I tried to read The Man Who Left Too Soon - The biography of Steig Larsson by Barry Forshaw but found it, in contrast to Larsson's unputdownable trilogy, pretty unpickupable.



Maybe dying at the age of 50 before the publication and consequent worldwide success of your debut trilogy of crime novels does leave your biographer a little short on material, but surely that is the challenge, a challenge that Barry singularly fails to overcome. Forshaw spends a couple of chapters discussing Larsson and then starts to dissect his work, book by book, chapter by chapter, sentence by sentence and fecking word by word, or at least that is what it feels like at times. 151 pages of a 307 page paperback spent providing a not very insightful summary/synopsis of a trilogy 99% of the readers will already have read. It feels like partaking in a particularly intricate and labyrinthine Larsson like criminal investigation yourself trying to glean any insights into the author himself and what drove him to be so much more meticulous than his undeserved biographer.

I don't want to rubbish it completely because it is a book and after reading the first 70 odd pages I did not use it wedge open a sash window or line the annual bonfire night cat litter tray. I was also rewarded by skimming to page 248 the enticing prospect of hearing Film Composer Jacob Groth's score for the Swedish Film versions of the books, now that I know he is a fellow admirer of Bernard Hermann, Hitchcock's musical collaborator and the man responsible for the mind blowing score to Scorcese's masterful Taxi Driver. I will find the time to watch the blueray now, but can't help begrudge Forshaw for stealing a couple hours of my life.