)
Black House (2001) (sequel to The Talisman)
"Low Men in Yellow Coats" from Hearts in Atlantis (1999)
"Everything's Eventual" from Everything's Eventual (2002)
The Dark Tower VII: The Dark Tower (2004)