If he tried to pee standing up he had to aim blind and usually wet the floor, and his shoes. A couple of days earlier he had thoughtlessly undressed in front of the mirror and recoiled at the sight of a large, leathery orangutan. In an expensive suit, however, he did look presentable. It gave his roundness a sort of dignity. He was convinced that it was best that he remain dressed in the company of others.
Winter turned once more towards his companions, excused himself, and withdrew to the bathroom. It was spacious but dark. A curved bathtub loomed at the other end of the room, white with copper legs.
Years ago, a young Martti Winter had walked into this same bathroom, and the memory returned to him now.
He’s spent the entire Sunday at Laura White’s house doing writing
exercises. He comes into the bathroom deep in thought, pulls down his zipper—then suddenly realizes that he’s not alone, because at the other end of the room, lying in a tub full of water with her eyes closed is the writer, Laura White, naked. Horrified at the sacrilege he’s committed, he tries to quiet the pounding in his chest that’s making the whole room tremble, until the water in the tub splashes on the floor
.
Did she really open her eyes and look at the intruder? Did she smile at the boy mischievously and then close her eyes again?
Winter might have seen that happen but he didn’t know anymore, not for sure. He had seen it in dreams hundreds of times and every dream was different.
He walked over to the bathtub, opened his fly, did a little work and let his seed run over the white porcelain. Then he ran water in the tub and watched the black hole at the bottom swallow the evidence.
He washed his hands and face, checked his hair in the mirror, and walked out.
Author Martti Winter isn’t the only author at the gathering, of course. They’re all here this evening, all nine of the old members of the Rabbit Back Literature Society, and one new one.
Do you see that housewifish woman over there? The blonde, chubby woman who looks a little grey and threadbare? Looks deceive: that is Arne C. Ahlqvist, one of Europe’s most celebrated sci-fi and fantasy writers. Remember last summer’s hit movie
The Digger
? Hollywood based the screenplay on Arne C. Ahlqvist’s novel
Excursion to the Sun.
Her real name is Aura Jokinen. She’s something of an odd case among the writers in the Society. Her works are said to be too far from reality to be considered real literature. “Why doesn’t she write
about life?” the people of Rabbit Back ask. “Why come up with those strange tales of hers?”
Such questions come from those who haven’t read the interviews she’s given, in which she reveals that all her works are about her own complicated family relationships. In
Anna
magazine, the author said the following: “My last novel,
Luna jacta est,
seems to be about cyborgs, but if you scratch the surface you’ll find my daughter’s abortion, which was quite a shock to me and my ex-husband.”
Also on hand are mystery writer Silja Saaristo and young adult author Ingrid Katz, who has kept a low profile for the past couple of years. Manning the punchbowl is a familiar face from television, satirist Elias Kangasniemi, whose TV commentaries once garnered a faithful viewership. Also familiar from television is the award-winning screenwriter Toivo Holm, making lively conversation with all comers.
If you observe the festivities, you will make a surprising discovery. The members of the Rabbit Back Literature Society don’t seem to be talking with each other. They pass close by each other now and then, but never look each other in the eye, never indulge in conversation. One could very easily assume that they don’t know each other at all
.
EXCERPT FROM ESKO HARTAVALA’S ARTICLE
“THE LAURA WHITE INCIDENT”,
FINLAND ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY
, JUNE 2005
People were starting to wonder at the absence of the
Vanessa Stone
Sharon Dilworth
Connie Stephany
Alisha Howard
Marla Monroe
Kate Constable
Alasdair Gray
Donna Hill
Jean-Claude Izzo, Howard Curtis
Lorna Barrett