The world is ending, and every page of every magazine ever printed has self-destructed – burned, BURNED! – in protest of the coming apocalypse of the newsstand because by golly the printed page is a dinosaur waiting to breathe its last breath and die in the thirsty, muddy pits of Fantasia-evocation and early childhood horror. This is, at least, what some would have us believe and what we Gophers might have started preaching (if only out of fear of the rapidly wagging index finger) if [...]
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_Nathanael Rich of Slate asks why Scandinavians write such great crime fiction. RedRum in Oslo? (that legendary home of the accords) Click on the link for the story.
