Meny

Sample of literary figures

  • Fredrika Bergman

    Female

    She was actually going to become a historian like her parents wished, but Fredrika Bergman changed direction and instead became an investigative analyst for the Stockholm C.I.D. She is in her early middle age, has an attractive appearance and a married lover, Spencer, 25 years older than her, and whom she meets every week. In Kristina Ohlsson’s books about her, she usually cooperates with Detective Chief Inspector Alex Recht.

    Further reading

  • Roy Grace

    Male

    Detective Superintendent in Brighton, 40+. When he isn’t solving murders in a number of books by Peter James, he is searching for his wife, Sandy. She vanished without trace on his 30th birthday, and when he does finally succeed in tracing her, he discovers that he has a son, Bruno. Roy Grace has short, blond hair, a somewhat bent nose, and he drives an Aston Martin. He eventually has a new partner, Cloe, and yet another child.

    Further reading

  • Ewert Grens

    Male

    Middle-aged detective chief inspector in Stockholm, ordinary-looking, with thinning hair and a wrinkled face. He suffers from a severe trauma: his wife Anni suffered severe brain damage in an accident that he caused. Now Ewert Grens visits her every day in the care home. His only consolation is the songs sung by Siw Malmkvist, and he is always listening to them in the novels by Anders Roslund – the early novels were written together with Börge Hellström.

    Further reading

  • Martine Poirot

    Female

    An investigating judge in the fictive little Belgian town Villette-sur-Meuse, where she lives with her husband, the Swedish Professor Thomas Héger, a specialist in Medieval History, and (eventually) their two children. Martine Poirot – the author Ingrid Hedström is very fond of whodunnnits à la Agatha Christie – is 34 years old when we meet her for the first time. She is attractive and picks her clothes carefully as well as being a skilful and stubborn crime investigator.

    Further reading