The Man Who Left Too Soon: The Life and Works of Stieg Larsson (10 page)

Baksi and Larsson met in 1992. They shared an interest in socialist politics, and both were engaged in journalistic editorial duties; Baksi (working on the magazine
Black and White
, which, as the name suggests, dealt with racial issues) has said that he was involved in helping Larsson put together the latter’s magazine
Expo
. These magazines later became one, and the two men worked together, enjoying – according to Baksi – an unconditional friendship. As for the
Millennium Trilogy
’s Blomkvist being a surrogate for the author himself, Baksi has another view – he regards Blomkvist, with his impressive list of sexual conquests, as very much a wish-fulfilment figure for his creator; he points out that Larsson was, in fact, more like Salander, sharing her taste for junk food and a deep suspicion of the police. The other element shared between Larsson and his heroine, according to Baksi, was a strong reluctance to discuss the past. Unlike Lisbeth, however, Larsson was not a naturally gifted organiser, and his financial improvidence had the effect of nearly bankrupting
Expo
. Baksi was of the opinion that Larsson had hoped that the future sales of his books would help to fund the magazine. Perhaps most significantly, Baksi reports that the late author had told him that he had ‘ten books in his head’ – more proof that death stilled what could have been a very productive authorial voice.

At a mere 140 or so pages, Baksi’s memoir,
Stieg Larsson, My Friend
, is nothing if not concise, but it throws some illumination on aspects of the author’s life not otherwise available to readers. Baksi was the first person to view Larsson’s body in hospital after his death, and he briskly dismisses the idea that anything other than the author’s lack of attention to his health was the cause of his death. He described how beautiful Larsson looked in his best clothes, and wearing a smile. ‘He looked so young,’ said Baksi wistfully.

Beginning with the painful process of acknowledging that Larsson had passed out of his life, Baksi decides to investigate – in the manner of a detective story writer – the answer to a question: who was Stieg? Discovering that the late writer had worked as a dishwasher at a restaurant, he looked further into his career, deciding that it was not hard to imagine Larsson as an infantryman (the latter had, in fact, completed two years of national service), not to mention the even more unlikely profession of manager at a pulp mill. After a relatively brief run-through of the facts of Larsson’s early life, Baksi moves on to their first conversation – by phone – in 1992, when he had been working on the 21 February Committee in the Kungsholmen district of Stockholm, a political group that had called a strike after the shooting of 11 people by a man described by newspapers as ‘The Laser Man’, a disturbed individual who had been wandering the city aiming a rifle at non-white immigrants.

Baksi, recalling how Stockholm had felt like a city under siege, noted how his mysterious caller (he did not know it was Larsson) had asked why only immigrants (Baksi is a Kurd) were allowed to take part in the strike – suggesting that others, such as the caller himself, might like to have taken part. The caller pointed out – in no uncertain terms – that racism was not just an immigrant problem, but a problem for the country as a whole. And as he began to suggest new initiatives, Baksi became aware that he was talking to Stieg Larsson, a man he remembered encountering at various left-wing demonstrations and rallies, as well as being the author of a groundbreaking book on anti-democratic movements.

It was nearly a year before the two like-minded individuals were to meet, and in
Stieg Larsson, My Friend
, Baksi paints an intriguing picture of a passionately committed figure prepared to put his life on the line for his beliefs while barely looking after his own well-being. We are given a picture – now familiar to Larsson enthusiasts – of the uninspiring food that was the late author’s staple diet. There are revealing insiders’ views of life at the struggling magazine
Expo
, always on the brink of bankruptcy but powered by the commitment of its staff. And we encounter, in situ, Baksi’s controversial critical remarks about Larsson’s journalistic standards, so widely reported before the UK publication of the former’s book.

