by Tove Jansson
POSSIBLY 10.6.64 [TJ’s approximation of date. Bredskär]
Darling Tooti,
As you know, Abbe’s telephone has now collapsed for good, so I’m sending this greeting with Lasse and Nita who are off to town to lay in supplies and have a good time.
I miss you constantly and was so glad to get the message that you might come out for midsummer with the ghostses.
It could be a lively séjour, with the overcrowding made up for by the excitement!
What sort of numbskulls are these people who’ve promised someone else the house Reima and Raili were to have? I’d already slotted them into the archipelago and was looking forward to an impromptu visit now and then – here or at their place. And on Klovharun.
I haven’t been there yet – it’s been either gales or fog the whole time. But the building permission and blueprints came out with Abbe & co. one evening and I’m collecting more seaweed for our future plantings and packing the year-old seaweed in boxes, ready to go.
So you’re off to Venice in the autumn instead. I assume it would have been too much of a rush at the moment? I wonder if you’ve got your lithography equipment set up, and how the library looks now. And whether you’ve already started nosing into the new technique.
Lasse read my book and liked it, changed a few words. He plans to go through it again and mull over whether there are whole sections I could improve. Decent of him.
I’ve done sketches for the illustrations and will gradually make a start on the more detailed versions. It’s a bit tricky because I haven’t done any drawing for so long. Have you still got any of that thin paper for use with a radiograpf [sic] pen? It would be great to have some. And more typewriter paper? And a rapidograph pen no. 2 – the broad one.
We celebrated Nita’s birthday because she’s in Sweden on the actual day – it was a great success with a party in the evening, the accordion and the radio, quite a riot. She liked my yellow sweater.
The level in the gallon of whisky is sinking steadily and there aren’t that many vodkas left – in confidence, of course. And the house is overflowing as usual and Sophia’s energy is all-consuming.
But all is going well – things feel friendly and relaxed all the time and naturally I’m tremendously grateful that there are no atmospheres brewing in any corners. I’m not getting cross about anything – just letting it all trundle on. Long may it last.
And sometimes I cast a lonely glance towards the horizon in the east. Thank goodness they didn’t take our dream away from us.
Today I turfed everything out of the tent, it was pretty damp. All the mist – and then a night’s rain with a force-sixer from the east. It was like on Klovharun – that time! But it didn’t rain in, even though the base of the tent was wet under the mattress.
Psipsu sometimes comes in and sleeps in her chair – especially when Sofia’s out. I boiled some fish for Psipsu – and east of Tunnis we got a 3-kilo pike! Lasse has finished the bust of Sophia and I think it’s terribly good And really not idealised!
Now he’s hard at work on the strips. We do them mostly in the middle of the day when everyone else is asleep.
They’ve made a new salad patch and are busy sowing and watering. It’s looking good. I’m sticking to the potatoes, they’re already coming up. I’ve been collecting sticks in the forest and generally rooting about, glad that it feels good to have “things to do” on the island again, albeit not with the old intensity. After early-morning coffee I quickly get the washing up done and bring in wood and water, then I’m off, leaving the rest of them in peace. A good system. After that I take the day as it comes.
I wrote to Maya that you’re in town – have you two met up? Have you run into Pentti? I assume you’ve seen Vivica. Strange how part of me is always geared towards town whenever you’re there.
Right ho – I don’t think there’s much more to tell you from here. It’s all going well – but I do long for you.
I long to be a new settler again, and there’s a capsule of yearning for solitude deep inside me, but I can be patient.
And you? How have things been for you in town? I really hope you got into studio life somewhat, through your lithography – being at a loose end around town just now is too hellish, otherwise.
Well – I suppose we’ll have to make the best of the situation. Sometimes I think that if we get through this we’ll be able to get through anything the future has in store.
You’re in my arms and I’m waiting happily to celebrate midsummer with you. Can you ring Pentti, give him my best wishes and let him know that we got permission to build? And my regards to Mamu and Reimas and everybody else!
