Book Review: The Lost House by Melissa Larsen

Agnes Glin is perhaps at the lowest point in her life when she arrives in Iceland, the country her father and late grandfather emigrated from some forty years earlier. While she’s thrilled to finally be in the land of her ancestors, she also has misgivings. Her father Magnus, for one, strongly disapproves of the project for which she’s flown out by herself to Reykjavik before driving to his former hometown.

Decades ago, Agnes’ grandmother Marie was found in a snowbank, brutally slaughtered and clutching the drowned body of her infant daughter, Agnes’ namesake. Everyone immediately believed that Einar, Agnes’ grandfather, had killed his much younger wife. While he was never charged with murder, the hostility of his neighbors eventually led Einar to take his older child Magnus and emigrate to America. Magnus grew up, married and had a daughter whom he named Agnes in turn.

Magnus was not the best father, so Agnes got most of her paternal guidance from her grandfather instead. When she finally discovered why they’d left Iceland, she was aghast. There was no way she could reconcile the image of her kind, loving grandfather with a monster who killed his wife and daughter. When Nora Carver, an influential podcaster, invites her to Iceland to tell her family’s side of the story, she jumps at the chance, even though her father is very much against it. Einar has been dead for over a year and Magnus sees no point in rehashing old rumors. But the more time Agnes spends with Nora as they interview the people who knew Marie, the more Agnes feels that she has to defend her gentle grandfather. As Nora says to a somewhat hostile interviewee:

“Tell me about Einar. Her husband.”

 

“Soulless.”

 

The sun takes its last breath, then vanishes behind the hills, leaving the room in a sudden, incomplete darkness. The fireplace casts the room in what should be a cozy haze, but it seems like all the color has drained from the room. Soulless. The man who raised her. Agnes should be demanding answers from this woman who seems to know everything about her grandparents’ marriage. But she’s incapable of speech.

 

She sees her grandfather’s hand, reaching for her own. Weeks to the end. He’d said he could feel it coming. It’ll be okay, he’d told her. He was the one who was dying, and he was comforting her.

Agnes’ quixotic quest to clear her grandfather’s name is further hampered by the leg injury she still hasn’t fully recovered from, and by the painkiller addiction that she can’t quite shake. A further complication arises when a young woman who bears more than a passing resemblance to Agnes disappears from a party at the house where Einar and Magnus once lived. Ása Gunnarsdóttir was young, beautiful and full of secrets. Nora doesn’t believe that Ása’s disappearance is a coincidence, and decides to cover it alongside the historic case. Agnes soon finds herself inextricably enmeshed in the search for Ása, as it promises to reveal the truth about what happened to Marie as well. Will Agnes like what she uncovers though, as she pushes her body past its limits in the Icelandic winter, in a potentially futile effort to prove her beloved grandfather’s innocence?

I was impressed at the sheer number of twists and turns that were packed into this book. It was genuinely suspenseful trying to figure out whodunnit, as Melissa Larsen had me constantly second guessing myself in much the same way that Agnes does. Agnes herself is a sympathetic heroine despite being recklessly impulsive and often making less than great choices. It’s hard, after all, to lose your independence and to be in constant pain. On top of that, the toll of having to constantly perform gratitude for the help that you get is rarely overstated in the public discourse, if stated at all. This goes double when you’re treated less as a human being by your caregivers than as a problem to be solved:

Agnes has been so taken care of in the past year. There have been so many meals prepared for her. So many schedules realigned. Hands guiding her in and out of chairs and medical offices and clinical eyes on her body, judging how she’s moving, how she’s improving. Her father’s half-hearted attempts at meals. Bananas, protein shakes, toast. The consideration, every wash day, to guide her in and out of a routine that used to be mindless and private. Part of Agnes feels infantilized, a child impotently reaching for a too-high counter. And part of her feels so unbelievably tired of saying “thank you.” Burnt out on the gratitude and the care and the appreciation. Nora’s generosity touches Agnes. But it exhausts her, just as much, if not more.

Ms. Larsen’s sophomore work is an impressive follow-up to her debut, Shutter, showcasing her growing mastery of the thriller form. Smart, queer and with excellent disability representation, this is an absorbing crime novel set in a place not often featured in the genre, if largely due to Iceland’s own low crime rate. That doesn’t make this story any less plausible or gripping, as our determined heroine seeks to save both a reputation and at least one life.