The Leopard: A Harry Hole Novel (8) (Harry Hole Series) Paperback – June 26, 2012

R. Royce longed for the by-gone era when summers seemed endless and the worst crime imaginable was leaving your best girl home on a Saturday night. So it was, the "Beach Boys" sang about the best times of their lives. Obviously. They were on a perpetual "Surfin' Safari" for about half a century. He contemplated about the secluded swamp-land he'd bought years ago in central Florida. Actually the densely overgrown lots were situated on fairly high ground. Half forest, half jungle, he remembered vividly. He visited there every opportunity he had to get away from it all, spending his leisure time camping out in his camper-topped Dodge Laramie pickup truck, tending the roses he'd planted and cultivated, clearing the land like he was the reincarnation of Daniel Boone, or living the life of Tarzan the Ape-Man, often darting over to the pristine beaches, by driving roads less frequently traveled a short distance north and a few miles east over the Causeway to cool down and chill out. The Atlantic Ocean was only a couple of miles away, as the crow flies. He delighted in sifting through sea shells by the sea shore at sunrise, just as much as one might enjoy watching waves and gazing at free-spirited girls in bikinis playing "Beach Blanket Bingo" later in the day. He reminisced about Raquel, fondly remembering what she had once said, "I would make you so, so very ... very ..... miserable." "Maybe so, but would you make me sleep out in the rain?" he replied, nuzzling her affectionately, as if he were an adorable puppy. As you can probably tell, he made friends easily. And he was a nature-lover. Time seemed to stand still for him. He discovered two artesian wells, one on the adjacent property to the east first, later, one hidden practically under his very nose in the underbrush beneath the intertwined clump of ornamental thorny, grafted sour-orange trees in his own backyard. Consequently, he enjoyed a viable supply of free fresh water in close proximity. His near-term goal was to reclaim the yard space created by the former owner, Mrs. Swinsen, who abruptly returned home to her family in New York, having abandoned the property after one of the hundred-foot-tall Australian Pine trees toppled and fell on her house. The City had no choice but to demolish the building eventually, out of health and safety concerns. The year was 1991. "It's always one thing or another," Royce thought. "If its not the invisible biting bugs and mosquitoes, it's the snakes and sharks. If not the sweltering, oppressive heat and humidity, it's the hurricanes and tornadoes." In fact, a snake was the reason the nice family living in the quaint cottage to the west unexpectedly and suddenly decided to pack up and move to Tallahassee. It seems an indigenous reptile had bitten one of their pet Boston terriers, a small black and while rascal with a cute pug nose, wagging tail, and wet, dangling red tongue. It had such a friendly demeanor and pleasant disposition. "Generally, they're harmless," people say, "if left alone." They are seldom seen and live their lives underground mostly, amongst the rich reddish-brown mulch and earth formed by century-old layers of fallen and decomposing tree trunks, limbs, leaves, and pine needles. The neighbors offered words of caution to snake bite victims and rose gardeners in the form of a simple nursery rhyme: "Red yellow black, and you're coming back. Black yellow red, and you're not." So, as it turns out, the coral snake with its distinctive alternating brightly colored stripes is the deadliest creature in the forest, not to be confused with the scarlet king snake. Others, including the Bushmaster, rat snake, and Pygmy rattler, all swamp dwellers, would not win any consolation prizes from Darwin. They are all plentiful and exceptionally scary. In the swampy area miles to the north, Royce heard tell from a local road grader, "The bite from a Pygmy rattler might not kill you, but you'll wish you were dead." When Royce first began clearing the land, he couldn't even drive off the paved road into what was once a manicured lawn. Several Florida Palm trees had grown up and were scattered about, the biggest one smack dab in the middle of the single gravel drive-way access. They're short and big around, with overlapping tough, fibrous husks surrounding their trunks, and long, waxy leaves that draw in copious amounts of rainfall. He overcame the formidable obstacle with a newly-purchased chain-saw, brute force, and persistence. The nice 87 year old neighbor living in the modest wood-framed house across the road, a retired Botanist, with tangerine trees in her front yard, asked Royce if he'd ever tried "swamp cabbage." She went on to say the succulent delicacy is actually the heart of the palm tree, boiled and seasoned, until it's soft and tender. The down-side is every time you prepare a delicious meal of swamp cabbage, a tree must die. Months later, as he cleared the yard toward the back of the lot, chopping down shoulder-high saw-grass, various pasture grasses, and obnoxious weeds in his path, he came upon a tall stone cross, undoubtedly a monument to someone's ingenuity. He initially thought it must have been a grave marker from the days of Ponce de Leon and the search for the fountain of youth. He became somewhat agitated, concerned that he might have been treading on holy ground. Trudging onward, like a good Christian soldier, he was mystified to discover a second stone cross. That's when he realized their true purpose: they served as clothes-line poles, to his profound relief. He would soon string up galvanized metal lines between them to support the weight of his sweaty t-shirts, grubby work-pants, dirty socks, and damp towels. The most pleasing discovery of all was when Royce ventured through the thickets and into the dense forest to the west. He was astonished to find a large and solitary fruit-bearing ruby-red grapefruit tree in their midst. The grand-daddy of them all! He gathered the grapefruits in five-gallon buckets, and lined them up on top of a curvy concrete block wall structure he'd constructed in the clearing to dry and ripen in the sun. He figured if a wild animal ever