I'm Afraid I Didn't Really Like Caracas

I Have Questioned Myself About The Brutality In The Last Few Novels. Actually In The Leopard, In Hindsight, I Feel I Went A Little Bit Too Far With Screaming Blood. There Are A Couple Of Scenes That I Regret And Wish I Had The Chance To Rewrite. Phantom Has Less Blood.

Harry Looked At Bellman. He Could Not Help But Admire Him. The Way You Admire A Cockroach You Flush Down The Toilet And It Comes Creeping Back Again And Again And In The End It Inherits The World.

For Many Years, It Seemed As If Nothing Changed In Norway. You Could Leave The Country For Three Months, Travel The World, Through Coups D'etat, Assassinations, Famines, Massacres And Tsunamis, And Come Home To Find That The Only New Thing In The Newspapers Was The Crossword Puzzle.

My Influence Is Probably More From American Crime Writers Than Any Europeans. And I Hardly Read Any Scandinavian Crime Before I Started Writing Myself. I Wasn't A Great Crime Reader To Begin With.

With Regard To Power, Women Don't Have The Vanity Men Have. They Don't Need To Make Power Visible, They Only Want The Power To Give Them The Other Things They Want. Security. Food. Enjoyment. Revenge. Peace. They Are Rational, Power-seeking Planners, Who Think Beyond The Battle, Beyond The Victory Celebrations. And Because They Have An Inborn Capacity To See Weakness In Their Victims, They Know Instinctively When And How To Strike. And When To Stop. You Can't Learn That.