A Parallel Universe

Finland, the myths and truths. Internationally, it has a reputation as perhaps the best place in the world to live. A great economy. A low crime rate. Good and nearly cost-free health care. The needy are provided for by the state and live in reasonable comfort. Finns: peaceful and quiet people, living in the perfect example of a social democracy functioning as it should. A tourist, or even a person who has lived here for a length of time, might well view Finland as such. There is some truth to this, but like every country, Finland has many truths.

Finnish literature, traditionally, with the exception of the work of a handful of authors such as Leena Lehtolainen (she has publishers in around thirty countries), a contributor to this anthology, hasn't sold well abroad, especially in the noir genre. The reason for this is likely related to the fact that Finland is a quirky country, with customs, traditions, and ways of doing things that mystify some foreigners. In certain translated books, foreign readers are often wondering: Why would a person do or think that? It stops readers dead in their tracks.

The problem is one of language—and Finnish is in certain ways a difficult and bizarre language. I sometimes consider something in Finnish, then again in English, and reach different conclusions. Finland is, like the theme so often explored in Star Trek, a parallel universe in which, on the surface, all seems normal, but under that shell lie vast differences. Finland is Oz. Like Dorothy in Kansas, Finns usually live internal lives full of dreams, of tin men and witches, lions seeking hearts and flying monkeys. And they hide their frustrations and anger—until they don't. As this book demonstrates, Finland is a noir nation.

The true Finland exists in the Finnish mind, in the Finnish soul, and without an occasional explanation as a guide, some readers can't grasp the Finnish mind. Without a glimmer of understanding of the reasons belying thoughts and actions, stories can confuse and fall flat. This book has no such difficulties.

Being chosen as the editor of Helsinki Noir brought me mixed emotions. I felt tremendous pride, because although I'm considered by most to be a Finnish author, I was given the honor of working with some of Finland's finest and most popular writers. I felt trepidation for the same reason. I've lived in Finland for fifteen years, but it's a fact of Finnish culture that if I live here for a hundred years, even if I take dual citizenship and become a Finn, I will never truly be considered Finnish. I'm frequently referred to as a Finnish-American. People often aren't quite sure what to make of me. Would I gain the respect of the authors in the anthology, or would they be dismissive, working under an American? Scary.

On the practical side, the stories in this volume were originally written in Finnish, English, and Swedish, whichever language the individual author saw fit to write in, so I suppose the pool of writers who are also experienced editors and able to work in those three languages was rather limited. I focus on the pride of being chosen editor in spite of this.

That duality of cultural experience gives me the ability to see things about Finns that they might take for granted, things that might never occur to them as being uniquely Finnish. As it turned out, I had no reason to be nervous about editing Helsinki Noir; every author treated me and my suggestions with respect, and the process of writing and editing the book went seamlessly.

This anthology is, I believe, the best representation of Finnish noir ever offered to the international community. Every word rings true. It holds Finland up in a way that not only exposes this wonderful and fascinating country to the world, but acts as a mirror that reflects its people and culture in a way every Finn will recognize, vocalizing those truths that are so seldom spoken here amongst ourselves.

Enjoy.

James Thompson July 2014