Praise for Where the Shadows Lie and Michael Ridpath:
"Michael Ridpath is on the war path, trouncing the Scandinavians on their home turf. This is international thriller writing at its best, fine characters, page turning suspense and a great, fresh location." --Peter James, #1 international bestselling author of Dead Like You
“The latest novel by British crime writer Ridpath is highly imaginative, with a striking setting and a marvelous story… Ridpath does a fine job of immersing us in Icelandic culture, and Magnus, who is the anchor of a proposed series of novels, is a thoroughly fascinating character, not so much a fish out of water as a man reconnecting with his own heritage. Exotic and compelling, a first-class mystery.” –Booklist, starred review
"Ridpath smoothly melds history, legend, and a police procedural in this first of a crime series set in Iceland... Ridpath deftly explores the influence myths have on contemporary, credit-strapped Iceland." --Publishers Weekly
"This highly atmospheric and addictive thriller brings in elements that will entice both crime fiction and fantasy readers. If your readers like a treasure-hunting chase, give them this one. With Tolkien groupies, Internet hacking, and revenge, this title has no shortage of appeal. Clearly, Ridpath, the author of eight financial thrillers, has his own trilogy in mind." --Library Journal, starred review
"Michael Ridpath’s latest offering, “Where the Shadows Lie” is a tight mix of crime and lore that takes the reader on a journey from crime-ridden streets to the slopes of a mysterious volcano. Fast-paced and well written, Ridpath keeps your attention while exploring 10th century sagas, corrupt policemen, contract killers, fanboys, family secrets, and a magical ring... Ridpath’s research into Iceland and its people, customs, and geography, makes the British author seem native. “Where the Shadows Lie” has a lot going for it and the reward is worth the journey." --Suspense Magazine
“A clever blend of murder mystery, myth and up-tothe- minute mayhem.. . Whether you’re a fan of orcs, Gimli and Legolas or Elmore Leonard and “The Sopranos”, there’s something in this. . . thriller for you.” —The London Times
“This is a good story set in a fascinating place and spiced with some sharp observation.” —Literary Review
“A superbly entertaining thriller. . . Michael Ridpath, no stranger to big sales figures, has another hit on his hands.” —Shots Magazine
“Where the Shadows Lie is ingenious, and briskly narrated. Like many good thriller writers, Ridpath is adept at informing as well as thrilling — you can learn a great deal about Iceland, ancient and modern, here, and it’s fascinating stuff.” –The Spectator
“Ridpath has that read-on factor that sets bestsellers apart” --The Guardian (UK)
“A five-star effort as an entry in the select genre called ‘Icelandic novels written by non-Icelanders’” --IceNews
"Fascinating echoes of Tolkien and Njal’s Saga and acute observations about the distinctive culture of Iceland." --Kirkus"Fascinating... A real page-turner, and if you are a saga or Lord of the Rings fan, you'll like it even more." --Lögberg-Heimskringla
"The vivid descriptions of the modern city of Reykjavik contrast sharply with the eerie landscape of the Icelandic countryside, where the clues to Haraldsson's death lead the investigation. Michael Ridpath has created a mystery whose eccentric characters seem like they might have come from Middle Earth. The only question is whether or not Magnus will be able to separate truth from myth and find the killer before the Dominicans find him." --Jessica Howard, bookseller, Bookmans Entertainment Exchange
"The plot and characters in this novel are outstanding, and the unusual locale simply adds to the pleasure of reading this book." --marilynsreads.com
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Where the Shadows Lie
CHAPTER ONEPROFESSOR AGNAR HARALDSSON folded the letter and slipped it back into its small yellowing envelope.He glanced again at the address inscribed in an upright, ornamental hand: Högni Ísildarson, Laugavegur 64, Reykjavík, Iceland. The stamp bore the profile of a beardless British king, an Edward or a George, Agnar wasn't certain which.His heart thumped, the envelope performing a tiny dance in his shaking hand. The letter had arrived that morning enclosed within a larger envelope bearing a modern Icelandic stamp and a Reykjavík postmark.It was all that Agnar could have hoped for. It was more than that; it was perfect.As a professor of Icelandic at the University of Iceland, Agnar had been privileged to handle some of the oldest manuscripts of his country's sagas, copied out by monks with infinite care on to sheaves of calf skins using black bearberry juice for ink, and feathers from the left wings of swans for pens. Those magnificent documents were Iceland's heritage, Iceland's soul. But none of them would cause as great a stir in the outside world as this single sheet of paper.And none of them was his discovery.He looked up from his desk over the serene lake in front of him. It glittered a rare deep blue in the April sunshine. Ten minutes before it had glinted steel grey, and in a few more minutes it would do so again as dark clouds from the west chased after thosedisappearing over the snow-topped mountains across the lake to the east.A perfect location for a summer house. The cabin had been built by Agnar's father, a former politician who was now in an old-people's home. Although summer was still some time away, Agnar had escaped there for the weekend to work with no distractions. His wife had just given birth to their second child, and Agnar had a tight deadline to get through a pile of translation.'Aggi, come back to bed.'He turned to see the breathtakingly beautiful figure of Andrea, ballet dancer and third-year literature student, naked as she glided across the bare wooden floor towards him, her blonde hair a tangled mess.'I'm sorry, darling, I can't,' he said nodding towards the mess of papers in front of him.'Are you sure?' She bent down to kiss him, and ran her fingers under his shirt and through the hair on his chest, her mane tickling his nose. She broke away. 'Are you really sure?'He smiled and removed his spectacles.Well, perhaps he would allow himself one distraction.WHERE THE SHADOWS LIE. Copyright © 2010 by Michael Ridpath. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
