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Inspector Jensen #1
Murder on the Thirty-first Floor
When the nation's sole publishing conglomerate receives a mysterious bomb threat, Chief Inspector Jensen is ordered to find a culprit within a week--or else. As his investigation begins to reveal the unsavory secrets of a growing list of suspects, Jensen realizes that he has uncovered a tragic story of betrayal and death in which he will play the central role.
207 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1964
About the author
Per Wahlöö
78 books145 followersPer Fredrik Wahlöö (5 August 1926 - 22 June 1975) was a Swedish author. He is perhaps best known for the collaborative work with his partner Maj Sjöwall on a series of ten novels about the exploits of Martin Beck, a police detective in Stockholm, published between 1965 and 1975. In 1971, The Laughing Policeman (a translation of Den skrattande polisen, originally published in 1968) won an Edgar Award from the Mystery Writers of America for Best Novel. Wahlöö and Sjöwall also wrote novels separately.
Wahlöö was born in Tölö parish, Kungsbacka Municipality, Halland. After his studies, from 1946 onwards he worked as a crime reporter. After long trips around the world he returned to Sweden and started working as a journalist again.
He had a 13 year relationship with his colleague Maj Sjöwall but never married [1] Both were Marxists.
He has been married to Inger Wahlöö, née Andersson. He was brother to Claes Wahlöö.
He died of cancer at Malmö in 1975, aged 48.
Series written with Maj Sjöwall:
* Martin Beck
Wahlöö was born in Tölö parish, Kungsbacka Municipality, Halland. After his studies, from 1946 onwards he worked as a crime reporter. After long trips around the world he returned to Sweden and started working as a journalist again.
He had a 13 year relationship with his colleague Maj Sjöwall but never married [1] Both were Marxists.
He has been married to Inger Wahlöö, née Andersson. He was brother to Claes Wahlöö.
He died of cancer at Malmö in 1975, aged 48.
Series written with Maj Sjöwall:
* Martin Beck
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 106 reviews
March 27, 2023
(előhang) Megérett bennem az elhatározás, hogy tisztítom kicsit a könyvtáramat. A baj az, hogy szembesülnöm kellett vele, mennyi olyan kötetet szedtem össze innen-onnan az elmúlt években, amelyeket igazából sosem terveztem elolvasni. Viszont ahhoz, hogy eldöntsem, érdemes-e egyáltalán megtartanom őket, sajnálatosan túl kéne esnem ezen is. Szóval ez egy ilyen „Való Világ”-os olvasás, amelynek során eldől, kit szavaznak ki a házból, illetve ki marad a polcokon.
És most a könyvről. Ami színleg krimi, legalábbis akad benne bűntény: egy retek monopolkapitalista médiamogul 30 emeletes székházában bombariadó van, és érkezik is Jensen felügyelő, hogy megmondja, mi merre hány méter. Jensen amúgy unikális rendőrpéldány, egyfelől mert már-már patologikusan kerüli a „felesleges kommentárokat”, plusz szerintem baromi ellenszenves is. Van amúgy egy komoly gyomorproblémája, aminek következtében fáj neki, ha eszik – viszont inni természetesen iszik, igaz, csak titokban. Végtére is skandináv, ha minden igaz. (Hogy az alkohol a gyógyszer a gyomorbajra, vagy oka a gyomorbajnak, arról megoszlik a tudományos közösség véleménye – Jensen szerint gyógyszer, kábé mindenki más szerint meg ok.)
No most ezek miatt kriminek kéne tekintsük a kötetet. Pedig igazából nem az – hanem negatív utópia, ami a liberális demokrácia és a szabadpiaci kapitalizmus kritikájából építkezik. Bár ez csak lassan esett le. Az mondjuk hamar feltűnt, hogy amikor Jensen körbeturnézza a lehetséges gyanúsítottakat, akkor valójában nem nyomoz – hanem alkalmat ad ezeknek a személyeknek arra, hogy más és más oldalról világítsák meg a fent említett médiamogul (és a komplett rendszer) kozmikus bűneit. Szóval ez egy agitációs pamflet, zsánerköntösben, vontam le a következtetést. Pedig akadtak árulkodó jelek a disztópikusságra, például az említett 30 emeletes székház, ami gyanúsan kafkai a maga labirintusszerűségével, illetve a ténnyel, hogy van neki egy titokzatos 31. emelete, ami igazából nem is létezik, miközben meg de. (Attól függ, ki kérdezi.) Aztán egyre inkább kibontakozott Wahlöö koncepciója – ő igenis egy disztópiát alkotott meg egy olyan alternatív államról, ahol a „társadalmi egyetértés” kényszere (ezt manapság PC-nek neveznék - csak Wahlöö balról támadja) megölt minden vitát, a létezés pedig ezáltal unalmas, sótlan, homogén középszerré változott. Aki pedig ebből a középszerből ki akar emelkedni, azt lenyesegetik - no persze nem erőszakkal, hanem csak lágyan, finoman, arany metszőollóval. Ez a disztópia-dolog pedig azért picit jobb, mintha sima szocreál hőbörgést olvasnánk.
Volt amúgy, ami tetszett benne. Például ez a Jensen eredeti. És a sztori lezárása is tényleg jópofa, igazán kreatív. De azért nekem összességében sok volt az erőltetett propaganda, csikorgott a fogam alatt, mintha homokot rágnék. Nem való az ilyen regénybe, szerintem. Még akkor se, ha zsánerbe csomagolják, hátha úgy könnyebb lenyelni.
Ja, kell amúgy valakinek ez a könyv?
És most a könyvről. Ami színleg krimi, legalábbis akad benne bűntény: egy retek monopolkapitalista médiamogul 30 emeletes székházában bombariadó van, és érkezik is Jensen felügyelő, hogy megmondja, mi merre hány méter. Jensen amúgy unikális rendőrpéldány, egyfelől mert már-már patologikusan kerüli a „felesleges kommentárokat”, plusz szerintem baromi ellenszenves is. Van amúgy egy komoly gyomorproblémája, aminek következtében fáj neki, ha eszik – viszont inni természetesen iszik, igaz, csak titokban. Végtére is skandináv, ha minden igaz. (Hogy az alkohol a gyógyszer a gyomorbajra, vagy oka a gyomorbajnak, arról megoszlik a tudományos közösség véleménye – Jensen szerint gyógyszer, kábé mindenki más szerint meg ok.)
No most ezek miatt kriminek kéne tekintsük a kötetet. Pedig igazából nem az – hanem negatív utópia, ami a liberális demokrácia és a szabadpiaci kapitalizmus kritikájából építkezik. Bár ez csak lassan esett le. Az mondjuk hamar feltűnt, hogy amikor Jensen körbeturnézza a lehetséges gyanúsítottakat, akkor valójában nem nyomoz – hanem alkalmat ad ezeknek a személyeknek arra, hogy más és más oldalról világítsák meg a fent említett médiamogul (és a komplett rendszer) kozmikus bűneit. Szóval ez egy agitációs pamflet, zsánerköntösben, vontam le a következtetést. Pedig akadtak árulkodó jelek a disztópikusságra, például az említett 30 emeletes székház, ami gyanúsan kafkai a maga labirintusszerűségével, illetve a ténnyel, hogy van neki egy titokzatos 31. emelete, ami igazából nem is létezik, miközben meg de. (Attól függ, ki kérdezi.) Aztán egyre inkább kibontakozott Wahlöö koncepciója – ő igenis egy disztópiát alkotott meg egy olyan alternatív államról, ahol a „társadalmi egyetértés” kényszere (ezt manapság PC-nek neveznék - csak Wahlöö balról támadja) megölt minden vitát, a létezés pedig ezáltal unalmas, sótlan, homogén középszerré változott. Aki pedig ebből a középszerből ki akar emelkedni, azt lenyesegetik - no persze nem erőszakkal, hanem csak lágyan, finoman, arany metszőollóval. Ez a disztópia-dolog pedig azért picit jobb, mintha sima szocreál hőbörgést olvasnánk.
Volt amúgy, ami tetszett benne. Például ez a Jensen eredeti. És a sztori lezárása is tényleg jópofa, igazán kreatív. De azért nekem összességében sok volt az erőltetett propaganda, csikorgott a fogam alatt, mintha homokot rágnék. Nem való az ilyen regénybe, szerintem. Még akkor se, ha zsánerbe csomagolják, hátha úgy könnyebb lenyelni.
Ja, kell amúgy valakinek ez a könyv?
August 17, 2013
Book Review
In the social production of their existence, men inevitably enter into definite relations, which are independent of their will, namely relations of production appropriate to a given stage in the development of their material forces of production. The totality of these relations of production constitutes the economic structure of society, the real foundation, on which arises a legal and political superstructure and to which correspond definite forms of consciousness. The mode of production of material life conditions the general process of social, political and intellectual life. It is not the consciousness of men that determines their existence, but their social existence that determines their consciousness.
- Karl Marx
Written in 1964, Murder on the Thirty-first Floor is grey caviar. The first in a dyptich starring Inspector Jensen, Per's novel takes a fascinating, albeit chilling, look at the relationship between the individual and the State. Fans of Kafka, Orwell, Graham Greene, Heinrich Böll, and Stanley Kubrick will undoubtably be drawn to Per's novels. A pioneer of Scandinavian fiction's predilection to use the crime fiction genre to comment on economical, sociological and political issues Per Wahlöö makes no bones about his ardent allegiance to Marxism.
