Against medicine || For magic
Against mountain regions || For coast
Against figments of the brain || For ghosts
Against women || For Gaia
Against men || For me
Against time || For soft clocks
Then Alf Linde talked for just over an hour about Dali and his art. Why he distanced himself from the other surrealists, how he became so extremely successful commercially, and how he eventually buried first his wife Gala and then himself in the cellar of his surrealist mansion in the middle of the Catalonian town of Figueres. It became a museum of his life’s work and one of the most remarkable tourist destinations in the world. Naturally with sky-high entrance fees.
‘In conclusion, I must tell you something about his inventions. Before Salvador Dali made his breakthrough as an artist, he sketched a number of innovations to earn his living. He carried out a bitter struggle and was regarded as an idiot by those to whom he tried to sell his ideas. Here are a few examples: dresses with false insertions around the hips and bosom to distract men’s erotic fantasies; false nails with mirrors; water-filled transparent mannequins with swimming goldfish inside to illustrate blood circulation; kaleidoscopic spectacles for motorists for when the surrounding landscape got too boring; tactile film where cinemagoers could touch the settings in the film. And so on, and so on. About one hundred of Dali’s inventions are well documented. What we can see today is that many of them have become reality in one way or another: the push-up bra; virtual reality spectacles; 4D cinemas, et cetera. Perhaps he wasn’t mad, just terribly before his time. But listen carefully now. The invention to which he devoted the greater part of his energy was the rotating pork sculpture. He bought large amounts of meat at the butcher’s and hung it on crutches that he placed on electric rotating tables. Nobody knows what he wanted to achieve with the rotating pork. What do you think? Was he as mad as a hatter, or was he simply a misunderstood inventor?’
Truth and knowledge were the keys to Håkan Rink’s leadership. No frenzy to find positive images à la sporting clubs. No group-dynamic exercises fashionable for team-think in the commercial sector.
His police colleagues looked at each other, suddenly struck by the insight. They must search for Serial Salvador among inventor circles. Go through rejected applications at the Patent Office. Investigate misunderstood entrepreneurs and devoted enthusiasts who have not been given their credit. Dig among people labelled with odd combinations of letters to find those that have lost their footing. That is where they would find him!
Håkan Rink smiled contentedly to himself. Yet again, his simple and direct methods had borne fruit.
This time it was the FFI Method: FACTS are the FATHER of IMAGINATION.
CHAPTER 18
The Best Pizza Recipe in the World
After the evening meeting, the chief inspector treated his colleagues to some sustaining night food at the police station.
Håkan Rink’s Quattro Stagione, the pizza with four ‘seasons’.
Pizza dough
½ packet of fresh yeast: crumble the yeast into a large bowl
Add 200 ml lukewarm water and dissolve the yeast in the water
Add 500 ml wheat flour
Add 3 tablespoons of olive oil
Mix the ingredients into a pizza dough. Grease a roasting pan with olive oil. Cover the bottom of the pan with the dough pushing it out to the edges with your fingers. Cover the pan with a tea towel and leave it to rise for about 20 minutes while you prepare the sauce and the various toppings. Turn the oven to 250oc.
Pizza sauce
I tin of chopped tomatoes
2 tablespoons of tomato purée
2 teaspoons of white pepper and black pepper
A few drops of Tabasco
1 teaspoon of oregano
1 teaspoon of salt
1 crushed garlic clove
Mix all the ingredients for the pizza sauce, and taste. By all means sprinkle a little vinegar, sugar and pepper onto the mixture. Experiment a little! Let the sauce simmer a long time.
Pizza toppings
Prepare the toppings while the dough is rising.
Fresh, newly peeled prawns
Fresh, finely sliced mushrooms
Air-dried Italian ham
Mussels pickled in water
Pickled artichoke
Cut and grate the cheese: equal amounts of mozzarella, emmental and parmesan
When the dough base has risen for 20 minutes, spread the sauce over it and start with a layer of cheese.
Divide the pizza into quarters and add the topping in the following order: from ‘12 o’clock’ on the pizza and clockwise: ham is winter, mussels are spring, prawns are summer and mushrooms are autumn. If you believe in God, stick an artichoke in the middle. Push the topping gently into the sauce with you hand.
Bake in the oven for 15–20 minutes at 250°.
If you have used an artichoke, say a prayer.
Take a break from the ABC Method, and enjoy the best pizza in the world!
CHAPTER 19
White Coat
Titus is sitting on the exercise bicycle at the gym. The sweat is running down the inside of his old bleached T-shirt with the Einstürzende Neubauten print that he bought in Berlin in 1983.
He has started to appreciate these two-hour breaks all the more. When Astra had turned up with a gym membership card, he had just snorted at her. But she evidently knew what she was doing. Titus has a feeling that she always knows what she is doing. An alpha woman. Young, attractive, clever, independent and with just the right amount of pushiness. He couldn’t have a better editor. He has been lucky in that respect.
Titus likes his new life. It’s been going on a few weeks now. Not since his teens has he had such a long period without any alcohol at all. Sure, he pulls out his reward image now and then, but it’s more to keep it alive than because he really needs it. Like an amusing joke, a pleasant memory. For the time being, another form of energy keeps him away from spirits and cigarettes.
The book.
Writing gives him energy. He’s rattling along and he knows it’s going to be good. The book is easily accessible in its style, but heavy as lead in its themes. He throws in so many references that critics will be kept busy for decades trying to analyse his intentions. The characters around Håkan Rink are built up in such a deliberately slow and refined manner that the reader should feel obliged to read on. The breakthrough and unexpected turning points are planned down to the tiniest detail. At the same time, Titus is careful not to reveal too much to readers. That would be an insult to their intelligence. Too many details are for nerds and bores. My readers are here making history with me, Titus thinks. It is my readers who will fill the characters with flesh and blood. It is my readers who will create the details in the room. It is they who will get involved, who will let themselves be amused and worried. My readers are the cleverest and the best, he says to himself, and pedals away for all he is worth on the exercise bike.
Titus doesn’t like the suburbs. He has lived all his life in the centre of the city and likes crowds and asphalt. The few times he has been on holiday abroad, it has only been to other big cities. There, he never runs the risk of suddenly finding himself without a bar within easy reach.
Of course, he has been in the countryside – but only in the safe context of a boozy midsummer party or similar event. Titus has always felt that nature shows off a bit, that as soon as he comes along it spruces itself up to an incredible degree and tries to seduce him with its birdsong and its smells, although what it really wants to do is entice him into the mud in a dirty forest pond. And suddenly he has been conned. He sinks slowly under the surface while the pixies scornfully laugh at him with the blue midsummer night sky in the background. No, the countryside is hell. Out there, you must be on your guard. Or very drunk.