Kisses,
Tove
PS Make a note of what things cost if you bring anything with you, I’d really like to pay for them. Loads more money has come in.
Raili: The architect Raili Pietilä, Reima Pietilä’s wife.
Lasse read my book: TJ was working on Pappan och Havet (Moominpappa at Sea).
Pentti: Pentti Eistola, a doctor and a good friend. He helped TJ and Tuulikki Pietilä build the big model of the Moomin house.
4.9.65 [Klovharun]
Darling Tooti,
A PS to the letter I sent with Sven; he took the Penta with him to sort out and promised to empty it, and he also took the red petrol can but didn’t want the tool bag, leaflet or funnel, and we might need those ourselves anyway.
Then I gave him the big milk can and asked him to empty the petrol drum into it, but he wouldn’t, even though I explained it was the right mixture. He had a gentleman called Gideon with him, they’d been on Bredskär several hours before it emerged that Nita and Gideon were childhood friends. They came over here at dusk and we had coffee and the vodka they’d brought – and I was able to get some milk for Ham – and then they went off to Kummelskär. The next morning we had Baltic herring, which I’d grilled, on the rocks, and some porridge – and no being sickses.
Ham is properly up and about today, wearing her dress for the first time, but sleeping a lot. I think she’ll be able to travel the day after tomorrow. Lasse said yesterday over the Talky Walky that Pentti thought she ought to go back to town, so we’ve got an authority on our side there.
Tove and Tooti’s cabin on Klovharun.
It was a wonderful day today, so smooth – the whole sea – and sunshine. Yet even so, I’m working, trying to get earnestly into Alice. Practically all the black and white pictures are done, not in their finished form, that is, I want to redo several of them. Next week I shall try to start on the coloured pictures. I wrote to Runnquist to reassure Bonniers and said I wouldn’t be sending anything for now. Not until I’m back in town.
Brunström read a piece in Borgåbladet about Pappan och havet [Moominpappa at Sea] which is evidently out now. All he could tell me was that whoever wrote it “seemed” to like the book and thought adults could read it too.
Lasse & co. dropped in at Viken but there wasn’t a soul at home, so they picked mushrooms instead. They’re still working away on their windows.
Peo’s hardly likely to come out this weekend, I expect they’re busy acclimatising to town. We haven’t heard anything from the Abbes – it’s autumnally empty everywhere, like shutting the door on a party. There’s a half-moon, very yellow, and every evening it’s as if the island has floated another ten kilometres out to sea. The evening it was still, I lit candles on the verandah.
Did you know Brunström’s planning to spend a week here at the start of October and shoot long-tailed duck. Presumably that would be ok? After all, we won’t be coming until later. I’ve already started stowing stuff down in the cellar. It might be a good idea to have our first solo guest as an experiment. And I’m getting everything ready for winter out here.
Sun. Thank you darling Tooti for the fabulous parcel! It made me so happy. I offered Peo a glass of Cap straight away, he turned up with Peter last night. They brought milk and butter too, and lots of post from Bredskär where Abbes had just paid a farewell
visit.
Now the damned wind can blow (and it is, by the way) and the rain lash as they will, I’m battened down. And I can get on with my work. Thank you, my darling – for everything, and I’ve never possessed so many nuts all in one go in my whole life!
They also brought the Gyllings’ present, that wonderful clock, and a delightful letter to you and me, which I enclose. I shall write to thank Kaj and Ulla today. I’ll send the clock to town with Lasse & co. If you want to take a look at it in the studio (and perhaps have it at yours?), it’s in its cardboard case in the box of books. I’m sending a box and a suitcase with Lasse. While you’re at it, could you take the two dresses out of the case and hang them up?
The Peos have heard nothing from our cousin’s son and Peter reckons the young man is sleeping at his girlfriend’s and far from keen to meet up with family. It would be good if he could sleep at Ham’s instead, she needs somebody there at nights at the moment.
Oh, and I got the Pappa reviews from Borgåbladet and V. Nyland, benevolently positive and naive, mostly summarising the book “which is suitable for children and adults alike”. They hadn’t noticed any difference, thought the Moomins were as cosy as ever. Well, that’s reassuring in a way.
