Being the mother of two children out of wedlock, and rumored to having cheated the workers at a foresting venture, Linda already has a reputation. But when she meets with the musician Björn Ceder, with his slight frame and troubled eyes, and realizes he has just had a parting of ways with the other half of his duo, she just has to pick up her accordion and go with him. It’s the early decades of the 20th century in the rural north of Sweden, and Linda leaves her hard-earned lodging business and her two children, to go on eternal tours of village dances and recitals with the man she hopelessly loves. That Björn is homosexual is abstract to her, despite his constant flirting with young farmboys, spending their earnings on presents and sweets, and leaving a trail of angry parents behind. Between Linda and Björn something is growing that is more hate than love, more guilt than friendship, but a bond that none of them seem to be able to break.

This is an unusual Sara Lidman book, and it took me a while to get the hang of it. Her style is usually so sparse and dense, but here it is much more expressive, modernistic, rich in imagery. This, and that it focuses more on the meandering inner workings of people than outer events, creates a book harder to follow than many of her others. But once it grips me and I start to follow on this horrific, sad downward spiral, once Linda starts drinking and Björn humiliating himself, this is a profound meditation on the nature of obsession, self-destruction and the worst sides of friendship. Towards the end, I can hardly breathe. Not a happy read by any standard, but powerful, stark and full of insight. Highly recommended. ( )