The old librarian didn’t quite know what he meant by that, but there was no doubt about the girl’s quite outstanding intellect.
The monthly trip to the grocery store simply had to be extended to a monthly trip to the library,
the librarian and father decided together, without any particular need to discuss it further.
By the time Sonja passed her twelfth birthday she had read all the books at least twice.
The ones she liked, such as The Old Man and the Sea, she’d read so many times that she’d lost count.
So Ernest ended up being called Ernest. And no one owned him.
He didn’t talk, but he liked to go fishing with her father, who appreciated his qualities.
They would share the catch equally once they got home.
The first time Sonja brought Ove out to the old wooden house in the forest, Ove and her father sat in buttoned-up silence opposite each other,
staring down at their food for almost an hour, while she tried to encourage some form of civilized conversation.
Neither of the men could quite understand what they were doing there,
apart from the fact that it was important to the only woman either of them cared about.
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