There is a certain magic to reading a great book, without going into it with any notion of what it is about, or that you'll like it. When I started reading this book, I knew nothing more than what's written on the cover, which describes it as "A novel about myself" and its excellent blurb: "Den här boken är självupptagen, odräglig, oklar, klok, viktig, förvirrad, onödig. Kort sagt, den säger helt olika saker till olika personer."

As I start reading the book, I gradually uncover the life of the author. It starts out with a police interrogation from his youth due to his anti-war posters, then continues with his upper class family, and then how he goes his own path to become an artist. But this is just the first ten pages. To me, the great part of the book is how it is structured. It jumps back and forth in his life, together with constantly indulging in digressions, losing track of the current story in favor of different tangents. This jumping, constant digressions, and several repetitions, makes the story very non-linear and at times discontinuous. However, it is precisely this feeling of chaos and digressions that gives the book its immense charm, and sense of wisdom.

I wholeheartedly recommend this book, especially to those who enjoy reading (and aren't deterred by 300 pages filled with numerous digressions), have an open mind regarding culture and politics, understand Swedish (as I don't think it has been translated), and have an interest in Sweden's cultural climate during the second half of the twentieth century. If this sounds like you, I hope you'll enjoy this strange rollercoaster ride.