Peter Stjernström: The Best Book in the World

‘A bit of the hard stuff would go down nicely, thanks.’

‘Coming up, maestro,’ says Eddie, and slips over to the bar.

Eddie has a strong aura which serves as a heat shield when he makes his way through a crowd. He never has to push and shove, or use his elbows to keep his place. Effortlessly he is suddenly standing at the bar and can order a round. He swaps a few artiste coupons for some booze and slips back to Titus.

‘Are you dark or light?’ Eddie asks, holding a large brown rum and soda in one hand and a smaller vodka and mixer in the other.

‘I’ll take the brown one, thanks,’ says Titus in a somewhat strained voice.

He greedily reaches for the big glass and fills his mouth with such a large gulp that he has to swallow it in two parts so as not to start coughing. His eyes look grimly down into the rest of the liquid. Don’t sneak off, you nice drinkie. Stay with daddy.

Eddie sips his light vodka and mixer. He puts the glass down on the table and circles with his index finger around the rim. Titus seems tense; perhaps this isn’t really Titus’ sort of place, Eddie thinks. But Eddie is extremely good at getting people to feel at ease, almost to the point of being compliant. He always says that there is no greater challenge than getting a fellow human being to feel good.

He wonders what they could talk about that would make Titus relax. Eddie is a good judge of character and knows very well that a conversation partner thinks and acts according to three rules of human intercourse: it is boring to talk about you; it is okay to talk about other people; but the best of all options is to only talk about me.

‘Where did you actually learn how to read with such fantastic insight? You’ve been to drama school, haven’t you?’

‘Uh, no. But I usually read my texts aloud so that they are as close to everyday spoken language as possible. It makes it more lively. Perhaps that has given me a bit of experience. And of course I’ve done lots of these book improvisations now.’

‘Is that right? You haven’t been to drama school? Your voice sounds so trained! So incredibly experienced!’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that. In that case it must be Philip Morris who has trained my voice,’ says Titus and laughs. ‘And Macallan and Absolut and Aquavit. Yeah, Jesus, those are quite some schools, haha…’

Eddie smiles when he sees that Titus has finally relaxed.

‘So what project are you busy with now?’

‘Well, it’s been a while since I wrote anything. Anything that really hung together. But I’ve got lots of fragments.’

‘That sounds exciting,’ says Eddie and lets his gaze stray outside the tent.

‘Um, in some ways. They are pretty good texts I think. Perhaps. I don’t know. It feels a bit straggly. But it doesn’t sell very well unless you can package the texts in a genre, does it? Who’s going to buy a book called Fragments by Titus Jensen? How many copies does an experimental book sell?’

‘No, you are quite right about that!’ shouts Eddie.

Sales figures are a subject that really gets Eddie going, even though economics and money are normally not topics you would associate with romantic poets. But nobody can eat poems, not even Eddie X.

‘It’s just crazy,’ he goes on. ‘You simply must have a suitable label if you’re going to sell. I mean, I hardly sell anything either. I don’t get much in royalties each year. I live almost exclusively on what I earn when I perform. And all the T-shirts with my aphorisms of course. It’s just crazy when you think about it.’

‘Yeah right, you’re bloody right! You have to fit in under a label to sell! One ought to write… hell, one really ought to write a bestseller…’ says Titus dreamily, and takes a big slurp of his rum.

‘Precisely! Exactly. That’s what a bloke should do!’ Eddie chips in, and takes a hefty gulp too. ‘Let’s drink to that, Titus! One really should write a proper bestseller. That’s the bottom line!’

‘Umm, nothing more nor less. A smash hit. That’ll sell like ice cream during a heat wave! One of those books that people will talk about for years. That top the lists year after year!’

‘Yes, let’s drink to that!’

‘A book that’ll be translated into lots of different languages!’

‘A book that will win prizes!’

‘A book that will be turned into a film!’

‘That’ll be put on the stage!’

‘That’ll start a new trend!’

‘It will indeed!’

‘Exactly!’

‘Cheers!

‘Cheers!’

Both authors are touchingly in agreement. One ought to write a bestseller. Precisely. Exactly. But how? What sort of book is it that one ought really to write? They sit there in silence for a few moments and concentrate on their drinks. Eddie, of course, is the first to start talking again. He points at Titus’ empty glass.

‘Another of the same? I’ve got lots of coupons.’

‘Yes please, that would be nice.’

‘But meanwhile you can reflect upon what the book should be about,’ says Eddie with a warm smile. ‘Okay?’

‘Haha… yep… yeah, err…’ mumbles Titus, who is starting to feel a bit the worse for wear.

Eddie surfs through the crowd and parks himself by the bar. He is immediately seen by the barman, who responds as if he is physically struck by Eddie’s charisma.

Titus sees that parts of The Tourettes are making their way through the backstage area to the beer tent. He knows all about them. Lenny is an institution in Sweden, always praised by the pop-culture elite. Having a severe compulsive disorder and still making great art makes him untouchable. Everybody loves Lenny.

The Tourettes jerk and twitch in various ways, all of them. Lenny is worst with his weird whole-body blinks. It’s most difficult for him to control this when he is on stage, where he sways like a field of rye in a hard wind. But the others are not far behind. One has severe facial tics, another takes long steps to avoid stepping on lines, one suddenly sticks his arm right out as if in a spasmodic salute. It is untidy and noisy.

Weird really, so many different types united in a single band, thinks Titus. By themselves they are nothing, but together they are something great.

Titus’ musings come to a halt.

By themselves they are nothing, but together they are something great. Fragments and pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. A bit like his texts.

Eddie is soon back with more booze.

‘Titus Jensen, future bestseller! How are you getting on? Have you come up with a brilliant idea?’

‘No, but, well…’ croaks Titus, slurring a little, but all the more enthusiastic. ‘I’ve got a sort of idea, I think. If I put it like this: “One at a time they are nothing, but together they are something great.” What does that make you think of?’

‘Yeah… no, I don’t know…’

‘Well, my idea… would it be possible… couldn’t you combine a whole lot of different types of books and make them into one single book? Write in lots of different styles and genres at the same time, sort of?’

‘How do you mean? The only book you need, like? A combination book?’ Eddie wonders.

‘Yeah… perhaps… or yes. That’s it exactly! A single book that is all the other books at the same time.’

‘Gosh! Brilliant! Let’s drink to that! Jesus, just think how that would sell!’

‘Cheers! Yes, indeed, it would be a hell of a success. A single book which is a bestseller in lots of different categories! Crime, cookbooks, diet books, management literature, DIY books, self-help, how to be happy, everything all at once!’

‘The works!’ shouts Eddie.

‘It’d be the best book in the world!’ remarks Titus and takes a large gulp.