Narrator Graeme Malcolm is convincing when pronouncing Danish place names, a good thing in a Copenhagen-based thriller, and he’s not terrible at dialogue. Unfortunately, he seems not to understand that the narrative material between characters’ speeches is part of the story and delivers it in an absentminded singsong, as you might the boilerplate at the beginning or end of a fairy tale. “So the king proclaimed that tomorrow would be the wedding, and . . .” It’s a shame, as the plot is well made, if baroque, and many of the characters convincingly drawn. If a murder can be said to be fun, watch for the one in the middle of a ballet at the Royal Danish Theatre. (Engberg is a former dancer and choreographer.) A chandelier is involved. B.G. © AudioFile 2020, Portland, Maine
The Tenant
Narrated by Graeme Malcolm
Katrine EngbergUnabridged — 10 hours, 21 minutes
The Tenant
Narrated by Graeme Malcolm
Katrine EngbergUnabridged — 10 hours, 21 minutes
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Overview
An electrifying work of literary suspense from internationally bestselling author Katrine Engberg, The Tenant-heralded as a “stunning debut” by #1 New York Times bestselling author Kathy Reichs-follows two Copenhagen police detectives struggling to solve a shocking murder and stop a killer hell-bent on revenge.
When a young woman is discovered brutally murdered in her own apartment with an intricate pattern of lines carved into her face, Copenhagen police detectives Jeppe Korner and Anette Werner are assigned to the case. In short order, they establish a link between the victim, Julie Stender, and her landlady, Esther de Laurenti, who's a bit too fond of drink and the host of raucous dinner parties with her artist friends. Esther also turns out to be a budding novelist-and when Julie turns up as a murder victim in the still-unfinished mystery she's writing, the link between fiction and real life grows both more urgent and more dangerous.
But Esther's role in this twisted scenario is not quite as clear as it first seems. Is she the culprit or just another victim, trapped in a twisted game of vengeance? Anette and Jeppe must dig more deeply into the two women's pasts to discover the identity of the brutal puppet-master pulling the strings.
Evocative and original, The Tenant promises “dark family secrets-and a smorgasbord of surprises” (People).
Editorial Reviews
09/16/2019
For landlady and retired Copenhagen academic Esther de Laurenti, the protagonist of Danish choreographer Engberg’s fast-moving first novel and series launch, the murder of her 21-year-old tenant, student Julie Stender, strikes alarmingly close to home. Not only was Julie attacked just two floors below Esther’s flat, but key details of the crime, including intricate carvings on the victim’s face inflicted while she was still alive, are sickeningly familiar to her—because they’re lifted from the manuscript on which aspiring mystery writer Esther is working. The sometimes uneasy juxtaposition of realistic characters like feisty Esther and the perennially bickering detective duo assigned to the case with the unabashedly artificial—think a subsequent victim discovered mid-ballet in a theater chandelier—runs throughout. The undertow from the overly ambitious plot drowns any sense of plausibility, but Engberg’s sparkling cast and palpable evocation of a society U.S. readers will find similar yet foreign keep the pages turning pleasurably. Agent: Niclas Salomonsson, Salomonsson Agency (Sweden). (Jan.)
"A stunning debut. Katrine Engberg’s unforgettable characters and brilliant plot twists will captivate readers of suspense fiction.”
"It’s hard to believe this is her [Engberg's] first book, so assured is the writing. Her characters are fully realized...[and] the story is as complex as the characters. Originally published in Denmark in 2016, The Tenant is Engberg’s first book to be translated into English, but it’s unlikely to be the last."
Everyone has secrets, and some secrets are lies. Engberg's debut novel, a sleeper hit in her native Denmark, is sure to attract comparisons to other Scandinavian thrillers... layered, character-driven suspense from authors including Erin Kelly and Ruth Ware may prove to be more apt read-alike suggestions.
"Engberg’s debut features dark family secrets—and a smorgasbord of surprises.
"[A] gripping addition to the Scandinavian crime fiction pantheon."
"The careful plotting ensures that the mystery unfolds deliberately, with surprises constantly woven into the narrative . . . Engberg’s English language debut promises a gritty, unflinching procedural series, and will leave readers craving the translation of Kørner and Werner’s next adventure.
"Engberg's plotting is dexterous, and her character-centered storytelling aligns nicely with her unhurried descriptions of Copenhagen . . . The Tenant is yet another feather in the plumed cap of Scandinavian noir."
"Winter wouldn't be complete without a great Nordic Noir novel, and that's exactly what Katrine Engberg's The Tenant is.
What a fantastic debut! I love the characters, the sparkling prose, and the depiction of Copenhagen. Katrine Engberg is an absolute star!
What a fantastic debut! I love the characters, the sparkling prose, and the depiction of Copenhagen. Katrine Engberg is an absolute star!
Everyone has secrets, and some secrets are lies. Engberg's debut novel, a sleeper hit in her native Denmark, is sure to attract comparisons to other Scandinavian thrillers... layered, character-driven suspense from authors including Erin Kelly and Ruth Ware may prove to be more apt read-alike suggestions.
2019-10-14
A vicious killer follows a writer's murderous manuscript to the letter in Danish author Engberg's U.S. debut.
