This special issue on Swedish Literature Studies presents a comprehensive exploration of Swedish literary history from the eighteenth century to contemporary writing, highlighting its formal innovation, thematic diversity, and global resonance. Essays examine foundational figures such as Carl Michael Bellman, Tegnér, Stagnelius, Strindberg, and Söderberg, alongside modern authors including Kerstin Ekman, Astrid Lindgren, and Stieg Larsson. Topics range from the unity and experimentation of the long poem, Romantic transformations, and existential modernism to feminist reinterpretations, children’s literature, migration narratives, and the evolution of crime fiction. The volume also addresses poetic meditations on life and death in Tranströmer, the translation challenges of Martinson’s Aniara, and the cultural impact of the Beat Generation in both American and Chinese contexts. Across genres, the issue emphasizes identity, transformation, morality, and social critique, underscoring Swedish literature’s dynamic engagement with historical change, technological modernity, globalization, and cross-cultural dialogue.
The present issue celebrates the richness and variety of Swedish literature from the late eighteenth century to the present day. It incorporates articles on both prose and poetry; all are written in English. A contribution, concerning the epic work Aniara and written in Chinese, is also included by translator Chen Maiping.
Carl Michael Bellman (1740–1795) was a poet and songwriter. As a young man during “The Age of Freedom,” he took a very active part in Stockholm’s nightlife of pleasure-seeking. As he was good at extemporizing a song or a poem, he became popular in the circles of young men in which he moved. During the 1760s he wrote drinking songs and Biblical travesties. He became much sought after and was asked to entertain not only at taverns but also in private homes. Bellman invented a periodic order, the Bacchi Order, in which he played different roles himself. After this early period of apprenticeship he gradually developed the style that would yield Fredman’s Epistles (1790), the epitome of his works. The Epistles represent a unique mixture of opposing worlds and elevated tastes: crude jokes and sublime poetry, glimpses of scenes from classical mythology, the harsh conditions of the streets of the Swedish capital, and the pastoral life on its outskirts. Singing, drinking, and dancing are prominent themes in his work. This song cycle was followed by a song collection titled Fredman’s Songs (1791). During the 19th century Bellman’s reputation as a poet grew gradually. Today he is considered to be one of Sweden’s most prominent poets.
This article addresses the problem of literary unity as it is posed by two late eighteenth‑century long poems, “Aret 1783” by Bengt Lidner and Skördarne by Johan Gabriel Oxenstierna. By investigating the relations between poetry, poetics, and practical criticism, it seeks to document a situation in which new poems failed to achieve the kind of unity found in the epic poem. Instead, the poems are valued in terms of their ability to seamlessly weave together disparate material. The article then describes the reception of these poems during the Romantic period, when literary unity was primarily understood in terms of “lyric” unity. What was at stake in the fragmentary unity of these poems was wedged, as it were, between the two paradigms of poetics?
The most prominent poets in the two golden ages of Swedish poetry in the 19th century are presented. Those are Esaias Tegnér (1782–1846) and Erik Johan Stagnelius (1793–1823) from the Romantic era (1809–1830), characterized by dualism and an inward turn, enhancing the subject. Tegnér’s poetic strength is his metaphors, combining dissonant linguistic areas. In Spleen, the metaphors give a striking image of the suffering of depression. Stagnelius’ poems are masterpieces. They mediate an extremely dualistic apprehension of life and reality: our life is but a misery of unfulfilled desire. But these desires are painted in such sensuous colours, and formed in such enchanting verses, that the image of misery is overtaken by the artistic beauty. The second golden age, ca. 1889–1915, the national romantic era, is characterized by a farewell to the old, pre‑industrial Sweden, and by a praise of literature’s ability to effect joy and beauty. The finest poets of this era were Verner von Heidenstam (1859–1940), Gustaf Fröding (1860–1911) and Erik Axel Karlfeldt (1864–1931). Von Heidenstam is at his best in short, almost aphoristic poems. Here he formulates, in melodic verses, everlasting wisdom about man’s earthly being, the dignity and marvel of man and the beauty of earth. Fröding is of a more melancholic temper, but his verses are often thought of as the epitome of traditional verse in Sweden. They are masterpieces, almost all of them, expressing in singing, rhythmic stanzas, the joy and the misery of man, very often the misery of the weak, the sensitive and suppressed. Karlfeldt, the last of the three masters, also creates poetry of formal excellence; his rhymes and rhythms are brilliant. His poems are complex, partly on account of his use of rare words, partly on account of his affinity with symbolism.