So, let me stop right there!
I knew all this before picking up the book. You know, right? I was prepared for Marxism. But, you would think that a book written by a Marxist would elevate the intellectual tenants of the means of production, the social classes, the proletariat and bourgeoisie. Right?
And then you come across passages like this:
Here we have the abolishment of individualism and free will. Identity is directly tied to the means of production.
"On the pavements there were people who had temporarily left their cars. As ever, they were well-dressed and looked very much alike. They moved quickly and nervously, as if they couldn't wait to get back to their cars. Once inside their vehicles, their sense of integrity was intensified. Since the cars were different in size, colour, shape and horsepower, they lent their owner an identity. What was more, they brought about a sense of group identity. People with the same cars unconsciously felt that they belonged to a peer group that was easier to grasp than society under the Accord in general."
Or, let's take a look at the total abolishment of private lives. In the following, a woman is found drinking in her own home, at which point Jensen immediately sends for a police officer to arrest her. Jensen never arrests someone directly as this is accorded to the identity and function of uniformed policemen, not inspectors.
"She was nineteen. In the top right-hand corner [of her identity card] there were two red marks, fully visible even though someone had tried to blot them out. That means two arrests for drinking. A third would mean immediate admittance to an alcohol abuse clinic."
Or, how about the Self Clearance estates? Large tracts of identical housing are left to whither as nature slowly takes over the grey, concrete block structures, thus eventually across years forcing everyone out.
"Here and there he saw distant suburbs or self-clearance estates silhouetted against the sky. From the horizon to the motorway, the ground was covered in an expanse of dry and dreary vegetation: deformed trees and low, scrubby bushes."
Perhaps it is my predilection towards capitalism, or free-will, or individuality that is preventing me from seeing how anyone could ascribe to this kind of world. Surely not even a Marxist would write this stuff? I mean, no matter where you go, this book is either described as cold, chilling, dystopian, Utopian, Orwelian or what not. But folks, this isn't some future dystopian novel. This is not utopia. This sociopolitical aspect of the book is not fiction. The world described by Per is now actual history. It is a chilling account of what actually happened in Russia and its satellite nations as Marxism is applied. Perhaps some aspects are exagerated for the sake of fiction, but the essence is clear enough.
As to the mystery? The book is a police procedural. But, procedures are tied to the economic means of production: in this case the function of a police organization which is to safe guard the proper functioning of the working classes. Inspector Jensen, as said before, does not arrest anyone. That is the function of plain-clothes men. He is perfunctory with his orders to the lower strata of functions, which he views as a function of society, not as individuals to whom he is speaking: always ending his orders with "and be quick about it!"
As one reviewer puts it, the book reads like a combination of George Orwell and Dragnet. An accurate observation.
Even food plays a role in this mystery (to see what the mystery is about, just read the book description). Throughout the investigation, Jensen barely eats which results in gastronomical pain, a pain that keeps him alert. Only upon resolving the case do we find him scarfing down a huge plate of food at which point he sits back and relishes the dull, sleepy semi-conscious state eating affords him. It is highly suggestive that this, one of the final scenes in the book, is a purposeful act implemented by whatever Ministry is in charge of food production: food as a opiate to quiet the masses. Speaking of Ministries. There's one for every facet of life you can think of: life as completely State controlled.
And, of course, primary to the novel is the Marxist view as to the proper function of corporations - in this case The Concern (the place where the crime takes place). A conglomerate of newspapers and magazines (no individual magazines or newspapers exist, they've all been bought out by the Concern). It's purpose? Read on:
"In times past, the press often exerted an inflammatory and unsettling influence on its readership. Now, its design and content are designed solely for its readers benefit."
What is that benefit?
"The publications are aimed at the family, at being something they can all read, at not creating aggression, dissatisfaction or anxiety. They satisfy ordinary people's natural need for escapism. In short, they are in the service of the Accord."
At once surreal, existential and imaginative this book is a fascinating view into socialism and Marxism, cleverly disguised as an intelligent mystery novel.
------------------------------------------------------------
Series Review
Per Wahlöö
Per Wahlöö (1926–1975) was born in Tölö parish, Kungsbacka Municipality, Halland. Following school, he worked as a crime reporter from 1946 onwards. After long trips around the world he returned to Sweden and started working as a journalist again.He had a thirteen year relationship with his colleague Maj Sjöwall but never married. Both were Marxists. He was married to Inger Wahlöö, née Andersson. He was brother to Claes Wahlöö. He died of cancer at Malmö in 1975, aged 48. He is considered one of the Godfathers of Scandinavian crime fiction (according to Jo Nesbo).
Per Wahlöö is the (co-)recipient of some of the finest crime/thriller awards in the world, including The Edgar Award (US), Gran Giallo Citta di Cattolica (Italy), the Swedish Academy of Crime Writers’ Award (Svenska Deckarakademins pris) (Sweden), the Danish Poe Club’s Award (Denmark) and Svenska Dagbladets Literary Award (Svenska Dagbladets Litteraturpris) (Sweden).
Along with his Dictatorship series and surely as a result of his collaboration with common-law wife Maj Sjöwall (resulting in 10 Martin Beck crime novels) Per Wahlöö stands out as one of Sweden's finest and most controversial writers of the 20th century.
In the social production of their existence, men inevitably enter into definite relations, which are independent of their will, namely relations of production appropriate to a given stage in the development of their material forces of production. The totality of these relations of production constitutes the economic structure of society, the real foundation, on which arises a legal and political superstructure and to which correspond definite forms of consciousness. The mode of production of material life conditions the general process of social, political and intellectual life. It is not the consciousness of men that determines their existence, but their social existence that determines their consciousness.
- Karl Marx
Written in 1964, Murder on the Thirty-first Floor is grey caviar. The first in a dyptich starring Inspector Jensen, Per's novel takes a fascinating, albeit chilling, look at the relationship between the individual and the State. Fans of Kafka, Orwell, Graham Greene, Heinrich Böll, and Stanley Kubrick will undoubtably be drawn to Per's novels. A pioneer of Scandinavian fiction's predilection to use the crime fiction genre to comment on economical, sociological and political issues Per Wahlöö makes no bones about his ardent allegiance to Marxism.
So, let me stop right there!
I knew all this before picking up the book. You know, right? I was prepared for Marxism. But, you would think that a book written by a Marxist would elevate the intellectual tenants of the means of production, the social classes, the proletariat and bourgeoisie. Right?
And then you come across passages like this:
Here we have the abolishment of individualism and free will. Identity is directly tied to the means of production.
"On the pavements there were people who had temporarily left their cars. As ever, they were well-dressed and looked very much alike. They moved quickly and nervously, as if they couldn't wait to get back to their cars. Once inside their vehicles, their sense of integrity was intensified. Since the cars were different in size, colour, shape and horsepower, they lent their owner an identity. What was more, they brought about a sense of group identity. People with the same cars unconsciously felt that they belonged to a peer group that was easier to grasp than society under the Accord in general."
Or, let's take a look at the total abolishment of private lives. In the following, a woman is found drinking in her own home, at which point Jensen immediately sends for a police officer to arrest her. Jensen never arrests someone directly as this is accorded to the identity and function of uniformed policemen, not inspectors.
"She was nineteen. In the top right-hand corner [of her identity card] there were two red marks, fully visible even though someone had tried to blot them out. That means two arrests for drinking. A third would mean immediate admittance to an alcohol abuse clinic."
Or, how about the Self Clearance estates? Large tracts of identical housing are left to whither as nature slowly takes over the grey, concrete block structures, thus eventually across years forcing everyone out.
"Here and there he saw distant suburbs or self-clearance estates silhouetted against the sky. From the horizon to the motorway, the ground was covered in an expanse of dry and dreary vegetation: deformed trees and low, scrubby bushes."
Perhaps it is my predilection towards capitalism, or free-will, or individuality that is preventing me from seeing how anyone could ascribe to this kind of world. Surely not even a Marxist would write this stuff? I mean, no matter where you go, this book is either described as cold, chilling, dystopian, Utopian, Orwelian or what not. But folks, this isn't some future dystopian novel. This is not utopia. This sociopolitical aspect of the book is not fiction. The world described by Per is now actual history. It is a chilling account of what actually happened in Russia and its satellite nations as Marxism is applied. Perhaps some aspects are exagerated for the sake of fiction, but the essence is clear enough.
As to the mystery? The book is a police procedural. But, procedures are tied to the economic means of production: in this case the function of a police organization which is to safe guard the proper functioning of the working classes. Inspector Jensen, as said before, does not arrest anyone. That is the function of plain-clothes men. He is perfunctory with his orders to the lower strata of functions, which he views as a function of society, not as individuals to whom he is speaking: always ending his orders with "and be quick about it!"
As one reviewer puts it, the book reads like a combination of George Orwell and Dragnet. An accurate observation.