attacked him, he would be able to run around the wall faster to escape imminent danger. They were the sweetest grapefruits he'd ever tasted. He took them home and made gallons and gallons of juice. Drinking the stuff is good for weight-loss, and chocked full of vitamins and nutrients. The tree was protected by a large hoot-owl, which roosted silently in the top-most branches, but was ever vigilant. Tending the roses was Royce's favorite hobby. He'd planted a row of velvet red and golden yellow tea roses along the edge of the woods, parallel to the grassy ravine, alongside the paved road. The neighbors complimented him on how beautiful they looked, and how often they bloomed. His pride and joy, however, was the heat-tolerant, neon-pink California hybrid rose. These large, hardy roses grew about five feet tall, in the crater of a fallen tree he'd filled with topsoil, and looked like something outside of this world. They were absolutely magnificent specimens! Two hurricanes, Frances from the east, and a few months later Jeanne from the west, swept across the land during the same season. Multiple tornadoes had spun off, traversing Royce's yard-space, according to the steadfast neighbor who lived north on the other side of the clothes-line. Several neighbors' homes had been seriously damaged, their roofs blown off, or utterly destroyed, but not his. He calmly sat on his second-story screened-in back porch late throughout the evening cordially sipping coffee, while watching trees snap like toothpicks, the tree branches sent flying, monitoring and surveying the carnage and extent of damage. He'd build the solid concrete block stucco house using the money Lowe's paid him for his original property, which had been located where the corporate owners wanted to build their new super-store in town, in the shopping center on the main drag to the north and west, just off the interstate. Royce had planned to take his sweet time clearing his land in maybe ten or twelve years, but the recent activity of high winds had drastically accelerated his time-table for converting the area into a scenic park, a modern-day Garden of Eden. In reality, the area looked more like a disaster area or a war zone that summer. He was able to clear the land much faster afterwards. There was room enough for three fine, spacious mansions to be built there someday, when he sold out and moved to Texas. Underneath the sandy topsoil and tightly compacted coral rock from millions of years of sedimentary settling, there exists a naturally flowing underground river. They call it the "Florida Aquafier," which is actually a good source of pure drinking water. That's undoubtedly why the trees grow so tremendously big and tall in the region. Their roots must have penetrated through the layers of sand, dirt, and coral earth and dipped into the bubbling, dripping, and gurgling springs deep below. One can easily understand why a Norwegian police detective would want to go on a leisurely vacation getaway or take a long business trip to a warmer climate. It would be a welcome change of pace for Harry Hole, the main character in Jo Nesbo's novel, The Leopard, written in 2009 and translated into English by Don Bartlett in 2011, especially after having repeatedly braved the trenches under arctic conditions in the frozen tundra and persevered through many a harsh Russian winter in another of his novels, The Redbreast. These are two of several novels about the exploits and dangers faced by this persistent detective, who usually ultimately gets the job done one way or the other, while confronting his demons and dealing with other issues, impediments, snares, and entanglements. The reader finds that he possesses a certain charisma throughout his ordeals. You can't help but like the guy. He has pizzazz, and a real knack for investigative research. You get the feeling that he is competent in his job and has excelled in his endeavors. He's arrived at the pinnacle of success in his field. He's risen to the peak of his profession. Indeed, he's found himself on the cutting edge of technology! Despite receiving severe criticism regarding his job performance, you can't really knock him for his efforts, considering that the vile villains he must bring to justice are some of the most sinister, diabolical, demented, deranged, and abominable criminals to ever walk the face of the earth. Like the "Dirty Harry" Hollywood movie character, starring actor Clint Eastwood from the 1970's, he packs plenty of "heat" and unleashes some serious firepower when necessary. At the same time, you won't find a gentler, more compassionate man, who manages to look after and care for his family with pure, loving kindness and humility. Beyond the definitive characterization in his books, you've got to give the author credit for alluding to but not dwelling on the nightmares associated with having to interact with others who may embrace far different, diverse or alternative lifestyles and see things much differently than he does. He doesn't go out of his way to appear overly judgmental. He doesn't extoll virtue, as opposed to excessive deviation from normalcy. Case in point, he doesn't get wrapped around the axle about controversial personal preferences, such as tattoo artistry, body piercings, spiked hair, trendy Gothic, militaristic fashion, techno-rock, raves, substance abuse; or a predilection for rude, crude, unorthodox and anti-social behavior. I believe he views these as being basic facts of life. He plays the role of a criminologist, not a sociologist or a psychologist. As a result, Harry is a perfect, prime example of an arch-type character who has the good sense and common decency to watch his step and tread lightly in settings involving office politics, bureaucratic organization, and functioning law enforcement. He also appears to be on relatively good terms with journalists from the media and the press, which is really nothing more than a big ball of wax involving rapport, the timely presentation of key facts, possessing insight into what matters to the community, and having the keen ability to close cold cases quickly, using the sources of intelligence that are available to him. After all, everyone loves a good human-interest story.

