R. I. P. Astrid Lindgren

[Heikki Raudaskoski]

On Mon, 28 Jan 2002 KXX4493553 at aol.com wrote:

> She died in the age of 84.

> Kurt-Werner Pörtner


How melancholy news. 

Thanks for sharing, Kurt-Werner. (So much preferable to hear it 
serenely on the list, as the Nordic media will proclaim the 
news from the housetops as soon as I leave the working cubicle.)

As there might be listers who have experienced Lindgren only via 
the ghastly animations, I hope nobody would mind if I enclose the 
first paragraphs of _Pippi Longstocking_ (orig. 1945) as a homage 
to a great writer and wonderful person (I think she was 94 already): 


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Pippi Moves into Villa Villekulla (translated by Florence Lamborn)


Way out at the end of a tiny little town was an old overgrown garden, and
in the garden was an old house, and in the house lived Pippi
Longstocking. She was nine years old, and she lived there all alone. She
had no mother and no father, and that was of course very nice because
there was no one to tell her to go to bed just when she was having fun,
and no one could make her take cod liver oil when she much preferred
caramel candy.

Once upon a time Pippi had had a father of whom she was extremely
fond. Naturally, she had had a mother too, but that was so long ago that
Pippi didn't remember her at all. Her mother had died when Pippi was just
a tiny baby and lay in a cradle and howled so that nobody could go
anywhere near her. Pippi was sure that her mother was now in Heaven,
watching her little girl through a peephole in the sky, and Pippi often
waved up at her and called, "Don't you worry about me. I'll always come
out on top."

Pippi had not forgotten her father. He was a sea captain who sailed on the
great ocean, and Pippi had sailed with him in his ship until one day her
father was blown overboard in a storm and disappeared. But Pippi was
absolutely certain that he would come back. She would never believe that
he had drowned; she was sure he had floated until he landed on an island
inhabited by cannibals and went around with a golden crown on his head all
day long. 

"My papa is a cannibal king; it certainly isn't every child who has such a
stylish papa," Pippi used to say with satisfaction. "And as soon as my
papa has built himself a boat he will come and get me, and I'll be a
cannibal princess. Heigh-ho, won't that be exciting?"

Her father had bought the old house in the garden many years ago. He
thought he would live there with Pippi when he grew old and couldn't sail
the seas any longer. And then this annoying thing had to happen, that he
was blown into the ocean, and while Pippi was waiting for him go come back
she went straight home to Villa Villekulla. That was the name of the
house. It stood there ready and waiting for her. One lovely summer evening
she had said good-bye to all the sailors on her father's boat. They were
all fond of Pippi, and she of them.

"So long, boys," she said and kissed each one on the forehead. "Don't you
worry about me. I'll always come out on top."

Two things she took with her from the ship: a little monkey whose name was
Mr. Nilsson - he was a present from her father - and a big suitcase full
of gold pieces. The sailors stood upon the deck and watched as long as
they could see her. She walked straight ahead without looking back at all,
with Mr. Nilsson on her shoulder and her suitcase in her hand.

"A remarkable child," said one of the sailors as Pippi disappeared in the
distance.

He was right. Pippi was indeed a remarkable child. The most remarkable
thing about her was that she was so strong. She was so very strong that in
the whole wide world there was not a single police officer as strong as
she. Why, she could lift a whole horse if she wanted to! And she wanted
to. She had a horse of her own that she had bought with one of her many
gold pieces the day she came home to Villa Villekulla. She had always
longed for a horse, and now here he was, living on the porch. When Pippi
wanted to drink her afternoon coffee there, she simply lifted him down
into the garden.

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From: http://www.interlog.com/~wings/jane/a_lindgren/pippi.html



Heikki