There he stands, following the whole eclipse with a slight shudder as the bright day turns to dark. He does not move a muscle and can hear the clock ticking beside him.
When it is all over and he packs up his handkerchief, the blackened glass, and the alarm clock, he feels happy to have been able to experience this extraordinary event. He walks the gravel path back to town, thinking that at that very instant of total eclipse, time no longer ran on and away; instead it increased and expanded sideways. And he thinks that he would like time to be like that always. But he also thinks that it is not possible, and when he gets home, he drops the blackened glass and the dirty handkerchief into the rubbish bin in the yard.
One day, a year later, the local newspaper carries a detailed description of how photographs are developed. Oskar reads the article several times before he puts the newspaper to one side on the table.
Then he reflects that his thoughts and dreams are just like the process he has just read about for developing photographs. The way the negative, which is sharp but has no detail, slowly transforms into an ample and faithful representation of a moment and a situation and perhaps also a mood. That is exactly how he believes his brain functions, and he tears out the article and puts it in the drawer of the kitchen table.
During the fifties, four main events influence Oskar’s political stance. And three of them are also important and decisive developments during that decade, which people so wrongly see as somewhat static, a political vacuum compared to the sixties or the forties. Those three events are the atom bomb and the discussion as to whether Sweden should have such weapons, the uprising in Hungary in 1956, and the Suez crisis. The fourth event is Oskar’s experience of how a high-rise development takes shape in the neighbourhood from which he is forced to move in December 1959.
The atom bomb frightened Oskar. When he read about the vast numbers of victims claimed by each of the bombs and about the stockpiling the great powers were already engaged in, he felt a fear that was almost panic. Oskar only read the local press, but the other newspapers were often quoted there and he followed the debate with a growing sense of despondency combined with an increasingly strong disapproval of what the political parties were doing. Oskar read Tingsten’s words, which were cited in the newspapers. He was briefly cheered by Östen Undén’s relatively strong pronouncement against nuclear weapons, but he still thought that it was insufficient.
Then there was a minor event that instilled a lasting fear in Oskar. It was when he saw an article about the two bombs that were dropped on Bikini Atoll in the summer of 1946. Nearly fifteen years had passed when he read the article and learned that they had been given girls’ names.
He never forgot this and it fostered in him a strong distrust of America, which would be further magnified by the Vietnam War.
In the end, the question of the atom bomb also alienated Oskar once and for all from the Social Democratic Party. When he left, he was sad that it had to happen, but there was no turning back and he signed up as a member of the new party.
The Hungarian uprising came as a shock to Oskar. When he read about the tanks on the streets of Budapest, and about the fierce battle, and when he listened to the agitated voices giving terrifying reports of the brutal assault, he became completely desperate. He would turn the radio off, only to switch it on again seconds later. He would get to his feet, open a window, go back to the radio and then jump to his feet again to close the window.
The Suez crisis was another major factor in changing his political views. He never altogether understands the causes of this war, but he is deeply affected by the accounts of the suffering endured by the civilian population.
At the end of the fifties, the neighbourhood in which Oskar lives is to be torn down to make way for large high-rise buildings. This is the fourth and perhaps most important event for Oskar during the decade.
One afternoon, when he has gone down to the backyard with rubbish wrapped in a newspaper, the bin has been moved out into the middle of the yard. There are two men taking readings and measurements where it would normally stand. Oskar pauses for a while, hesitating, before dropping his packet of rubbish into the bin, even though it is not where it should be. Then he goes up to the two men and asks what they are doing.
“It’s just some calculations for the new housing that’s going up.”
“Are they building new houses here?”
“Yes, both blocks are going, Nypan and this one, Smeden.”
“First I’ve heard of it.”
“The plans haven’t been finalised yet. So far, it’s only a decision.”
“What do you mean, a decision?”
“That there’s housing going up here.”
“What about us?”
“What do you mean?”
“Those of us who live here.”
“I expect they’ll make other housing available for you. But we don’t know anything about that. The town owns these blocks, so it’s up to them to tell the tenants what will be happening to them.”
As Oskar goes back up the stairs he is dumbfounded and walks slowly.
Two months later he gets his notice to move, together with the information that there will be accommodation for him in a rental block in a suburb three kilometres outside town. The letter tells him that he is to move out by September 30 that same year. He is also asked to contact Herr Evertsson in the town’s property department for further details.
At the property office, Oskar has to wait forty minutes for Evertsson to arrive. He looks at Oskar for a long time before asking him into his office. He leaves the door to the corridor open and sits down behind the desk.
“It hasn’t been all that hard to arrange new accommodation for you, Herr Johansson. We’ve assumed that you would like to have an apartment approximately the same size as the one you have now.”
“I don’t want to move.”
“I don’t think anyone does. But surely we must welcome the fact that housing construction has now finally got going. And of course quality enhancement is also important. Especially for families with small children, for example.”
“Do they have to be built just where I live?”
“The town has decided that it is a suitable area. Not least because of the very central location.”
“Quite so. That’s exactly why I want to stay.”
Then Oskar is on the point of saying that he is disabled, but he keeps quiet.
“You’ll be given a moving allowance.”
“But what about the rent?”
“It hasn’t been set for next year yet, but it will obviously have to be a little bit higher, bearing in mind the standard of the new housing.”
“How does one get there?”
“Bus routes are being planned.”
“I see.”
“Right. Do you have any other questions, Herr Johansson?”
“What will the houses look like?”
“Plans and sketches will be on display in the entrance area of the town hall a few weeks from now. Those will give an overview of the whole area, including the individual apartments.”
“I see.”
“So you’re welcome to go and take a look.”
“I see.”
When Oskar arrives in the entrance hall, it is deserted. He crosses the stone floor, sees a number of sketches pinned to some wooden boards in the darkest corner of the large hall. He goes up to the boards and notices right away that there are no proper pictures showing what the housing area is going to look like. Only architectural drawings and various cost calculations. Behind him he hears steps echoing in distant corridors, tapping against the stone floors. He pauses and looks at the abstract and incomprehensible drawings. He sees the black lines running into and out of each other like labyrinths. He sees numbers with strange symbols between them.