WARNING: Contains spoilers: 3.5 starsThis is my first introduction to Joe Nesbo's Harry Hole. On the whole, it was enjoyable, but I had a few significant misgivings. First, it is entirely too long. Second, there are too many unfamiliar names and places to swallow. But most importantly, the author, through Harry Hole, tells the reader who the killer is early in the novel. But then, he takes us through a long and arduous more traditional whodunit, laced with misdirection and twists. Ultimately, after six hundred plus pages, we come full circle to a two-page monolog by the killer in which he provides his motivations, means, and methods of killing multiple people. So, why did Nesbo tell us who did it, and then proceed to dispel it, only to prove it again? I don't know, but it didn't work for me. Still, the frightful atmosphere and the foreboding locales make for an intense read at times. But what makes the novel enjoyable are the characters, especially Harry Hole. He is an addictive personality, self-destructive, irreverent, impertinent, but clever and driven to pursue justice. So, I'll try another one in the series.

Fans of The Snowman will be delighted to find that Harry has crawled out of his Hole and returned to Oslo to track down another serial killer. Victims are found to have drowned, not in water, but in their own blood. As we discover, most of the deaths could be categorized as either murders or suicides. A bloody mess awaits our hero as he is dragged away from his penurious existence in Hong Kong, where he bet everything he had and didn't have on a horse-race and his debtors must be paid off to secure his release to return to Norway.Katrine Bratt from The Snowman returns to serve as Harry's computer search expert, but must do so while she is in locked in a mental institution. The police in Oslo have paid for Harry Hole's return and assigned him a dungeon (abandoned prison) and a couple of people to help him, but a fight is underway between the official government police and the private firm hired to do police work, and there seems to be a leak between the two competing organization which makes Harry's already impossible task a lot harder. No one can establish a connection between the first two random killings, except the pattern of death, when suddenly a prominent member of Parliament is murdered similarly.The tracks lead to an isolated alpine resort where eight people were together at one point in time, but by the time Harry finds this information several of the eight have been killed and the rest are both possible suspects and possible victims, one of them in the Congo and another in Australia. All these conditions would have challenged Harry in his prime, but he is emaciated and has a fractured jaw barely held together when he arrives back in Oslo. In addition, his father is dying in a hospital when he arrives, and he must spend time with him, and listen to him give him reminiscences from his childhood and tips on life such as what one might do to survive in an avalanche. . . . The closer we get to the end of the novel, the more possibilities arise for who might be the killer. Finally a man is arrested and claims that he was only revealing the identities of the other members of the party of eight to someone who was doing the killing, but now this someone has completely disappeared. A trip to the Congo puts Harry and Katrine's life in jeopardy, again, and there is no way out, they will both die. Can the author be killing off the hero and herostratic Harry Hole? This book is a page turner and will have you skiing downhill like an Olympic racer flying over moguls, spraying snow in every direction, schussing breathlessly to the very last page, to the finish line. in DIGESTWORLD ISSUE#127 by Bobby Matherne Read more

The Snowman was my first Harry Hole book so it seemed rude not to carry on with the next one. At the end of the last novel, Harry didn’t just leave the building, he left the country, jumping on a plane to Hong Kong, seeking a hole that he never wanted to find his way out of. Harry had lost everything that was important to him so he sank into self destruct mode with booze, drugs, and loans for gambling from people you don’t play round with. A knock on the door and the offer of another serial killer case back home didn’t entice him but the news that his dad was dying did.Coming back home to massive debt forces Harry back to work, in a fashion and on his terms with the pick of his small team. Kaja Solness, the detective that managed to do the impossible and get him back home is top of his list. By the time they are ready to go the third victim had been murdered. Complicating everything further is a new battle of whether the case should be handled locally with police or if a newly formed national agency should take over headed by Mikael Bellman. Harry really can’t be goaded into a strutting contest and to be honest I wanted to clip Bellman’s feather back myself!Oh boy, is this killer vicious and inventive in his methods of slow torturous deaths, both male and female. When a connection is made it takes Harry to a whole new level of fight for survival mode kicking in as childhood memories could be the only thing that saves the day.My heart plummeted in so many chapters as Jo Nesbo shows no mercy for his characters or readers, with heart in my mouth moments to expected endings. A truly top read.