Peo took the “big boat” in tow when he went, which was good because the water’s very low and the inlet is cut off.
I’ve leafed through all the Finnish crime novels twice but not found Raili’s hundred note. So soothing to think that others do silly things with their money, too! And congratulations on finding yours! See, it was in the studio.
To be on the safe side I’m sending a copy of my songs, if Erna hasn’t received them there won’t be time to send the lyrics later and that would be a pity. Could you ring her one day and ask. It’s important, you see, a promise because I never wrote to her on the subject. They were talking about this competition on the radio the other day, it seems to be quite an extensive thing.
I suppose I thought you might find a children’s nursery in your studio – thank goodness it was only stuff you could move aside so you could get going on your work. Good luck with your “ugly pictures”.
Kruskopf asked me to do a Lucifer cover before October but I can’t fit it in – so I just wrote and thanked him for the offer. Moominsummer Madness is into its third edition in London. And Virkkunen’s sent a book of poems called “Äla välitä” with an extremely kind inscription in it.
Right ho – that’s about it from here.
Today it’s blowing like the devil and I wonder how getting to the mainland tomorrow will go. I feel more and more nervous about having Ham here.
Mon. The wind has died down a bit but the water’s still ruffled, and choppy in the sound. Ah, these departures. But once I’m on my own I hope there’s a Big Storm – that would be splendid!
Kisses and hugs and say hello to everybody!
Tove.
Sven: Sven Brunström
Talky Walky: TJ’s name for the walkie-talkie the family uses to communicate between the islands.
Alice: TJ had been commissioned by Swedish publisher Bonniers to illustrate Alice in Wonderland, see Letters to Åke Runnquist.
the Gyllings: TJ’s lawyer Kaj Gylling and his wife Ulla.
A copy of my songs: the letter contains three songs, “Gökvisa”, “Höstvisa” and “Kärleksvisa” (“Cuckoo Song”, “Autumn Song” and “Love Song”).
Erna: Erna Tauro, pianist, composer and long-time collaborator with TJ.
Kruskopf: Erik Kruskopf, art critic.
IN AUGUST, TOVE JANSSON IS TOLD SHE IS TO RECEIVE THE Hans Christian Andersen Award, and she plans a trip to Ljubljana with Tuulikki Pietilä to receive it. See Letters to Signe Hammarsten Jansson 29.9.1966.
HARUN 26.8.66 FINE WEATHER AND LIGHT SSW WIND
Darling Tooti,
So I have been decorated, finally, after all those Tomtebo prizes with their china plaques. Please let this be the kind that I can wear! I was really, genuinely pleased, especially once I’d talked to you and realised it wasn’t some petite fantasie the Yugoslavians had invented, which would barely amount to more than wretched speeches and interviews to drive me out from Harun.
Of course we shall go to Ljubljana and then on to the Biennale, Makkonen is busy applying for travel grants from some kind of ministry – by plane, she said – and then we’ve got my foreign currency account, of course. And our summertime golden handshake from Gylling. I told Ham the minute I hung up. The whole house was awfully interested.
How to combine it with the forty-year-olds is not something I’m taking terribly seriously, this trip certainly has to be considered Important. And naturally one ought to stay a week or 10 days when one has travelled so far, eh? What had you been thinking of – longer? [ … ]
It made me feel sad, leaving you in town – very unnatural to come to the island without you.
When we got to Viken they were having the engagement dinner, with a giant pike almost ready, so Cay brought me over at high speed to be back in time for it.
Ham was sitting there all ready with her luggage of course but they’d given up waiting for me and had just let out the cat, which had been shut in the loft all day. Pipsu’s been wildly jealous of Pelle so they’ve had to take it in turns for an airing, and every time your cat had to stay inside it spat and fought like a tiger. And Sophia was going through a phase of severe Mayavanni phobia so I’m sure they were glad when I turned up. Dashed into the forest and shouted and my cat came like a shot.
