Review: "Little Star" by John Ajvide Linqvist

It has been awhile since I have thought about the sad and scary worlds crafted by Swedish writer John Ajvide Lindqvist, let alone picked up one of his books to read. In that time, I had forgotten how powerful his stories are, and, among the wider public since Let the Right One In has come and gone, I am not alone in this sentiment. That is a shame, because through four novels and a collection of short stories (which I must admit I have not read), he has crafted a world filled with equal amounts of dread and melancholy, with horror arising from sadness and disappointment and not some long hidden ancient evil or something otherworldly. The monsters in his books, whether they are vampires, the undead, or in the case of Little Star, his longest book which I just finished today, werewolves, are products of pain and loneliness, and the horror and violence they inflict stems from this very human feeling, making his stories very emotionally impactful while also being scary. But in the end this novel and those that he published before it, are somber tales of the dispossessed, those who struggle to find a place in the world, a place that might not exist unless, sadly, blood is spilt. This is not only his longest book, but also quite possibly his darkest, with the downbeat mood being applicable to something like Stephen King’s Pet Semetary. It begins in a quasi-cemetery setting, where Lennart, an ageing failed musician, stumbles upon an abandoned baby in the woods while out hunting for mushrooms. He takes the baby back to his house where Laila, his crippled life, ekes out an existence with her husband. But this is not an ordinary foundling. This baby seems almost sentient, aware of her surroundings, and its malevolence is immediately made clear to the reader, but both Lennart and Laila are too deep under its spell. While I use the word werewolf, a term that is not used in the book but implied in a deeply metaphorical sense later one near the end of the book, I couldn’t help but think of the 2014 Dutch film Borgman, where an obviously evil figure holds sway over a group of easily enticed people. Here, the baby, whom they name Theres, takes a liking to music and sings pop hits like “Nothing Compares to You”. The years go by, and after a shocking scene of violence, the couple’s son Jerry whisks her away, only for her talents to be discovered on a Swedish version of American Idol, where another girl named Teresa sees her and finds a disturbing purpose to her disappointing life. The plot can be silly sometimes and the violent scenes, all involving disquieting use of hammers come out of nowhere, but this is a story that builds toward the central characters’ dark destinies, which are hinted at right from the beginning. I was oddly moved by this story, much like I was by Iain Reid’s I’m Thinking of Ending Things: it is a dark story, but one with a beating black heart and awareness of the cruelty and beauty of the world. I hope more translations from this Swedish master of horror find themselves across the pond.  It would be much appreciated.

Rating: 5/5