I've been reading Jo Nesbo's books for the past few years, and once you stop giggling that the main character's name is Harry Hole, you fall into the dark place Nesbo writes about. Books about Hole aren't great for when you're feeling down, because they certainly won't pick you up. Each book becomes more and more personal, with crimes either pointed at Harry or more of Harry's life falling apart during the investigations. This is the seventh book, so it's pretty bleak stuff.

Still, former soccer player Nesbo's craft is tight and reads quickly. The book is long but never feels so, as Harry investigates the killings of women on the first day of snowfall. There's enjoyable forensic science, unfolding the factual clues for you, and the more pricking-thumbs intuition by Harry, equally critical to solving the crime.

I wouldn't jump in on this book... I'd recommend starting at least 4 books earlier in the series.