In the New York Times, Jason Goodwin reviews Paul Theroux’s A Dead Hand.

The novel’s subtitle, “A Crime in Calcutta,” nods toward the current vogue for exotic detective stories and suggests that Theroux has absorbed the interesting fact that detective fiction has turned out to be the new travel writing. A great deal of place and history can be smuggled into the lush confines of the crime novel; people who might rather see foreign sights on YouTube or the Travel Channel than read a book devoted to them can still be jolted into pursuing a thriller that happens to be set in, say, Iceland or Istanbul.

Not recommended.

In the New York Times, Will Blythe reviews Roberto Bolaño’s Monsieur Pain.

Not recommended.

In the Washington Post, Jason Goodwin reviews John Burdett’s The Godfather of Kathmandu.

Recommended with reservations.

Recommended with reservations.

Not recommended.

Not recommended.

Not recommended.

Michiko Kakutani of the New York Times reviews Stieg Larsson’s second thriller.

The ending of “The Girl Who Played With Fire” — like the revelation about Salander’s past, which gives the book its title — comes straight out of a horror movie: it’s gory, harrowing and operatically over the top. The reason it works is the same reason that “Dragon Tattoo” worked: Mr. Larsson’s two central characters, Salander and Blomkvist, transcend their genre and insinuate themselves in the reader’s mind through their oddball individuality, their professional competence and, surprisingly, their emotional vulnerability.

At Slate Nathaniel Rich examines the appeal of Scandinavian crime fiction.

What distinguishes these books is not some element of Nordic grimness but their evocation of an almost sublime tranquility. When a crime occurs, it is shocking exactly because it disrupts a world that, at least to an American reader, seems utopian in its peacefulness, happiness, and orderliness.

Not recommended.

Recommended with reservations.

At National Public Radio, Maureen Corrigan recommends crime fiction for summer.

Recommended with reservations.

Barbara Vine is a pen name used by the crime novelist Ruth Rendell, ostensibly for stories of psychological suspense rather than the police procedurals of the Inspector Wexford series, though this distinction is not strictly observed. Rendell’s detective fiction has its moments, but seldom transcends its genre. However, her less conventional novels deploy a sardonic moral calculus reminiscent of a certain dark vein in British literary fiction.

Laura Miller of Salon reviews Barbara Vine’s The Birthday Present.

Not recommended.

Recommended with reservations.

Recommended with reservations.

Not recommended.

[The novel] moves along fast and offers some vivid writing. But it’s more annoying than pleasing. The problems include too many wisecracks, too much profanity, too many “colorful” characters and a general feeling that the author is trying too hard.

In the Washington Post, Patrick Anderson reviews Ira Berkowitz’s Old Flame.

In the Village Voice, Alexis Soloski talks with John Banville about The Silver Swan, his latest Benjamin Black novel.

It’s craft work, which I’m quite proud of. It gives me a lot of fun—well, some fun; a lot of satisfaction. I’m quite proud of these books—proud as a craftsman. Whereas I loathe and despise all my John Banville books. I really hate them. They’re better than anybody else’s; they’re just not good enough for me.

A roundup of crime fiction at The Economist begins:

Crime novels are among the easiest and most difficult to craft. The easiest, because the structure is straightforward: the hero is set a task, usually investigating a murder. So begins a perilous odyssey, where villains are dispatched and inner ghosts confronted, before a satisfying resolution. The most difficult, because as the plot is essentially predetermined, the writer needs skill to keep the momentum going, conjuring up original, complex characters and vivid scene-setting.

At the Washington Post, Art Taylor reviews recent mystery novels.

Not recommended.

Not recommended.

Not recommended.

Recommended with reservations.

National Public Radio’s All Things Considered has a review of Marcus Sakey’s The Blade Itself.

National Public Radio’s Morning Edition today ran a piece on the detective fiction of Qiu Xiaolong. What makes Qiu Xiaolong’s fiction interesting beyond its genre is that it deals deeply with the changes in Chinese society from the Cultural Revolution to the present. Qiu Xiaolong’s latest book is A Loyal Character Dancer.

Today’s “Book World” in the Post was a little sparse, a condition to which I have sadly resigned myself. The most interesting bit was a short (part of a ho-hum roundup of recent mysteries) review of Poppy Z. Brite’s Soul Kitchen. Some time ago, in graduate school, a friend handed me a Poppy Z. Brite paperback. I read it in little fits in my kitchen (with the blinds drawn–it had one of those horror/fantasy covers that would make someone carrying a trashy romance around look sophisticated) as a respite from weighty literary theory texts and found it not to my taste. Even though the book wasn’t my thing, I got the strong sense that Poppy was interesting and, er, bright, an impression long since reinforced by posts at her blog. I have not read her series of New Orleans semi-mysteries, but I think that I will place the first in the queue.

Yesterday’s episode of Fresh Air featured reviews of two new novels: Pound for Pound by late writer F.X. Toole, and The Night Gardener by George Pelecanos.

Why is summer seen as the time to charge fearlessly onto the public stage with a stack of “guilty pleasure” books under one’s arm?

Yet another article, this one at The Washington Post, serves up the genre fiction:

Unlike many other genre series, mysteries are often better the second, third or 15th time out. The best authors deepen their detectives, turn caricature sketches into character studies and hone familiar rhythms until a P.I. or an amateur sleuth feels like an old friend. Their cities evolve from generic backgrounds into bas-relief; supporting characters evolve from human props to essential sidekicks with their own inner lives.

Tuula Sariola, widow of the renowned Finnish crime novelist Mauri Sariola, has admitted that 16 crime novels credited to her were actually written by a ghost writer, her friend Ritva Sarkola.

Read the rest of the article at Helsingin Sanomat.