The Girl Who Played With Fire is the second book in the late Stieg Larsson’s Millennium trilogy, which began with The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (my review). I absolutely loved part one, and the only reason I don’t love part two as much is because it’s not as fresh at this point. Dragon Tattoo was one of the nicest surprises I’ve had–it was that rare thing where I went into a book knowing absolutely zero about it. Somehow, with all the hype, I hadn’t heard anything about the actual plot.
For those of you just hearing about this season–there may still be some–all of the good things about part one are still present here. Lisbeth Salander, the kind-of heroine, is the star. A truly original creation, she is a diminutive computer hacker who may or may not have some form of Asberger’s Syndrome. Her dark history is complicated, to say the least. This book sheds a lot of light on things in her past that have only been hinted at so far. The revelations are about as twisted as I expected, but make it easier and harder to like Lisbeth.
Much of this book involves her trying to track down her father for reasons that I won’t spoil. Suffice it to say that Lisbeth is not someone you want looking for you when you have done her wrong.
Mikael Blomkvist and the rest of the Millennium staff are here as well, although I’ve never found them as interesting as Lisbeth, but who could be? Early in the story, a pair of reporters who were working on a horrific story about human trafficking are shot before the story can be finished and printed. Evidence shows that Lisbeth most likely committed the crimes. We the readers are reasonably sure that she didn’t do it, but can’t be certain. Not with her.
Throw in some Russian criminals, a gigantic blond assassin who is seemingly impervious to pain, the token Larsson mentions of zillions of Macbooks, and you’ve got quite a tale. It’s not a brief story, but I read it in a weekend. I couldn’t stop. I know people who feel the same way I do, but I also know plenty of people who can’t get into these books, or they outright hate them, or they say that Stieg Larsson is a crappy writer, and so on.
These books have generated some great discussions, and in case I haven’t made myself clear: I absolutely love them!
Who has read them all? Which was your favorite? Least?