Even food plays a role in this mystery (to see what the mystery is about, just read the book description). Throughout the investigation, Jensen barely eats which results in gastronomical pain, a pain that keeps him alert. Only upon resolving the case do we find him scarfing down a huge plate of food at which point he sits back and relishes the dull, sleepy semi-conscious state eating affords him. It is highly suggestive that this, one of the final scenes in the book, is a purposeful act implemented by whatever Ministry is in charge of food production: food as a opiate to quiet the masses. Speaking of Ministries. There's one for every facet of life you can think of: life as completely State controlled.
And, of course, primary to the novel is the Marxist view as to the proper function of corporations - in this case The Concern (the place where the crime takes place). A conglomerate of newspapers and magazines (no individual magazines or newspapers exist, they've all been bought out by the Concern). It's purpose? Read on:
"In times past, the press often exerted an inflammatory and unsettling influence on its readership. Now, its design and content are designed solely for its readers benefit."
What is that benefit?
"The publications are aimed at the family, at being something they can all read, at not creating aggression, dissatisfaction or anxiety. They satisfy ordinary people's natural need for escapism. In short, they are in the service of the Accord."
At once surreal, existential and imaginative this book is a fascinating view into socialism and Marxism, cleverly disguised as an intelligent mystery novel.
------------------------------------------------------------
Series Review
Per Wahlöö
Per Wahlöö (1926–1975) was born in Tölö parish, Kungsbacka Municipality, Halland. Following school, he worked as a crime reporter from 1946 onwards. After long trips around the world he returned to Sweden and started working as a journalist again.He had a thirteen year relationship with his colleague Maj Sjöwall but never married. Both were Marxists. He was married to Inger Wahlöö, née Andersson. He was brother to Claes Wahlöö. He died of cancer at Malmö in 1975, aged 48. He is considered one of the Godfathers of Scandinavian crime fiction (according to Jo Nesbo).
Per Wahlöö is the (co-)recipient of some of the finest crime/thriller awards in the world, including The Edgar Award (US), Gran Giallo Citta di Cattolica (Italy), the Swedish Academy of Crime Writers’ Award (Svenska Deckarakademins pris) (Sweden), the Danish Poe Club’s Award (Denmark) and Svenska Dagbladets Literary Award (Svenska Dagbladets Litteraturpris) (Sweden).
Along with his Dictatorship series and surely as a result of his collaboration with common-law wife Maj Sjöwall (resulting in 10 Martin Beck crime novels) Per Wahlöö stands out as one of Sweden's finest and most controversial writers of the 20th century.
March 20, 2019
I have read and loved the Martin Beck series several times. The partnership of Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö was a powerful voice in Scandinavian literature, a powerful voice in the police procedural, and a powerful voice for political change. This makes them precisely the sort of authors I can't get enough of, but I must admit I've been frightened to read Per Wahlöö's solo work for fear that his writing would suffer for the lack of Maj Sjöwall.
Although there is no denying his writing lacks something that Sjöwall must have brought to their collaboration (which I will expand upon later), I was wrong to be frightened. Murder on the Thirty-First Floor is all Wahlöö, and it is a cracking good read.
I expected -- as I imagine most of us would -- that Murder on the Thirty-First Floor was going to be a police procedural, and the back cover blurb reinforced that expectation. We are told that Chief Inspector Jensen has a week to find a would-be bomber, so the promise of a police procedural seems to be utterly fulfilled. And it is. But that only tells half the tale because it is the other half that seems to be the most solidly Wahlöö's -- the dystopia.
Murder on the Thirty-First Floor takes place, you see, in a sterile (Eastern? Northern?) European city where crime has been reduced to the constant rounding up of alcohol abusers (it's difficult to tell how many of them are actually alcoholics), the cleaning up of automobile suicides, and the rare "major" crime like theft or murder. It is a city where litter is non-existent, where the housing crisis has been solved by banks and banks of concrete apartment blocks designed to become derelict, and where the "Welfare State" has wiped away visible problems while deepening malaise to unprecedented levels. It is a city where one hundred and forty four publications -- comic books, magazines, newspapers, what have you -- are owned and operated by one "benevolent" private company, dedicated to making sure that nothing they print will ever bother anyone and to making as much money as they possibly can in the process.
This unnamed city creeps up on the reader with its stultifying civility until genuine discomfort sets in, and the city's traits are reflected in our Chief Inspector Jensen. He is our window into this city, our connection to the story, our POV, but he is just as sterile, conforming, uncaring and damaged as the city itself. It all makes for an uncomfortable sense of dread. And it is here that the absence of Maj Sjöwall is most felt (see, I told you I'd get back to it) because without her, Per Wahlöö's cynicism is untempered. The Martin Beck series is full of bleak landscapes and storylines, but it is offset by a sliver of hope if not genuine optimism. Murder on the Thirty-First Floor, however, is hopeless, but this doesn't mean that it suffers from the lack of Sjöwall; it is merely a different experience.
Indeed, this also doesn't mean Murder on the Thirty-First Floor isn't excellent. It is. And luckily, I appreciate hopelessness (if you don't, however, you may want to steer clear). Best of all, my fear of reading my favourite collaborating authors on their own has evaporated. Bring on Wahlöö's The Steel Spring, then I have to find something solo by Sjöwall too.
Although there is no denying his writing lacks something that Sjöwall must have brought to their collaboration (which I will expand upon later), I was wrong to be frightened. Murder on the Thirty-First Floor is all Wahlöö, and it is a cracking good read.
I expected -- as I imagine most of us would -- that Murder on the Thirty-First Floor was going to be a police procedural, and the back cover blurb reinforced that expectation. We are told that Chief Inspector Jensen has a week to find a would-be bomber, so the promise of a police procedural seems to be utterly fulfilled. And it is. But that only tells half the tale because it is the other half that seems to be the most solidly Wahlöö's -- the dystopia.
Murder on the Thirty-First Floor takes place, you see, in a sterile (Eastern? Northern?) European city where crime has been reduced to the constant rounding up of alcohol abusers (it's difficult to tell how many of them are actually alcoholics), the cleaning up of automobile suicides, and the rare "major" crime like theft or murder. It is a city where litter is non-existent, where the housing crisis has been solved by banks and banks of concrete apartment blocks designed to become derelict, and where the "Welfare State" has wiped away visible problems while deepening malaise to unprecedented levels. It is a city where one hundred and forty four publications -- comic books, magazines, newspapers, what have you -- are owned and operated by one "benevolent" private company, dedicated to making sure that nothing they print will ever bother anyone and to making as much money as they possibly can in the process.
This unnamed city creeps up on the reader with its stultifying civility until genuine discomfort sets in, and the city's traits are reflected in our Chief Inspector Jensen. He is our window into this city, our connection to the story, our POV, but he is just as sterile, conforming, uncaring and damaged as the city itself. It all makes for an uncomfortable sense of dread. And it is here that the absence of Maj Sjöwall is most felt (see, I told you I'd get back to it) because without her, Per Wahlöö's cynicism is untempered. The Martin Beck series is full of bleak landscapes and storylines, but it is offset by a sliver of hope if not genuine optimism. Murder on the Thirty-First Floor, however, is hopeless, but this doesn't mean that it suffers from the lack of Sjöwall; it is merely a different experience.
Indeed, this also doesn't mean Murder on the Thirty-First Floor isn't excellent. It is. And luckily, I appreciate hopelessness (if you don't, however, you may want to steer clear). Best of all, my fear of reading my favourite collaborating authors on their own has evaporated. Bring on Wahlöö's The Steel Spring, then I have to find something solo by Sjöwall too.
December 16, 2019
A phlegmatic, digestively-impaired detective in an anti-intellectual socialist dystopia has seven days to figure out who sent a bomb threat to a large magazine publishing company with lots of chromium furniture. Society (much like today) has been so dumbed-down that although magazines "only dealt with princesses and how to make gingersnaps," they are above the readers' heads. I think the author is in favor of women's pubic hair, but I couldn't tell if the badger that frightened the children was supposed to be allegorical.
March 30, 2013
Jensen is a police Inspector in the capital city of plutocratic corporatist state somewhere in the near future investigating a bomb threat against a major magazine and newspaper publisher. As his investigation develops it seems to become more perfunctory, slightly more absurd and all the while more disturbing. In part this is a result of Wahlöö’s fastidious writing; the book is peppered with detailed lists – of what Jensen eats, of the notes he takes, of the contents of his desk, of the corridors he walks in the Skyscraper, home to the publishing conglomerate – the reek almost of compulsion but evoke a sense of detail, surveillance of the minutiae and as a result of a panoptic order. If he wasn’t a Marxist writing in the early 1960s, I’d say he’d read too much Foucault, but as it turns out it might be the effects of dystopians such as Orwell and Huxley.
This predates the Martin Beck novels written with Maj Sjöwall and is slightly less subtle in its politics, although Wahlöö conjures up the image of a state that seems to blend the corporatism of Fascist Italy, the plutocracy of contemporary Russia and intellectual torpor of mediatised late capitalism in a deeply disturbing manner. At the heart of the tale is the control of a nation’s cultural life, dominance by an élite and a willingness to suppress by any means necessary in order to maintain order. And who better than a senior police officer to expose the machinations of power.
