The Castrated Voice.

I sometimes narrate audiobooks. Usually, I have hard-boiled thrillers or serious non-fiction in my lap. Apparently, my deep voice is particularly well-suited for that. The fact that I am actually a sensitive soul longing to narrate books by Sally Rooney or Virginia Woolf seems to go unnoticed.

I was halfway through the narration of a book about the war in Afghanistan when my wife and I went on a planned training trip to Fuerteventura. The remaining narration was scheduled to be completed after my return.

It started off well. The sun was shining, we exercised several times a day, read books by the pool, and enjoyed a lavish buffet at set times. One day, we decided to try a completely new sport that looked exciting. Bungy-fitness involves hanging in a harness attached to a bungee cord from the ceiling while performing various demanding exercises. An overly enthusiastic female instructor from Germany welcomed us all. Particularly me, as I was the only man in the class. A fact that should have raised my suspicions, but I interpreted it as a compliment. Most men my age seem to age poorly and become as stiff in mind as in body. I consider myself to be in good physical shape and still wonderfully curious and open. It would soon become clear that my open-mindedness would backfire.

I didn’t sing along with the music like the others as my body was flung around like a piece of meat on a hook; I screamed for my life. My testicles, which once painstakingly descended and found their natural home, were now being pushed higher into my body with each jump. In my mind, they looked like two frightened dogs hiding under the bed during New Year’s fireworks.

Forty-five minutes later, we left the class. I thought that this could be an effective treatment method for sexual deviants, but I didn’t have the energy to discuss it. My wife walked as if she had just given birth to twins, so at least the experience had been somewhat gender-neutral. When we returned to Sweden after the trip, I went back into the studio to record the final chapters of the book’s climax. A group of Navy Seals were trying to rescue a soldier who had been left behind after an ambush and was injured. What was supposed to be a nail-biting finale turned into an involuntary, comedic triumph. America’s toughest soldiers, whom I had portrayed so sternly with an authoritative voice, suddenly sounded as if they were part of the Bee Gees. Naturally, the publisher contacted me immediately and was furious. They said that this could not be published as an audiobook and that I wouldn’t be paid. I replied that this was an artistic interpretation on my part, where America’s ridiculous actions in the world right now deserved exactly the voice they received: a whiny, prepubertal, fat boy that no one can take seriously.