Nytt

Jo Nesbø sier i et intervju med the Independt at norske medier gjorde Anders Behring Breivik til et ikon ved å blåse ham opp. Nesbø mener at ABB ikke er spesielt politisk interessant. Norske medier gjorde alt ved ham interessant.

– På grunn av mediedekningen har vi skapt et ikon: Et norsk monster, sier Nesbø til den britiske avisen.

Han mener det er naivt å ikke tro at det stammer fra vår naturlige fascinasjon av monstre.

– Vi prøver å komme inn i hodet til dette ene individet, som enten er eller ikke er veldig syk. Breivik representerer seg selv, og ikke mange andre. Han er ikke veldig politisk interessant. Ikke uinteressant, men altså heller ikke veldig interessant, sier han.


– Mediene ble hjelpere

Breivik har selv sagt at han gjennomførte aksjonene for å få oppmerksomhet om sitt såkalte manifest.

– Der har dessverre media vært nyttige hjelpere til å gi ham nettopp det fokus og den berømmelsen han selv varslet, utdyper Jo Nesbø i en tekstmelding til VG Nett.

Nesbø er stolt av folks verdige reaksjon på terroren, men hvorfor måtte mediene rose seg selv og nasjonen, i stedet for å ta det i stillhet, slik at det ble en form for selvros?

– Det noe beklemmende når media fulgte opp med fyldige reportasjer om hvor mye utlandet hyllet oss for vår reaksjon. Det var som om – midt oppi tragedien – at selv måten vi sørget på kunne brukes som nok en fjær i hatten til den norske selvtilfredsheten, sier han.

Generalsekretær i Norsk redaktørforening, Nils Øy mener Nesbø må få mene hva han vil, men deler ikke noe av kritikken.

VG trekker frem at Nesbø hadde foreldre som sto på hver sin side under krigen. Først da han var 15 år fikk Nesbø vite at faren hadde slåss for Tyskland.

Kanskje det er noe av grunnen til at Nesbø ser på ABB og dekningen med større distanse og kritisk blikk?

Nesbø: – Mediedekningen gjorde Breivik til et ikon

Originalen:

«I was one of the few people in Oslo who didn’t feel the blast,» Nesbo recalls. «I was climbing at my gym. At that moment, I was hanging in the air on a rope. I was shocked, but I wasn’t surprised that something like this happened. The bombing felt real. It was only when I heard about the shootings on Utoya that it became unreal. We went to bed, and they said that 10 people are shot. The number in the morning was 90. You would think that emotionally the jump shouldn’t make a lot of difference. But it did.»

The tragedy raised and refined Nesbo’s profile in the grimmest of circumstances. Already popular internationally, his chilly thrillers seemed perfect for the boom in Scandinavian crime fiction and drama that saw Wallander and The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo emerge from Sweden, and The Killing and Borgen from Denmark. One Harrogate crime writer suggests that Nesbo was the right person to fill the vacuum created by Henning Mankell’s decision to close Kurt Wallander’s casebook and Stieg Larsson’s early death.

Nesbo’s independent Norwegian identity emerged in the aftermath of Breivik, as he was sought out to comment on the battered state of his own nation: for instance, how Norway’s enviably civilised society concealed violent undercurrents dating back to the Second World War. Parallels were drawn between the grizzly details of the attacks and the occasionally grizzly plots of Nesbo’s fiction. The Redbreast (2000) felt especially prophetic, featuring a right-wing psychopath whose Nazi sympathies echoed Breivik’s extremist views.

Today, Nesbo refuses to mention Breivik by name. But he rejects the idea that the man recently declared sane by a Norwegian judge embodies any philosophy other than his own sociopathic narcissism. «Because of the media coverage, we have created an icon: a Norwegian monster. It’s naïve to think it doesn’t derive from our natural fascination with the monster. We are trying to get into the head of this one individual, who may or may not be very sick. [Breivik] represents himself and not many others. From a social or political point of view, this is not a very interesting event.»

What Nesbo does find fascinating is what the response reveals about contemporary Norway’s vision of itself. «As a trauma for a nation it is important. In one way, I am proud of the way we reacted: that we won’t give in to violence and stop trusting each other.»

On the other hand, he was disturbed that his countrymen seemed to revel in their stoicism, possibly as a way of avoiding darker subtexts in their society. «It’s almost like Norway wanted their 9/11, as if the nation fell in love with its reaction to the tragedy. Would any other country in the world react like this – so calm, wise and full of love? I’m not sure I like that. A Norwegian killed a lot of other Norwegians. How proud can you be about that?»

Jo Nesbo: ‘A Norwegian killed a lot of other Norwegians. How proud can you be about that?’