This predates the Martin Beck novels written with Maj Sjöwall and is slightly less subtle in its politics, although Wahlöö conjures up the image of a state that seems to blend the corporatism of Fascist Italy, the plutocracy of contemporary Russia and intellectual torpor of mediatised late capitalism in a deeply disturbing manner. At the heart of the tale is the control of a nation’s cultural life, dominance by an élite and a willingness to suppress by any means necessary in order to maintain order. And who better than a senior police officer to expose the machinations of power.
June 15, 2016
Incredible to think how short time span the whole book is happening. One week. Well, it is so engaging it took me only a couple of days to read. The dry humour and ridiculous characters one might meet during an ongoing investigation is incredibly entertaining. The book sucks you into it and when you get to the last two pages you are so lost as to what the hell just happened, you have to read it all over again. And then the after-an-incredible-book-depression hits. Unless you got another great book lined up. This is brilliant!
February 4, 2019
This is the second of Wahloo's futuristic novels I've read. I prefer his novels set in unnamed Latin American countries (for a brilliant and astonishing novel of his, read A Necessary Action set in a village in Franco's Spain in the 1950's).
Jensen is completely colorless except for stomach pain, never explained (hernia? ulcer?). The novel has a strong narrative pull but is ultimately dissatisfying and even distasteful --to this reader at least. However, some aspects of the society seemed prescient (a complete dumbing down/entertainment as most important). Alcoholism, suicide, low birthrate are considered the society's downside.
Jensen is completely colorless except for stomach pain, never explained (hernia? ulcer?). The novel has a strong narrative pull but is ultimately dissatisfying and even distasteful --to this reader at least. However, some aspects of the society seemed prescient (a complete dumbing down/entertainment as most important). Alcoholism, suicide, low birthrate are considered the society's downside.
November 11, 2023
“I don’t think it’s any exaggeration to claim that this has contributed more than anything else to consolidating the Accord. To bridging the gaps between political parties, between monarchy and republic, between the so-called upper classes and…” p39
Per Wahlöö and Maj Sjöwall are often hailed as the original and the best authors of Scandi crime. Together, they co-wrote the Martin Beck series, and in doing so, made social commentary on the political state of Sweden from their socialist stance. The Martin Beck series is pretty much my favourite series and I savour each instalment of the 10 part series.
Murder on the 31st Floor is written solely by Wahlöö in 1964, just prior to teaming up with Sjöwall, and what an intriguing book it really is. Set in a futuristic, dystopian, unnamed city somewhere in Northern Europe (not actually mentioned but seems likely), the book features Inspector Jensen (decidedly Scandinavian name btw), a fairly indistinct, depressive, digestively challenged, and somewhat morose man.
It’s quite interesting reading a futuristic dystopian setting in a book that was written in 1964. Futuristic in terms of ideology and sociology, definitely not in regards to technology.
That aside, Wahlöö pulls no punches in making significant social and political statements with ever so slight hints of Orwell’s 1984 and Huxley’s Brave New World.
The quote I have prefaced this review with makes mention of ‘the society of the Accord’ which seems to be some vague idea that everyone is united and that society works to completely unite everyone and make sure that all are on the same page so to speak. The society painted by Wahlöö, however, is one that is bleak, grey and depressing in reality but somehow glossed over with the message that everything is ticking along perfectly. The book is actually a socio-political critique wrapped up in a dystopian Nordic Noir.
Inspector Jensen is called to the Skyscraper, where a bomb threat note has been received. The Skyscraper houses the publishing company that clearly controls all media, vetting all messages and communication, with the aim of dulling the masses into some sort of intellectual stupor, quelling dissidents and outspoken political and social activists.
In the course of the investigation, Jensen investigates a number of former employees and through these interviews the reader comes to understand the true nature of the 31st floor, the inhabitants there, what they are consigned to do and the way in which knowledge and thought control occur. It is eventually apparent that the murder referred to in the title of the book may not actually be murder in the traditional sense. And while the bomb threat came to nothing initially, a second threat may indeed be real…
A provocative novel and I loved every bit of it. 5 Scandi stars.
Per Wahlöö and Maj Sjöwall are often hailed as the original and the best authors of Scandi crime. Together, they co-wrote the Martin Beck series, and in doing so, made social commentary on the political state of Sweden from their socialist stance. The Martin Beck series is pretty much my favourite series and I savour each instalment of the 10 part series.
Murder on the 31st Floor is written solely by Wahlöö in 1964, just prior to teaming up with Sjöwall, and what an intriguing book it really is. Set in a futuristic, dystopian, unnamed city somewhere in Northern Europe (not actually mentioned but seems likely), the book features Inspector Jensen (decidedly Scandinavian name btw), a fairly indistinct, depressive, digestively challenged, and somewhat morose man.
It’s quite interesting reading a futuristic dystopian setting in a book that was written in 1964. Futuristic in terms of ideology and sociology, definitely not in regards to technology.
That aside, Wahlöö pulls no punches in making significant social and political statements with ever so slight hints of Orwell’s 1984 and Huxley’s Brave New World.
The quote I have prefaced this review with makes mention of ‘the society of the Accord’ which seems to be some vague idea that everyone is united and that society works to completely unite everyone and make sure that all are on the same page so to speak. The society painted by Wahlöö, however, is one that is bleak, grey and depressing in reality but somehow glossed over with the message that everything is ticking along perfectly. The book is actually a socio-political critique wrapped up in a dystopian Nordic Noir.
Inspector Jensen is called to the Skyscraper, where a bomb threat note has been received. The Skyscraper houses the publishing company that clearly controls all media, vetting all messages and communication, with the aim of dulling the masses into some sort of intellectual stupor, quelling dissidents and outspoken political and social activists.
In the course of the investigation, Jensen investigates a number of former employees and through these interviews the reader comes to understand the true nature of the 31st floor, the inhabitants there, what they are consigned to do and the way in which knowledge and thought control occur. It is eventually apparent that the murder referred to in the title of the book may not actually be murder in the traditional sense. And while the bomb threat came to nothing initially, a second threat may indeed be real…
A provocative novel and I loved every bit of it. 5 Scandi stars.
February 16, 2016
Llegué a este libro por la reseña de Julián Díez en C: http://www.ccyberdark.net/2228/asesin...
Mientras que Julián se centra en la componente distópica —uy, perdón, prospectiva—, yo voy a intentar analizar más niveles de la obra para que se entienda mejor la diferencia entre su valoración y la mía.
Asesinato en la planta 31 es un crossover entre novela negra y un subgénero de la literatura fantástica, la distopía, por lo que ofrece muchas líneas de análisis. Es muy similar por tanto a la más conocida y ligeramente menos mala Patria .
Una obra de literatura debe ser analizada en dos niveles: textual y subtextual. El nivel textual está caracterizado principalmente por el argumento (lo que pasa en el libro) y el nivel subtextual por el tema (lo que el autor quiere transmitir al lector). En una novela coherente, en una buena novela, argumento y tema están relacionados.
La literatura fantástica añade un tercer factor: la hipótesis fantástica, es decir, el "cambio" que propone el autor con respecto a la realidad (lo que va detrás de "¿qué pasaría si..."). En una novela fantástica coherente, en una buena novela fantástica, la hipótesis fantástica es contingente, es decir, el argumento no sería viable si no aceptáramos ese cambio. Este detalle es importante.
En las utopías, salvo raras excepciones, la hipótesis fantástica es única y consiste en un cambio acontecido en el pasado del que se deduce lógica e inevitablemente (pse) el mundo en el que se ambienta la novela. Existen innumerables clasificaciones de la literatura utópica pero, en mi opinión, la clave es la relación entre la hipótesis fantástica y el tema de la novela: http://foehammer.tumblr.com/image/457...
Centrándome en Asesinato en la planta 31:
-Hipótesis fantástica: la sociedad ha alcanzado el Consenso. No existe conflicto alguno, ni opiniones que admitan una postura opuesta, existe un acuerdo total y por fin la sociedad avanza sin dar pasos atrás.
-Argumento: se ha recibido un aviso de bomba en la sede del consorcio que edita todas las publicaciones periódicas del país (periódicos, revistas y cómics). El comisario Jensen es encargado de investigar quién está detrás de la amenaza.
-Tema: la libertad de expresión es un derecho fundamental y necesario.
Y cómo funciona la novela:
- Como distopía: bastante bien, mejor que varias distopías convencionales. El comisario Jensen actúa como cámara y documentador de esta sociedad en la que no existe debate alguno. La hipótesis fantástica está intrínsecamente relacionada con el tema, La relación con el argumento está un poco más cogida con pinzas, pero entra dentro de lo coherente (para querer bombardear la sede de una editorial basta con estar en contra de su línea editorial, no es necesario que sea la única existente). El retrato de las consecuencias es evidente y queda claro que el origen se puede trazar al "cambio" planteado por el autor.
- Como novela negra: mal. El caso tiene muy poco interés, la investigación es apenas una excusa para mostrar distintos niveles de la sociedad y servir de excusa para que varios personajes puedan monologar durante la "interrogación" del comisario. No existen callejones sin salida, ni giros, la única dificultad para el comisario es el plazo que recibe arbitrariamente para finalizar la investigación. La tensión narrativa depende total y absolutamente de ese temporizador, todo lo que sucede alrededor es intrascendente. Y hasta las últimas 20 páginas del libro no pasa nada realmente consecuente.
