Nikolai Dorn

A mountain pass, a ship, a mission: in Nikolai Dorn’s adventures, skill determines what is possible. His unlikely companions need one another, but their loyalties do not always lead them towards the same goal. A wrong move has consequences; even a good plan needs the others to play their part.

Amid danger and discovery there is room for arguments, dry humour and trust. Each adventure resolves its central conflict, and the companions can share victories, without overlooking the violence and contradictions of their time.

I grew up by Hamburg's harbour. My father was a mechanical engineer at Blohm+Voss and took me to the shipyard at weekends. I wasn't allowed to touch anything. I touched everything anyway. I knew the smell of welding smoke and rust-prevention paint before I could read.

At eighteen I went to Kiel. After two semesters at the naval academy, I knew the sea suited me better than the hierarchy. I switched to history and geography. My Master's thesis on the trade routes of the Dutch East India Company took me to Amsterdam, where I spent three months with old logbooks. Later I sailed on the barque Europa from the Netherlands to Spitsbergen. Six weeks among rigging and sails taught me that seasickness has little to do with courage.

Today I live in Lisbon, above the Tejo. I write in the mornings before the city wakes. On my desk lies a hand bearing compass from 1890, found in a junk shop in Bremerhaven. The needle still trembles. That's enough for me.

I am interested in the moment when skill alone is no longer enough. One knows the route; the other carries the mission. They need each other, but answer to different people. I want to know what happens to their friendship when an order pulls them apart.

I write for the manoeuvre I can almost grasp with my hands, and for the conversations afterwards. My companions can argue, laugh and achieve something together without the contradictions of their time disappearing.