A third starting point, which will always melt into my roles in life, professionally as well as privately, was verbalized a couple of years ago, when a colleague asked me when I was going to write the novel My Grandmother’s House. She was referring to my childhood and adolescence in a large family residence, built by my grandmother. I remember this house as a good place for growing up, with all the good and bad experiences that this place brought about in my life. One memory is that my youngest cousin and I repeatedly played a game called “Queen Ellen”. Queen Ellen was an extremely wicked queen, and the only way of bringing an end to her wickedness was to kill her. We did this by poisoning. We mixed poison into her food, and it would always be the cousin of my own age who would give the poisoned meal to the queen. He was the hero. I would never have dared to give her the poison. So from early in my life I have particularly absorbed myself in the phenomenon called “female authority” in this house dominated by the complex dynamics of the family system.