- Como obra literaria: fatal, de verdad, fatal. Para empezar, el argumento no tiene relación con el tema y toda la carga temática se centra en las últimas páginas de la novela y en un personaje que acaba de aparecer. Además, el protagonista no tiene absolutamente ninguna relación con el tema más allá de su dolor en el "lado derecho del diafragma" (el hígado, vaya). Pero ninguna, eso de que el protagonista debe sufrir un conflicto y un cambio debe de ser para autores decentes. Por último, da la sensación de que el libro fue escrito en dos periodos claramente diferenciados, sin proceso de corrección relevante: en la primera parte del libro (algo más de la mitad) hay una ausencia total de referencias físicas y resulta casi imposible situar al protagonista; hay incluso una escena en la que el comisario está en su despacho y en el párrafo siguiente está a mitad de camino, ¿adónde? ¡sorpresa!. La segunda parte se caracteriza por la obsesión por especificar la hora que es en todo momento (como en el primer capítulo) y por prescindir de cualquier subterfugio para ocultar el alcoholismo del protagonista (es decir, olvidar que hasta entonces se había intentado disimular).
Con todo, podría haber dado dos estrellas al libro, pero la edición en español termina de hundir una obra de por sí regular:
- El uso de las palabras "estándar", "eventualmente" e "inusual" con el significado que tienen "standard", "eventually" e "inusual" en inglés me llevó a pensar que la novela estaba (mal) traducida del inglés en vez de del sueco. Al ver que el traductor es especialista en traducción directa del sueco me di cuenta de que lo que pasa es que no domina el español. De hecho, cuando vi que había traducido a Strindberg, fui a buscar mi edición de La señorita Julia para asegurarme de que no había sido mutilada por él.
- En una escena en la que el comisario va a entrevistar al director y entra a su despacho, es el editor el que hace algo, a pesar de que se le describe como al director y las referencias posteriores aclaran que se trata en efecto del director. Porque cuidar la continuidad es de débiles.
- Por suerte el estilo del autor es lacónico y prácticamente todas las oraciones son simples, porque los líos que se hace con la puntuación en cuanto hay oraciones compuestas es como para que se lo haga mirar.
Mientras que Julián se centra en la componente distópica —uy, perdón, prospectiva—, yo voy a intentar analizar más niveles de la obra para que se entienda mejor la diferencia entre su valoración y la mía.
Asesinato en la planta 31 es un crossover entre novela negra y un subgénero de la literatura fantástica, la distopía, por lo que ofrece muchas líneas de análisis. Es muy similar por tanto a la más conocida y ligeramente menos mala Patria .
Una obra de literatura debe ser analizada en dos niveles: textual y subtextual. El nivel textual está caracterizado principalmente por el argumento (lo que pasa en el libro) y el nivel subtextual por el tema (lo que el autor quiere transmitir al lector). En una novela coherente, en una buena novela, argumento y tema están relacionados.
La literatura fantástica añade un tercer factor: la hipótesis fantástica, es decir, el "cambio" que propone el autor con respecto a la realidad (lo que va detrás de "¿qué pasaría si..."). En una novela fantástica coherente, en una buena novela fantástica, la hipótesis fantástica es contingente, es decir, el argumento no sería viable si no aceptáramos ese cambio. Este detalle es importante.
En las utopías, salvo raras excepciones, la hipótesis fantástica es única y consiste en un cambio acontecido en el pasado del que se deduce lógica e inevitablemente (pse) el mundo en el que se ambienta la novela. Existen innumerables clasificaciones de la literatura utópica pero, en mi opinión, la clave es la relación entre la hipótesis fantástica y el tema de la novela: http://foehammer.tumblr.com/image/457...
Centrándome en Asesinato en la planta 31:
-Hipótesis fantástica: la sociedad ha alcanzado el Consenso. No existe conflicto alguno, ni opiniones que admitan una postura opuesta, existe un acuerdo total y por fin la sociedad avanza sin dar pasos atrás.
-Argumento: se ha recibido un aviso de bomba en la sede del consorcio que edita todas las publicaciones periódicas del país (periódicos, revistas y cómics). El comisario Jensen es encargado de investigar quién está detrás de la amenaza.
-Tema: la libertad de expresión es un derecho fundamental y necesario.
Y cómo funciona la novela:
- Como distopía: bastante bien, mejor que varias distopías convencionales. El comisario Jensen actúa como cámara y documentador de esta sociedad en la que no existe debate alguno. La hipótesis fantástica está intrínsecamente relacionada con el tema, La relación con el argumento está un poco más cogida con pinzas, pero entra dentro de lo coherente (para querer bombardear la sede de una editorial basta con estar en contra de su línea editorial, no es necesario que sea la única existente). El retrato de las consecuencias es evidente y queda claro que el origen se puede trazar al "cambio" planteado por el autor.
- Como novela negra: mal. El caso tiene muy poco interés, la investigación es apenas una excusa para mostrar distintos niveles de la sociedad y servir de excusa para que varios personajes puedan monologar durante la "interrogación" del comisario. No existen callejones sin salida, ni giros, la única dificultad para el comisario es el plazo que recibe arbitrariamente para finalizar la investigación. La tensión narrativa depende total y absolutamente de ese temporizador, todo lo que sucede alrededor es intrascendente. Y hasta las últimas 20 páginas del libro no pasa nada realmente consecuente.
- Como obra literaria: fatal, de verdad, fatal. Para empezar, el argumento no tiene relación con el tema y toda la carga temática se centra en las últimas páginas de la novela y en un personaje que acaba de aparecer. Además, el protagonista no tiene absolutamente ninguna relación con el tema más allá de su dolor en el "lado derecho del diafragma" (el hígado, vaya). Pero ninguna, eso de que el protagonista debe sufrir un conflicto y un cambio debe de ser para autores decentes. Por último, da la sensación de que el libro fue escrito en dos periodos claramente diferenciados, sin proceso de corrección relevante: en la primera parte del libro (algo más de la mitad) hay una ausencia total de referencias físicas y resulta casi imposible situar al protagonista; hay incluso una escena en la que el comisario está en su despacho y en el párrafo siguiente está a mitad de camino, ¿adónde? ¡sorpresa!. La segunda parte se caracteriza por la obsesión por especificar la hora que es en todo momento (como en el primer capítulo) y por prescindir de cualquier subterfugio para ocultar el alcoholismo del protagonista (es decir, olvidar que hasta entonces se había intentado disimular).
Con todo, podría haber dado dos estrellas al libro, pero la edición en español termina de hundir una obra de por sí regular:
- El uso de las palabras "estándar", "eventualmente" e "inusual" con el significado que tienen "standard", "eventually" e "inusual" en inglés me llevó a pensar que la novela estaba (mal) traducida del inglés en vez de del sueco. Al ver que el traductor es especialista en traducción directa del sueco me di cuenta de que lo que pasa es que no domina el español. De hecho, cuando vi que había traducido a Strindberg, fui a buscar mi edición de La señorita Julia para asegurarme de que no había sido mutilada por él.
- En una escena en la que el comisario va a entrevistar al director y entra a su despacho, es el editor el que hace algo, a pesar de que se le describe como al director y las referencias posteriores aclaran que se trata en efecto del director. Porque cuidar la continuidad es de débiles.
- Por suerte el estilo del autor es lacónico y prácticamente todas las oraciones son simples, porque los líos que se hace con la puntuación en cuanto hay oraciones compuestas es como para que se lo haga mirar.
December 27, 2017
Aunque aparezca solo como "novela policíaca" la realidad es que este compendio de las dos novelas del comisario Jensen de Per Wahlöö es una mezcla casi 50-50 de este género con la CF distópica, probablemente la clase de combinado que a mí más me satisface. Y es que algo que hemos defendido los fans de ambos géneros es que son perfectos escalpelos con los que diseccionar la sociedad en la que vivimos y hacia la que vamos.
Lo más interesante de ambas novelas es, sin duda, el escenario. Ambientada en un país sin nombre de reminiscencias claramente escandinavas, Wahlöö fabula con el ocaso de las famosas socialdemocracias nórdicas devenidas en una sociedad gobernada eternamente por el Consenso, una suerte de Gran Coalición permanente que hace que todo funcione bien y sin fisuras... si no fuera por los elevados índices del alcoholismo, el alto número de suicidios (oficialmente "muertes repentinas") y la baja natalidad. Una suerte de sociedad más parecida a la precrisis que a la de 2017 donde todo está bien hasta que uno se pone a mirar. En este escenario se mueve el comisario Jensen, un policía que no se cuestiona el sistema pero que, como muchos de sus homólogos de la novela negra europea, a veces se salta las órdenes para resolver el caso que trae entre manos.
En Asesinato en la Planta 31 tiene que ver con amenazas a la sede del Consorcio, un megaconglomerado editorial y de comunicación que edita todas las publicaciones que se venden como un proceso fabril más. Todas ellas son controladas y dirigidas a una vida plácida, feliz y sin sobresaltos. La investigación de Jensen en busca del remitente de unos anónimos amenazadores sirve para mostrarnos el reverso tenebroso de ese remanso de paz y tranquilidad que es la sociedad del Consenso. De alguna manera nos viene a decir que todo el Estado del Bienestar que hoy casi añoramos como un bucólico estado pastoril era un anéstesico destinado a llevarnos... bien, a esto más o menos. La investigación en sí es un McGuffin para que Wahlöö se despache a gusto contra la prensa en general y no deja de resultarme curioso que un periodista de El Mundo comparase el proyecto de Podemos con lo que se nos muestra en esta novela. Yo lo interpreto más como una crítica a El Mundo y en general la prensa actual. Sí coincido en que a Wahlöö Podemos le habría parecido criticable, pero por motivos bien distintos a los del citado artículo. Asesinato en la planta 31, sin ser perfecta, funciona como un reloj y mantiene un equilibrio entre todos los aspectos que la hace muy muy disfrutable.