Baksi reminds us that life was not safe for those working in left-wing journalism and taking on extremists, mentioning that a group of neo-Nazis had obtained photographs and current addresses of Larsson, Eva Gabrielsson and Baksi himself – deeply worrying for all three. Despite these potential threats to his life, Larsson continued to discuss such issues as the possibility of infiltrating extremist groups before being warned off by a nervous Baksi. With a certain pride, Baksi relates how he was name-checked and featured as a character in
The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets’ Nest
, but remembers that in this memoir his principal duty is to supply personal information about Larsson. He mentions several writers numbered among Larsson’s favourites, including such female crime writers as Minette Walters and Sara Paretsky, as well as talking about an interview Larsson conducted with a favourite science fiction writer, Harlan Ellison. The book ends with a discussion of health – ironically, not Larsson’s but Baksi’s own. He had told Larsson that he felt his own health was deteriorating because of overwork, and that he was spending more time in hospital than in the office – in fact, Baksi’s doctors said that he was showing the symptoms of burnout. According to Baksi, he told the sympathetic Larsson that both men were not 20-year-olds any more, and that they should start thinking about their health – advice that Larsson signally did not take. The book ends with a talk that Baksi gives at a seminar, packed – to his dismay – with neo-Nazis, and a subsequent trip to the offices of
Expo
where he learns of the death of his friend. His own book, as he points out, was not intended as a blind tribute to Larsson – and it was certainly not received that way. It is a portrait of Larsson, Cromwell-style: warts and all.

But what about current thinking on Stieg Larsson in Sweden? Sitting in a room on the fifteenth floor of a hotel and talking to the journalist Dan Lucas, correspondent for the Swedish newspaper
Dagens Nyheter
in Britain, among other countries, is a pleasurable experience for me – not just because of the lively, informed conversation, but also because Lucas is a direct link to Stieg Larsson, and to be cherished as such; the journalist did agency work with the author between 1989 and 2000.

‘I remember him doing work as a researcher and designer of graphs,’ said Lucas. ‘He was an extremely private person. Certainly, I would have to say that he was not someone that you really got close to. However, I learnt to both respect and like him for his encyclopaedic knowledge in certain areas – areas that are also of interest to me: mainly modern history and European politics… especially, I have to say, of the more unsavoury kind.’

As Lucas gazes out on the cityscape below, I ask what his dealings were with Larsson. ‘I was a Stockholm-based EU correspondent during the 1990s,’ he replies, ‘and saw the steady rise of right-wing populism in several countries. Stieg was a great help in dissecting and analysing these movements.

‘For me, the relationship with him was exclusively professional. I did not consider myself his friend, but his colleague. I would go to his “office” (frankly, it was a bit of a dump!) and we would talk about and examine different aspects of politics as well as European history. Now and then, I’d ask him to fix a diagram for a story I was working on.’

Lucas is bemused by the amazing response to Larsson in Britain – and as he (Lucas) is someone who straddles both countries – personally and professionally – I ask why he thinks Larsson has enjoyed this unprecedented success, even more than such other popular Scandinavian writers as Henning Mankell.

‘I wish I knew!’ is Lucas’s rueful answer. ‘I think perhaps it’s because Lisbeth Salander is so… how shall I put it? … alien, different from any character we’ve ever come across in any thriller. And, let’s face it, one can’t deny the immense skill of the storytelling. But you also find that skill in Henning Mankell; and as for the latter’s success, I can’t help thinking that showing both the Swedish and the [Kenneth Branagh] UK versions of the
Wallander
series on TV helps a lot. But with Stieg, I think it’s similar to the Björn Borg effect in Sweden… When he triumphed several times at Wimbledon, tennis players flourished all over the country. The same syndrome is now happening with crime writers.’

Time for a tricky question: where does Lucas stand in the contentious debate about whether Larsson was a good or a bad journalist? His answer is uncompromising. He said about Larsson, ‘I didn’t see a good journalist in action while I worked at the agency. However, I think he was quite different when he was working at
Expo
. That magazine was, after all, the unarguable love of his professional life. I think Stieg saw the agency as his bread-and-butter job, and I sensed he wasn’t all that interested in it. He saved his real passion for
Expo
.’