Then I yelled that I had crayfish with me, Sophia shouted party! and Mother, cat and rotten roach put to sea and headed at great speed to Harun, where we were tossed ashore any old how.
I’d scarcely cleared up a bit and got the table laid (the lanterns were under my bed!) before the Bredskär crew arrived, all dressed up and pleased with themselves, with roses in silver paper. I gave them a quick account of the consecration of the church and other adventures before the crayfish were served, the schnapps was poured and the lanterns lit – and then we spotted a boat with an outboard motor heading towards us. In a sort of gloomy panic we guessed it might be Nybondas, Assendelft, even Olsoni – but in fact it was Abbe, Greta and Max with a bunch of sweet peas and a lot of confused blather about the Yugoslavian Nobel Prize for children. Very surreal. As was the party that followed.
Miraculously there seemed to be enough crayfish for everybody – and watermelon, and the vodka circulated and a half bottle of cognac and I think they went on until 1 o’clock.
Nita was extremely lively and chatty, but calm. She told us about her more dubious relatives and acquaintances and Viken’s eyes were on stalks.
Among other things she gave them a detailed description of the party and delivery when Sophia came into the world with champagne and a Caesarean, amniotic fluid and all the rest. Sophia trumpeted merrily throughout, and spent most of her time enquiring about the sex of the crayfish, absorbing Ham’s quiet disapproval of the females.
And it was hardly surprising that Ham was a bit quiet. I found out the next day that she’s had some gastrointestinal bleeding and a letter from Harald saying Einar had to be taken from Ängsmarn to hospital by emergency ambulance and things were looking very bad. And even worse the way Harald’s described it, his language is as black as night.
Torsten has sent his net and in my thank-you letter I asked him to write and tell us how Einar is doing and what’s wrong with him.
Well, the night was as dark as pitch and there was a stiff wind so we put the family to bed wherever there was space, I recited my protest song of course and everyone went to sleep except Nita, who sat there with the last candle, her hat hanging down the back of her neck, frowning as she recited protests to herself.
The next day it was a complete muddle, but very good-natured. Lasse toyed with the idea of going over to fetch his comic strips, but in the end they all embarked before breakfast in a heavy sea.
It’s been blowy ever since, to varying degrees, angry gales from the NW – and it’s
only today that we’ve suddenly got fine weather. Ham and I took up the cat net without difficulty, around 30 roach and they were much needed. Even the saithe was starting to smell. That fish cage is rusting to pieces by the way, you barely have to touch it and a whole row of mesh breaks. I spent an hour mending it with twine and heaven knows how it will fare if the wind gets up again. Maybe I’ll make a new cage – somehow.
Ham’s bleeding has stopped, thank goodness.
The day we had to go over to Viken for the telephone she came with us in Lasse’s boat, there was a very strong swell and it was rather a wet crossing – especially on the way home. We had to climb ashore on the SW side of Harun where it was quite tricky putting in through all the shallows.
Lasse, Sophia and I went on a grand mushroom hunt in the forest next to the village, all the way over to the big boggy area, and the child coped very well and was cheery and agreeable. Over two hours of trackless forest, mainly to Faffan’s mushrooming places. We found lots, it was just like it used to be and I really enjoyed myself. Lasse’s wonderfully patient with his daughter and they seem to get on tremendously well together. Well, you know that.
Meanwhile Ham made her way to the Laxvarpet forest with the dog and investigated her own mushrooming places with good results, but a bit unsteadily, toppled over and lay there in the moss for a while to get her balance, and Sessan went hysterical with worry and the urge to help, licking her and barking and carrying on.
So there’s been lots of mushroom cooking and out here we’ve dried a big batch of ceps. [ … ]
In between I’m trying to write a presentation for Yugoslavia with the help of bits out of that speech I’d luckily copied into the Fact Book. That speech you came up with. It’s hard going and not altogether agreeable, as is the couplet that Monica Nielsen insists on having partout after I refused to budge over Bisse. Hah hah. Oh well.