Reading the start of “Kniv” felt like reading a parody of a Jo Nesbø book. It was overdone, and it was grandiose. In other words, exactly what I would want, and what I would expect, from a Harry Hole book.
As the book begins, Harry Hole is… checks notes in a state of checks notes again just to be sure despair, and had once again fallen off the wagon back into alcoholism. Once again circumstances around him conspire to make the upcoming days the worst days of his life. It’s interesting how Nesbø always gets away with this same, pretty much identical, trope for the start of every single Hole book, but hey - it does the job.
After the opening drama, none of which I write any about as I was actually properly surprised at some of it, the story progresses in the way it has to progress. The way these stories always do. It’s obvious what has happened - then it isn’t - then there is a twist - then there is another twist - then you put your hand in front of your mouth while exclaiming “No, surely not?!” - etc. - etc. Usually with these books there is something about each individual books that sets it apart a little bit, and that makes it feel like it sidesteps the formula a little bit. With Kniv there isn’t really much that does that: it pretty much follows the path, a twisty path, yes, but still a path, without diverging from it. Fortunately, the formula these books follow is good enough for it not to feel too formulaic.
Overall, not the best Harry Hole book, but certainly not the worse. Perfect as a lazy holiday-read.