LITMIR.BIZ

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So how does it feel?’

      Christian finally managed to extricate himself and took a step back.

      ‘Well, a little unreal, I have to admit. I’ve been working on this novel for so long, and now … well, now here it is.’ He glanced at the stacks of books on the table by the exit. He could read his own name on the spine of each copy, along with the title: The Mermaid. He felt his stomach flip. It was really happening.

      ‘So this is what we have in mind,’ Gaby said, tugging at his sleeve and pulling him along. Christian followed, offering no resistance. ‘We’ll start by meeting with the journalists who are here, so they can talk to you in peace and quiet. We’re very pleased with the media response. Journalists from Göteborgs Posten, Göteborgs Tidningen, Bohusläningen, and Strömstads Tidning – they’re all here. None from the national newspapers, but that’s all right, considering today’s rave review in Svenska Dagbladet.’

      ‘A review?’ said Christian as he was escorted to a small dais next to the stage where he would talk to the press.

      ‘I’ll tell you later,’ said Gaby, pushing him down on to a chair next to the wall.

      He tried to regain some control of the situation, but he felt as if he’d been sucked into a tumble drier with no possibility of escape. The sight of Gaby already on her way out, leaving him behind, merely reinforced that feeling. Assistants were dashing about, setting the tables. Nobody paid any attention to him. He permitted himself to close his eyes for a moment. He thought about his book, The Mermaid, and all the hours he’d spent sitting at the computer. Hundreds, thousands of hours. He thought about her, about the Mermaid.

      ‘Christian Thydell?’

      A voice roused him from his reverie and he looked up. The man standing before him was holding his hand out and seemed to be waiting for him to respond. So he stood up and shook hands.

      ‘Birger Jansson, Strömstads Tidning.’ The man set a big camera bag on the floor.

      ‘Oh, er, welcome. Please have a seat,’ said Christian, not sure how to act. He looked around for Gaby, but caught only a glimpse of her shocking pink outfit, fluttering about near the entrance.

      ‘They’re really putting a lot of PR behind your book,’ said Jansson, looking around.

      ‘Yes, it seems so,’ said Christian. Then both of them fell silent and fidgeted a bit.

      ‘Shall we get started? Or should we wait for the others?’

      Christian gave the reporter a blank look. How should he know? He’d never done anything like this before. But Jansson seemed to take the whole situation in his stride as he placed a tape recorder on the table and switched it on.

      ‘So,’ he said, fixing Christian with a penetrating gaze. ‘This is your first novel, right?’

      Christian wondered whether he was supposed to do more than confirm this statement. ‘Yes, it is,’ he said, clearing his throat.

      ‘I liked it a lot,’ said Jansson in a gruff tone of voice that belied the compliment.

      ‘Thank you,’ said Christian.

      ‘What did you intend to say with this novel?’ Jansson checked the tape recorder to make sure it was recording properly.

      ‘What did I intend to say? I don’t really know. It’s a novel, a story that I’ve had in the back of my mind and that needed to come out.’

      ‘It’s an awfully dark story. I’d almost call it bleak,’ said Jansson, studying Christian as if trying to peer inside the deepest recesses of his soul. ‘Is this how you view society?’

      ‘I don’t know if it’s my view of society that I was trying to communicate through the book,’ said Christian, searching frantically for something intelligent to say. He’d never thought of his writing in this way before. The story had been part of him for so long, inside his head, and finally he’d felt compelled to put it down on paper. But did it have anything to do with what he wanted to say about society? The thought had never even occurred to him.

      Finally Gaby came to his rescue, arriving with the other reporters in tow, and Jansson turned off his tape recorder as they all greeted one another and sat down around the table. The whole process took several minutes, and Christian used the opportunity to gather his thoughts.

      Gaby then motioned for everyone’s attention.

      ‘Welcome to this gathering in honour of the new superstar in the literary firmament, Christian Thydell. All of us at the publishing company are incredibly proud of producing his first novel, The Mermaid. And we think this marks the beginning of a long and amazing writing career. Christian hasn’t yet seen any of the reviews. So it’s with great joy that I can tell you, Christian, that today there were fantastic reviews in Svenska Dagbladet, Dagens Nyheter, and Arbetarbladet, just to name a few. Let me read a few quotes to all of you.’

      She put on her reading glasses and reached for a stack of papers lying in front of her on the table. A pink highlighter had been used to mark phrases against the white newsprint.

      ‘“A linguistically virtuoso performance depicting the plight of ordinary people without losing sight of the larger perspective.” That was from Svenska Dagbladet,’ Gaby explained with a nod to Christian. Then she turned to the next review. ‘“It’s both pleasant and painful to read Christian Thydell’s book, since his pared-down prose shines light on society’s false promises of security and democracy. His words cut like a knife through flesh, muscle and conscience, which kept me reading with feverish urgency and seeking, like a fakir, more of the torturous but wonderfully cleansing pain.” That’s from Dagens Nyheter,’ said Gaby, taking off her glasses as she handed the small stack of reviews to Christian.

      In stunned disbelief, he took the reviews. He’d heard the words, and it felt good to be showered with praise, but he honestly didn’t understand what the critics were talking about. All he’d done was write about her, told her story. Let out the words and everything about her in an outpouring that had occasionally left him completely drained. It wasn’t his intention to say anything about society. He just wanted to say something about her.

      But he bit back the protests. No one would understand, and maybe it was better just to let things be. He’d never be able to explain.

      ‘How marvellous,’ he said, hearing how the words fell meaninglessly from his lips.

      Then came more questions. More praise and comments about his book. And he realized that he couldn’t give a sensible answer to a single question. How could he describe something that had filled the smallest corners of his life? Something that wasn’t merely a story – it was also about survival. About pain. He did the best he could, trying to speak clearly and thoughtfully. Apparently he succeeded, because Gaby kept nodding her approval.

      When the interview session was finally over, all Christian wanted to do was go home. He felt totally drained. But he was forced to linger on in the beautiful dining room of the Grand Hotel. He took a deep breath and prepared himself to meet the guests who had started to stream in. He smiled, but it was a smile that cost him more effort than anyone would ever know.

      ‘Could you manage to stay sober tonight?’ Erik Lind quietly snapped at his wife so that the others waiting in the queue to get into the party wouldn’t hear him.

      ‘Could you manage to keep your hands to yourself tonight?’ Louise replied, not bothering to whisper.

      ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Erik. ‘And lower your voice, please.’

      Louise eyed her husband coldly. He was an elegant man – that much she couldn’t deny. And once upon a time that had attracted her. They’d met at the university, and plenty of girls had looked at her with envy because she’d nabbed Erik Lind. Since then he had slowly but surely fucked away any love, respect, or trust she’d ever felt for him. Not with her. God, no. On the other hand, he didn’t seem

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