The Best Book in the World

CHAPTER 16

Meeting about Alchemists


The view of the Old Town and Riddarfj?rden bay is enchanting. The grey-toned glass from floor to ceiling lets you see both the blue water of Lake M?laren and the cumulus clouds over the parliament building. Of course there aren’t any curtains or furniture to obscure the view of the beautiful summer day. There is a gigantic walnut desk and a lime green suite from Italy in the room – that is all. On the desk is a chalk-white laptop on a large leather writing pad in the same shade as the sofas. Otherwise, the desk is empty, except for a large flat screen with a white frame. Although this is a room at a publishing house, there isn’t a single bookshelf in it. That is most unusual. Most of the other rooms at Winchester’s are packed from floor to ceiling with books, manuscripts, newspapers and catalogues.

Astra Larsson sits on the sofa in Evita Winchester’s room and waits for Evita to finish talking on the telephone. It is irritating that Evita never turns her phone off when they have a meeting. Evita is always available and her contact network is red-hot.

Evita Winchester has had a unique career. During the twenty-five years she has been working, she has done a stint as an arts reporter for Dagbladet, been editor-in-chief in Swedish Radio’s Culture Hour, head of the arts section at the Evening Post and director of programmes at Swedish TV. It was, of course, always on the cards that she would eventually end up as boss of the family’s own publishing house, but she has always emphasised over the years how important it is that all the companies in the group are run on a commercial basis and not by nepotism. And nobody thinks Evita Winchester got the job just because she’s called Winchester. In just a few years, she has made Winchester’s the most profitable publishing house in Sweden. She herself is most proud of having realised at an early stage just how important it was to control the new distribution channels. With the help of lots of money and skilful manoeuvring, Winchester’s now owns large segments of the electronic book trade and the distribution companies that have long-term contracts to supply books to the major retail and supermarket chains.

Evita is one of those people it is impossible find irritating once you meet them. All grudges and bother are forgotten as soon as you see her face to face. Those green eyes are lively, and her lips – always just as red – seem to move at the speed of light. Her energy and presence are extremely contagious. As soon as Evita puts down the phone, Astra feels her mood improving.

‘Sorry, Astra! I had to take that call,’ says Evita and runs her fingers through her short jet-black hair. She sits on the sofa beside Astra.

‘It’s okay. Don’t worry.’

‘Goodness, what beautiful legs! Do you wax them?’

‘Yes…’

‘I mean, do you do it yourself or go to a parlour?’

‘I do it myself…’

‘Goodness, you’re so clever! How do you find the time? You look gorgeous, Astra. Really,’ says Evita in admiration with a gaze that devours Astra from top to toe.

‘Thank you… you too,’ says Astra in an attempt to reciprocate.

‘What have we got today?’

‘Well, to start with I want you to know how Titus is doing, and then I need a little help with Veronica Fuentes.’

‘The Bitch in Barcelona?’

‘Precisely.’

‘Oh dear, are we there again? Well, well, let’s get on with it! How are things going for our dear Titus?’

‘They’re going well. You were quite right to force him to pledge temperance. He is in really good shape now and is slaving away.’

‘Is it going to be good, then?’

‘I haven’t seen anything yet. He wants to get a bit further before he shows me anything. But from just looking at him, it’s going to be good. At first he was a nervous wreck, but now he seems calmer.’

‘Great news. Yes, without doubt he is one of our best. If only it wasn’t for the booze, he would be a national treasure. Just imagine if he could be sober for real! Then he would have the whole country at his feet. At any rate us women, haha! There’s something of a merciless animal about him that is extremely attractive.’

‘You think so?’ says Astra surprised. She has never ever thought of Titus in that way.

‘Yes, absolutely. He can be dead good-looking. He is completely uncompromising. I like that. Don’t you remember those author portraits that Ulla took of him for Baroque in their Blood? Of course, it’s a long time ago. But in those days he was drop-dead gorgeous! Shaved head, sun tan, and his shirt unbuttoned down to his navel. Yummy!’


‘Yes, well… perhaps. Whatever. It seems to be really going well for him. He has even started going to the gym. I think he sneaks off to a solarium too sometimes, but I haven’t dared ask him, haha,’ laughs Astra.

‘Is that true? God, men get so silly when they approach their fifties. Haha, it’s wonderful! Let me know when he is getting close to finishing and I’ll invite him to dinner. I can gobble him up in one gulp, don’t you think?’ says Evita with a loud and lively laugh.

‘I promise. I’ll bring him along on a leash. Grrr!’

‘Super. But seriously, Astra. You’ve done a fantastic job. You’re going to pull this off. It’ll be fun to read when the time comes. Just make sure you follow up regularly. You can never trust an addict one hundred per cent, even if he has become a teetotaler. Don’t forget that.’

‘No, I won’t forget,’ says Astra and uses the serious note that turned up after the laughs. ‘This means everything to Titus. He knows it, and he knows that we know it too. I think we can strike gold here, I really do.’