In this article I will investigate Strindberg’s images of women in Zones of the Spirit (“En blå bok”). I have found Strindberg’s judgment of women’s character to be associated with a concept of transformation. Strindberg’s thoughts about the transformation process are connected to transmutation in alchemy, i.e. how matter is transmuted through different stages of purification into perfect gold. It is also connected to Christian notions of conversion, made manifest in the description of the stages of the meditation process. In describing women, Strindberg often uses conceptions of the initial stadium of the transformation process, i.e. when the alchemist’s material is in lack of form, light, and purity. She is compared to formless matter, which needs to be transformed by the potent power of the male to achieve meaningful life. The elements of water and earth are said to be her medium and when Strindberg is contemplating whether she will ever turn into an immortal soul he relates to the process of the caterpillar evolving into the beautiful butterfly. To Strindberg, the most comforting of the answers to his questions about female character is that she is a medium of man’s reconciliation with God.
In the history of Swedish literature, 1945 is usually regarded as a milestone: Astrid Lindgren’s Pippi Longstocking was published, revolutionizing not only children’s literature but also the attitude towards children and their upbringing. “The modern Swedish children’s book” was born. The period after the Second World War is known as “the golden age” of children’s literature since several of the great authors of children’s books and literature for young adolescents made their debuts and continued to write for many years. The publishing house of Rabén & Sjögren at that time was a relatively new comer to the publishing business. The following years were a great success; Astrid Lindgren was the company’s most notable author. A major factor in the establishment of its reputation was the double role of Astrid Lindgren, who was not only its most important author but also the editor of children’s books. She was one of the first Swedish authors to demand that the quality of books for children be the same as that of those for adults. As author and publisher, Astrid Lindgren devoted her life to making children’s books good reading.
The article on migration and historical consciousness consists of two parts: the first focuses on Swedish author Maj Bylock’s Drakskepps trilogy [Dragon Ship Trilogy], in which I relate my discussion to my doctoral thesis Maj Bylock’s Drakskepps Trilogy and Historical Consciousness in Ten‑to‑Twelve‑Year‑Olds; the second part discusses three Canadian novels—Kathleen Pearson’s The Sky is Falling (1989) and Barbara Smucker’s Underground to Canada (1978) and Days of Terror (1989, 2008). The focus in the first part is on Bylock’s protagonist Petite/?saan and her development from a gender, ethnic, and class perspective. With the aid of postcolonial concepts diaspora and hybrid identity, I discuss cultural encounters resulting from migration. The female characters in Bylock’s trilogy attain what the American researchers Brown and St. Clair term empowerment. The Viking age is compared in the second part with the three Canadian historical novels, which are set in different chronological periods but focus on the phenomenon of migration and its effects. As my research demonstrates, these novels are particularly well‑suited to class discussions about ethics, the value of human beings, and their cultural encounters. The analyzed novels demonstrate that the process of adaptation is not dependent primarily on context but on inner strength. Children’s fiction thus has an important part to play in helping young readers not only to accommodate to change but to appreciate the advantages of adopting a new country and its values—not least, it provides the opportunity to create a new identity.
This article investigates the representations of evil in Hjalmar Söderberg’s Doctor Glas (1905) and Bengt Ohlsson’s Gregorius (2004). In the definition of evil that is proposed, motivation is crucial, and Glas’s narrative is considered to be an attempt to find an acceptable excuse for the murder of Gregorius. The portrayal of Gregorius as an evil monster is addressed in relation to Glas as an unreliable narrator. Social and psychological repression is discussed, and Gregorius is analyzed as a mirror of Glas’s personality. The theme of evil is also related to the return of the concept of evil in contemporary public debate and is considered as one possible explanation for the continued popularity of Doctor Glas. Finally, as Doctor Glas is read alongside its recent re‑vision Gregorius, it is suggested that Bengt Ohlsson offers a strategy for counteracting evil. The novel is seen as an illustration of the concept “moral imagination” in seeking to lessen the distance between the evildoer and his victim.
This article is a study of the novel City of Light (1983) by the Swedish author Kerstin Ekman. The novel features a friction between image and text that is expressed in an attempt to recreate in novelistic form the spatial properties inherent in images. The temporal flow of the narrative is interrupted by retakes and repetitions as it endeavours to illustrate a complex “now” by letting preamble and epilogue inhabit the same temporal position. The novel also strives to supply alternatives to a stereotypical tradition of images of women. The opposition between spatiality and temporality is mirrored, for example, in the way the novel takes to task the representation of woman in Western philosophy. By scrutinizing the relationship between image and text, its ideological connotations are deconstructed, which allows the narrator to make peace not only with her own body but also open herself to other human beings. City of Light is permeated by the tension that W. J. T. Mitchell maintains is a characteristic of the present, that is, the simultaneous suspicion and admiration of the visual power of pictorial media. Ekman’s writing explores the relationship between verbal and visual art and simultaneously tests their ideological powers of signification.
