Those Pointless Equations, To Which

I've Read Crime Fiction All My Life. A Thing That's Bothered Me About Crime Fiction Is That It's Generally About One Or Two People, But There's Not Much About Society. I Want To Get Away From That Particular Pattern: A Lead, A Supporting Role And Backdrop Characters.

Normally Seven Minutes Of Another Person's Company Was Enough To Give Her A Headache So She Set Things Up To Live As A Recluse. She Was Perfectly Content As Long As People Left Her In Peace. Unfortunately Society Was Not Very Smart Or Understanding.

When Their Love Was Not Reciprocated, It Could Quickly Turn To Violent Hatred.

She Saw Him Drenched With Gasoline. She Could Actually Feel The Box Of Matches In Her Hand.

Blomkvist Had Indeed Had Many Brief Relationships. He Knew He Was Reasonably Good-looking, But He Had Never Considered Himself Exceptionally Attractive. But He Had Often Been Told That He Had Something That Made Women Interested In Him . . .that He Radiated Self-confidence And Security At The Same Time, That He Had The Ability To Make Women Feel At Ease. Going To Bed With Him Was Not Threatening Or Complicated, But It Might Be Erotically Enjoyable. And That, According To Blomkvist, Was As It Should Be.