‘Good. In that case we shall print a huge run straight off and prepare the market thoroughly.’

‘I’m going to meet him the day after tomorrow. We’ll see how far he has come.’

‘Good. That’s settled then. Have you got new worries with BB?’ Evita wonders, giving her head an anxious tilt.

BB means the Bitch in Barcelona. That is the name that the people at Winchester’s use for the literary agent Veronica Fuentes in Barcelona. BB runs an extremely successful agency which only has a single client, the bestselling Mexican New Age author Pablo Blando. Blando writes self-help books about how to find the right path on your journey through life, how to accept your sexuality and see the spirituality in everyday situations. He often bases his stories on old tales and legends that he polishes up and fills with poetic one-liners. He has millions of readers, most of them women. Winchester’s launched him successfully in Sweden about ten years ago and since then he has had a regular spot on the bestseller lists.

But the more you have, the more you want. The bitch in Barcelona is never satisfied. She and her bitchy staff bombard Blando’s publishers across the world with daily demands for follow-ups and reports on what has been done on the PR front. BB doesn’t trust anybody, despite the fact that the publishers have bought the rights for astronomical sums and ought to be interested in making a good job of it. The Barcelona bitches always unleash their mail-bomb missives at night, which makes publishers fear a new list of demands in their inboxes when they come to work in the morning.

‘Now it’s worse than ever,’ sighs Astra, who has been landed with BB and Blando since she is exceptionally tough and is a rising star at Winchester’s.

‘What’s new?’

‘There are several things. Above all is that business with the Nobel Prize.’

‘Oh no, not again!’ Evita exclaims and rolls her eyes.

‘Yep, she is quite bonkers. She demands that I write a report on the strategy we have to get him on the Academy’s shortlist this autumn.’

‘But that’s impossible! He’ll never get the Nobel Prize. Never ever. Not in this life, and not in the next. He writes quasi-philosophical soft porn chicklit. Boring rubbish. I don’t suppose they have ever even considered opening one of his books!’

‘I know, Evita, but I can’t say that to BB. Besides, I haven’t time to write reports for her. It doesn’t say anything about reports in the contract for the rights, does it?’

‘No, of course it doesn’t.’

‘The thing is that she’s got Pablo to believe that he is in the running for a prize already this year. So now he wants to come to the Gothenburg book fair in September to show his interest. He thinks that the more often he comes to Sweden, the more delighted the Swedish Academy will be with him.’

‘No, no, no! Absolutely not! The fair is in just a couple of months. No way. Everything is already planned. It isn’t possible to arrange a seminar or anything good now. No, he can’t come. He is not allowed to come.’

Pablo Blando has already visited the annual fair in Gothenburg several times. Although he is about seventy, he still has an exceptional ability to attract women. There is always a long queue when he signs his books, and he pays most attention to the very youngest women. During a four-day visit he usually invites at least as many young girls up to his hotel room to spend the night with special Latin treatment. And in addition, he doesn’t refrain from picking out the most beautiful one and taking her to the big banquets arranged by the fair and the publishing houses. ‘This evening you are my wife!’ he usually whispers chivalrously, and kisses her hand until she blushes. What he likes best of all is to feed her little bits of cheese on cocktail sticks – in public. Everybody there thinks it’s terribly embarrassing, but what won’t people do to rub shoulders with a bestselling author and his never-ending ability to make gold from gravel. Astra has seen it and can sometimes be disgusted with herself for being a part of the word-alchemist’s senile circus act.

‘The bitch knows there isn’t much time,’ she says. ‘That’s why she wants Pablo to come to Gothenburg incognito. It’s just sick. Like when a king travels abroad without it being a formal state visit. Secret, but nevertheless she wants lots of media coverage. Why not? She regards him as royalty. But you know what the worst thing is?’

‘No, what? Must there be some Viagra waiting in the room as usual?’

‘Listen to this. She wants to arrange a lunch for the Swedish Academy with Pablo as the host. He is a member of the Mexican Literary Academy and the social occasion would strengthen the ties between the two countries, she thinks. Pablo would be able to help introduce more Swedish authors in the Latin American market. She is very enthusiastic and thinks it’s a brilliant idea. You get it? You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours,…’

‘Is she out of her mind?’ exclaims Evita her hand on her forehead. ‘To ask to get the Nobel Prize is like pouring a bucket of shit over yourself in a public square. Nobody forgets such a faux pas, never ever.’

‘Actually, I don’t think she does get it,’ says Astra with a resigned sigh. ‘I’ve tried to tell her in a nice way, but it just doesn’t sink in. I’m going on holiday soon and must sort this out pretty quick. Have you any good ideas?’

‘Okay. Lets do it like this. I’ll write a very clear letter to Veronica and say that it would be a total disaster to even show yourself in Sweden if you ever want to get the Nobel Prize. I can ask the cultural attaché in Barcelona to deliver it to her in person. That ought to have an effect, I think. Then we’ll not run the risk of seeing Pablo at the book fair for at least the next two years…’