Foreword

      I AM JONAS JONASSON and I want to explain myself.

      There was never meant to be a sequel to the story of the hundred-year-old man who climbed out of a window and disappeared. Many people wanted one, not least the protagonist, Allan Karlsson, who kept strolling around inside my head and calling attention to himself whenever he wished.

      ‘Mr Jonasson,’ he might say, out of nowhere, as I was busy with my own thoughts. ‘Have you changed your mind yet, Mr Jonasson? Don’t you want to have another round before I’m really old?’

      No, I didn’t. I’d already said everything I wanted to say about what was perhaps the most miserable century ever. The idea had been that if we reminded one another of all the shortcomings of the twentieth century, maybe it would make us better at remembering and less inclined to make at least those mistakes again. I packaged this message of mine with warmth and humour. Soon the book spread all over the world.

      It sure as hell didn’t make the world a better place.

      Time passed. My inner Allan stopped getting in touch. All the while, humanity kept moving forwards, or whatever direction it was moving in. Event after event filled me with the sense that the world was more incomplete than ever. All the while, I was just an onlooker.

      More and more I started to feel the need to speak up again, in my own way. Or Allan’s. One day I heard myself asking Allan straight out whether he was still with me.

      ‘Yes, I’m here,’ he said. ‘What might you have on your mind, Mr Jonasson, after such a long time?’

      ‘I need you,’ I said.

      ‘For what?’

      ‘For telling it like it is and, indirectly, how it ought to be.’

      ‘About everything?’

      ‘About more or less everything.’

      ‘Mr Jonasson, you understand that won’t help, right?’

      ‘Yes, I do.’

      ‘Good. Count me in.’

      * * *

      RIGHT, THERE’S ONE MORE THING. This is a novel about recent and present events. I make use of a number of public