Friday the 13th of April was, despite the rumours of it being a day full of bad luck, a good day for me. After a busy time in school, I took a train to Stockholm. It was raining and cold when I arrived, and I had forgotten my umbrella. Despite that, I took out the map I had drawn for myself, in order to find the place I was going to and started walking. I found the café Vetekatten, and I did not even need to look on the map once which made me proud. When I asked one of the staff where the VIP room was, I heard a voice behind me, saying “Oh are you going to the book reading? Follow me, we are over here.” A brown haired women was the owner of the voice, and I got surprised that she was not much taller then me. A fellow midget, I thought, smiled and introduced myself. I did not catch her name as she was guiding me through the crowd.
At the VIP room, everyone was already gathered, I was one of the last ones in. In one corner sat Ida Pyk, the author of the book Paris, Chérie which we were going to talk about, and 5-6 other girls was spread around the table. We started off with introducing ourselves, and when it came to me, I could feel my normal nervousness rise up in my chest. I think I said something about that I write the leaflets for my political party, but it was not what I wanted to say, god no. I write poetry, a lot of poetry and have done so since the age of 12, I have won competitions, got a small poem published once and I’ve got books filled with my poems. They are hundreds, thousands, as poetry is in my blood, it is my life. Instead, I said I write leaflets.
After the introductions were done, the brown haired women, I got her name this time, Emilia, who started off with asking premade questions about book writing in general and about Ida’s book. It made the environment stiff I thought, not much chance of getting the real idea of the book and of Ida, the author. The nervousness in the room was obvious, and people were quiet, ate their scones and drank their coffees. After a while, Ida read a chapter of her book and I think it was at that moment people started to loosen up. Discussions about Paris Chérie, other books, France, and authors were raised, and question after question was directed to Ida. I think I made myself known as a real Anglophile, and a book addict.
The discussions could probably have continued the entire evening, but it was getting late and I had a train to get back to Norrköping. Everyone said good bye and good luck to Ida, and went out. I had a small talk with one of the other girls, a journalist to be, about what we just experienced, and I felt happy and satisfied. I said good bye to Miss Journalist and I hurried to catch my train. Sitting there in the seat, I fell asleep, while the rain hit the train window. A little shaken, I heard someone say to me “Oh what are you doing here? It is a small world.” It was three of my classmates, but I did not tell them what I had been doing, not yet. I wanted to keep it for myself a little while, let it grow on me. I just smiled and replied “It is a small world indeed.”
I shall publish my review of the book after it comes out in the store, but you can pre order it already on Bokus.