Sten i siden review

After his older brother inherits the family farm, Eino Vanhakoski is left with nothing and is forced to eke out a meagre existence in Swedish Lapland. As a backstugusittare (a person who owns no land and cannot therefore engage in farming or crofting), he and his family are forced to subject themselves to the whims of those in power. They own no land and cannot engage in their own farming or crofting. What could have been a get-rich-quick scheme involving many barrels of in-demand Swedish tar ends up hopelessly impoverishing the young Vanhakoski family. The wealthy landowner responsible for the blunder, however, apparently suffers no repercussions nor offers any help to the destitute Vanhakoskis.

Though the novel is a bit slow getting to this point, it was around here that I got a sense of what it was about and my interest was genuinely piqued. Forced into hopeless poverty, Eino is forced to join his fellow poor in desperately making the lowest bid for a contract to build a section of road through the forest. This endeavour promises to ultimately earn him nothing, but no other recourse is available for a backstugusittare almost 1000 kronor in debt (huge money in the 1920s).

But this is a time when not-so-new ideas of socialism and communism were taking firm root among the working and serf classes, and the arrival in town of a union leader fundamentally changes the lives of people like the Vanhakoskis for the next century or more.

A person with no knowledge of the history of the Nordic countries could perhaps be forgiven for thinking they have always been a utopian, egalitarian social democracy with the highest standards of living in the world. But the well-polished and highly inaccurate image the countries project to the world is just a 70-year reprieve from a history of misery and deprivation. This book put me in mind of other works, such as Per Anders Fogelström's Stadserien (the City Novels series), Jan Guillou’s Det stora århundradet (The Great Century), Ken Follett’s Century Trilogy, Ann-Marie Bertell's Vänd om min längtan and Heiman, as well as Vilhelm Moberg's Utvandrarna (The Emigrants) series in its depiction of a Sweden utterly at odds with the country as we know it now, and which only exists in the memory of a shrinking number of the very old.

However, the novel also features a subplot involving descendants of the Vanhakoski family. In 2017, a dead body of unknown origin is found in a bog in the Tornio valley, and simultaneously a woman named Siw has visions which lead her back north to her family's home and long-hidden secrets. In my own opinion, this subplot was a bit of a distraction from the main story of the novel. Even though Siw is the great-grandchild of Eino and Saara Vanhakoski and her subplot solves the mystery of the body in the bog, the supernatural elements of her story felt underdeveloped and almost like an afterthought.

There was only the mildest suggestion of anything supernatural in the main 1930s storyline, and in Siw's subplot it did not feel like an integral part of the story. Occasionally, it felt a little frustrating to read through Siw's chapters as they interrupted the flow of the main story and Siw's visions did not really develop into anything meaningful or tangible. The epilogue could not have happened without Siw's subplot, and it was gratifying to get answers to what ultimately became of the different members of the Vanhakoski family, albeit posthumously, but it would have benefited from better integration into the narrative, as well as having a stronger narrative of its own.

All in all, this novel was entertaining and provided valued insight into how the Sweden we think we know came into being. The inclusion of Meänkieli (Sweden-Finnish) culture as well as a smattering of the language here and there added flavour and colour which this Finnish-speaking reviewer appreciated. While the execution of the supernatural elements was not to my taste (in spite of my liking for horror and fantasy fiction), the inclusion of a little bit of Finnish/Sámi folklore and mythology does not warrant reproach and did not disturb as much as my complaint might lead you to believe.