Boken jag läser just nu vet jag inte så mycket om än. Jag läser den för att jag håller på med ett Jorden runt-projekt (se projektets blogg!) och nu har jag kommit till Guinea. Boken handlar om en verklig person, Olivier de Sanderval, som kom från Frankrike med ambitionen att bli kung av Fouta Djallon (i dagens Guinea). Som man ju gör ... Men det är en roman, ingen biografi.
Där jag är har han inte ens hunnit avresa från Frankrike, men jag tyckte det var kul att han hann nämna Sverige, Norge OCH min födelsedag i ett enda stycke! Tror inte det kommer hända fler gånger i boken.
He took a last look at his farmhouse, admired its saddleback roof, its ocher walls, and the olive green of its many shutters. It was still hard for him to believe that Napoleon had slept here the day after the siege of Toulon and dreamed of marrying Désirée Clary, the household's eldest daughter. He chuckled to himself and wondered what would have become of France if she had chosen Napoleon rather than Bernadotte, whom she would marry shortly before he was crowned Charles XIV, king of Sweden. Then the first Republic collapsed, and then the first Empire, and then the Pastrés – you know, the famous shipowners – happened along and bought the farmhouse, and then he happened along and married Pastré's daughter.
Now, some eighty-six years after Bernadotte, he was stepping across the same threshold on his way to claim his own crown. Could that really be attributed to happenstance? And he wasn't going just anywhere – he was headed for Fouta Djallon!
The date was November 29, 1879, and it was snowing in Marseille. The mere sight of the port de la Madrague and the avenue du Prado, barely recognizable under their ridiculous coat of white, sent shivers up his spine. He imagined this was exactly what Norway must look like.
As he reached the port, he rubbed his hands together and told himself he couldn't have found a better time to go to Africa.
(Tierno Monénembo, "The King of Kahel", s. 4-5)