I believe Ian Rankin introduced an edition of the Swedish writer couple; intelligent mostly tho what cultural centrism & isolation encouraged him to complain about the polysyllables: Kungsholmgatan. The merest contact with German or Dutch would confirm the Anglo-Saxon commonality. “Holm” I believe appears in English geographical nomenclature; so Kings holm garden, would not appear out of place on a London map. Detective writer, huh?
By comparison, I found a 50 cent copy of Chesterton’s Father Brown short stories [Wordsworth classics] is introduced anonymously; but the very pertinent point is made of how relevant the short story format is over the novel in the detective genre: “detective stories are generally better for being short stories; they do not have to be padded out with extra corpses”. A laborious disability of Dorothy Sayers’ works are the late chapters that read like a policeman’s notebook, pages upon pages of discounted scenarios rejected.
It shows also, in TV productions like Midsommer; as Father Brown asserts, one murder is plausible as an event, a series constitutes a career. Last night’s Foyle’s War was gruesome enough in its spectacles of maltreatment. Tho, the worst concept was that of a bureaucracy, covering up its own incompetence to the extent of lifelong, anonymous incarceration. This was what British government was known for, post WW2; in the current Foyle series, it seems to be justified by the national lurch away from the recent past of Fascism and protects itself from the threat of communism; there’s a half hearted attempt by the writers to assert the ethical stance of the leftie villains.
Not that I’m a supporter of totalitarian regimes; an acquaintance in the Sydney gay arts scene once defended Fidel Castro’s incarceration of gays, lesbians & transexuals with the words “at least he retained the means of production for his country”; faint consolation.