offenders, while letting most of the offensive material slide.’
Larsson had saved his most telling salvoes till the end of his address, noting that the radical Right had become a significant political movement, whereas many years ago it had been a small fringe, netting at best a handful of votes in elections. It was to become an even more telling observation after the author’s death. Recently, a crime-fiction-writing team, comprising a journalist and criminologist and a reformed criminal, has enjoyed massive success in Sweden. The duo goes simply by their two surnames: Roslund and Hellström. I spoke to Anders Roslund, an articulate, award-winning journalist, about Larsson’s comment a few days after the Swedish far Right’s electoral success in 2010, asking when Sweden became the broken society that Stieg Larsson depicts. ‘Last week at the elections,’ he replied dryly. Roslund and Hellström are among the heirs apparent to Larsson. Their novel Three Seconds (translated into English by Kari Dickson) is a book that invites comparison with The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo : there is the same obsessive piling on of detail, the same endemic corruption of the authorities (police force, Ministry of Justice), and there’s even Larsson’s tactic of the slow, challenging introductory chapters that suddenly shift into higher gear.
Larsson’s comments also included this observation: ‘Today the same groups have moved out of the basement hideouts they could be found in during the 1960s and 1970s. In some countries they are polling 10% to 15% of the vote. In other words, we have a shift of the political winds in which sentiments which were almost taboo 30 years ago are again becoming a real political option. The internet has become one of the most important tools in the revival of race-hate politics. This is the challenge offered to democracy by racism.’
His conclusion was a rational but perhaps over-hopeful one, given the straitened budgets of most governments, along with the rise of confrontational religious extremism, since his death: ‘We cannot wish that they will go away. We cannot legislate the problem away. We can only defeat them in a process where democratic society will rise to this challenge. And to do that we need more research, more knowledge, more funding, more democratic groups responding to these movements.’
CHAPTER 2
THE RELATIVES
S tieg Larsson’s father and brother, Erland and Joakim, are very different: on the occasions when I spoke to them, I found two very distinct personalities. While Erland gives the impression of being slightly less worldly than either of his sons, he has clearly learnt how to deal with the astonishing media sensation that Stieg’s life became after his death. But, controversially, Erland is, perhaps to his credit, not the kind of personality to play the sort of role that might be expected of him, that’s to say, a sober-voiced, judicious custodian of the flame. What is crystal clear is his immense pride, uncomplicatedly expressed, in his late son’s achievement, not to mention a continuing surprise at just how jaw-droppingly global the success has become. Erland has learned to enjoy that acclaim, but he remains intrigued to hear people discuss Stieg’s individual achievements as a writer, as if some of the praise is new to him and being heard for the first time. This is no pose – while artistically talented, Erland is not an intellectual in the sense that his late son was. The father’s artistic skills lie in the visual realm; he is a strikingly talented artist, a skill that he has maintained over the years and he has made a particularly charming and understated drawing of his own late son. He is also, as we shall see, a man who has vigorously divided opinion in the posthumous battle over his son’s legacy.
In London, a month before the UK release of Stieg Larsson’s second novel, The Girl Who Played with Fire , Erland Larsson spoke about the author’s