Tuesday, 17 September 2019

Literary Stockholm, part 6: City of My Dreams

Read the background for this blog series.
Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 and Part 5.




According to my Goodreads account, I had read this novel before, but I had no memory of it at all, and as I was re-reading, nothing rang a bell, so it must be one of those books that you think you have read because you should have. I believe I had it in my book shelf once upon a time, and I am pretty sure it was on the syllabus when I studied Swedish literature. 

Per Anders Fogelström is a very prominent Swedish 20th-century writer, and his most famous series of novels depicts several generations of working-class people living in Stockholm from 1860s to 1968. By serendipity – or maybe not a all – one of my recent walks took me exactly to the place where City of My Dreams is set, Åsöberget on Södermalm. At that time, it was slums where harbour workers and prostitutes lived. A small part of it has been preserved as a cultural monument and looks rather idyllic today. 


   


It was illuminating to have seen the place just before I read the novel. The characters also take strolls in the city, just like I do, and visit places that I have recently visited. So the setting was very vivid, even though I had to rewind the clock one hundred and sixty years back. 

Apart from the fascination of the place, the book was excruciatingly boring. The plot was minimal, and the characters totally flat, without any appeal. It is obvious that the point was to paint a picture of the misery of the working class, the hopeless struggle. So I guess as a document of its time – written with a century gap – it is of interest, but I couldn't make myself care about the characters. The style was this conventional ”And then he did this… and then she thought that… and many months had passed...” It just doesn't work. I conscientiously read the first 150 pages carefully, but skim-read the second half because life is too short to read boring books. 

When I was looking up this book in the library catalogue, most editions were abridged. Perhaps whoever decides still thinks this is a classic every Swede should have read, but realises that no reader today can endure this kind of fiction. I wish I could say there were at least some passages I enjoyed, but I didn't.

Anyway, Per Anders Fogelström's sign is, appropriately, on Per Anders Fogelström Terrace, with the best view of Stockholm. 




 

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