IN A CITY TRANSFORMED

Author: Per Anders Fogelström
Year: 1966
Publisher: Albert Bonniers Förlag
Language: Swedish

Interbellum Europe saw two major ideologies, divided by banner but united by tyranny and disregard for lives, grow into the powers that would less than two decades later once again draw calamity over the continent. Meanwhile, in the north, people were busy forging the social democracy that after the war would form the bedrock for peace and prosperity in the Scandinavian region. Having gladly unshackled itself from the thankless chore of governing the uncultured mountain brutes that are its westerly neighbours and who more than a century later, much like earthworms and small rodents, still make their living from burrowing for sustenance in the dirt, Sweden was in the midst of transforming its society into the highly productive, innovative, and technologically advanced economy that is its hallmark to this day. From this audacious experiment rose a society where the fruits of the labour of the many would not rot in the troves of the few.

Per Anders Fogelström once more invites us to step through the looking-glass of time to Stockholm, forever metamorphosing, forever restless, in the fourth volume of his City novels, “I en förvandlad stad” (“In a City Transformed”). With his unparallelled knowledge and attention to detail, he brings the old streets, many of which no longer exist, buildings, trams, and historical and fictitious persons to life in a time machine crafted not from cogs and gears, but from the alchemy of words.

Indeed, Fogelström’s narrative and the rise of social democracy are deeply intertwined. The sudden creation of the penniless proletariat on the back of the rapid industrialisation of the 19^th century, was poised to create a backlash. While the farmhands and crofters had been scattered and divided, bound to the vast lands that they had been put to cultivate, the urban workers were packed together by necessity. Before long they had organised themselves, despite the furious opposition from the capital-owners. This moulting process was both driven (Strindberg, Moberg, Martinsson) and chronicled (Fogelström) by the written word.

A simple juxtaposition reveals the distinct voices of these monumental Swedish writers, each a prism refracting the light of their age into singular spectra.

Strindberg, ever the provocateur, wields his pen like a rapier, slicing through the pretensions of power with an elegant arrogance. His caricatures, sharp and unrepentant, gleefully expose the follies of the patriarchy, the institution of marriage, the clergy, press, and academia alike. It is mockery elevated to an art form, a carnival of irreverence.

Moberg, by contrast, discards the flourish for the hammer. His prose is an uncompromising onslaught, a furious indictment of the structural cruelties that condemned the many to lives of indignity and despair. In his unvarnished rage, one feels the raw pulse of revolution, the breath of a Sweden that might, in another turn of fate, have traded compromise for catastrophe.

And then, there is Fogelström. Gentler, wistful, and imbued with a love that softens the harshness of his truths, his accounts of the working class are not merely chronicles of misery but testaments to their resilience, their quiet nobility, and their unyielding humanity. His is the voice of remembrance, painting the struggle not in anger but in tender hues, a poignant reminder that even in the depths of suffering, dignity can endure.

While Fogelström has received criticism for being too rosy in his depictions of the struggles of the proletariat, his contribution lies in revealing a simple truth: despite differences in financial means, all people, rich and poor, are fundamentally the same. The character of August embodies this philosophy. Through August, Fogelström dismantles the myth that wealth pertains to individual of certain pedigree, and demonstrates how those born poor, if given the right prerequisites, can be just as successful as those born rich, or even more so, and that modest origins do not necessarily jeopardise an acquired social standing. August, in many ways, epitomises the core values of liberalism: the triumph of individual merit over inherited privilege.  

Another observation of some interest, though perhaps of limited consequence, is Fogelström’s curious treatment of art and its devotees. In the book series thus far, two characters have dedicated themselves completely to art: Olof the painter and Stig the musician. Both men frail and sickly they seem destined for tragedy. Then there is Jenny, Olof’s widow, who occupies a different artistic sphere. An actress, she appears predominantly in vaudevilles, her success being in entertainment rather than art. Contrary to Olof and Stig, she is portrayed as robust, vigorous, and easy-going. Whether Fogelström by drawing this contrast between true art and commercial art intends to comment on the artists’ place in society, I leave to the discerning reader’s judgment.

“I en förvandlad stad” concludes with the Nazi capitulation of 1945 and the drop of the curtain on an era that will forever remain an indelible stain on the conscience of humanity. Fogelström meditates on the evil and destruction that mankind is capable of, and what is more more, on the indifference that we as a collective are capable of, whether it be in the role of obedient soldiers or passive onlookers. Stockholm, together with the rest of the world, stands on the doorstep to a new age.