вЂњValerie,вЂќ titled вЂњThe Faculty of DreamsвЂќ in Europe, won the Nordic Council Literature Prize, was longlisted for the Man Booker International Prize, and was voted the best Swedish novel of the decade by a panel of the countryвЂ™s literati. Her dГ©but novel, вЂњ Happy Sally,вЂќ centered on Sally Bauer, the first Scandinavian to swim the English Channel. (There was also a biography, by Breanne Fahs, in 2014.) Stridsberg, meanwhile, is a prominent Swedish playwright, translator, and feminist, who made headlines last year by withdrawing from the Swedish Academy in the wake of a sexual-misconduct scandal there. Perhaps the most recent narration of her myth came from an episode of вЂњAmerican Horror Story,вЂќ in 2017, with Lena Dunham in the starring role. She is the subject of a film, вЂњI Shot Andy Warhol,вЂќ and several lesser-known plays. Since SolanasвЂ™s death, in 1988, pop culture has shown her an intermittent, mostly lurid interest. But вЂњValerieвЂќ is one of the most genuinely insubordinate books I have read, and one of the most beautiful. This is not the kind of approach that usually inspires confidence a sure route to conventionality is empty experimentation. Phrases from SolanasвЂ™s writing appear throughout, pulled by a current of images and flashbulb memories. Short, impressionistic chapters flit between the fictional town of Ventor, Georgia boho New York City San FranciscoвЂ™s red-light district the coast of Florida and a grad-school program in Maryland. The book imagines court transcripts and conversations with psychiatrists. Instead, Stridsberg combines second-person narration, screenplay dialogue, and acrostic poetry to build around her subject a pseudo-history-a fable set, partially, in locales that do not exist, among people who never were. A preface describes the book as a вЂњliterary fantasy derivedвЂќ from SolanasвЂ™s biography вЂњFew facts are known about Valerie Solanas and this novel is not faithful even to those,вЂќ the note continues. вЂњ Valerie,вЂќ a novel by the Swedish author Sara Stridsberg, could be seen as another attempt to command SolanasвЂ™s life. вЂњHe had too much control over my life,вЂќ she reportedly told a policeman to whom she turned herself in, by way of explanation. If Solanas is present in the image, it is as a question mark, the object of WarholвЂ™s baffled gaze. One sees Warhol assimilating the fact of his own death, processing it with the same probing glibness that animated the rest of his art. The picture has a come-hither sultriness. The scars are puckered, thick and black the artistвЂ™s mouth opens partway, as if he is, perhaps mockingly, mirroring the viewerвЂ™s shock. In 1969, a year after the attack (which led to Solanas being hospitalized for schizophrenia), Warhol posed for a photograph, his shirt rolled up to display the evidence of his surgeries. The first two bullets missed the third punctured WarholвЂ™s esophagus, stomach, spleen, liver, and lungs. Valerie Solanas is best known as the radical feminist who, in the sixties, fired three bullets at Andy Warhol after appearing in one of his movies.

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