Your Perfect Year(74)

“You really mustn’t worry about it,” Markus Bode said, interrupting his train of thought. “It’s completely normal—gossip and chitchat are basic needs for most people. It’s like a TV series or a popular novel.”

“You’re not seriously comparing my life to the plot of a soap, are you?”

“Oh, come on! What was that Oscar Wilde quote? ‘There’s only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.’”

“He would have known,” Jonathan said. “Didn’t the beleaguered Mr. Wilde spend his last years in the most unjust, degrading conditions in jail and die shortly after his release, alone and penniless?”

“Nevertheless, he said some wise things.”

“They didn’t do him any good, did they?”

“But they’ve been a great boon to posterity.”

“I’m sure that must be a real comfort to him from beyond the grave.”

“Huh.” Markus Bode spread his arms. “Isn’t it what we strive for on a daily basis? To bequeath great literature to future generations?”

“I’d prefer it to be valued and acknowledged in the present day.”

Markus Bode immediately sat to attention. “Shall we discuss business now, maybe?”

“Um.” Damn, damn, damn! He’d managed to maneuver himself onto a sheet of thin ice, when he’d intended to avoid the subject for as long as possible. Great! But since he couldn’t think of an avoidance tactic on the spot, he considered himself beaten and decided to go on the offensive. “Gladly,” he said. “But since you’ve emphasized your many years’ experience with the press, why don’t we kick off with your suggestions?”

“I feel the exact opposite,” Bode replied. “I’d like to hear what you, as head of the publishing house, think about the current developments that the accounts indicate so clearly.”

“Please, after you!”

“No, no. You go first!”

Jonathan gave a little cough. What was going on—Candid Camera? Why was Markus Bode so reluctant to share his opinions? Could he . . . could he be scared?

Scared of him, Jonathan N. Grief? He could hardly believe it; after all, he wasn’t his father. In any case, Jonathan was the one who felt scared.

Had that thought really just crossed his mind?

“Seriously, Markus,” Jonathan said, making an effort to sound authoritative. “You’re responsible for the operational side of the business, and you’re far more familiar with the figures and the developments than I am. You have a better overview of the market, so it would be silly of me not to hear your expert opinion first.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes, of course.”

“So you want to hear my frank, honest opinion?”

“I’m asking you for it.”

Markus Bode hesitated a moment. Then he put his glass down on the coffee table, shuffled forward to the edge of his seat, placed his feet square on the ground, and clasped his hands in his lap.

“If I’m honest, I think it’s like this: the direction the press has taken since it was founded is no longer sustainable. We’re no longer competitive.”

“Could you give me a few more details?”

“Grief & Son Books is synonymous with high literature. But that’s not a genre that many people are buying anymore. If you ask me, we urgently need to move in a more popular direction.”

“More popular?” Jonathan spat the words as though he had a nasty taste in his mouth.

Markus Bode nodded.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we urgently need a few popular-fiction titles. Romance novels. Crime novels and thrillers. Historical sagas.”

“Never!”

“I thought that would be your reaction. But I don’t see any other way around it.”

“That’s not what Grief & Son Books is about!”

“If things continue like this, Grief & Son Books won’t be about anything for much longer.”

“Nevertheless,” Jonathan insisted, “if you have a screw factory, you can’t suddenly change your mind and sell dowels just because there’s more call for them.”

Markus Bode looked at him in some confusion. Jonathan didn’t blame him. He didn’t know himself which corner of his brain had suddenly produced the screw-factory analogy. It must have been some kind of panic-stricken short circuit, and it sounded bizarre even to his own ears. “No,” his CEO conceded. “You simply have to sell different kinds of screws. If you don’t want to do that, you have to close down your factory because it’s not working anymore.”

“Oh, don’t overdramatize!”

“Have you had a good look at the figures I gave you?”

“Of course I have!”

“Then it must have been obvious to you that I’m not overdramatizing.”

“But . . .” Jonathan struggled to find the right words. “But I’m determined that we’re not going to contribute to the world’s dumbing down in order to make a profit!”

“Where do you get your pathological aversion to anything with even the slightest hint of popular entertainment?” Bode asked.