The Best Book in the World by Peter Stjernstrom Read Free Book Online Page B

It would not be right to burden him with this. The pizza costs only thirty-nine kronor after all.
    Titus bears his cross and eats the pizza in the correct order, despite the confusion on the plate. It looks a bit strange with the pizza bits on either side of the plate. But what would that matter in a hundred years?
    The calories calm him down, and with his self-control secure, he can eat the pizza with a degree of devotion. He thinks that
The Best Book in the World
and the pizza should have the very best of ingredients. Genuine mozzarella, mushrooms from the market, the day’s catch of prawns and genuine Parma ham. But should it have artichokes or not? Which philosophy would suit the heroic detective best?
    Titus is energised by the delicious season-pizza. For once, he has had a reward without poisoning himself with alcohol and nicotine. He is on the right path. He’s going to like this.
    There is writing to be done!

CHAPTER 9
Foreword
    Dear Reader,
    This book is short. But it contains more than you can imagine. I would ask you to read slowly and with reflection so that you miss as little as possible. The book only contains one repetition and that occurs in the Foreword, here and now: I would ask you to read slowly and with reflection.
    Perhaps that is a tad arrogant, Titus thinks. But if the book is to be a success then he must establish a contract with his readers. Everybody involved must be in agreement about making the experience as magnificent as possible. Should he write a special foreword for the reviewers too? Ask them to try to experience something positive instead of wrecking and looking for faults…?
    Esteemed reviewer! There are moments in life when we must open ourselves to the world around us. Moments when we need to come to a halt in order to be able to comprehend the significance of what is new. In all epochs, mankind has been afraid of novelties. Think of the many doomsday prophets who have incorrectly proclaimed the end of the world! Think of the many commentators who have criticised technical advances that have later turned out to be faithful tools in the service of mankind! Think of the critics who have dismissed artists and works of art that have later won the genuine love of modern man! And how often has a reviewer won the heart of his public? I only wonder.
    Titus soon loses his benevolent intent and launches into an irate harangue for several pages. He gives examples of historical mistakes committed by reviewers, and directs his anger at cowardlypublisher’s editors while he is at it. He writes and writes. The embers flame up into burning hatred.
    …and now I demand of you, you pathetic clown of a reviewer, that you read this magnificent book with the most open attitude that your withered and poisoned brain is capable of. May you burn in hell if you are incapable of appreciating the magnificence of this innovative work of literature.
    Titus leans back contentedly on his office chair and enters the command to preview the text. Four pages of compact lines appear on the screen. A word bomb!
    He is forced to swallow a nasty-tasting lump which rushes towards his throat when he realises his mistake. He can have just 250 pages of text, and he has used four of them for the foreword!
    Talk about addictive behaviour, he thinks. I need my head seeing to! I’m an idiot! This is never going to work. Delete! Damn…
    He is a useless author and an even worse person. Titus is suddenly swamped by a strong impulse to eat, drink and smoke. Indeed, to do anything that will take him away from here. But he tries to calm himself a little by pulling out of his brain the reward image with boy-Titus and the milk moustache. He shuts his eyes and concentrates on his picture therapy. But what’s happening? The boy is naked! And one half of his bottom is far too long! It’s supported on a crutch, like a tired giant penis. And on top of the half-bottom there’s a piece of bloody meat. The boy is wearing a cap with a peak