The first thing I read about PO Enquist was the Downed Angel.

How old was I then? I don't know, twenty-something maybe?

It is still one of my favorite novels. It stands in my if-it-starts-burning-saves-I-these-books-first-bookshelf, between Jeanette Wintersons  Passion  and Gitta Serenys  Unspeakable Cries . There is no particular thought with the placement, but now that I'm looking for characters - the way you do when someone dies and you want to keep them - it feels good. Right there, at the very best, between fiction and reality, between passion and curiosity, it is clear that this is where he should stand.

I've read about it many times, and now in the morning I do it again. Then I build a small tower of Enquist's novels and think I should read about them all. Just to be in that unique Enquist world a little more. New for every time, but also familiar: his contagious curiosity, his sentimental sensitivity, his humor and sharp-nosed sense, texts that are often questioning rather than replying, coolly ironic. Yes, you know.

Tall, wise and funny

I also really liked PO Enquist as a person. He was tall, strikingly tall, he was wise and funny. And kind. Despite his size, he never felt small in his company. When I worked at publishers, it was noticed when PO was in the house. The atmosphere was played up and expected. As if the site / Brad Pitt / Albert Einstein was visiting.

Extremely sad is that he should be dead now the rest of the time. I read all the books at once. With both hunger and missing. In the Parable of the Parable it says: “Death he thought of as a being with the dog close to his side, even after they reached the far shore of the river. It would then be the final project. "

Well, what do you say? I have no words. I borrow from PO Enquist: Thank you very much.