This is the last book that Malmsten has written from Finistère, from where she moved while writing this book, a collection of "logs", as she calls them, i.e. snippets selected by herself as posted on her blog. She writes of her neighbours, of the Evil Internet Operator Orange, of the sea and obsessing a lot. In the best possible way. She is not simple, while taking great care in writing using simple words.

I've often compared Bodil Malmsten with Arthur Rimbaud, and I still believe this comparison to be singularly valid.

She has a very special way of interpreting and exhaling the world around herself, whether it is a seemingly small thing (e.g. the Tape Family, expanding thoughts on words) or seemingly big (e.g. depression, moving, Nicolas Sarkozy's influence on Europe).

The outtakes from her play makes me immediately want to read it.

All in all, a lovely collection of thoughts that does not play into the regular breadth of what being a 60-ish female means. These thoughts alarm and provoke by just being uttered. I really enjoy reading this book, and will most definitely re-read it.