Jo nesbø headhunters5/10/2023 Not the open, unconditional smile that invites a complete stranger to come in from the cold, not the frivolous one. This novel can't be read in one sitting, it's like splashing in a bucket of cold water: pleasant in moderation, unhealthy when there is a sea of buckets. And so far, we get to enjoy our deluded heroes in all their malevolent glory. (Or something like that, I'm sure neuroscientists will settle at some point on some or other theory). All just in case your inner reptilian needs that info for further perusal. So you watch, transfixed, the disturbing scenes before you. It affects you just like a car crash, which you don't want to look at but are forced to by that ancient part of your brain, the reptilian one, that would have you pay attention to the stuff of dangers in order to protect you in case something similar ever happens to you. They are definitely at least halfway psychopathic. Oh, my! The sheer beauty of this novel lies in its perfectly dysfuntional characters.
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