A Review of Let the Right One In
If you’ve been following my blog this year, you know that I declared this to be the Year of the Vampire. One of the books I chose to read is Let the Right One In by Swedish author, John Ajvide Lindqvist. As in other genres, Gothic novels often speak to the times, but when it comes to those from a prior era, that can be harder to see. Not so with Lindqvist’s very contemporary novel. In a book that’s part classic Gothic novel and part discussion of current issues, it’s easy to see how Gothic literature is relevant.
I loved this book. And I hated this book. If you know much about Sweden, and Swedish writing, you know two things: there’s very little crime in Sweden; and the region puts out a disproportionate number of crime writers. My take on this is that for a Scandinavian audience (my paternal grandfather is from Norway), crime writing is especially shocking. There’s something tantalizing about reading a book that’s dangerously threatening while living in a place in which such a thing is unlikely to ever occur. It’s safe to relish the danger.
All that to say that this is a very gritty book, which is what I hated about it. Lindqvist’s portrayal of crime and what man is willing to do is especially dark, at times quite disturbing, and, overall, unsettling. However, the writing is extremely captivating. The pace is quick. The character sketches are deep. It’s a well-written book.
I won’t give away any plot spoilers, but I’ll give you a taste of what the author has to say throughout the story.
The book features a twelve-year-old boy, Oskar, who’s the victim of several schoolyard bullies. Simultaneously, his suburb of Stockholm is shaken by the news of a grisly murder. In response to both of these, readers see some of Oskar’s latent violent tendencies. Much of Oskar’s story centers on the anger and shame that he feels because of the abuse he suffers. He’s ripe for an external influence – positive or negative.
Enter Eli, a young girl whom Oskar meets in the dark of his housing development’s snowy courtyard. She only comes out at night. She speaks in strange ways, has no knowledge of commonly understood cultural references, and demonstrates unnatural strength and dexterity.
This is a vampire novel, after all.
[The story also follows the journey of several local adults who struggle to navigate the world of personal responsibility and relationships.]
Hearkening back to Dracula, Eli appears to be an immigrant from an eastern European country. However, rather than painting her as a threat to Sweden, Lindqvist crafts Eli’s story as one of tragedy and isolation. Readers sympathize with her and see in her something of a savior for Oskar – a friend, sympathizer, and encourager. It’s Eli who builds in Oskar the courage to face his fears.
Mixed in with this is a very contemporary portrayal of the depressing, homogeneity of modern urban development, the underworld of pedophilia and even a nod to transgenderism.
And yet, this is still a vampire novel.
Lindqvist incorporates many of the vampire legends, especially the superstition that vampires cannot enter a residence without being invited. After all, in a book in which the author focuses heavily on community, particularly those bonds that see us and love us for who we are versus manufactured ones that leave us hollow and empty, that is the crux of the matter: that we let the right one in.
In summary, this is a gritty book, one that paints an unvarnished picture of the darker elements of humanity and the things that we might like to ignore. But it’s a well-written and thoughtful story. And in case you’re wondering, yes I would classify it as a Gothic novel. Lindqvist deftly uses Eli’s character to bring several intangible themes to light. But I’ll leave those to you to discover!
If you like gritty books that take a harsh look at reality, check this one out.
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