The Best Book in the World (3 page)

A
t three o’clock Titus rings the bell by Astra’s door. He has never liked using lifts, so he has lumbered up the stairs to Astra’s flat. He is a bit out of breath and sweaty when Astra opens the door.

‘Hi, Titus, are you already here? Nice to see you. You look… you look as if you’ve been having fun… or something,’ says Astra, who looks just as beautiful and freshly showered as usual.

‘Hi,’ Titus pants. ‘Everything okay?’

‘How did you get on at the festival? What did they hand you this time?’

‘The Diseases of the Swedish Monarchs.
It was a great success.’

‘Yes, well. I’m glad to hear it. Congratulations, I suppose one should say then.’

‘You sound ironic…’

‘Yes, but you know what I think about all that. It might be fun and so on, but I don’t think it does much for your brand image as an author.’

‘My brand image?’ says Titus, irritated. ‘I get a fee, damn it!
Money
is good for my brand image. But perhaps you are thinking of raising my royalty rate? Are you?’

‘Sorry, Titus, sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut. Come in, now.’

Titus enters the flat and kicks his shoes off in the hall. They are in good company. Astra has at least twenty pairs of shoes there. Light airy shoes that look very expensive. Shoes that go perfectly with Astra’s young, glowing and slim legs.

Astra is already in the kitchen. She pokes about behind the counter.

‘What can I offer you, Titus?’ she calls out to Titus when he walks through the living room. ‘Espresso? Latte? A beer?’

‘Yeah, that’d be good. A beer would go down nicely.’

‘I’ve only got medium-strong beer. But it’s cold and good!’

‘That’ll do fine.’

Astra gets out a beer and Titus sits on the other side of the counter. He strokes his crew-cut scalp with one hand and opens the beer can with the other. He looks pretty rugged, to put it politely. Then he empties about half of the contents of the can in a few large gulps. Astra looks at him at first with surprise, but her forehead and eyebrows stretch further for every gulp he takes. That doesn’t look as though it’s good for him, she seems to be thinking.

She knows very well what it is about. When she ‘inherited’ Titus Jensen a few years earlier, she had been warned about the way Titus burned his candle at both ends. His former editor couldn’t cope any longer with his empty talk and continuous binge drinking. Astra, who had built up a
reputation
at work for her strong will and her literary sense, got to take him over and had the task of trying to steer his work. But since his writing hadn’t gone anywhere for a long time, there was nothing to steer. Titus just went round and round.

But now it seemed as if the embers were about to flare up in Titus. Astra feels a mix of hope and worry.

‘Well, was there a bit of a party yesterday, then?’ she asks.

‘Err, yes. Sure. Really great. Eddie X was MC-ing. And he performed with Lenny, you know, and those other Tourette guys. I think Lenny and Eddie have known each other since they were kids. Lenny is bonkers. We were partying together all night and in the end Lenny could only say “c-c-cock in your ear!” “C-c-cock in your e-e-e-ar.” Over and over again. Just sat there and twitched and said “cock in your ear”. Completely out of it.’

‘There is medicine for that.’

‘Yeah, but he doesn’t want to take any. He says it would numb his mind.’

‘Who knows. I would like to have my mind numbed a bit if the only thing I could say was “cock in your ear”. Well, anyway…’

‘Whatever,’ says Titus, who is in a hurry to talk about his book idea. ‘I was livened up by that party. And an incredibly good idea
suddenly popped up. Listen to this.’

With sweeping gestures, Titus starts to describe the book that is going to top all the lists in all categories at the same time. He has already got quite far with the actual plot. The protagonist is an overweight chief inspector whose career ambitions in the police force have stalled. But by being able to make fantastic dishes with special ingredients he starts slowly but surely to lose weight. It transpires that the weight loss is permanent. The slimming soon gives him energy and the self-confidence to set new targets for his life and his work. One thing after the other suddenly starts to run smoothly. His new way of looking at the world makes him question the methods used by the police. The unorthodox style of detective work he initiates soon bears fruit and a number of unsolved serial murders finally look as if they would find resolution, if it weren’t for his boss, the unsympathetic chief superintendent, who is keen on team spirit and ‘the way the police have always worked’. The hero of the book, the chief inspector who is now a normal weight, sets off a grass-roots revolution and a radical organisational transformation begins. It is a development story of great proportions. Criminal elements will be cowering.

Astra listens to Titus with growing interest. She has never seen Titus so enthusiastic before.

