About the Author

Kaur Kender (born in 1971) is an Estonian author who is well-recognized in Baltic States and Finland and whose books have been bestsellers in Estonia. His writing has been considered as controversial and provocative as his own life and personality - a semiotician and former advertising executive, he has once said that sometimes he wishes that truck drivers and prostitutes would write more books because they have unusual stories to tell.

Kaur Kender is the winner of the Annual Prize of Culture Endowment of Estonia in 1999. Since 2012 Kaur Kender is a writer at ZA/UM.

Other Books by Kaur Kender:

About the Translator

Edith
At first there was Petty God in Estonian. It had always amazed me how smooth and flowing the language of this book was, at the same time twisting words and deconstructing concepts.

“I want to translate that book!” I shouted one day. So that was decided. Petty God in English was born. This happened some time ago.

Everything is ready and everything has been planned. And most importantly: everything has been done. Now, there is one question I will have to answer: who is the translator of Petty God?

They ask, who am I.
I am an undergraduate at University of Aberdeen, soon to be graduating with a degree in French and Mathematics.

I am originally from Estonia, but for the past seven years I’ve been finding myself in the UK.

I like words. A lot. I tend to like words that are already written down by someone more than the ones that are still only in someone’s mind. That is why I ended up reading Petty God so many times that at one point I wanted to challenge myself to translate it to English. I think it is exciting to play with words and Kaur does that in his books so well. I got to play with words in two different languages and I am delighted to share with you my translation of Petty God.

I enjoy translating and hope to continue doing that in the future. Open to new challenges and in search of new stories… to tear them into pieces and make them whole again.

(Some of the words above are stolen from Petty God. Obviously.)

Ask Me Anything

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Get the book

Get your copy from Amazon UK:
http://amzn.to/1ns9stb

Amazon US:
http://amzn.to/1tHdteU

Get your Paperpack from Amazon.com:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/offer-listing/9949336562

You can already order Petty God as a paper book from the web site of an Estonian bookstore Rahva Raamat! Fear not, dear international friends, international shipping is available as well!! Check that out: http://www.rahvaraamat.ee/p/petty-god/532356/en?ean=9789949336562

Also available on iTunes:
https://itunes.apple.com/book/petty-god/id868752038?mt=11

First chapter

At first there was nothing on my desk. Under the table were empty drawers and in the ceiling a hole, where, as it later turned out, a chandelier would be fitted.

“Bring me a lamp!” I shouted to the lobby. A lamp was brought. This happened some time ago.

Everything is ready and everything has been planned. And most importantly: everything has been done. I do not have to do anything. The system functions by itself. I just watch and enjoy. Astonishing, I should say, how much I like this. The last thing I hung on the wall was a picture of David Allmighty. Precisely above my desk. I know there is something similar about the two of us. I know that this something stands out. If I had a son, I would put a picture of him there, too. Yes: me, my son and David Allmighty. That would be fun. Regrettably I do not have a son. Here and now. Moreover, there is really no particular need for David Allmighty, but some clients can more easily accept the thought that someone grand and distant creates certain solutions, which they are offered. Many of the moves I have made are ascribed to David Allmighty. But let the people talk.

Now there is only the naming left. I cannot be bothered with that. I will let him name. But before he starts to name, there is one more thing.

He will ask at any moment.

*

“Who else will be in my cabinet?” I ask at last. Everything has been unpacked, everything has been done, but he still hasn’t told me. Well, I shouldn’t stay here alone! He keeps repeating that creative work is a dialogue. Why should I be talking to myself then?

“Sleep, sleep well tonight, because you will have a companion tomorrow,” he grins and scratches his gold Rolex.

When he sits, he always rests his hand on the desk in such a way that his sleeve rolls up and reveals the Rolex and the cufflink of his gleaming white shirt, adorned with an opal button. The pose, as well as the watch is exactly the same as in the photo of David Allmighty that hangs on the wall above his chair. Does he practise these poses?

“Take the files out of the box… Here are some pieces of paper… Write a name for each of them.”

I don’t understand. I ask: “What name?”

“Any name,” he answers, “an original name. I do not want to see ‘inbox’, ‘outbox’, ‘bills’, ‘orders’ and ‘contracts’ on my shelf. I want every file to have its own name. A name, not to describe what it is, but to show its real character and essence.

“So use your little grey brain cells,” he smiles. Is it a test? Does he want to assess my creativity? Little grey brain cells!? He has begun to watch Hercule Poirot. A client told me once to screw myself because that’s what I’m paid for. This man here said more or less the same. Only phrased it more politely. What name should I suggest for ‘inbox’? Did I have to come here? Why did I come here? What did I want from him? Did I want something? Or did I just step by? It is very dangerous to just step into a boss’s office. He will just step on you. And you can’t stand up and say: man, screw yourself. You can’t. He pays you. Now, this is ‘inbox’.

