There was once an American suspense writer named James Thompson who attracted some attention back around mid-20th century times. At least one of his books was made into a film by that master of what Pauline Kael once described as “A Fascist Work of Art,” Sam Pekinpaw.

When I ran across a book in the library entitled “Snow Angel,” I was attracted by the title and more so when I read the name of the author–James Thompson. It turned out that this one was from another generation and I was shocked to check him on the internet and find that he died about a decade ago,

But he wrote a number of books, and I may well read more. “Snow Angel” is a treat for mystery fans, especially if they like police procedurals or noir type tough guy detectives and noirish reflections upon the shortcomings of one society and of mankind as a whole. Since I’m more or less interested in all three, this was of interest to me. And this interest was enhanced by the fact that he was a superb writer.

He used short, declarative sentences very frequently. He was the Hemingway of his time and genre, telling his story in sparse, spare language. At the same time he allowed his hero an occasional piece of warmth, and having regrets and sheding of tears–all in all, a considerable accomplishment.

Perhaps it is a sign of aging again(maybe not, though)that I feel compelled to give a couple of warnings. This is, as I have suggested, a tough book and a tough story. There is warmth but also there is violence and hatred and the author made no attempt to hide these or sweeten them. They are there and they are effective.

He also had the gift of describing with brief brilliance violence and the effects of violence, particularly the latter. If you are hesitant to read something too grossly frank, too compellingly revolting about damaged bodies, wounds, and decadent hatred, beware. But I do have a suggestion. A few years ago I read a book that was a fairly good mystery but was replete with autopsy descriptions, some of which were described in a detail which got to my more sensitive tastes.I believe I got around that(I wanted to finish the book)by noticing when one of these was starting, and skipping quickly through it until it was over. I don’t think I missed anything very relevant to the plot. Anyway, if you like this kind of mystery novel, I suggest you try it–the book is well worth it.

Thompson was an American who spent a great deal of time in Finland and knew the language and the culture well. His main character, Inspector Kari Vaarki, is largely the opposite. He is a native Finn who went to graduate school in the US and understands America and its culture. He’s also married to an American lady who works as a hotel-bar manager and was brought there by an employer who felt he needed her talents for his place.

The Inspector is admirably ungenerous with unnecessary language and wordage, but he is generous in his descriptions, and if you know nothing about Finland to begin with you will know more when you finish(that’s not an intentional pun, incidentally)the book. Yes, it’s cold there. Much of the country is north of the Arctic Circle. it’s dark a lot, including about a week or so in December when there’s no sunlight at all. Partially because of this, he opines, Finns have a considerable tendency to depression. This results in heavy drinking sometimes leading to alcoholism and occasionally to violence. Still, there is something mysterious about the place, I thought, and this unspoken mystery sucks you in along with the more formal mystery of the book.

Finland has also, in recent years become a refuge home for people fleeing Somalia. There are several thousand of them now and they are an important part of the culture. The Finns were happy to play the role of care-givers and benevolent hosts to the Somalis at first. But in time, well, time itself changed this a bit; Eventually they became resented and racial hatred appeared, some of it sounding like the US variety. The good inspector regrets this but can’t help it. His job takes him wherever there is a certain kind of criminal trouble, and acting like a bigoted, foul mouthed jerk is not a criminal act–it really can’t be without violence involved although sometimes–well, never mind US politics for now.

The trigger for the greater part of the book is the murder of a Somali movie star who had been working there. She was Sufia Elmi and she was stunningly beautiful. She was also somewhat wanton in her private life and her choices. Apparently someone hated her enough to kill her.

When Vaari goes to the scene of the crime we get the first taste of how much violent depiction there may be. Some of it is necessary for depicting the true violence and brutality of the perpetrator and few details are spared. So the Inspector starts out in a tough situation, worried about his now pregnant wife, oppressed like so many others by the darkness, and now having to deal with the darkness of this terrible case and the darkness inside him and perhaps most of his fellow Finns.

The trail is not an easy one. The plot is, in a way, very complicated. It includes Vaari’s subordinates and their issues, the National Police Commissioner who is on his back much of the time, and a variety of people who may have had both opportunity and means. Sorting them out is difficult, and as in many good mystery novels the suspicion tends to shift from time to time and for good reason. New information makes for new suspicions.

The suspects range from the Inspector’s ex-wife and her husband to several townspeople who for one reason or another are plausible perpetrators. So, the inspector must put all this together while dealing with the darkness in and around him and not allowing it to eclipse himself and his job.

While the plot is indeed complex (I won’t try to describe it further here and now) it is not really all that hard to follow. That is largely due to Thompson’s immense talents as a writer, and I think there are two parts to this. He understood storytelling, how to make scenes flow one into the other without goofing around with the narrative, so it all seems to make sense. (Attn US film directors).

Then there is the already mentioned writing style. However complicated the situation may be Thompson’s writing is always clear and direct. The words spill off the page like a course on how to read(or write like) Hemingway or Raymond Chandler. So once you’re in for the ride, I’d say your are stuck;. You’re going to want to finish this one and if you’re like me when you have stop for something you’ll want to get back to the book as soon as you can do so. At least that was my take. I’ll leave you to your own take, but if you like mysteries, particularly the hard-boiled, hard writing type that might have delighted James M Cain, then give this one a try. I think you’ll like it.