Murder Tide is a thriller of threes. It is the third Stella novel to be translated from Icelandic into English, it has three sub-plots, it features three stories about fathers, and in the last of those there’s a Mamma Mia-style line-up featuring some very different men. But if all this sounds a little bit domestic, there’s evidence of high-level corruption within the Icelandic police, and one of the cases hinges on the idea that the rich and powerful in Iceland used their leverage to bounce back from the banking crisis, while another explores abuses of power within the Icelandic church.

Crime novels are at their best when they speak up on behalf of the voiceless, but I wonder whether Blómkvist has taken the concept too far when the first chapter sees Stella visited by a medium. I don’t really like it when there are supernatural elements introduced to thrillers: it makes me feel that I can’t really trust the evidence that’s being put to us, and it takes me a while to get into the story. (I notice that there are frequently supernatural elements in Icelandic novels, and will pay attention in future to work out if that’s a bigger feature of the literature than I previously thought.) I relax into it all once I’ve read a supposed report by journalist Máki which, on first reading, seems to digress from discussing a murder report to criticising the whole idea of golf as a pursuit. (On closer re-reading, it isn’t that, but I like it anyway.)

We soon learn that the patriarchy can’t be trusted (even when they are doing what they think is the right thing), but even though Stella is right in front of us to provide a contrast, we know that we can’t trust her either. She makes some decisions that I can’t defend. She is not a role model. But there is a huge amount in her character to like and to admire. She’s usually one step ahead of her enemies, whether from the criminal underworld or the police force, she’s aware of her own emotions, she thinks quickly on her feet, and she’s incredibly brave. It seems that her relationship with girlfriend Rannveig is a happy and grounding influence. There’s character development in real time, which gives the novel a dimension that’s missing from many standard detective or police procedurals.

I’d be interested to know which of all these themes had the greatest impact when this novel was first published in 2017. Icelandic readers continue to speculate about then identity of the writer, but were they angry about the tales of corruption and the abuse of power, or were they inspired by the exploration of confronting the world on your own terms, as Stella does?

For a novel that tackles such serious subjects, there are a number of very funny moments. My favourite is an aphorism that Stella ascribes to her mother, an attribution I’m not buying. But I think Quentin Bates will have had a great time bringing Stella’s personality to readers in English. The result is a novel that, jarring medium appearance aside, proceeds with pace. It requires your attention but repays your investment.

Thanks to Corylus Books for the review copy and to Ewa Sherman for the blog tour invitation.