El trampolín de acero intenta mantener el nivel, y durante buena parte de sus páginas lo consigue. En este caso tenemos una extraña epidemia que ha hecho cortar todas las comunicaciones del país sin que se sepa muy bien qué ha pasado. A Jensen, que andaba en el extranjero por baja médica, le encargan investigar lo sucedido. Uniendo pasajes casi de postapocalíptico o historia de zombis con lo negro, la novela fracasa al intentar explicarlo todo. Puede que me parezca manido, descabellado o simplemente que la crítica al estamento médico me parezca más traída por los pelos que la crítica a la prensa, pero el final es anticlimático y poco satisfactorio. Iba a decir que cliché, pero tampoco es que el de Asesinato en la planta 31 fuera muy sorpresivo. Tal vez ese regusto final lastre un poco el volumen completo, pero sería bastante injusto decir que no me lo he pasado muy bien mientras lo leía.
Por eso lo adjudico un 4. La primera lo sería, un 4,5 si me apuras, pero la segunda no la veo llegar al 3 y si hago la media decido tirar para arriba. Al menos por la primera historia, una lectura bastante interesante para los fans de la novela policíaca y de la CF más social como un servidor.
Lo más interesante de ambas novelas es, sin duda, el escenario. Ambientada en un país sin nombre de reminiscencias claramente escandinavas, Wahlöö fabula con el ocaso de las famosas socialdemocracias nórdicas devenidas en una sociedad gobernada eternamente por el Consenso, una suerte de Gran Coalición permanente que hace que todo funcione bien y sin fisuras... si no fuera por los elevados índices del alcoholismo, el alto número de suicidios (oficialmente "muertes repentinas") y la baja natalidad. Una suerte de sociedad más parecida a la precrisis que a la de 2017 donde todo está bien hasta que uno se pone a mirar. En este escenario se mueve el comisario Jensen, un policía que no se cuestiona el sistema pero que, como muchos de sus homólogos de la novela negra europea, a veces se salta las órdenes para resolver el caso que trae entre manos.
En Asesinato en la Planta 31 tiene que ver con amenazas a la sede del Consorcio, un megaconglomerado editorial y de comunicación que edita todas las publicaciones que se venden como un proceso fabril más. Todas ellas son controladas y dirigidas a una vida plácida, feliz y sin sobresaltos. La investigación de Jensen en busca del remitente de unos anónimos amenazadores sirve para mostrarnos el reverso tenebroso de ese remanso de paz y tranquilidad que es la sociedad del Consenso. De alguna manera nos viene a decir que todo el Estado del Bienestar que hoy casi añoramos como un bucólico estado pastoril era un anéstesico destinado a llevarnos... bien, a esto más o menos. La investigación en sí es un McGuffin para que Wahlöö se despache a gusto contra la prensa en general y no deja de resultarme curioso que un periodista de El Mundo comparase el proyecto de Podemos con lo que se nos muestra en esta novela. Yo lo interpreto más como una crítica a El Mundo y en general la prensa actual. Sí coincido en que a Wahlöö Podemos le habría parecido criticable, pero por motivos bien distintos a los del citado artículo. Asesinato en la planta 31, sin ser perfecta, funciona como un reloj y mantiene un equilibrio entre todos los aspectos que la hace muy muy disfrutable.
El trampolín de acero intenta mantener el nivel, y durante buena parte de sus páginas lo consigue. En este caso tenemos una extraña epidemia que ha hecho cortar todas las comunicaciones del país sin que se sepa muy bien qué ha pasado. A Jensen, que andaba en el extranjero por baja médica, le encargan investigar lo sucedido. Uniendo pasajes casi de postapocalíptico o historia de zombis con lo negro, la novela fracasa al intentar explicarlo todo. Puede que me parezca manido, descabellado o simplemente que la crítica al estamento médico me parezca más traída por los pelos que la crítica a la prensa, pero el final es anticlimático y poco satisfactorio. Iba a decir que cliché, pero tampoco es que el de Asesinato en la planta 31 fuera muy sorpresivo. Tal vez ese regusto final lastre un poco el volumen completo, pero sería bastante injusto decir que no me lo he pasado muy bien mientras lo leía.
Por eso lo adjudico un 4. La primera lo sería, un 4,5 si me apuras, pero la segunda no la veo llegar al 3 y si hago la media decido tirar para arriba. Al menos por la primera historia, una lectura bastante interesante para los fans de la novela policíaca y de la CF más social como un servidor.
December 13, 2016
Mit Genuss habe ich viele der Krimis , die er zusammen mit seiner Frau geschrieben hat, gelesen. Dieses war wohl sein Erstling. Der Klappentext verspricht "vielleicht sein wichtigstes Buch". Vielleicht .... die Begründung für diese Vermutung bleibt offen. Die Sprache wirkt hözern, die Charaktere sind seltsam. Eventuell hängt das damit zusammen, dass die deutsche Übersetzung auf der englischen Ausgabe beruht? Das Ganze ist aus der Zeit gefallen. Geschrieben 1964 in der Vergangenheistsform, spielt in einem nicht definierten sozialistischen Land in einer nach aussen rosigen Zeit (Zukunft?) kein Science-Fiction, aber sicher eine Sozial-Fiktion aus Schweden.
Seltsam.
Seltsam.
November 3, 2016
I thought that this book was relevant to today with a few exceptions. There would be no typewriters and there would be i-phones everywhere today. Inspector Jensen was aware that things were not normal at the building and wasn't fooled by the publishers finding a party to the letter themselves. He struggled with the problem for the remaining time allotted him to find the perpetrator. Per Wahlöö was a very intelligent chap to write this story back in 1964. The ending was worth reading the story.
December 18, 2018
Не знаю, откуда возникла идея, что это какой-то неплохой писатель. ОЧЕНЬ схематично, дидактично и, в целом, довольно неумно. Наверное, в 1970 для советского читателя это было что-то новое.
June 6, 2022
Brilliant, Kafkaesque dystopian novel smuggled in via the crime fiction rack. Deserves to be spoken of in the same breathe as We & This Perfect Day.
February 4, 2015
Per Wahlöö is one half of the Swedish mystery writing duo Sjöwall and Wahlöö, who - between 1965 and 1975 - wrote a great series of crime novels featuring inspector Martin Beck and detectives Lennart Kollberg, Gunvald Larsson, Einar Ronn, etc. The series contains some of the best police procedurals I have read in my life; I find "The Laughing Policeman" and "Roseanna" the most outstanding. In addition to highly realistic and captivating plots, the books present quite a critical view of the Swedish "welfare state" society.
Per Wahlöö's "Murder on the Thirty-First Floor" is not a part of the Martin Beck series. It is quite a unique crime novel: a dystopian police procedural. The action takes place in an unnamed country (Sweden could very well be the location) at some point in not a very distant future. The government is involved in a massive social engineering experiment: heavy censorship and restrictive social policies are used in the name of creating "social equality". The newspapers and magazines can print only positive news and stories, which make the readers feel good. The anti-alcohol policies are draconian; for example, the police can arrest people for getting drunk in their own homes.
The country has only one magazine publishing concern, a conglomerate that produces all 144 magazines available in the country. Chief Inspector Jensen is ordered by the Chief of Police to an emergency - the directors of the concern have received a letter with a bomb threat against their main building, which is the workplace for thousands of people. After supervising the evacuation, the Chief Inspector is given seven days to find the author of the threatening letter. The plot is quite straightforward, and I have not found it very interesting.
The most interesting parts are the Orwellian fragments like, for instance, "'True' reporting is not always the best! 'The truth' is a commodity which must be handled with utmost caution in modern journalism. You cannot be sure that everyone will tolerate it as well as you can." The higher a person is in the organizational hierarchy, the stupider he or she is. The publisher, who is at the very top of the concern, is a complete, utter idiot, the managing directors are all idiots, the lower-level directors are morons, etc. In addition, the secret of the thirty-first floor is plausible and compelling.
One thing I do not understand. Mr. Wahlöö as well as Ms. Sjöwall used to call themselves Marxists. Marxism (which I believe I know a bit as I grew up in its shadow) resulted in one of the most catastrophic social engineering experiments in human history. Yet the author criticizes a similar kind of social engineering to the one that Marxism led to. I do not get it.
Two and a half stars.
Per Wahlöö's "Murder on the Thirty-First Floor" is not a part of the Martin Beck series. It is quite a unique crime novel: a dystopian police procedural. The action takes place in an unnamed country (Sweden could very well be the location) at some point in not a very distant future. The government is involved in a massive social engineering experiment: heavy censorship and restrictive social policies are used in the name of creating "social equality". The newspapers and magazines can print only positive news and stories, which make the readers feel good. The anti-alcohol policies are draconian; for example, the police can arrest people for getting drunk in their own homes.
