Read Online Doppler by Erlend Loe - Free Book Online

while Gregus continues to howl and in the end I pull out my knife to cut off my beard, but the nursery person stops me and calls my wife who, I understand from the conversation, is on her way to the Pantheon by bus and as she passes through ancient Roman streets she confirms that I have a beard and otherwise look unkempt and wild.
    Gregus calms down and we amble home with me trying to ask him normal questions about the manifold activities of a nursery day. He, for his part, wants to know why I look so weird. I say, as is the truth, that I’m living in a tent in the forest at the moment and that I’ve let my beard grow because it is simply easier to let it grow than to keep preventing it from growing. I also say that he will have a beard himself in a few years’ time, but he dismisses that as nonsense.
    At home we meet Nora who also reacts with shock at my appearance. I say that I’ve been thinking of taking Gregus with me to the tent and letting him stay with me until his mother returns from Rome. Of course, she is also welcome to join us, I say, knowing very well that that is probably the last thing in the world she feels like doing. And she rejects my offer, as I thought she would. She’s on the home straight of a project about Tolkien, she says, and would like to spend the weekend applying the finishing touches. It irks me to see how nice and conscientious she is and I try to urge her to have a party instead. Just imagine the wild party you could have, I say. All alone at home and so on. You could invite the whole school, I say. Let it all hang out. Let people smoke and run amok and dance and be happy. You need that kind of party when you’re young. You need parties you can put in your locker and keep for the rest of your life, which define who you are. There’ll be days when you look back on the wild parties you’ve had with more satisfaction than the good grades you got in your project, I say. But she doesn’t believe me. You could have a little party, then, I say. My God, come on, girl. You’ve got the house to yourself. It’s a heaven sent opportunity. And then you can come up to the tent afterwards and sleep off the booze and have some moose meat. She just sends me an old-fashioned look.
    I hope you’re not going to the parents’ evening tonight, she says, but I say that’s precisely what I’m going to do. Her mother told me to attend and attend I will. Is there anything in particular you’d like me to mention? I ask. Are you happy with the teachers? Are you being intellectually stimulated enough? Are you excused gym when you have your period?
    She eyes me with disbelief.
    ‘I would appreciate it if you didn’t go to the meeting,’ she says.
    I go to the meeting. Partly because my wife told me to and partly because I don’t want to hear later that Nora’s parents don’t care. The meeting has been disturbingly nicely organised. With the agenda written on the board and name cards on desks. I sit in Nora’s seat by the window in the first row, and even though it’s probably decades since there was any prestige in sitting in the front row I’m a bit depressed by that. I suspect Nora thinks it’s great sitting here and being the best. The class teacher, a lady in her fifties, starts by saying that this class is one of the most resourceful she has ever come across in her time in education and she lists examples and tells us about a class trip to the Baltic which is due to take place soon. Although the class has been selling waffles for more than a year in the long breaks, they still need to put in three thousand kroner each, she says.  It’s a lot to ask, she knows, and it is voluntary after all, but they’re going to both Tallin and Vilnius, two cities with quite a bit to recommend them, I’m given to understand. There is a wealth of history in the region, and a lot about the War and the Soviet Union, and a trip like this is a gold mine for such a strong class as this because it can be kept