Literary Stockholm, part 2: Children's Island

Read the background for this blog series.
Read Part 1.

I am trying to remember when and why I read P C Jersild's probably most famous novel, Barnens ö (Children's Island in English). It was published in 1976 when I still lived in Russia and had no easy access to foreign books. The most plausible is that I read it, and possibly got it as a gift from the publisher, at the first Moscow Book Fair in 1977, or maybe I just saw it then, or maybe I was asked to read it for a Russian publisher who was considering a translation. Jersild was at the time being considered for translation, because he was viewed as ”progressive” and socially engaged, but Children's Island would be out of the question for many reasons.

I thought I had a good memory of it, but apparently this memory was entirely based on the film version, directed by Kay Pollak and screened at the Moscow Film Festival in 1981. (At that time, I already knew Pollak well, because he had attended the Festival in 1977 when I was his interpreter).

My memory was rather idyllic, and what I remembered best – probably again from the film image – was the bald young woman Nora who saves Reine from drowning. I had no memory of their meeting after that. I remembered that Reine ran away rather than being sent to a summer camp, the titular Children's island, and roamed Stockholm, finding all possible and impossible ways of fending for himself. I had forgotten that he found a job painting funeral ribbons. I remembered that he was reluctant to come into puberty and contemplated life and death. But I had forgotten the incredible violence and self-destruction. I remembered his hunger, but I had forgotten the detailed descriptions of his defecation. Did I really read it back then? Can you forget such details?

It is not a children's book. I used it in my teaching as an example of a novel that is not a children’s book even though the protagonist is eleven. Did I re-read it then or trusted my unreliable memory?

I wonder whether this novel would today be marketed as a young adult or maybe crossover book. Things have changed in the past forty-five years. It has never been marketed as a YA novel in Sweden. I wouldn't give it to an eleven-year-old.

What I could not help thinking about as I was re-reading it, or maybe reading it for the first time, is how specific Jersild is with Stockholm topography, plotting Reine's bizarre trajectories. Reading it now, I recognise every setting – I have actually just been to most of the places mentioned: Concert Hall, Royal Library, Municipal Library, Central Station, and more. When – if – I read the book back in Russia, the place names would not mean anything to me. Neither would the numerous brand names: McDonald's menus, drinks, sweets, clothes. Neither would some typical social phenomena of the time. I didn't know that Children's island was a real place, not a metaphor (our daughter went there one summer). I didn't even know what a commuter train was. The Swedish word is pendeltåg, pendulum train, and I thought it was some kind of funicular with the train hanging from a rail like a pendulum. And of course most of the slang I could only guess. It sounds old-fashioned now, as forty-five years old slang does.

Did I enjoy it? Yes, definitely. It was painful, poignant; I was suffering, not with the character, but for him. I had forgotten the ending, had a vague idea that the child-parent conflict would be resolved, but almost hoped that the character would kill himself because his life was so totally bleak. But somehow he reconciles with it. It didn't feel satisfactory. Can a child so profoundly abused go on? Perhaps. Jersild is a medical doctor so he would have seen all kinds.

In short, this novel is still fully readable, although I smiled when the character imagines how wonderful life would be in the year 2000.

Jersild's plaque is at Kungsgatan 65, the same building as the Oscar Theater. When I took the picture of the plaque I wondered why it was there, and then of course I got the answer in the book.