The country has only one magazine publishing concern, a conglomerate that produces all 144 magazines available in the country. Chief Inspector Jensen is ordered by the Chief of Police to an emergency - the directors of the concern have received a letter with a bomb threat against their main building, which is the workplace for thousands of people. After supervising the evacuation, the Chief Inspector is given seven days to find the author of the threatening letter. The plot is quite straightforward, and I have not found it very interesting.
The most interesting parts are the Orwellian fragments like, for instance, "'True' reporting is not always the best! 'The truth' is a commodity which must be handled with utmost caution in modern journalism. You cannot be sure that everyone will tolerate it as well as you can." The higher a person is in the organizational hierarchy, the stupider he or she is. The publisher, who is at the very top of the concern, is a complete, utter idiot, the managing directors are all idiots, the lower-level directors are morons, etc. In addition, the secret of the thirty-first floor is plausible and compelling.
One thing I do not understand. Mr. Wahlöö as well as Ms. Sjöwall used to call themselves Marxists. Marxism (which I believe I know a bit as I grew up in its shadow) resulted in one of the most catastrophic social engineering experiments in human history. Yet the author criticizes a similar kind of social engineering to the one that Marxism led to. I do not get it.
Two and a half stars.
May 27, 2010
Here is a police novel set in a near-future world where the police/welfare state is fully established.
A powerful combine, called The Concern, has bought up all the magazines and newspapers in this unnamed northern country. The people are fed a constant diet of bland, meaningless nonsense. Anything that could cause people to be concerned or upset is removed. Whether it is a children's comic book or a women's magazine, there are lots of bright colors everywhere. Sometimes, the same pictures of children or puppies are used in different publications. Everything is edited and printed in the same thirty-floor skyscraper.
The building receives an anonymous, mailed bomb threat, and those in charge don't know what to do. After worrying that the disruption will be too costly, the decision is made to stage a fire drill, and the building is evacuated. When no explosion happens, Inspector Jensen of the Sixteenth Division is given the task of finding out who sent the bomb threat. His boss, the Chief of Police, intentionally does not want to know what's going on. Jensen has one week in which to crack the case, and he cannot let anyone in the skyscraper know what he is doing. That might cause them to become nervous or fearful, something which is practically a criminal offense. His investigation leads to the nearly-mythical thirty-first floor of the building, which few have seen, home to the Special Department.
I can only give this a rating of Pretty Good. It has some really good utopian ideas in it, but I guess Swedish police novels (where this was first published) are a lot different than American police novels. It reads like a cross between 1984 and an episode of the police show Dragnet; Inspector Jensen is a person of very few words.
A powerful combine, called The Concern, has bought up all the magazines and newspapers in this unnamed northern country. The people are fed a constant diet of bland, meaningless nonsense. Anything that could cause people to be concerned or upset is removed. Whether it is a children's comic book or a women's magazine, there are lots of bright colors everywhere. Sometimes, the same pictures of children or puppies are used in different publications. Everything is edited and printed in the same thirty-floor skyscraper.
The building receives an anonymous, mailed bomb threat, and those in charge don't know what to do. After worrying that the disruption will be too costly, the decision is made to stage a fire drill, and the building is evacuated. When no explosion happens, Inspector Jensen of the Sixteenth Division is given the task of finding out who sent the bomb threat. His boss, the Chief of Police, intentionally does not want to know what's going on. Jensen has one week in which to crack the case, and he cannot let anyone in the skyscraper know what he is doing. That might cause them to become nervous or fearful, something which is practically a criminal offense. His investigation leads to the nearly-mythical thirty-first floor of the building, which few have seen, home to the Special Department.
I can only give this a rating of Pretty Good. It has some really good utopian ideas in it, but I guess Swedish police novels (where this was first published) are a lot different than American police novels. It reads like a cross between 1984 and an episode of the police show Dragnet; Inspector Jensen is a person of very few words.
January 30, 2015
This novel comes before THE STEEL SPRING which I reviewed recently. Again it is a dystopian novel. In the unnamed country crime rates are falling and so are birth rates, but the government has recently made it illegal to become inebriated not only in public but also at home. Every night the jails are filled with drunks, and the government makes a small fortune by fining the inebriates.
Publishing of all sorts has become a monopoly of the group that owns The Skyscraper, the 31 storey building that dominates the capital city's skyline. As a result the people are fed a bland diet of feel good material whatever their choice of reading. The Skyscraper employs over 4,000 people and these all have to be evacuated when the bomb threat arrives by post. Stopping the presses even for a short time is extremely expensive, and the managing director of the publishing group contacts the chief of police for advice and immediate action. Neither is pleased when Chief Inspector Jensen advises that they must evacuate the building as he can't guarantee safety of those inside. However there is no bomb.
Jensen is given seven days to find out who sent the threat. His life is complicated by the fact that the pain that eventually sends him out of the country for a transplant in THE STEEL SPRING is ever present, but he is a dogged investigator and eventually finds out the truth.
This is not your every day crime fiction novel and those who have no taste for political polemic or satire might like to steer clear of it.
Publishing of all sorts has become a monopoly of the group that owns The Skyscraper, the 31 storey building that dominates the capital city's skyline. As a result the people are fed a bland diet of feel good material whatever their choice of reading. The Skyscraper employs over 4,000 people and these all have to be evacuated when the bomb threat arrives by post. Stopping the presses even for a short time is extremely expensive, and the managing director of the publishing group contacts the chief of police for advice and immediate action. Neither is pleased when Chief Inspector Jensen advises that they must evacuate the building as he can't guarantee safety of those inside. However there is no bomb.
Jensen is given seven days to find out who sent the threat. His life is complicated by the fact that the pain that eventually sends him out of the country for a transplant in THE STEEL SPRING is ever present, but he is a dogged investigator and eventually finds out the truth.
This is not your every day crime fiction novel and those who have no taste for political polemic or satire might like to steer clear of it.
March 16, 2021
2.5
Ich habe dieses Buch mit etwa 12 gelesen (in der rororo-Thriller-Ausgabe, die bizarrerweise nach der englischen und nicht der schwedischen übersetzt wurde), und ich fand es damals elegant, aufregend, düster und faszinierend, für mich ein Schlüsselwerk über die geheimnisvolle Welt der Erwachsenen. Heute wundere ich mich über die Misogynie, die vielen Ungeschicklichkeiten (Verdächtige verplappern sich in Kapitel 1 oder 2, aber Kommissar Jensen merkt es nicht), die schwerfällige und einfallslose Dystopie des schwedischen Sozialstaats in naher Zukunft und über die seltsam weltfremde Vorstellung, die Wahlöö vom journalistischen Alltag in Zeitschriftenredaktionen hat. Immer noch interessant: Die Figur des Kommissars, der nur handelt und nicht reflektiert, und ein gewisser Sinn für Interieurs und Orte, wenn auch leider nicht für die Hauntology eines Siebziger-Jahre-Hochhauses. Die Idee mit dem versteckten Stockwerk werde ich zitieren, insofern bin ich dem Buch sehr verpflichtet.
Ich habe dieses Buch mit etwa 12 gelesen (in der rororo-Thriller-Ausgabe, die bizarrerweise nach der englischen und nicht der schwedischen übersetzt wurde), und ich fand es damals elegant, aufregend, düster und faszinierend, für mich ein Schlüsselwerk über die geheimnisvolle Welt der Erwachsenen. Heute wundere ich mich über die Misogynie, die vielen Ungeschicklichkeiten (Verdächtige verplappern sich in Kapitel 1 oder 2, aber Kommissar Jensen merkt es nicht), die schwerfällige und einfallslose Dystopie des schwedischen Sozialstaats in naher Zukunft und über die seltsam weltfremde Vorstellung, die Wahlöö vom journalistischen Alltag in Zeitschriftenredaktionen hat. Immer noch interessant: Die Figur des Kommissars, der nur handelt und nicht reflektiert, und ein gewisser Sinn für Interieurs und Orte, wenn auch leider nicht für die Hauntology eines Siebziger-Jahre-Hochhauses. Die Idee mit dem versteckten Stockwerk werde ich zitieren, insofern bin ich dem Buch sehr verpflichtet.
March 2, 2016
To be honest I was expecting a lot more from this novel. The protagonist is given only a few days to investigate a serious crime against a newspaper/magazine agency.The reasoning behind the deadline was a bit out of the blue however, and I personally think it didn't help the story. The detective was weird and had a very unusual way of tracking down the criminal. A few hours before the deadline, he still had not questioned all the suspects, neither did he have their names. So the climax was just there, and I really did not care what would happen in the end, since I had a feeling that the author also doesn't care.
April 2, 2016
Un'atmosfera che sembra presa di peso da 1984 permea questo romanzo ambientato in una non meglio identificata e assolutamente distopica nazione nordica, dove, con metodi degni di Huxley, la popolazione è stata ridotta a uno stato di bovina acquiescenza, in nome di una non meglio identificata "concordia sociale".
Una lettera anonima mette in moto delle indagini, il cui esito non riuscirà a scuotere il commissario che le porta avanti, vera rotella non pensante dello status quo, nonostante mostri un minimo grado di ostinazione.
