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448 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1993

In the old days, people thought the cuckoo became a hawk when the summer was over. Then he struck with his claws extended, his beak bloody. He was calling like a bell in the forest. She was so close, she could see the slate-gray throat feathers trembling at each call. He was perched with his wings folded and black tail-feathers outspread, spotted with white.
The lake looked peculiar, oily in the stillness, as if the water were sticky. The water enveloped the slim body of the canoe. As he dipped the paddle in and took a stroke, it seemed to him that muscles were trembling under the skin of the water.


Kun oveen hakattiin, oli kello melkein puoli viisi aamulla. Birger ei ollut nukkunut ja päähän koski heti kun hän nosti sen tyynystä. Hän nousi varovasti. Kun hän avasi oven ja aamuilmaa virtasi sisään, hän tunsi, että kalankäry leijui yhä huoneessa jäähtyneenä ja ummehtuneena ja tupakansavuun sekoittuneena. Leirintäalueen omistaja Roland Fjellström seisoi ovella ja sanoi, että ylempänä Lobberjoen varrella oli tapahtunut jotakin.
Björne has simply done an about-face in time and gone backward into the olden days, as he calls it. In the olden days people did such and such. In the olden days they thought, saw, understood.
But what they understood was how to live in their own time and the loner in the cabin doesn’t understand that.