The saga of Lisbeth Salander continues in the second volume of the Millennium Trilogy, The Girl Who Played With Fire. Once again, I enlisted the services of Audible and listened to the 20+ hours of the unabridged audio book before watching the Swedish version of the cinematic sequel to The Girl With the Dragon Tatoo.

If you frequently listen to audio books, you no doubt appreciate how critical the narrator can be to your experience. Reference Jim Dale, the actor who so brilliantly narrated the Peter and the Starcatchers series for Ridley Pearson and Dave Barry.  This guy was amazing.  He had (for me) as much to do with my enjoyment of these books (all 4 of them) as did the authors.

The same could be said for Simon Vance, narrator of The Girl Who Played with Fire.  I strongly urge you to listen to these novels, even if you prefer a quiet sitting with the written word.  His ability to capture the essence of each character and seamlessly weave back and forth across gender, education, age, dialect, and even speech impediment is truly entertaining.

And then there’s the book itself.  I have NO idea why I’ve been sucked into this series like I have.  Aside from my comments regarding the first book, I honestly have no real investment in the subject matter, the author, or the works themselves.  At least, I didn’t when I began.  But now, I’m hooked.  I will be with this neurotic, misanthropic heroine until the bitter end of book three, which sadly is the end given the author’s untimely demise.

So what is it about this character, Lisbeth Salandar, that I find so intriguing? Good question.  To tell you the truth, I’m still not sure.  She’s tenacious. She has a photographic memory, and she’s a brilliant computer hacker.  I like all that.  I once took a strengths assessment that labelled me a “maximizer,” which basically means I look for and am attracted to the strengths in others.  Maybe that’s why I like this girl.

On the flip side, she’s rude, self-serving, dresses like a vampire, and is completely anti-social. She shuns those who love her, lives strictly within her own rules of social justice, and administers this justice without regard to law or any one else’s opinion.  This justice is also often very violent.

But if you believe that we are not accountable for our faults when they’re the result of some injustice committed against us, then she is as blameless as anyone.  She has been betrayed, abused, violated, abandoned, deceived, forgotten, dismissed, and insulted.  And this was all before the age of 13.  It gets worse from there.

So perhaps I’m rooting for the underdog.  Perhaps I’m waiting for this misfit of society to turn her circumstances around and live a “normal” life, whatever that means for her.  Or perhaps I’m hoping that she will prove for me that there is justice in an unjust world, even if that world is fictional.

Either way, you go, Lisbeth!  Just do whatever it is you’re gonna do, ’cause after a third 20+ hour novel, I should probably return to reality and actually do stuff.

I doubt anyone has ever done this, but I’m pretty sure you could draw a line from geek to nerd to freak as a continuum of increasing intelligence and decreasing social aptitude. Me? I’m good with people.

And so it is my interest in – not my understanding of – most things tech that keeps me in the geek column. This is why I listened when Leo Laporte of This Week in Tech recommended the Millennium Trilogy by Steig Larsson as a great read for geeks who like a good story. He also bragged on the incredible narration of Simon Vance in the audiobook release. Well, twist my arm.

So when my monthly Audible credit rolled around, I dove into the world of the Swedish underground with book one, The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. At the same time, I discovered the Swedish film adaptation available on Netflix for instant viewing. Normally I would read the book first, then catch the movie. In this case, I’m glad I broke protocol.

The movie was excellent. The casting was spot on in my opinion having now completed the novel. The story was followed with fidelity on everything critical to the plot. There were a few variations, but that kept it interesting for me.

The plot and sub plots get a little complicated only because they take a long time to develop as one story. The movie condenses this of course. So having seen the movie helped me keep it all straight. (Remember, I’m good with people.)

Story aside, the book was interesting for a number of reasons. I’m one of those dumb Americans who thinks the whole world is just like me. So it was intriguing to watch the Swedish (perhaps simply European) way of life become a character. Dialogue (even post-translation) as well as attitudes about social structure, sex, and professional ethics, all had a distinctly different flavor than a book by Patterson, Turrow, or Clancey.

