Archive for September, 2010

New agent

Tuesday, September 21st, 2010


I am pleased to announce that my new agent is Stilton Literary Agency.

Stilton is a small, rather new agency with its head office in Stockholm. Between them the partners own impressive experience of publishing and film. I am delighted to be represented by them.

Enquiries concerning rights should be addressed to Emma Tibblin at Stilton. Her contact details are:

dd +46 73 673 09 32

Stilton Literary Agency®
P.O. Box 2337
103 18 Stockholm, Sweden
Visiting address: Skeppsbron 32

The end of summer

Monday, September 20th, 2010

Provence July 2010
Lavender, Provençe

It was supposed to be so very long and so very creative, this summer, and I expected to come out of it wiser, contented and with a clear perspective on my life. It hasn’t quite happened, but there have been wonderful moments. Interesting new places, beautiful scenery and unexpected kindness and generosity. The rest is up to me, I suppose. And it’s time to attack work again. Try to introduce a measure of discipline. In every way.

Both my novels keep travelling the world and copies of the beautiful Korean edition of ‘Astrid and Veronika’ recently landed on my desk. Yesterday a reader sent me a link to an article about ‘Astrid and Veronika’ in the Arab newspaper Dar Al Hayat:

The article is illustrated with an image of the Norwegian cover. Interesting how international the world has become. And sad that although we can read, understand and enjoy each other’s literature, we still find so many reasons not to understand each other.

Stockholm has turned autumnal while I was in Provençe and the people here have shelved their frivolous summer selves and returned to reality. The outcome of yesterday’s election added to the sense of sobriety. The country is facing four years of complex politics with the conservative/liberal government dependent on either the Greens or the nationalistic Sverigedemokraterna. An unenviable task.

But I will again flee to the other side of the world where my other reality awaits me. In my absence my grandchild in New Zealand has become a developed little person who can walk and talk and I urgently need to renew our relationship. Back there, I will have to retrieve a completely different set of passwords, codes, phone numbers and addresses from the murky depths of my brain where they sleep while I live here in Sweden. But before then, some hard work needs to be done. The novel that fills my thoughts and dreams needs to take on a format that makes it accessable to others, too. Simple, one would think. But it doesn’t feel that way.

Leaves, Stockholm