‘Do you get it?’ Titus croaks on. ‘Are you on board? With this framework I can fill in with wisdom, recipes and DIY tips at length. I can write any amount!’

‘I believe you,’ answers Astra slowly. ‘I really do.’

‘So what do you think? Shall I get going?’

You can hear Astra think. On the one hand she thinks it a good idea. A really good idea. Brilliant, quite simply. She knows that Titus writes superbly, and presumably a change of genre would be just the thing his writing needs. On the other hand, it is a crazy project. To let loose a more-or-less alcoholic author on the task of writing a bestseller can never end well. It is impossible to know in advance which books will sell, that much she does know. To give Titus false hopes might douse his flame for good.
And how should she present the project at Winchester’s? If she says she is intending to turn Titus into a worldwide success, everybody is going to laugh at her. There is no way she is going to take that risk. But sometimes you’ve got to chance it, haven’t you? What the hell should she do?

She must give this more thought. At the same time, Titus deserves a response. Support and encouragement are a publisher’s most important contributions. Except for the advance on royalties, of course.

‘It’s a brilliant idea, Titus. It really is. The best I’ve heard for years, in fact. Besides, I think the book could be extremely well received if you are the person behind the project. You’ve got no “tainted record”, quite simply.’

‘Tainted record?’

‘You would be able to get good reviews. Nobody is going to believe that you are doing this just to be commercial. If you were a crime writer then they would make mincemeat of you. Or even worse a dietician, chef, cleric or management guru. But you are Titus Jensen, the heavyweight novelist.’

‘Umm… could I have another beer?’

‘Weren’t you going to drive me to the Winchester Villa afterwards?’

‘But it’s only medium-strong, damn it!’

‘Okay, okay…’ says Astra resignedly, and gets a beer out of the fridge.

‘So what do you think?’

‘I will be totally honest, Titus. The idea is superb. At the same time I do see a whole lot of risks involved. For you, for me and for Winchester’s. I’ll talk to Evita this evening, I promise. I’ll ask for a mandate to do this as a secret project that only you, me and she will know about. If she says yes, then the advance is in the post. If she says no, then I don’t know… What do you say, shall we let her make the decision? I promise to present the idea as positively as possible.’

‘Should I wait outside in the car, or what? Can’t I present the idea to Evita myself? I’ve written books for Winchester’s for years. You must have earned… well, a bit from me, at any rate.’

‘Trust me, Titus. And now I’m being totally honest again. Evita is a tough bird, you know that. You don’t exactly inspire confidence with the way you look now. And your breath is not the sweetest I have come across. I promise you, you don’t want to meet her today. I’ll phone you tomorrow. Is that okay?’

‘Okay…’

Titus is satisfied with that for now. What else could he do?

They talk a bit more about the book and which elements it can be filled with. The more they go into the plot, the better it feels.

They are happy and buoyant when Titus drives Astra to Evita Winchester. Titus then drives home to Söder and parks his car. He is happy, tired and needs a well-deserved rest after a hard working weekend and tough negotiations with his editor. Perhaps it would do him good to take a bracing evening walk before going to bed early.

Ten minutes later he is sitting and smoking at his regular table at the Association Bar.

It was a bracing walk.

A
doorbell rings inside Titus' head. First a short ring. And then one more. Then a couple that are a bit angrier. The sound of the flap of a letterbox being opened. There's a creaking inside his head. A voice calling out ‘helloooo' in a can. A long extended ringing sound vibrates inside his head. Riiiing… creak… hello… riiiing… screech… helloooo…

Stop it…

Stop it!

Titus wakes up. Somebody is ringing his doorbell, he realises. Since he is already dressed he hobbles across to the door and opens it.

Astra. And she doesn't look pleased when she sees Titus' appearance. His eyes are red and he smells like a smoking room due for demolition.

‘Oh my God, Titus. What in heaven's name are you doing?'

‘Err… I had a little celebration at the Association yesterday.'

‘Celebration? Why?'

‘Um… well… didn't we have a nice conversation yesterday? I thought so. I was thinking about the book and celebrated with a couple of glasses. But I've got such a dreadful cold, so it hit me harder than it usually does.'

‘Yeah, sure, skip the excuses please.'

‘Er… but why are you here? How did things go with Evita yesterday?

‘That's why I'm here.'

‘Oh, right…'

‘And I had to see it with my own eyes,' says Astra and points into Titus' flat.