Aggiacciante e gelido.
Una lettera anonima mette in moto delle indagini, il cui esito non riuscirà a scuotere il commissario che le porta avanti, vera rotella non pensante dello status quo, nonostante mostri un minimo grado di ostinazione.
Aggiacciante e gelido.
March 1, 2020
I knew nothing about this book before I began to read it, but as I went along, I gradually began to understand it was truly science fiction and there was perhaps no murder, anywhere, not even on the 31st floor. In fact it is social commentary about a moribund society and a fascinating lead-up to reading the Martin Beck mysteries by the co-authors Per Wahlӧӧ and his wife Maj Sjӧwall--who have no problem espousing their social criticism views--while plotting intricate, relevant, and satisfying mysteries.
March 29, 2022
Now this was something unique. And, despite the horrible cover art, absolutely brilliant. A detective novel set in the near future, it transcends absolutely the genre limitations of mystery and science fiction, with an atmosphere all of its own and characters more inscrutable than any others that come to mind at the moment. In fact, it's nearly impossible to describe WHY and HOW this novel is so unique. It must be experienced firsthand. And I'm dying to read more by this short-lived Swedish author.
May 18, 2015
Extraordinary well written! Really feels that you are living in a brave new world, but grey, cold, with people under a rose-like ideological dictatorship. I was rather surprised by the development of the story and not very sure that I wanted to continue reading it. There was no crime committed, no blood, no forensics, no sex motivations, and a detective likewise grey and uncommunicative as the other characters, in spite of that, I read it in no time. Really extraordinary.
September 17, 2016
A weird story with a bizarre plot. The ending to me made no sense or Floor 31. Why blow up an entire building to get rid of a couple of dozen liberal writers? Jensen was a stoic without imagination and a rule follower. I empathise with his stomach ulcer!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 18, 2013
Scritto nel 1964. Si puó dire che la realtá ha superato la fantasia, o meglio la profezia di Per Wahloo.
Purtroppo per noi.
Purtroppo per noi.
September 3, 2020
at start, this seemed to me a Nordic noir detective story but is actually a dystopian novel set in some unnamed, timeless future. since the novel is 40 years old, that future is now.
November 30, 2023
This is one of the most interesting, marvelously droll and strangely timely crime novels I’ve read in months. Wahlöö usually wrote with his partner, Maj Sjöwall and this stand-alone is dedicated to her. It certainly is stylish in the extreme and fascinatingly like 1984. Inspector Jensen has 24 hours to solve the mystery of who wrote a threatening letter that has been received at The Skyscraper, the anonymous town’s largest and fanciest office building. It houses the entirety of the anonymous country’s print media and is thirty-one stories high. The top story is the mysterious Special Department and, in the command to evacuate the building, the 31st floor is the only one not to leave. Jensen is obviously a good cop but he is physically flawed by a mysterious pain in his diaphragm that causes him to restrict his diet. The dialogue is crisp and efficient. When Jensen starts interviewing suspects, he uses exactly the same language every time. His views of others are similarly terse: “Her legs were shapely and her waist slim. Her clothes displayed no taste.” Jensen uses no extra words and little or no explanation when he says “no”. As the novel develops, we learn more about the society in which it operates. After a singular event in the country’s history called “The Accord,” life changed for everyone. The goal of news media was to make everyone happy; no criticism or complaints could be voiced and the pleasure of everyone was to be considered as paramount. News media---there were over a hundred papers and forty magazines in the Skyscraper—were highly censored to make sure they were on the happiness spectrum. Censorship was directed by “moral responsibility” as well as specific content. The locations of dumping sites for the trash of the upper, ruling class, were strictly held secret, available only to the police and other members of the Ruling Class. Meals at most restaurants were identical with one another, fast food served only specific foods packaged to guarantee a balanced meal.
Whether at a restaurant or a kiosk, the menus were the same: “The menus were devised in a special division of the Ministry for Public Health. The food was prepared centrally by a large food industry syndicate, and the same dishes were served at all the snack bars and restaurants. He stood in front of the electronic menu for so long that the queue grew restive behind him…He sat and looked at his lunch: milk, carrot, juice, mince, some soggy white cabbage and two boiled potatoes cooked to a mush.”
The more Wahlöö adds detail to the life of the country, the stranger it seems. An atmosphere of secrecy and darkness pervades the novel and the character of Jensen as he pursues suspects and the clock ticks. The suspense builds slowly and inevitably to a very logical conclusion but the atmosphere of the story line is perhaps as important as the events portrayed. The whole small (215 pp) book remains with you far more intensely than most novels three times its size. The nature of the “Special Department” is almost separate from the fate of the Skyscraper. Just a wonderfully complex, yet direct novel by a real master of crime writing.
Whether at a restaurant or a kiosk, the menus were the same: “The menus were devised in a special division of the Ministry for Public Health. The food was prepared centrally by a large food industry syndicate, and the same dishes were served at all the snack bars and restaurants. He stood in front of the electronic menu for so long that the queue grew restive behind him…He sat and looked at his lunch: milk, carrot, juice, mince, some soggy white cabbage and two boiled potatoes cooked to a mush.”
The more Wahlöö adds detail to the life of the country, the stranger it seems. An atmosphere of secrecy and darkness pervades the novel and the character of Jensen as he pursues suspects and the clock ticks. The suspense builds slowly and inevitably to a very logical conclusion but the atmosphere of the story line is perhaps as important as the events portrayed. The whole small (215 pp) book remains with you far more intensely than most novels three times its size. The nature of the “Special Department” is almost separate from the fate of the Skyscraper. Just a wonderfully complex, yet direct novel by a real master of crime writing.
May 4, 2018
Some hints of Martin Beck to come, but this is rather different: a disturbing dystopia (with a very odd detective), a vision of either a future or a parallel universe in which the author is making some political points from his Marxist perspective, but the actual functioning of the society seems more a combination of neoliberalism and old-fashioned authoritarianism (the sinister publishing company has bought up all the opposition and only a monopoly is now possible, which is what tends to happen eventually in the "free" market, but there is a strangely proactive attitude to controlling the consumption of alcohol in the home which is more reminiscent of early 20th century Scandinavia). The detective is abrupt to the point of rudeness (and hypocritical too regarding alcohol), and he consigns people to the hands of torturers in order to extract confessions without a second thought, so you are presumably not meant to warm to him. The idea that people can be distracted by triviality away from considering serious social issues is surely indisputable (one of the purposes of the publishing company). I *loved* the fact that a paternoster lift was used to get rid of someone! and was mystified by the significance of the badger incident. The ending is pretty chilling. Interesting.
January 10, 2021
I was going to rate this higher as insightful political satire – somehow I presumed it was written in the 30s or something. But when I found it was actually published in 1964, the Orwellian resonances of state control, and the Huxleyan ones of a populace kept docile by bland media distractions, felt very derivative, and less effectively portrayed than either of the originals. And what is it with Swedes and detached, obsessively detailed narration?
It was novel to have the crime framework, although the central detective gives us nothing much to enjoy. He’s not particularly likeable, treats his subordinates rudely, has no Sherlock tricks or Marlowe wit. His method seems to be to find anyone related to the case, and then to listen as they talk at length – sometimes without much explanation: it’s not that they’re necessarily garrulous, or that there’s anything in it for them to pour out their heart (quite the opposite with the awareness of police having the power to take you away on very little provocation).
It was different and diverting for its short length, but I grabbed it because I’d had ‘The Laughing Policeman’ recommended to me, but this was the only book of his in the library. I think I’ll narrow my search to the Martin Beck stories.
It was novel to have the crime framework, although the central detective gives us nothing much to enjoy. He’s not particularly likeable, treats his subordinates rudely, has no Sherlock tricks or Marlowe wit. His method seems to be to find anyone related to the case, and then to listen as they talk at length – sometimes without much explanation: it’s not that they’re necessarily garrulous, or that there’s anything in it for them to pour out their heart (quite the opposite with the awareness of police having the power to take you away on very little provocation).
It was different and diverting for its short length, but I grabbed it because I’d had ‘The Laughing Policeman’ recommended to me, but this was the only book of his in the library. I think I’ll narrow my search to the Martin Beck stories.
March 23, 2021
This was the first Per Wahloo book I read...it followed The Assignment, also pub'd by Knopf. I loved it. It is hard to believe it is from 1967...it seems so very up to date. Very visual, and would be a wonderful movie for, say, Netflix. This is the second time I've read the book, and am glad I did, because over the years I have seen so many European police procedural series on the screen and so I felt at home with this one.
The writing style is unusual, I think...with a mixture of paragraphs of several sentences, followed by one sentence "paragraphs" which tend to add to the speed of action and the tension.
The main character is Chief Inspector Jensen, and I believe Wahloo went on to write many more with that police man.
I'm a pushover for police procedurals, and for European mysteries.
~ Linda Campbell Franklin
The writing style is unusual, I think...with a mixture of paragraphs of several sentences, followed by one sentence "paragraphs" which tend to add to the speed of action and the tension.
The main character is Chief Inspector Jensen, and I believe Wahloo went on to write many more with that police man.
I'm a pushover for police procedurals, and for European mysteries.
~ Linda Campbell Franklin
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