Free The Tenant and The Motive by Javier Cercas

departmental regulation. If I’m not mistaken, there should be nothing standing in the wayof its approval. The idea behind this new regulation, in substance, is that we fulfil more rigorously what up till now hasn’t been worth the paper it’s written on; that is: the contract of a professor who has not demonstrated the level of intellectual and professional competence the department considers adequate will not be renewed. I know such measures can seem threatening; in reality they’re only intended as a stimulus to everyone. Now then, Mario,’ Scanlan went on, clearly making an effort to adopt a less impersonal or more urgent tone, ‘your contract, if I’m not mistaken, expires in June. I imagine that the committee will meet in the spring. Which leaves you six months, more than enough time to prepare something or finish polishing something up that you’ve been working on all this time: three years is a long time not to have published anything at all. And I must insist this is not a threat, Mario, I’m just stating facts; take it rather as advice from a friend who appreciates you. Work, Mario, get something prepared, anything, and send if off to some journal or present it at some conference, and that’ll be that. Either way, write something, and quickly: I have to tell you that otherwise it’ll not be easy for me to stand up for you to the committee.’

XVI
    Branstyne came to pick him up at seven. They took Lincoln Avenue, turned left on University and carried on towards the suburbs north of the city. They barely spoke during the drive. They parked in front of Branstyne’s house, a single-storey building, with white walls, big windows, a smooth green roof, crowned with two chimneys (one very small and metal, the other larger, rectangular and made of stone), above which swayed a willow. A gravel path across the garden led to the garage, whose silhouette stood out against a dense mass of vegetation.
    They went into the dining room. From the kitchen they could hear the clinking of glasses, cutlery and saucepans, as well as a delicate smell of pasta. Tina soon appeared wrapped in a brown apron, her hair dishevelled, her smile radiant. Mario thought she looked lovely. They kissed hello.
    â€˜Dinner will be ready in a minute,’ said Tina. Looking at Mario with shining eyes she added, ‘It’s going to be absolutely delicious.’ And she went back into the kitchen.
    â€˜We’ve got time for a drink,’ said Branstyne. ‘What would you like?’
    â€˜A dry Martini,’ answered Mario.
    Branstyne prepared two dry Martinis with ice. He handed one to Mario and sat in an armchair, facing him.
    â€˜So, how’s the situation, then?’ he asked as if picking up a recently interrupted conversation where they had left off.
    â€˜What situation?’
    â€˜Your position in the department.’
    Mario was annoyed by Branstyne’s brusqueness, by the way he’d almost rushed to raise the issue, as if he’d only been invited to dinner to talk about it. What for? he wondered, in confusion.
    â€˜Bad,’ Mario admitted, suddenly feeling like talking. ‘How would you expect it to be? In reality things couldn’t be any worse since Berkowickz arrived.’ And as he said this he was also thinking it for the first time.
    â€˜What’s Berkowickz got to do with it?’
    â€˜He’s practically fired me,’ said Mario as if to himself, without intending to answer Branstyne’s question.
    â€˜Berkowickz fired you?’
    â€˜No,’ said Mario, returning to the conversation. ‘Scanlan. I spoke to him this morning: now I know that in June they won’t renew my contract.’
    â€˜That can’t be,’ Branstyne declared with conviction. ‘Those kinds of things are decided by the committee, and the committee can’t rescind a contract just like that. They’d have to wait at least until