The Swedish paperback edition just released by Brombergs BokfĂ¶rlag! Love this cover!
Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category
Wonderful news! Sonata for Miriam now released in Czech Republic. Thank you to my publisherÂ NakladatelstvĂ VyĆĄehradÂ and to my translator Jana Chmura SvatoĆĄovĂĄ.
I wish I had seen this very thoughtful review of my third novel in Landfall much earlier. I remember feeling very vulnerable. This would have been such comfort.
As it is now, too, of course.
At that difficult last stage. Manuscript submitted, have edited and incorporated comments, but still waiting for a final approval. The hardest time. Meanwhile, I listen to more music that features inÂ the novel: Lluis LLach, ‘Bresssol de tots els blaus’Â (The cradle of all blue).Â Â And I wait, apprehensive, hoping for the best.
‘Au premier chant du merle’ (The blackbird sings at dusk’) will be released by my French publisher Archipel on February 10, 2016. It is already visible here and there … and the final cover design is great.
Je croise les doigts!
Still in Stockholm. It is warmer than ever. And very dark. No white Christmas.
A lot to write, but it feels good.
This time, we have a cover and we have a title, it’s just up to me to finish the manuscript.
A sister in my house
One Sister have I in our house,
And one, a hedge away.
There’s only one recorded,
But both belong to me.
Ever so slowly, it is beginning to stir. I am tentatively calling it Two daughters by the aged stream,Â the title of an aria for two sopranos by Purcell. As always, the music helps.
So, finally, the Swedish edition of my new novel,Â The Blackbird Sings at Dusk,Â in Swedish,Â I skymningen sjunger koltrasten is ready for release. The date is 24 September. For enquiries regarding release in other languages, please contact my agent, Jonas Axelsson, at Partners in Stories.
Here is a short exerpt:
âDen dĂ€r ensamma lilla fĂ„geln. I den dĂ€r iskalla snĂ¶n. Man undrar ju om den alls ska klara sig.â Otto tystnade. âDet hĂ€r Ă€r …det hĂ€r Ă€r helt enkelt det bĂ€sta du nĂ„gonsin gjort, Elias. Och till och med jag tycker att jag kan fĂ¶rstĂ„ vad det handlar om. Man ser precis hur allting balanserar pĂ„ grĂ€nsen, Ă€r sĂ„ skĂ¶rt. Faktum Ă€r att jag tycker jag ser hur bilderna rĂ¶r sig. Det Ă€r … ja, det Ă€r helt enkelt enastĂ„ende. Men, ocksĂ„ som du sĂ€ger, sĂ„ vĂ€ldigt … Â Ja, det Ă€r omĂ¶jligt att sĂ€ga hur det kommer att sluta. Det kan tippa Ă¶ver Ă„t vilket hĂ„ll som helst. Och det kĂ€nns som man inte kan vĂ€nta tills man fĂ„r veta. Och samtidigt Ă€r det som om man egentligen inte vill veta. Det kĂ€nns pĂ„ nĂ„got sĂ€tt Ă¶desmĂ€ttat. Om du kan fĂ¶rstĂ„ vad det Ă€r jag fĂ¶rsĂ¶ker sĂ€ga. Den dĂ€r lilla fĂ„geln i blĂ¶tsnĂ¶n Ă€r sĂ„ trasig. Det finns nĂ€stan inget liv alls i den. Men sen … ja, sen ser man ju att den Ă€ndĂ„ vill leva. Och pĂ„ samma gĂ„ng lĂ€ngtar efter att fĂ„ ge efter. Och du fĂ„r en att fĂ¶rstĂ„ vilken oerhĂ¶rd kamp det Ă€r.â
âThat lonely little bird. In that icy cold snow. Makes you wonder if it will survive.â He fell silent. âThis âŠ this is simply the best work you have ever done, Elias. And even I can understand what it is about, I think. You can see how everything is balancing on the edge, so very fragile. Actually, it is as if I can see the images move. It is âŠwell, it is simply astonishing. But, also, as you said, so very âŠ Well, itâs impossible to tell how it will end. It can go either way. And it feels like you canât wait to know. And yet, at the same time you somehow donât want to know. It feels fateful, somehow. If you can understand what it is I am trying to say. That little bird on the wet snow, so completely broken. There is hardly any life in it at all. But then âŠ well, then you understand that is has a will to live. But also a longing to give in. And you make us understand the formidable fight that it faces.â
Now that I am in the last stages ofÂ editing the Swedish version of my new novel, I skymingen sjunger koltrasten (The Blackbird Sings at Dusk),Â I go back through the many versions, and I am astonished to realise how long and painful the journey has been. Years of starting and stopping, meandering off into dead ends. But Â always somehow returning. And here we are, at the end of the journey. Or rather, perhaps it is now that the journey begins. I am not sure how I feel. Somehow, writing this one has been so different from working with the other three. Or perhaps I have just forgotten, the way you do with child births. But I do feel particularly vulnerable letting this one leave. Letting The Woman in Green fade away, and allow the blackbird to take to the sky. Â But it is time.
Brombergs, ISBN9789173376211, September 2014
In the July issue of Vanity Fair Evgenia Peretz writes about literature and critics in general, and the reviews of Donna Tartt’s ‘The Goldfinch’ in particular. The bestselling novel which received the Pulitzer Prize has been the subject of a variety of reviews – from over the top accolades to complete dismissals – ‘a children’s book’. Is Donna Tartt the new Dickens? ‘Just as a painter can be castigated by his contemporaries and still wind up the most prized painter at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, a writer can sell millions of books, win prizes, and be remembered as no more than a footnote or a punch line.’
Click to read the article here: ‘It’s Tartt – but is it art?’
Read some of the critical reviews: