Foreword, Third Attempt

I read the forewords of my predecessors with interest. Of course, István mentioned a Hakim at one point, as well as Fatme and his cleaning lady, but naturally I didn't research the details; I'm no idiot, after all. I'm supposed to manage his office, not the rumor mill.

When István handed me the manuscript two years ago for a favorable and benevolent review, I was very flattered. But I had to bring him down to earth. "This isn't a crime novel, it's embarrassing porn," was my first comment. I crossed out all the embarrassing parts with a red pen because, as I've already said, I'm no idiot as defined by the dictionary. István turned the pages this way and that. "There are four pages left, four shitty pages," he managed, pale as a ghost. "The shortest crime novel since >A Song of Ice and Fire<." You almost felt sorry for him. Then came a year of radio silence. István tortured the AI ​​chatbots in four languages, but he didn't touch the tattered manuscript again until, well, until the ill-fated muse kissed him once more — some girls are simply beyond help.

With a red pen in hand, I read the new manuscript. I resolved to be lenient. The mention of the Turkish mafia (turk mafiyasi) was new here. The mafia was under considerable pressure between 2020 and 2023, so why shouldn't his protagonist be an undercover hero? A good idea to introduce him to Vienna's Turkish community that way. Why his girlfriend could be Turkish and not Viennese, Norwegian, or simply Sicilian remained a mystery to me. I'll take note. But why his killer comes from Ukraine, at a time when an upright European stands behind the war-torn Ukrainian people, we discussed that for hours. Finally, he said he had already finished modeling the characters and didn't want to reinvent the wheel. Had he perhaps thought of Mr. Firtasch? No, he said, he's just a white-collar criminal, not the kind of killer he needed. Grandfather, father, and son, a nice family of killers, that's what he wanted to create.

The detectives had a flourishing sex life; my fingers, clutching the red pen, twitched incessantly. Why didn't he use the actual work of the police instead? István looked at me, perplexed. "Come on, how am I supposed to know how the police actually work? And even if I did, would I write a recipe book for the crooks? Nah, a little bit of sex, that won't hurt!" I growled, "No publisher prints sex these days; you're 100 years too late, since Felix von Salten." He flinched. "How on earth am I supposed to rewrite incest in a publisher's terms?" I retorted. "Why incest at all?" His answer was surprising. "Because I wanted to add a provocative, controversial element. Not the main character, of course, since the readers are supposed to identify with him. A supporting character, that's fine."

Nevertheless, I cut many saucy-spicy, sentimental passages; they didn't carry the plot. It was supposed to be a crime novel, after all. He wouldn't part with the hunchbacked medical examiner. "A hunchbacked medical examiner is almost as good as a dwarf medical examiner's assistant." I understood who he was talking about (Christine Urspruch, a dwarf actress from a TV police series). Whatever. I leaned back. "You describe the Turkish community very sympathetically; I like that. It gives the whole thing a nice, friendly touch." István nodded. "That was exactly the intention." I took his hand, which was holding the shot of port. "Obviously, you've never used an escort service. A man of the world notices that immediately." He didn't flinch. "And how many men of the world read crime novels?" It was pointless trying to talk him out of using the escort service.

"You know, Aunt Resi, she had a daughter who worked for an escort service and ended up on the streets, on Prater Street and at the Hotel Orient. Little Lydia was heartbroken her whole life because she was in love with the porter, or rather, the doorman, at the Hotel Bristol. But he never paid her any attention; he wanted to get ahead and was having an affair with the wife of one of the owners, Madame Florence, as everyone called her. I included her in my novel. Florence had fallen in love with a Saudi prince on vacation, one of the 18,000 Saudi princes. But it remained just a passionate holiday fling; nothing more than a fleeting exchange of juices came of it. The Hotel Bristol has its own chauffeur service, and one of the drivers is a Saudi, but of course, not a prince. So Madame Florence was now standing on two legs: the driver and the doorman, Charly." He appears in my novel as a pimp, good old Charly. There are rumors that Madame Florence has a few girls on the go, but I think those are just rumors. I even met one of these girls, Mrs. Frühwirth. By day, the most respectable housewife in all of Favoriten, by night a vamp, dancing as Monique on the pole in one of the notorious discos. I saw her myself; she's a sleeping volcano. Fire in her belly like Marilyn Monroe, gentlemen! Of course, not my league, but through her I met Annette, the second most respectable housewife in Favoriten. She has a red, tattooed heart in the crook of her pubic area, from before she got married, when she was a dancer like Frühwirth." István took a deep breath, and I asked, "And why are you telling me all this?" He was slightly confused. "I thought you'd be interested in where I get some of the characters for my crime novel?"

Actually, I like his new manuscript, apart from a few overly explicit passages. If he removes those, then by all means, imprimatur. Above all, he'll spare us the detectives' long car rides through the misty meadows, where birches and alders are only vaguely discernible in the persistent morning fog, and the two detectives maintain a grim silence because they had a row in the office, about a very particular female detective, of course.

Once we'd gone through the manuscript, I asked István if there was anything else I could do for him; after all, he's my boss. He stood up grinning. "Write a foreword, nothing grand, but a complimentary one. You're not a real literary critic, my friend."

Okay, a foreword then. I can do that.

East Van Roux-d'Ache
Deputy Office Manager