I know I have a thing for mysteries from out-of-the-way places, but this is a good one. Indridason Erlandur (Icelanders use one name) takes on a case that is revealing about Iceland in the same way a Chandler case is revealing about L.A. The book has a touch of Chandler noir, too - it takes place in a record rainy spell, and involves dark secrets unearthed by the detective. It took parts of the investigation that seemed like total red herrings and tied them together nicely.