It's only been about a year since University of Copenhagen professor Esther de Laurenti retired, and she's been writing a novel, something she's always dreamed of. When Esther's tenant, 21-year-old Julie Stender, is murdered, Esther is shocked. Heading up the investigation is Copenhagen detectives Jeppe Kørner and his partner of eight years, Anette Werner, and it's proving to be a doozy. The murder was particularly heinous: The killer stabbed Julie and carved strange designs into her face and, frustratingly, seems to have been very careful not to leave any physical evidence at the scene. Of course, as investigators start digging into Julie's life, they discover some suitably shady secrets in her past, and it's suggested that one of her boyfriends might have felt scorned enough to resort to murder. Perhaps it was her new boyfriend, who is supposedly a much older, sophisticated man. Too bad nobody knows who he is. When Esther reveals that the details of the murder closely mirror her work in progress, it opens a whole new avenue of investigation, and when Esther attempts to draw the killer out, it puts her firmly in the crosshairs. Engberg's background as a former dancer and choreographer gives a boost to her considerable flair for the dramatic (keep an eye out for a theatrically staged murder at the Royal Danish Theater) and highlights a strong focus on Copenhagen's creative community; even Jeppe wanted to be a musician before he became a cop. His fairly recent divorce almost ruined him, and Anette's upbeat and pragmatic style is no small annoyance to her moody partner, which is played for light comic effect (as is Jeppe's reawakening libido), leavening the heavier subject matter. Overly familiar plot elements keep this from being a standout, and some twists require a significant suspension of disbelief, but Engberg's fast-paced narrative is bolstered by an interesting and quirky cast as well as an intriguing setting.
A bit over-the-top but still a lot of fun.
Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940173900364 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Simon & Schuster |
| Publication date: | 01/14/2020 |
| Edition description: | Unabridged |
| Sales rank: | 488,088 |
Read an Excerpt
Prologue The morning light swirled up dust from the heavy drapes. Gregers Hermansen sat in his recliner and watched the motes dance through the living room. Waking up took him so long these days that he almost didn’t see the point. He laid his hands on the smooth, polished armrests, tipped his head back, and closed his eyes to the flickering light until he heard the final sputters of the coffee maker in the kitchen.
After a brief countdown, he got up, found his slippers, and shuffled toward the linoleum floor of the kitchen. Always the same route: along the mahogany cabinet, past the green armchair and the damn handgrip on the wall that the aide had installed last year.
“I’ll do fine without it,” he had insisted. “Thanks anyway.”
So much for that.
In the kitchen he tossed the used coffee grounds from the machine into the trash bin under the sink. Full again. Gregers untied the bag and, supporting himself along the table as he moved across the kitchen, he managed to open the back door with his free hand. At least he could still take his own trash down. He looked askance at his upstairs neighbor’s collection of bottles on the landing. Esther de Laurenti. One hell of a drinker, who held loud dinner parties for her artist friends that lasted late into the night. But she owned the building, so it was no use complaining.
The steps groaned under him as he held on tight to the railing. It might be more sensible to move somewhere safe, to a place with fewer stairs, but he had lived his whole life in downtown Copenhagen and preferred to take his chances on these crooked stairs rather than rot away in some nursing home on the outskirts of town. On the second floor, he set down the trash bag and leaned against his downstairs neighbors’ doorframe. The two female college students who shared that unit were a constant source of irritation, but secretly they also stirred in him an awkward yearning. Their carefree smiles reawakened memories of summer nights by the canal and distant kisses. Back when life wasn’t yet winding down and everything was still possible.
Once he had recovered a little, he noticed the women’s door was ajar, bright light pouring out of the narrow opening. They were young and flighty but surely not foolish enough to sleep with their back door open! It was six thirty in the morning; they may have just come home from a night on the town—but still.
“Hello...?” he called out. “Is anyone there?”
With the tip of his slipper, he cautiously nudged at the door, which easily opened. Gregers reflexively recoiled a little. After all he didn’t want to be accused of being a dirty old peeper. Better just pull the door shut and finish taking out the trash before his coffee grew stale and bitter upstairs.
He held the doorframe tightly and leaned forward to grasp the handle but underestimated the distance. For one horrible, eternal instant—like when a horse throws you until you hit the ground—he realized he wasn’t strong enough to hold his own body weight. His slippers slid on the smooth wood parquet, and he lost his balance. Gregers fought with all the strength he no longer had and fell helplessly into the women’s apartment, landing hard on the floor. Not with a bang but with a thud—the pathetic sound of an elderly man’s diminished body in a flannel bathrobe.
Gregers tried to calm himself with a deep breath. Had he broken his hip? What would people say? For the first time in many years he felt like crying. He shut his eyes and waited to be found.
The stairwell fell silent once again. He listened for yelling or footsteps, but nothing came. After a few minutes he opened his eyes and tried to get his bearings. A bare light bulb hung from the ceiling, blinding him, but he could vaguely make out a white wall; a shelf of pots and spices; against the wall leading to the door, a line of shoes and boots, one of which he was surely lying on. Carefully he turned his head from side to side to check if anything was broken. No, everything seemed intact. He clenched his fists. Yes, they felt okay, too. Ugh, that damned shoe! Gregers tried to push it out from under him, but it wouldn’t budge.
He looked down and tried to focus his eyes on it. The uneasy feeling in his stomach swelled into a suffocating paralysis that spread throughout his body. Sticking out of the shoe was a bare leg, half-hidden underneath his aching hips. The leg ended in a twisted body. It looked like a mannequin’s leg, but Gregers felt soft skin against his hand and knew better. He lifted his hand and saw the blood: on the skin, on the floor, on the walls. Blood everywhere.
Gregers’s heart fluttered like a canary trying to escape its cage. He couldn’t move, panic coursed through his impotent body. I’m going to die, he thought. He wanted to scream, but the strength to shout for help had left him many years ago.
Then he started to cry.
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