Carina Burman’s latest novel, a literary and erudite detective story set in the 1950s, unfolds on a tourist bus traversing Europe. The narrative, rich with period detail and intricate plotting, promises an engaging journey for the reader. However, the novel’s deliberate pastiche of a bygone era, while initially charming, presents potential pitfalls, as noted by DN’s Jesper Högström. While skillful mimicry can evoke a nostalgic atmosphere, an overreliance on it risks overshadowing the story itself.
The novel’s setting, a confined and mobile space amidst the backdrop of post-war Europe, offers a unique stage for interpersonal drama and hidden motives to simmer. The cast of characters, brought together by the shared experience of the tour, represent a cross-section of society, each with their own secrets and backstories that gradually unravel as the plot progresses. This closed environment intensifies the suspense as suspicion shifts from one passenger to another, mirroring the physical journey across borders with a parallel psychological exploration of hidden depths and concealed agendas.
Burman’s meticulous recreation of the 1950s extends beyond mere set pieces and costumes. The language, social conventions, and anxieties of the era permeate the narrative, creating a vivid sense of immersion. This attention to detail, a hallmark of her writing, serves to transport the reader back in time, allowing them to experience the world through the lens of the characters. The narrative deliberately echoes the literary styles and sensibilities of the period, which, while adding to the atmosphere, also underscores the inherent challenge of balancing pastiche with originality.
However, the review hints at a potential overreliance on this stylistic imitation. While the meticulous recreation of the 1950s milieu undoubtedly contributes to the novel’s atmosphere, the risk arises when the pastiche becomes the dominant element, potentially overshadowing the narrative itself. The intricate plot, the character development, and the underlying themes may become secondary to the performance of the era. This can create a distance between the reader and the story, as attention is drawn more to the surface details than the deeper emotional and intellectual currents. The success of such a stylistic approach depends on the author’s ability to seamlessly integrate the historical context with a compelling narrative that resonates with contemporary readers.
Högström’s critique touches upon a crucial aspect of historical fiction: the balance between authenticity and engagement. While meticulous historical accuracy is commendable, it should serve to enhance the story, not eclipse it. The challenge lies in creating a narrative that is both faithful to its historical setting and capable of captivating a modern audience. A successful historical novel transcends mere imitation; it uses the past as a lens to explore timeless human themes and emotions. While Burman’s novel evidently excels in capturing the nuances of the 1950s, the question remains whether it successfully harnesses this historical backdrop to tell a truly compelling story, or whether the focus on stylistic emulation ultimately detracts from the narrative’s impact.
The ultimate success of Burman’s novel will depend on whether it manages to navigate this delicate balance. Will the reader be swept away by the intricacies of the plot and the development of the characters, or will they remain distanced observers, admiring the meticulous craftsmanship of the historical recreation while remaining emotionally uninvolved? The pastiche, while undeniably skillful, carries the inherent risk of prioritizing style over substance. The reader must decide whether the evocative portrayal of the 1950s complements or overwhelms the narrative, determining whether the novel resonates as a truly engaging story or a meticulously crafted but ultimately hollow exercise in stylistic imitation.
