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“Nidamörkur” is Peter Fröberg Idling’s contribution to the horror genre. It is also the name of a former place of execution in southern Gotland. There, the novel’s main character, Simon, the status-eager publicist, buys a dilapidated piece of land without telling his fiancée. “Our own corner of paradise” has captioned on the designed folder containing the law and the house drawing.
His partner, business attorney Jenny, is not impressed. She is even more critical of the fact that Simon bought the plot for her joint money, without consulting her first. The dream of paradise, which the couple lives, soon turns into the hell of reality and little by little into a supernatural hell.
Fröberg Idling shows directly that he can write, initially I just enjoy the thoughtful representations of environments and objects. A tick-tock of discomfort forms without really being able to point out what it is. Small changes in scale and distance, sudden changes between light and dark. The feeling of walking on wet ground in a borrowed pair of rubber boots: “The water pressed the rubber sides of the boots against the feet in a slightly uncomfortable way, but it rarely reached higher than the ankles.”
Simon is not comfortable. But now he has set out to dominate the situation. Be a home builder. Or, at least assist during construction and monitor the process. Set up a mailbox. A few hours later it is not left.
Even though I read all three hundred and fifty pages of the novel in one go, it’s low-key exciting and naturally you want to know how it goes, I leave the book feeling the same as after watching a good TV detective. Yes. That was it. Absolutely entertaining, but now is the time to pack up and lay down. The next day, the reading of “Nidamörkur” has faded.
I think it depends in two things. First: I find it difficult to get involved with the people presented by the novel. Aspiring childless couple Jenny and Simon have a good relationship. She is more upper-class, he has “a phlegmatic family made up of bus drivers, care attendants and auto mechanics” that he doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t need it either. Drive a BMW Crossover, with “the expensive option ruby black metallic“, The reader learns.
The genealogy that means something is related to Great-Uncle One, who owned a farm in Gotland. To Simon’s chagrin, the house is bequeathed to Uno’s godchildren. “There were no blood ties to her.” So now he is trying to build his own place.
Jenny works at a law firm in Östermalm, trains, meets a young love affair, is afraid of bacilli and sees herself as a “good girl”. His friends are successful and polite. Farmers are farmers. The character gallery consists of rock figures. This means that empathy for Simon’s increasing loss of control does not take hold.
Second: Loss of control is the engine of the horror genre. Although I don’t care about Simon that much, depictions of darkness and the essence of the place can throw me off balance. I don’t really do that, although I do wobble sometimes.
Here Fröberg Idling was able to tap into the many Gothic threads that he so cleverly lays out. Instead, those left behind flutter in the wind. It’s snoopy, especially since various small parts in “Nidamörkur” are brilliant. The whole deserved better attention.
Read more texts by Anna Hallberg and more book reviews from DN