The flat isn't much bigger than what you can see with a single
turn of your head. But if you were to go through and sort everything, it would take a couple of weeks. Books, magazines, dirty clothes, unwashed dishes and bits and pieces. Titus' home is simply crammed full of rubbish from floor to ceiling.

‘You what? What's with the “see with my own eyes” thing?' Titus yawns.

‘How you live, of course.'

‘Are you working for Social Services today? What the hell is this about?' croaks Titus sourly when he understands that his lifestyle is under scrutiny. ‘Would you like a coffee?'

‘Yes, please.'

Titus goes into the kitchen alcove, takes the old coffee filter out of the machine, throws it into the bin and puts in a new one. He opens a cupboard and pulls out some crisp bread and a
squeezed-out
tube of fish paté.

‘A little Danish sandwich, perhaps?' he asks ironically when he sees Astra turn her nose up.

‘Thanks, but don't bother,' answers Astra, smiling.

‘So, what did she say?'

Astra sits down on a kitchen chair and takes a deep breath.

‘Evita says two things. First, that it is the best idea she's heard for years. With the right author it can be a worldwide bestseller.'

‘Really, you don't say! That makes me really happy!' exclaims Titus and starts laughing.

‘Hang on a moment, Titus. The second thing she says is a bit tougher. She says… that you aren't the right author.'

Titus coughs up the gulp of coffee he just swallowed, spraying it over the kitchen table and his crisp bread sandwich. He dries his chin with the sleeve of his jumper.

‘What the hell are you saying? Is she out of her senses? This is my book and nobody else's.'

‘Titus, we had a really long conversation, me and Evita. She means what she says. She knows how you live. And what she says is: Titus Jensen is not the right author for
The Best Book in the World.
But he could be! He – could – become it.'

‘What?'

‘You could
become
the right author! I mean, both you and I know that you are the only person who can pull this off,
quality
-wise. But to get Winchester's to publish this and to pay an advance, you must go along with some conditions.'

‘Oh indeed…?'

‘Number one: you must sober up.'

‘What utter rubbish! As if I was some sort of wino. What the fuck? There's a hell of a difference between having a really good time now and then, and being a down-and-out wino. I like partying, but I'm not a bloody drunkard.'

‘No, of course. But either way, you've got to be sober. You mustn't drink a drop of alcohol while you are writing this book.'

‘That's just sick…' he protests lamely, but bides his time before mounting any more indignant protests.

‘Number two: you must rein in your material. This book could run to three thousand pages, just like that. You've got to agree to condense the material into two hundred and fifty typed pages – max. The idea is based on gathering together many genres in a single book, and the only way to prove that you've really succeeded is to make the book slim.'

Titus looks at Astra and nods slowly. She seems resolute. She's thought it through. A short manuscript is a lot more difficult, he thinks. But the book is going to be a first-class product, a masterpiece. He wants that, Astra wants that, and so does Evita. They all want it. Condition number two is good, he realises. Damned good.

‘A slim book. That's okay,' he says, with earnestness in his voice.

‘The third condition is that your work process must be one hundred per cent professional. For example, there's got to be total confidentiality. Only you, me and Evita are going to know about this. You'll write the book this summer and autumn. You and I will meet at regular intervals so that I can see how your work is progressing. We'll never use email. Never, ever. And if you are sober and keep working away at it, we will pay the advance a bit at a time.'

‘A bit at a time! Then it isn't an advance!'

‘Yes, the book won't be published until next spring. We're keeping a spot for it in the spring catalogue and we'll book the printers for the week after New Year.'

‘That's a bit tight…' murmurs Titus.

‘Not if you work eight hours a day, five days a week!'

‘But I can relax at the weekends?'

‘Go boozing, you mean?'

‘Cut it out. But perhaps have a glass or two of wine on Friday and Saturday?'

‘No. You must be completely teetotal. Are you up for that or not?'

‘That condition is totally sick… how can you write a bestseller in six months if you can't relax between working bouts?'

‘It shouldn't be difficult, should it? You say you aren't an alcoholic.'

‘No, I'm not!' says Titus emphatically.

‘Well then, then there are no problems, are there? Are we in agreement?'

Titus sees from Astra's demeanour that there is no room for negotiation. Besides, he knows Evita Winchester's methods very well. She is the one who sets up the rules of the game. Astra is just a pawn, albeit one made from the hardest marble.

‘Let's go for it,' says Titus quietly.

‘Sign here!' says Astra and hands over a contract. Titus sees both Evita's and Astra's signatures at the bottom of the paper. He signs his own name next to theirs.

At last, Titus is writing again.