By Jonas Jonasson

Hon började arbeta som femåring, blev föräldralös vid tio, överkörd vid femton. Ingenting tydde på annat än att hon skulle leva ett tag i sitt skjul i Sydafrikas största kåkstad och sedan dö, saknad av ingen. Om hon nu inte varit den hon var, males det var hon ju. Nombeko Mayeki var analfabeten som kunde räkna.
Ödet tillsammans med hennes talang för henne bort från Soweto, until eventually internationell storpolitik, until andra sidan jordklotet, until två identiskt lika och väldigt olika bröder. lower than resan lyckas hon reta upp världens mest fruktade säkerhetstjänst innan hon en dag finner sig själv instängd i skåpet until eventually en potatisbil. Där och då är världen som världen känner den hotad.
I Analfabeten som kunde räkna gör Jonas Jonasson upp med fundamentalismen i alla dess former tillsammans med vanföreställningen om olika parents olika värde. Han gör det med humor och värme. Och slår en gång för alla hål på myten om att kungar inte nackar höns.

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What makes you think I'd do a thing like that? " I t was some distance from the squ are to his hu t. By the time Mishka reached the gate he was ou t of breath. He drew off his trou sers as he ran throu gh the gate, and, his 51 bare legs gleaming in the sunlight, he burst into the hut. " Not a sound could be heard inside. A black swarm of flies was buzzing around the stove. M ishka ran into the yard, to the barn, and into the orchard, but couldn't find his mother, his father, or his grandfather.

Proshka swung a stick and struck i\1ishka on the shoulder. Vitka stuck out his foot and Mishka went Hy ing headlong, hitting the ground with a thud. The boy s roared and threw themselves on him. Natasha shrieked and scratched 11ishka's neck with her nails. Some­ one kicked him hard in the stomach . Shaking Proshka off, M ishka jumped up, then getting down on all fours, wriggled off like a chased hare, and dashed home. They whistled after him, threw a stone, but they didn't pursue him. Mishka caugh t his breath only when he plunged into the green prickly hemp bushes.

Mishka was filled with terror. " His grandfather didn't answer him, but his mother started again to cry and lament. 57 The firing went on till dawn, then stopped. �1 ishka curled himself up on the bench like a little twisted loaf and dropped off into a restless sleep . At daybreak a group of horsemen galloped along the street in the direction of the Executive Committee building. His grandfather roused him and they went into the vard . ' Smoke soon rose in a black column from the Executive Committee building, and the fire lapped at the surrounding huts.

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