Regarding the current Swedish attitude to the acrimonious struggle between Larsson’s partner and his family, Lucas said that the general response was that they were all worthy of some criticism. ‘There is absolutely no question what the tabloids think,’ he said. ‘The attitude among Swedes in general is probably more along the lines of: why don’t you people get your act together? Surely there’s enough money to go round?’

I ask Lucas whether or not, as a journalist, he considers that Larsson’s sometimes negative picture of Sweden (massive governmental corruption, etc) has made the foreign view of the country more jaundiced. ‘Perhaps. If those views that non-Swedes used to hold were naive, seeing Sweden as being something of a role model with clean politics and a decent, caring business community, then perhaps the Larsson novels can help readers to get a more balanced, realistic view of the country. However, in the final analysis, these are, after all, thrillers – they are popular entertainment. I’d be very careful of reading them as a valid social commentary on contemporary Swedish society. After all, Larsson didn’t live to see recent political developments in Sweden [i.e. the much-reported far-Right party successes]. I think – regarding those developments – he’d be both horrified and a little bit thrilled – as any investigative reporter worth his salt should be. If he were still with us, Stieg would have been right up there exposing the foibles of the far-Right members of parliament.

‘I am sorry for Stieg’s sake that he couldn’t enjoy his success. But I hope that Larsson and Mankell open the door for other Swedish crime writers that I personally think are greater authors: Håkan Nesser, to mention just one.’

As 2010 progressed, Larsson-related material began to appear in newspapers throughout the world on a regular basis, often providing information that had appeared previously elsewhere, but sometimes revealing fascinating new nuggets. For instance, two unpublished manuscripts came to light in Sweden, and this revelation was presented in several news stories as if to suggest – initially at least – that the tantalising possibility of further adventures for Lisbeth Salander were being dangled in front of the reader. But these new Larsson finds were, in fact, nothing to do with the
Millennium Trilogy
. The National Library of Sweden revealed in June that it had located in its files two stories sent by a teenage Larsson in an attempt to break into publication. These tyro efforts, however, were in Larsson’s beloved science fiction genre, and were given very short shrift by the
Jules Verne
magazine that they had been submitted to originally. The stories (‘The Flies’ and ‘The Crystal Balls’) were subsequently donated to the National Library as part of an archive submitted by the magazine. But will they ever be published? Needless to say, the most insignificant scrap from Larsson’s work desk – whenever it was written – would now glean immense interest. Magdalena Gram, the deputy national librarian of Sweden, told the English newspaper
The Independent
that the library would be contacting Larsson’s father and brother in regard to the short stories, but the late author’s publisher Eva Gedin had no assurances to give that they would ever see the light of day. She pointed out that she had been discussing with Larsson’s brother the possibility of publishing articles from the magazine
Expo
, but that these science fiction pieces were a different issue altogether. Larsson’s partner Eva Gabrielsson was guarded in her discussion of the stories – but then she had been thrown into the spotlight once again when further revelations were made concerning the fabled ‘fourth manuscript’…

Larsson’s friend John Henri Holmberg revealed that he had received an e-mail about this much-discussed fourth entry in the
Millennium
sequence from the author less than a month before the latter’s death in November 2004. According to Holmberg, whose friendship with the author dated back to the time when the two had met at a science fiction convention in the 1970s, he had been told that Larsson had written 320 pages of the fourth book and intended to complete it by December of that year. According to the synopsis, the finished manuscript would have been 440 pages long. Holmberg’s comments about the possible continuation of the saga created considerable interest, and his insistence that publication (or completion) of the manuscript should be a matter of urgency was echoed by many observers. Larsson had talked about elements in connection with this fourth book, notably concerning the sparse population of the location of the book – the isolated Sachs Harbour in the Northwest Territories of Canada (134 people, whose only contact with the outside world was a mail plane that made a landing when weather permitted). Holmberg was not able to expand on this promising set-up, but noted that he (Holmberg) understood that the book would continue the recurrent theme concerning the treatment of women in modern Swedish society.