Lisbeth Salander's story, about a 23 year old hacker chic, haunted by a nasty past, in its various renditions, has had electric success for about a decade now. Hey, if you can land Daniel Craig for the U.S. film, you know you're on the money train.
This has become a true pop culture cottage industry - with three books (a fourth on the way), films in both Swedish and English, a TV miniseries and graphic novels. The allure of this cottage industry, generally recognized as The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series (or, in some circles, the Millennium trilogy), is not only in the quirky protagonist. The perhaps even stranger tale of the originating creator, Stieg Larsson, has something to do with the series' popularity.
Larsson's story is a tale pregnant with the ironies of, just before. Just before he became a successful novelist, he was a notorious crusader against what he identified as the dark sources of Fascism and plutocracy in Swedish society. And, just before his novelist success produced a rather large personal fortune, he died.
This poses two questions to the inquiring mind. First, if he had lived, would he have remained quite as suspicious of wealth as a marker of evil? And, second, might the prior two facts be related?
On the second question, popular speculation has rather run rampant. Young in life Larsson signed on as a true follower of the Communist cause. And Communism has a long history of the conspiratorial temperament: both in its machinations and worldview. It hardly ought to be surprising then that much of the 80s and 90s saw Larsson embroiled in unveiling the alleged skullduggery of neo-fascists, plutocrats and assorted crypto-Aryans.
He eventually created a foundation and magazine, which he would also edit, called Expo, dedicated to ferreting out these blackguards and villains. Don't get me wrong, I don't doubt such people exist, I just think that their influence on the actual world is far less than either they or their avowed foes suppose.
And, no, the fact that Larsson died of "a heart attack" on the "anniversary" of Kristallnacht doesn't strike me as especially compelling evidence of anything. Now, if they'd waited until 2008 to execute this KGB-style hit, celebrating the...what...70 year anniversary? I mean, 70 years would be symbolic, right? Of something? I'm sure. You get my point?
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.
The plots and degeneracy of these blackguard extremists provide the fodder for super-girl sleuth Lisbeth Salander - she of the photographic memory, chess-like strategic mind, mathematical skills to make Fermat weep, and all buttressed by hacker skills that leave any bank or police department computer system naked before her will. Chummed up with her journalist sidekick, Mikael Blomkvist, evil has no chance. Indeed, in one of the sequels, it appears that maybe returning from the dead has been added to Lisbeth's impressive catalogue of super hero skills.
Okay, it is all a bit far-fetched. But whatever stretches of suspended disbelief (or plausible deniability) Larsson may ask of us, the protagonists and their virtuous mission makes for fun reading and viewing. And, hey, there's no success like market success.
The final irony, in it all, I suppose, is that even a paranoid commie like Larsson could brush lips with the zeitgeist and hit the jackpot. Though, I'm inclined to think that one probably ought not to reflect too deeply upon just what it is that that says about the rest of us.
This has become a true pop culture cottage industry - with three books (a fourth on the way), films in both Swedish and English, a TV miniseries and graphic novels. The allure of this cottage industry, generally recognized as The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series (or, in some circles, the Millennium trilogy), is not only in the quirky protagonist. The perhaps even stranger tale of the originating creator, Stieg Larsson, has something to do with the series' popularity.
Larsson's story is a tale pregnant with the ironies of, just before. Just before he became a successful novelist, he was a notorious crusader against what he identified as the dark sources of Fascism and plutocracy in Swedish society. And, just before his novelist success produced a rather large personal fortune, he died.
This poses two questions to the inquiring mind. First, if he had lived, would he have remained quite as suspicious of wealth as a marker of evil? And, second, might the prior two facts be related?
On the second question, popular speculation has rather run rampant. Young in life Larsson signed on as a true follower of the Communist cause. And Communism has a long history of the conspiratorial temperament: both in its machinations and worldview. It hardly ought to be surprising then that much of the 80s and 90s saw Larsson embroiled in unveiling the alleged skullduggery of neo-fascists, plutocrats and assorted crypto-Aryans.
He eventually created a foundation and magazine, which he would also edit, called Expo, dedicated to ferreting out these blackguards and villains. Don't get me wrong, I don't doubt such people exist, I just think that their influence on the actual world is far less than either they or their avowed foes suppose.
And, no, the fact that Larsson died of "a heart attack" on the "anniversary" of Kristallnacht doesn't strike me as especially compelling evidence of anything. Now, if they'd waited until 2008 to execute this KGB-style hit, celebrating the...what...70 year anniversary? I mean, 70 years would be symbolic, right? Of something? I'm sure. You get my point?
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.
The plots and degeneracy of these blackguard extremists provide the fodder for super-girl sleuth Lisbeth Salander - she of the photographic memory, chess-like strategic mind, mathematical skills to make Fermat weep, and all buttressed by hacker skills that leave any bank or police department computer system naked before her will. Chummed up with her journalist sidekick, Mikael Blomkvist, evil has no chance. Indeed, in one of the sequels, it appears that maybe returning from the dead has been added to Lisbeth's impressive catalogue of super hero skills.
Okay, it is all a bit far-fetched. But whatever stretches of suspended disbelief (or plausible deniability) Larsson may ask of us, the protagonists and their virtuous mission makes for fun reading and viewing. And, hey, there's no success like market success.
The final irony, in it all, I suppose, is that even a paranoid commie like Larsson could brush lips with the zeitgeist and hit the jackpot. Though, I'm inclined to think that one probably ought not to reflect too deeply upon just what it is that that says about the rest of us.
About the Author:
To follow the latest in the Stieg Larsson posthumous franchise, you need to read Mickey Jhonny on the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo site. Mickey's latest writing includes an insightful review of the Michael Apted's remarkable 7 Up documentary series for Best Documentaries on Netflix -- you don't want to miss it!
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