Also interesting to me was the picture of Stockholm with this seedy underbelly of corruption and crime. Not once did anyone yodel from a mountaintop. No one even yelled “ricola!”

But I can see why these novels are so popular. I’m interested to see what happens to the American film adaptation, rumored for a 2012 release. Early indications peg Natalie Portman for the lead, with the typical leading guys on the short list too (Pitt, Clooney, yada, yada).

Next up for me is The Girl Who Played With Fire. Can’t wait.

NB: These books center on characters with pretty liberal morals. Scenes are graphic and situations can be uncomfortable. Just saying, don’t buy it for your 12 year old daughter.

Below is one of my more recent short stories. Before you read it, please allow me this brief prologue:

To my friends who may find this story less than tasteful, my apologies.
To my friend upon who’s experience this story is loosely based, you are my hero.
To other readers (all 6 of you), I hope this story reminds you (as it did me) of the following . . .

We are who we are. And that is that. So loosen up, learn to laugh, and live a little.

Wait Till You Hear This

I was in pain. This I remember well. I also remember the cold vinyl of the chair and the peculiar smell that always seemed to accompany such places. I opened the only periodical left on a nearby table, an out-dated issue of “Gastroenterology Digest.” Desperate to occupy my mind, I searched the magazine with the truly tragic title for anything of interest. Unfortunately, the publication’s personality ended just beyond the cover, and so I turned my attention to the other patrons along the walls.

Many of the patients were elderly, a fact I had anticipated. Yet at 40, I was learning that my condition was far less exceptional for men my age than I might have imagined. Far less exceptional perhaps, but no less embarrassing.

I am a discreet individual. Matters of this nature have always been treated in my family with certain furtiveness. Bodies being what they are, some things can’t be helped. However even the most unmentionable of bodily functions should be treated with dignity, if for no other reason than out of respect for those around you. My condition, however, had grown so problematic as to prevent this kind of discretion and thus had begun to hinder not only my physical, but also my social well-being.

My wait was growing more painful by the second, and I was never more relieved (a poor choice of words, I admit) when a nurse called my name. With no small amount of effort, I inched my way toward the door praying for an uneventful journey. I considered it a personal triumph to have made it past the nurse. I considered it a true miracle to have made it to the privacy of the small examining room.

Once secluded, I could stand it no longer. Almost immediately upon the nurse’s departure and the subsequent closing of the door, I relaxed my body and allowed my condition to fill the silent room. The physical relief was second only to the knowledge that I was saved from the embarrassment of an audience.

“Good one,” a voice boomed from behind. I whipped around to discover a doctor emerging from a previously concealed supply closet. I was instantly horrified, a fact which my face apparently made no secret.

“Oh, relax,” the doctor said. “You think you’re the only man to ever have gas?”

His manner was disconcertingly familiar. I would not have thought a topic as sensitive as this would have been treated with such informality, especially by a physician. This man, however, was unlike any physician I had ever patronized.

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So you’ve just read that book. You know, that book that totally grabbed you and kept you up all night to finish “just one more page.” It’s the book that made you want to be a lawyer or fall in love all over again or be Jewish. Well, maybe you didn’t read that last one. But it was good.

So then what? You want to talk about it, right? Find someone somewhere who can say, “Oooo, Oooo. What about chapter three? Wasn’t that awesome?” Or even “Could you believe that trash? I mean who writes this stuff?”

If you’re like me, it’s hard to find people with whom to share these conversations. But thanks to shelfari.com, my search is over. I now have a catalog of many recent books on my reading list. Some complete, some in process, and some I honestly will probably never get to.

But I can see comments from others about these books. Others can make comments about my books. Others can make comments about others. (This is of course discouraged).

So check it out. And if you’re into 2nd Grade level Cam Jansen chapter books, I’ll meet you in the chat room.