Stieg Larsson’s Millennium trilogy is the product of a long and diverse Swedish crime fiction tradition, but it has also become a generative force within that tradition. By surveying the landscape of Swedish crime fiction both before and after the trilogy, this article aims to shed light on current trends and developments in the genre. Particular focus is placed on the changing role of the police procedural, the new wave of women writers, recent diversification, and the current Europeanization of Swedish crime fiction. It is concluded that Swedish crime fiction today is characterized not only by increasing diversification in terms of genre, detective characters, and setting, but also by drawing new inspiration from both within and outside the genre. The Millennium trilogy is shown to be a likely stimulus for many of these developments. A majority of crime novels today are set in rural, idyllic locations, and the police procedural characterized by social criticism is now losing its preeminent position. Authors with ambitions to continue exploiting the crime genre for political purposes now tend to expand their horizons beyond the national and Swedish. They are thus moving one step further than Larsson, who primarily criticized social and political issues in a national context.
Stieg Larsson’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (English title) produced a veritable renewing of the Swedish mystery/detective/crime novel. Larsson’s writings give a voice of rationale to sometimes turbulent and changing times. The author employs an important factor—and one of the major changes during the latter half of the last century—as a core theme: the advent of the personal computer. In this book, Larsson exposes not only the benefits of personal computers, but also their liabilities. One main topic he uses in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is one of the unexpected by‑products of using computers. This paper examines how Larsson uses labels to define Lisbeth Salander, one of two main protagonists in the book and a computer hacker, as a character of different identities. Larsson carefully uses these labels to give insight and connect the character to different sub‑cultures that Lisbeth Salander embodies. Further discussed is how this label usage reveals Salander’s transformation from a negative portrayal of a frustrated, reclusive computer hacker into the reluctant, acceptable heroine.
Life and death are two sides of the same coin; it is on the boundary between them that art is created. My article discusses the relationship between life and death in Tomas Tranströmer’s poetry. It demonstrates that his concrete images provide access to the imminence and reality of death while at the same time preserving its mysterious nature. Tranströmer’s poems can act as agents of change, enabling readers to breach the wall of conventional thinking and regard death from a variety of perspectives.
Harry Martinson’s Aniara, an epic and one of the most important classics in Swedish literature with a science fiction character, is a unique work. It is composed of 103 poems with different styles and an avant‑garde spirit. The text is highly individualized, witty, and regarded as very difficult to cultivate, first of all in that its language is very localized and personal, with many own‑created words. Therefore, there is a large distance between the original language and the target language, even obstacles that are almost “mission impossible.” Some words or sentences are difficult even for Swedish readers, not to mention translators. It is almost “impossible” to translate it and also like an expedition. For a translator who is willing to make the expedition it is certainly also a temptation.
The criteria governing the choices of literary Nobel Prize winners are all interpretations of Nobel’s will. During my thirty years in the Swedish Academy, I have experienced the interplay of several criteria. One, pointing at great innovators, resulted in laureates like Gabriel García Márquez and Claude Simon. Another, focusing upon unknown masters, gave a world‑wide audience to Jaroslav Seifert and Wisława Szymborska. Realizing, in 1991, that these two criteria put prominent women writers in a blind angle, the Academy crowned Nadine Gordimer, thus ending almost half a century of negligence. A third idea, aiming at “global dissemination,” picked out a line of writers from Naguib Mahfouz to Gao Xingjian (who were also innovators in their fields). A recent interest in “witness literature” gave the award to Imre Kertész and Herta Müller. The article winds up with some reflections on political integrity and secrecy. A prize may have a political—and often unforeseeable—effect, but it must not have a political intention.
Posthumously published Chickweed Wintergreen is the most recent publication of Nobel Prize winner Harry Martinson (1904–1978). Elected to the Swedish Academy in 1949, Martinson wrote four novels, six volumes of essays, and nine collections of poems. His books are autobiographical, reflecting his upbringing, travels, and interest in science and social questions. His poetry is known for its close observation of the natural world as well as its intense awareness of cosmic distances in time and space.
Outside the Calendar is Espmark’s latest collection of poetry, featuring Swedish and English selections from his 1968 collection Voices in Public through poems written up to the present. Poet, novelist, literary historian, and member of the Swedish Academy since 1981, Espmark has published novels and books of criticism as well as poetry. His earliest poetry (from the late 1950s) is a form of lyrical storytelling, observed from a distancing perspective, often in the “I” form (the “I” observed from a distance). The poems with which Outside the Calendar begins are characterized by a social and political orientation in which context is the prime controller of language. The focus is on Sweden, domestic suffering, and the building of the welfare state. “Made in Sweden” is a case in point, opening with the following stanzas: Morning. Grey. Eternal winter./ Keep still, boy, and let me reach./ The milk will soon freeze in its glass. /Sh! Not so loud!/ The eyes of neighbours glare from the wallpaper./ A ten‑storey conversation/ through walls and floors./ The toilets roar like mighty accordions./ in this peasant village balanced on end” (18).
Beat Generation in America has influenced Chinese modernists deeply and helped lots of Chinese young writers to escape from the “modern blind worship.” On the other hand, the revolutionary romanticist tradition and the classical literature, the “petty bourgeois style” culture, have also melted with the Beat Generation in a strange way, which led to a new trend quite different from the Beat Generation, and showed the deep relation between the contemporary literature.
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