OpenGrave - (EPUB全文下载)

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OPEN GRAVE
KJELL ERIKSSON
Translated from the Swedish by Paul Norlén
Contents
Title Page
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
EPILOGUE
About the Author
By Kjell Eriksson
Copyright
OPEN GRAVE
ONE
The notification came unexpectedly. Bertram von Ohler was eighty-four years old after all, somewhat frail, his legs did not always hold, the numbness in his hands created difficulties, especially at the dinner table. The dizziness in the evenings was getting more troublesome and meant that he socialised much less often. Bridge nights were sacred, however. There were some who thought he did not have much time left; the whispering about his ill health had increased.
Some were old colleagues who took pleasure in backbiting the old professor and competitor, or else they were simply acquaintances who for lack of other diversion spread unfounded rumours. One day it was some neurological disease that would soon break him down, the next the problem was advanced prostate cancer. There were also friends around him who listened eagerly, perhaps contributing a detail or episode and in that way kept the fire going.
Everyone took part in the rumour spreading with the same poorly masked enthusiasm. It was as if the sight of the old man, or the news that always flowed in during the autumn’s customary speculations, automatically elicited comments about his imminent demise.
His real remaining friends were few. Some had left earthly life, others were senile and put in homes. A professor in a related discipline, obviously demented, was shunted aside to a family estate in Skåne. But the few with whom Ohler socialised were upset.
‘I’m used to it, many have tried over the years to take honour and glory from me and now it’s my life they’re after,’ was his calm comment when his friends complained. But deep down he was distressed, disappointed at the pettiness and ill will, sometimes even genuinely angry.
He had reconciled himself with many things. Old grudges were buried, injustices that had been harboured for decades receded in a forgiving forgetfulness. Even Associate Professor Johansson, who lived only a stone’s throw away, could now exchange a few words with his form ............

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