Literary Stockholm, part 5: Mio My Son

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

If I were to decide, I would choose Karlsson-on-the-Roof as featuring Stockholm in the works of Astrid Lindgren. It takes place wholly in Vasastan where Astrid Lindgren also lived for many years. But whoever decided, chose Mio My Son, that is my favourite, so I won't complain, but it can be questioned whether Stockholm setting is integral to it when most of the story takes place in Faraway Land. Unless of course we adhere to the interpretation that Bosse (for whatever reason, Andy in English) never travels to Faraway Land, but sits on a bench in Tegnérlunden in central Stockholm, imagining the wonderful and dangerous adventures in a parallel world. This is the most plausible interpretation, but a sophisticated one, and without doing any research I would guess that most young readers and many adult readers, if asked where the story takes place, would say, Faraway Land. Because we so much want the unhappy orphan Bosse to find a father and friends. Yet does the character-narrator really believe it himself? He has to shout – represented by italics – that he is in Faraway Land and not sitting on a bench in Tegnérlunden.

I have written extensively about Mio My Son and taught it both in Sweden and in the US. Narrative situation and narrative perspective are the aspects that fascinate me, and the novel, published in 1954, is a very early example of first-person narration in fantasy. Writing in 1992, John Stephens claimed that first-person perspective was impossible in fantasy, but of course since then we have seen tons of examples of the opposite. Yet believe me, as someone who wrote her PhD on twentieth-century fantasy, it was unusual until 1990s, so Mio was indeed a daring text.

I re-read Mio as recently as two years ago for a conference in Cambridge about horses in children's literature. Horses are prominent in Astrid Lindgren's work, and I tried to explore Mio's horse not as his dæmon or Patronus, which can of course be done, but as an artistic device to represent the protagonist's emotional states in a more detached way. Writing this paper, I was looking exclusively at horsey moments so I probably didn't read the whole novel as carefully as I did now. I pretty much know it by heart, although there were a couple of details I hadn't remembered; but I did have strong memory of the narrator going back to his life in Stockholm, so maybe the choice of this book to represent Stockholm is not inadequate after all.

I was struck once again by the beauty of language, the rhythmic flow of prose with a folktale flavour to it.

My own Swedish copy is in storage so I borrowed the book from a library. I don't like these luxury editions of Astrid Lindgren with red cloth quarter bindings because I find them distracting. Otherwise it is exactly the same, with wonderful original illustrations by Ilon Wikland.

I enjoyed re-reading Mio even though I remembered it so well. This book is like a poem that you can read again and again.

The sign is of course in Tegnérlunden, and I sat on the bench I think was the right one. But I had no golden apple and found no genie in a beer bottle.

Tenacious myths

I was interviewed by the Swedish Radio today. Well, I wasn't really interviewed the way I had expected after the researcher's conversation yesterday when I said what I thought on the matter. Apparently the program leader hadn't listened to her researcher.

The subject was something I have been interviewed about extensively in the past thirty years, in oral and written form, formally and informally, by journalists and undergrad students, and during drinks and table conversations. I say the same thing every time.

The eternal subject is the popularity of Astrid Lindgren's character Karlsson-on-the-roof in Russia.

What I say is that whoever asks is terribly ethnocentric. It is understandable that Swedish people are fascinated that something from their culture is popular abroad, but this Karlsson myth is blown up out of proportion. Yes, he has always been popular. Almost as popular as Alice in Wonderland, Thumbelina, Winnie-the-Pooh and the Little Prince. And dozens of other children's literature characters, homegrown and translated. To say that Karlsson was uniquely popular is to close your eyes on the context. And when people ask why Karlsson and not any other Lindgren character, the simple answer is: because it was available in Russian. Many, many years before Pippi Longstocking.

Another truth is that Karlsson became still more popular after two Russian cartoons were produced, and then two picturebooks based on cartoons. In these, the profound and sad story of the original was boiled down to Tom-and-Jerry-like slapstick. There was nothing left of Astrid Lindgren's text and nothing of Ilon Wikland's original illustrations. So in fact people in Russia don't really know Lindgren's character, but something twice removed. And there has been a lot of merchandise: dolls, candy, towels, mugs. There were funny stories too, some of them quite rude. Journalists interpret these as a sign of exceptional popularity. But stories are told in Russia about almost anything, including popular literary characters. Lots of rude stories about Thumbelina. Lots of rude stories about Pinocchio. Lots of rude stories about Winnie-the-Pooh. Who, by the way, also transformed into a cartoon character – Russian, not Disney – which made him more popular and better known than the original.

And then people say that Karlsson was controversial in Russia – not more controversial than any good children's book is any culture, certainly not more than Karlsson or Pippi were in Sweden. Personally I have always dislikes Karlsson as a character because he is mean, but I still like the books because they say some essential things about being a child. I wonder if the journalist who interviewed me today understands it. The Karlsson books are not about Karlsson, they are about the child who must learn what it means to be a human being. Karlsson is not human (he is in fact an early post-human, with technologically augmented capacities), but the child is. You are not supposed to like Karlsson, you are supposed to hate him. Or make mock of him.

The reason the Karlsson books – not just Karlsson the character - became popular in Russia is that they are great books by a great writer. They joined other great books read by generations of Russian children, which included unacknowledged imitations of Pinocchio, The Wizard of Oz and Dr Dolittle. They happened to be translated in Russia at the time there weren't as many great books for children as there are today.

To ask why Karlsson is popular is like asking why Harry Potter is popular. Especially if it comes to a country where very few great children's books are available.

I didn't have a chance to say all this to the journalist today. She had her own opinion and wasn't listening. So the Karlsson myth will now be perpetuated through yet another medial channel.