“Revelations?” I suggest.

“Revelations!” he jumps in his chair, “Exactly! Revelations! That is what they are. Revelations of issues we would not have a clue about otherwise! Revelations talk about the things that will happen in the future. Things that are still in someone’s mind. Very good!”

I was lucky with that one. I look at the files. Earlier I thought that these were folders. At least that’s what my mother calls them. But here everybody is talking about files. And everybody watches X-Files. Is it chance or coincidence?

He hums contentedly and jumps up: “Revelations! Exactly!”

Exactly! I shout in my mind. Now I remember. I wanted to know who would, besides me, sit in this cabinet. I don’t want to be alone. As he himself has said, creative work is a dialogue. But a dialogue takes two. I can’t call my mother for inspiration all the time. I want a colleague. A companion. Someone who would be by my side. Who would comment. Criticise. Support. And take some of the responsibility from me. I guess I asked him already. Or did I?

“Give me this file,” he says. I see his glance, which is looking at my hand, which is holding a file, which seems heavier than the previous ones.

“There’s no need to name this file. Don’t look at this file. This file… its existence is better forgotten…”

He puts the file into the big bottom drawer of his desk. What did I want to tell him? Fucking files. I take another one out of the box. Leaf through it. Contracts. Should I suggest ‘rainbow’ for this one?

The door opens.

*

Everything is ordinary in this office. Everything is well set. The boss is behind his desk. Another idiot is fussing on the floor with some files. I can’t be bothered. A window. I take a sip of espresso and look.

You can see a city from the window. Not a street or two, nor a few houses and a tree, but a city. I went to the countryside once. Horrible. The countryside is differentiated from a city by money. By the lack of money, in fact.

The espresso has cooled down. The absence of espresso divides the city from the countryside as well. There’s no cold or hot espresso in the countryside. There’s only 25-year-old instant coffee. I suspect that if I go to the countryside once more, by some chance, I would have to drink instant coffee again.

I like espresso. Especially double espresso. I don’t like money. But I didn’t come up with the notion of money. Money was already here when I arrived. And I have learnt to love money. I love money. Specifically, the money I currently have, as well as the rest, which exists.

The question is how to get money. Money answers all the other questions by itself. For example: how to win friends and influence people? The answer? Three guesses. And here’s a little support in this envelope to help you decide.

I know for sure that I won’t let the situation stay as it is. I make money out of words. It is the biggest gift one could have. My words are like a DNA model of making money.

It is kind of a trade-off. Words from me, the words enlighten, money from you. For enlightenment. Is everybody happy?

Clients pay. And why shouldn’t they? With even the slightest luck, a client gets an advert, which enlightens a consumer, and the consumer runs his heart out to get the advertised product.

In some sense I have hit the ceiling. I feel that I am ready for something bigger. The problem is money. And time. I can’t play the fool in this office forever. Explain and encourage, instruct and indicate, chat and cheat. I don’t have anything against any of these activities individually. The question is for whom and for what amount of money. But the ceiling is too low for me.

The coffee is cold. The city… the city is mine.

Everything will be mine, sooner or later. I think sooner. Sooner is better. More is better. Small is nice, say only those who fret. Big rules.

I have never understood the argument that it is possible to live according to the principle “One for all, all for one”. For me, there’s only one way to understand this motto: One (me) gets money (meant) for everyone (that is to say, I get what belongs originally to everyone) and all (the rest of the people) get what is meant for one (divide between them the part that one person should have got). This means the difference should be very big. About a million to one, or something like that.

However, it isn’t so because I arranged it this way. Far from it! It is so because this is the way it is. And something has to motivate people. Actually, money doesn’t motivate them. To have an issue to talk about, I talk about money. Money is what people believe in. This is what people expect. This is what lets people understand. There must be something to strive for when real motives cannot be guessed.

I am cold-blooded today. Obviously because of the cold espresso.

Someone is watching me. I turn around. Of course. Both of them are staring at me. Why is that idiot on the floor with all these files? In fact, they both look pretty similar. One is just like the other. The difference is in the quality. While one of them has a Rolex made of gold, the other has a golden Rolex.



Contact

Contacts:
Kirsi Ansper, publisher
e-mail: kirsi@kultuur.edu.ee
mobile: +372 5130265
http://www.kenderbooks.com

Edith Epler, translator
e-mail: edith.epler@me.com

Kaur Kender, author
e-mail: kaur@kender.ee
http://www.kender.ee