Jo Nesbo never fails to enthrall, to entertain, to baffle. The Leopard is deliciously complex, gloriously erudite, and a hugely superior thriller. From page one I was hooked, not only by the fabulous story-telling but by the quality of the writing. I had just finished reading a couple of mediocre novels before starting The Leopard and the contrast in skill engulfed me like a tidal wave.Nesbo is a master story-teller, a creator of real, sometimes tortured characters, and is brilliantly observant, with an extraordinary capacity to give the world of his novels the credibility of truth.The Leopard tells the story of a series of murders which, according to Inspector Harry Hole, do not bear the distinctive stamp of a real serial killer. Several people who do not appear to have anything in common, other than that they stayed at the same snow cabin one night, are brutally murdered. What, if anything had they witnessed? Was this the motive for the slayings? The motive for the murders is tantalisingly close but initially unreachable and none of the suspects quite fit the killer’s profile. Harry Hole almost loses his life in the pursuit of the fiendish killer but always he sees patterns where other policemen, including the arrogant Bellman, are simply baffled.The Leopard is a great story, masterfully told and will delight anyone who is a fan of clever whodunits. I have to take one star off my rating, however, because Nesbo rather lost control of the story towards the end. Other extraneous elements of people’s lives became too obtrusive and rather dampened what should have been a thrilling climax. Still, real people, real lives, sometimes their stories are untidy, too. It’s hard to criticise a superb writer like Nesbo. Bottom line, buy the book; you’ll love it.

Following a series of murders that look like the work of a serial killer Kaja Solness, a new Detective in Olso Polices Crime Squad, brings Detective Harry Hole back to Norway from his self-imposed exile in Hong Kong. Although reluctant at first, Harry, the only man in the Norwegian Police to have apprehended a serial killer, begins the hunt for the killer.However, Harry is caught in a power struggle between Crime Squad and Kripos who are vying for control of major homicide cases. This struggle complements the many plot twists and the introduction of Bellman, Head of Kripos, is an interesting new opponent for Harry.I enjoyed The Leopard; the plots twists kept you guessing throughout and helped to enhance the tension. However, at over 600 pages, it was simply too long. Additional editing to trim the length could have strengthened the novel overall. In addition, I was not a fan of the ending. Although it concludes the story, it was too farfetched. I understand that as a reader, you need to suspend your disbelief. However, this was just a step too far for me and as a result, my enjoyment was diminished ever so slightly.Yet overall, I enjoyed meeting Harry Hole again. The Leopard is not my favourite from the Harry Hole series but it’s still an excellent piece of crime fiction.

Although I've never been a particular fan of crime fiction (the odd PD James, Colin Dexter aside), like everybody else, I loved the Stieg Larsson trilogy, and the Wallander novels of Henning Mankell; from which I 'progressed' to Jo Nesbo and his central character, Harry Hole.With the exception of 'Cockroaches' (not yet published in English), I read the Hole novels sequentially - most of which I thoroughly enjoyed, until arriving at 'The Leopard'. 'Damaged' detectives are ten-a-penny in fiction and on TV these days yet nevertheless, Hole was to me, a fresh and convincing creation.Having read 'The Leopard' however, the whole thing appears to be becoming ever so slightly formulaic. As always, the plot is intricate, but is here ridiculously convoluted, ultimately artificial and lacking credibility - as a result I completed the novel more out of habit than anything else.Despite his alcolholism and disastrous personal life, Hole normally comes through as a result of his wits and inviolate personal integrity. Unfortunately in 'The Leopard' however, Hole seems to have metamorphosed into Norway's version of James Bond, escaping time and again in the nick of time from certain death - the climactic scene, played out on the lip of the crater of a live volcano in the Congo, is high on third-rate melodrama, yet so improbably far-fetched that it's almost risible - as a result of which, it entirely fails to engage the reader (or at least this reader).The book does have its moments: the atmospheric opening scenes on the streets of Hong Kong, for example; but is ultimately a major disappointment. Despite the excellence of the earlier stories, I'm afraid Nesbo has really hit the buffers with this one: perhaps he's taken Hole as far as he can go.If so, I can recommend without reservation (so far!) the novels of Camilla Lackberg.

The book was good but when I got to page 731, the pages were cut in half i.e. half of the following pages were missing! Very frustrating & annoying. I realise I've missed the Returns window. I bought this book for a holiday read whilst away. A complete book would be appreciated as a gesture of good will.