The Darkest Room

COMMENTARY ON THE BOOK OF THE BLIZZARD

I’ve read your book now, Mom. And since there are some blank pages left at the end, I’m going to write down some comments before I give it back to you.

You tell a lot of stories in this book. You claim my father was a young soldier, Markus Landkvist, who died when the ferry to the mainland capsized in a blizzard in the winter of 1962-but there has never been such a ferry disaster here. At least no one on the island that I have spoken to knows anything about it.

I’m used to it, of course. I mean, I’ve heard other stories about my father in the past-that he was a classmate of yours at art school, that he was the son of an American diplomat, that he was a Norwegian adventurer who ended up in jail for robbing a bank before I was born. You’ve always liked crazy stories.

And did you really poison an old fisherman when you lived here? Did you really hit your half-blind mother, Torun, and leave her to her fate one stormy winter’s night?

It’s possible-but you’ve always rearranged things and made things up. You’ve always been allergic to the reality of everyday life, to duties and responsibilities. Growing up with a parent like that isn’t easy-whenever I talked to you I always had to try and work out what had actually happened.

One thing I promised myself: that my own children would grow up in a much calmer, more secure environment than I did.

Joakim’s sister hated me because I took care of her daughter, but

she couldn’t do it herself. You ought to see what drugs really do to people, Mom, you with your romantic notions about that kind of thing.

Ethel’s hatred just grew and grew. But she could have stood outside our house yelling for ten years, I still wouldn’t have let her take care of Livia again.

People living around us were sick and tired of Ethel and the trouble she caused.

I had a feeling something was going to happen, it was in the air. But I did nothing that evening when I saw a neighbor go up to Ethel by the gate. And I couldn’t feel any sorrow when she was found dead in the water-but I know it’s different for Joakim. He misses his sister. If someone hurt her, he wants to know who it was.

I don’t have all the answers yet, but the man who took Ethel down to the water has promised to come over to the island today to give them to me. I’m going down to the point to meet him.

Your book can stay here on the bench for the time being, along with Ethel’s jacket.

Just like you, I like sitting here in the darkness of the barn, Mom. It’s peaceful in here.

So far I have kept this hidden room to myself. I’m going to show it to Joakim now that he’s moved here. There’s plenty of room for both of us.

This is a remarkable room, full of the memories of people who once lived at Eel Point. They are gone now. They passed the responsibility for the house and the land to us and disappeared-all that is left are names, dates, and short poems on postcards.

That’s what we will all be one day.

Memories and ghosts.