After yesterday’s distinctly grudging update on the increasingly tiresome Edmund Ek controversy (if controversy it is) it seems to me supremely sad that I should be returning to the subject today, barely twenty-four hours after vowing that I was done with the Norwegian novelist and his humdrum existence.
I have, however, a piece of information that I can hardly, for the sake of politeness, hold back from my patient readers. And it concerns the aforementioned cat; the white-coated creature that keeps Ek’s company in this deserted idyll of his.
You may recall me noting that the cat’s name was unknown. Well, no longer. For I have it on good authority that the cat has a name, and that this name is none other than Heidi.
That’s right. Heidi. A name shared, you’ll no doubt know, by Miss Kohlenberg, literary critic par excellence – and Ek’s ex-wife. All of which, I’m sure you’ll agree, raises a range of intriguing issues, the majority of which I am quite happy to ignore at present. In fact, make that all of which I am quite happy to ignore at present.
Still, I thought you’d like to know..