The tales of Lisbeth Salander, the 23 year old hacker girl, with the dark past and temperament, has been on a role for nearly a decade now. And heck, if you can snag Daniel Craig for the U.S. film, you're rolling in the big time, sweetie.
Part of the allure of this pop culture cottage industry - three books, with a fourth on the way, films in both Swedish and English, TV miniseries and graphic novels - generally now known as The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series (or, in some circles, the Millennium trilogy) is the strange tale of the originating creator: Stieg Larsson.
The story of Larsson is full of irony. Never was one's story so ripe with the conditional clause: just before. It was indeed just before he became a bestselling novelist that Larsson was a notorious crusader against the menacing forces of Fascism and plutocracy in Swedish society. Or, at least, so it was that he perceived his foes. And, in like manner, just before he became a bestselling author, generating a considerable personal fortune, he died. (You see, you're never appreciated while you're alive.)
For me, this raises at least two pertinent questions. First, had Larsson lived to enjoy his success, would he have remained quite as paranoid about wealth as an indicator of corruption and dissipation? And, second, could the two facts from the prior paragraph be related in some way?
On this latter question, there has been some considerable speculation. Larsson seems earlyish in life to have embraced Communism and that creed has always had something of the conspiratorial about it. So it isn't surprising that much of the 80s and 90s for him were dedicated to uncovering the cabal of right wing plotters and crypto-Aryans.
The institutional legacy of all this was Larsson's establishment of a foundation and magazine, which he eventually edited, named Expo. These were pledged to exposing Swedish society's dark forces, its blackguards and villains. Now, don't mistake my tone here; it's not a matter of doubting the existence of such plotters and fantasists. It's just that fantasists are exactly what I think they are. They, no less than their arch enemies, like Larsson, exaggerate their relevance and influence all out of proportion to reality so as to make themselves and their titanic struggle seem of epic consequence. (I feel confident in saying that when barbarism next descends upon Western civilization, it won't be wearing jackboots and swastikas.)
So, to be clear, no, Larsson's "heart attack" on the "anniversary" of Kristallnacht is not the least bit suspicious or peculiar to me. And it's certainly not evidence of anything. Don't you see, if the vile plotters had held off this insidious assassination until 2008, well then, that would have been something else entirely? I mean, 70 years exactly to the day! Because, 70 years has some great relevance, right? Look, this is just the kind of silly way that conspiracy theorists think. I don't take any of it seriously; you'll have to judge for yourself.
Despite my disregard for conspiracy theory, though, strictly from the vantage point of entertainment marketing, Larsson's obsession with extreme right plotters enabled his literary legacy to cash-in big time, providing the sinister milieu for his bestselling and cinematically adapted books. Weirdly, this political paranoia seems to have at least as much currency in America.
It is the conspiracies and debauchery of these right wing Satanist that are exposed by the exploits of super-girl Lisbeth Salander - with the photographic memory, chess-like strategic mind, mathematical skills to make Fermat weep, and the ability to hack into the computers of banks and police departments more or less at will - alongside her journalist sidekick, Mikael Blomkvist. Indeed, in one of the sequels, it appears that maybe coming back from the dead may be added to her list of super hero qualities.
Yes, certainly, this is all somewhat far-fetched. Yet, regardless of the stretches of suspended disbelief (or plausible deniability) Larsson may require for his super girl, the protagonists and their virtuous mission certainly do provide an entertaining read (or viewing experience). And, no doubt about it, when it comes to success, there's none like market success.
Perhaps there's a lesson in this (perhaps even one from which Larsson might have benefited): even a paranoid old commie can tickle the zeitgeist and crack open the jackpot. Though it may be wise for the rest of us to not ponder too carefully what the popularity of such paranoia says about us.
Part of the allure of this pop culture cottage industry - three books, with a fourth on the way, films in both Swedish and English, TV miniseries and graphic novels - generally now known as The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series (or, in some circles, the Millennium trilogy) is the strange tale of the originating creator: Stieg Larsson.
The story of Larsson is full of irony. Never was one's story so ripe with the conditional clause: just before. It was indeed just before he became a bestselling novelist that Larsson was a notorious crusader against the menacing forces of Fascism and plutocracy in Swedish society. Or, at least, so it was that he perceived his foes. And, in like manner, just before he became a bestselling author, generating a considerable personal fortune, he died. (You see, you're never appreciated while you're alive.)
For me, this raises at least two pertinent questions. First, had Larsson lived to enjoy his success, would he have remained quite as paranoid about wealth as an indicator of corruption and dissipation? And, second, could the two facts from the prior paragraph be related in some way?
On this latter question, there has been some considerable speculation. Larsson seems earlyish in life to have embraced Communism and that creed has always had something of the conspiratorial about it. So it isn't surprising that much of the 80s and 90s for him were dedicated to uncovering the cabal of right wing plotters and crypto-Aryans.
The institutional legacy of all this was Larsson's establishment of a foundation and magazine, which he eventually edited, named Expo. These were pledged to exposing Swedish society's dark forces, its blackguards and villains. Now, don't mistake my tone here; it's not a matter of doubting the existence of such plotters and fantasists. It's just that fantasists are exactly what I think they are. They, no less than their arch enemies, like Larsson, exaggerate their relevance and influence all out of proportion to reality so as to make themselves and their titanic struggle seem of epic consequence. (I feel confident in saying that when barbarism next descends upon Western civilization, it won't be wearing jackboots and swastikas.)
So, to be clear, no, Larsson's "heart attack" on the "anniversary" of Kristallnacht is not the least bit suspicious or peculiar to me. And it's certainly not evidence of anything. Don't you see, if the vile plotters had held off this insidious assassination until 2008, well then, that would have been something else entirely? I mean, 70 years exactly to the day! Because, 70 years has some great relevance, right? Look, this is just the kind of silly way that conspiracy theorists think. I don't take any of it seriously; you'll have to judge for yourself.
Despite my disregard for conspiracy theory, though, strictly from the vantage point of entertainment marketing, Larsson's obsession with extreme right plotters enabled his literary legacy to cash-in big time, providing the sinister milieu for his bestselling and cinematically adapted books. Weirdly, this political paranoia seems to have at least as much currency in America.
It is the conspiracies and debauchery of these right wing Satanist that are exposed by the exploits of super-girl Lisbeth Salander - with the photographic memory, chess-like strategic mind, mathematical skills to make Fermat weep, and the ability to hack into the computers of banks and police departments more or less at will - alongside her journalist sidekick, Mikael Blomkvist. Indeed, in one of the sequels, it appears that maybe coming back from the dead may be added to her list of super hero qualities.
Yes, certainly, this is all somewhat far-fetched. Yet, regardless of the stretches of suspended disbelief (or plausible deniability) Larsson may require for his super girl, the protagonists and their virtuous mission certainly do provide an entertaining read (or viewing experience). And, no doubt about it, when it comes to success, there's none like market success.
Perhaps there's a lesson in this (perhaps even one from which Larsson might have benefited): even a paranoid old commie can tickle the zeitgeist and crack open the jackpot. Though it may be wise for the rest of us to not ponder too carefully what the popularity of such paranoia says about us.
About the Author:
To follow developments in the Stieg Larsson posthumous franchise, you need to follow Mickey Jhonny's writing on the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo blog. Mickey's latest writing includes a provocative review of the Michael Apted's amazing 7 Up documentary series for Best Documentaries on Netflix -- you don't want to miss it!
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