Aaargh! I loved several of the novels in this series, and I had such high hopes for this one when I was about a quarter of the way through. But rarely have I seen something fall apart at the end in quite such a spectacular fashion as En Plats I Solen
. Whatever happened to her?
All the same, there were some wonderfully bitchy conversations. My favourite bit was when Annika's new boss at the newspaper is telling her she needs to sex up her next article.
"Okay," he says, "we want an interview with some attractive young woman who's prepared to say that she bitterly regrets getting dragged into the parties-and-coke scene. If she's got breast implants, all the better."
"How important are the breast implants?" asks Annika.
"What?" says her boss, momentarily off-balance.
"How important are they? I mean, should I prioritise them over the degree of remorse?"
He angrily tells her to use her judgement. A couple of days later, Annika is talking with the local contact in Spain.
"I need a hot former cokehead who can do an interview," she says. "Preferably someone with fake tits."
"How important are the fake tits?" asks the contact.
"Put them at the top of the list," says Annika, deadpan.