Bookwitch

This isn’t exactly by public demand, but more a request from Meg Rosoff. If I’d written this six months ago it would have been a different story, because that was before Henning made me cry. Meg’s reaction to that tale was that it made her a little in love with him, and maybe I can join her in that sentiment.

I’ll say one thing for Henning - he has provided by far the most unusual reply to a request for a signature that I have ever come across. Son and I waited, and waited, and waited, outside the seminar room in Gothenburg 2005 for the great man to emerge with his entourage. He didn’t look as if he had either the time or the inclination to sign books, so I kicked Son into plan B, which was to address him in English while trying to look very young. Son brandished a copy of A Bridge to the Stars (fitting title where Son is concerned), which is the first in a series for children. “What’s this? I didn’t write this book! I’ve never seen it before!” And so on. At this point I stepped in, we reverted to Swedish, and the entourage assisted. It took several minutes persuading Henning it was his book. A signature followed, and I hastily shoved my copy of Return of the Dancing Master under his nose while he was still in shock. Then Henning and his courtiers marched off, and Son and I mopped our brows.

I first heard of Henning Mankell in the early 1990s from other Swedes in exile, keener on Swedish books than I am. I assumed he was a small star in a small country. Was given Return of the Dancing Master by a friend who had a duplicate. I enjoyed it because it actually had the policeman living across the road from where I used to live. In exile little things like that are special; having fictional detectives moving about on your home turf.

By that fateful book signing day, I’d realised that Henning isn’t a small star. He is huge. Though not too huge to allow himself to be rolled out as the star attraction for every Gothenburg book fair. By 2006 he was there to partner Giuliana Sgrena, the kidnapped Italian reporter in Iraq, whose rescuer was killed. In effect, they’ll put Henning into any, worthy, context.

Meg Rosoff reported rubbing shoulders with Henning in Mantua that summer, but we could better that by Son standing next to Henning in the gents’ toilet at the Gothenburg fair.

Henning writes many different kinds of books. There are the regular crime novels, with or without Wallander, that are now widely translated and filmed. They’re even popular in Britain, which is no small thing. I believe he is involved with drama, at least in Mozambique. Then there’s the children’s books; the series about the boy Joel set in the far north of Sweden, and the series about landmine victim Sofia in Mozambique.

With his scheme in the mid 1990s to give his first Sofia book to a whole year of Swedish school children (age 11), he also got more political. It’s an interesting and very effective way to literally “brainwash” a large group of young people on such a difficult subject.

In August 2007 Henning made the daily news in Sweden, after the death of Ingmar Bergman, as the family’s spokesman. Henning Mankell isn’t just a world famous crime writer, but Bergman’s son-in-law. Hence I suppose the strong feeling of “establishment” about him, which is vaguely un-Swedish.

By September both Henning and I were back in Gothenburg. Before the crying episode, I heard him talk about reading for children, with the ALMA prize winners and others. He is a good speaker, particularly in English, and he was the one who made the most sense there. I’d planned on waylaying him for more signatures, when I saw him dash off with a beautiful woman. However, Henning has learned his lesson, so gracefully paused to sign.

The way he comes across, to me, is like some posh freedom fighter, a bit grand but one of the people, too. He often seems abrupt and too aware of his position in life, but after the crying incident I can accept this. He does some great work, and not only in international crime. If he had written nothing but those books about Sofia, it would be enough.