Personal Blogs

Between Worlds: Who Was this Swedish Author

I’ve been reading Light the Dark: Writers on Creativity, Inspiration, and the Artistic Process, where writers such as Amy Tan, Junot Díaz, Khaled Hosseini, and Karl Ove Knausgaard reflect on the sparks that set their imaginations alight. Their stories prompted me to ask myself the same question: what inspired me to write?

I could point to the books that shaped me from childhood, the late-night conversations with literature students I worked alongside during night shifts in Safeway, Paisley Road West in Glasgow when I was a boy, or even my years of public speaking, which share something of the rhythm and structure of writing. Yet one moment stands out more than all of these.

In the 1990s, while teaching myself Swedish—using either Rosetta Stone or perhaps a “Teach Yourself” course—I came across a short story tucked away at the back of the material. It told of a Swedish schoolteacher sitting in his classroom, imagining what his pupils might be thinking as they bent over their work. It was a simple premise, yet utterly gripping.

That story lodged in my memory and, in many ways, shaped my view of writing itself: the attempt to enter another’s thoughts, to listen across the silence. For some reason, it carried the same resonance for me as Dylan Thomas’s Under Milk Wood; a chorus of inner voices, ordinary yet profound.

The problem is, I no longer remember either the author or the title. I have written to several Swedish literary institutions, but so far without success. ChatGPT has suggested it may have been written  by Hjalmar Söderberg, but I’ve found nothing to confirm this. What I do know is that, of all the stories I’ve read in my life, this one has never left me. It remains a quiet spark behind why I write today.

And so I make this appeal: if there are any Swedish literature students, professors, or writers who recognize the story I’ve described— a schoolteacher imagining his pupils’ inner lives—I would be deeply grateful to hear from you. To identify this author would be to reconnect with the very moment that first awakened me to the possibilities of writing.

Mellan världar: Vem var denna svenska författare

Jag har läst Light the Dark: Writers on Creativity, Inspiration, and the Artistic Process, där författare som Amy Tan, Junot Díaz, Khaled Hosseini och Karl Ove Knausgård reflekterar över gnistorna som tänder deras fantasi. Deras berättelser fick mig att ställa mig själv samma fråga: vad inspirerade mig att skriva?

Jag skulle kunna peka på böckerna som formade mig från barndomen, på de sena nattliga samtalen med litteraturstudenter som jag arbetade tillsammans med under nattskift på Safeway, eller till och med på mina år av offentligt talande, som delar något av skrivandets rytm och struktur. Ändå finns det ett ögonblick som står ut mer än alla dessa.

På 1990-talet, när jag lärde mig svenska på egen hand—antingen med Rosetta Stone eller kanske en kurs i serien Teach Yourself—stötte jag på en novell som låg gömd längst bak i materialet. Den berättade om en svensk lärare som satt i sitt klassrum och föreställde sig vad hans elever kunde tänka på när de böjde sig över sina uppgifter. Det var en enkel premiss, men fullständigt fängslande.

Den berättelsen fastnade i mitt minne och formade på många sätt min syn på själva skrivandet: försöket att tränga in i en annans tankar, att lyssna genom tystnaden. Av någon anledning hade den samma resonans för mig som Dylan Thomas Under Milk Wood; en kör av inre röster, vardagliga men ändå djupgående.

Problemet är att jag inte längre minns vare sig författaren eller titeln. Jag har skrivit till flera svenska litterära institutioner, men hittills utan framgång. ChatGPT har föreslagit att det kan ha varit Hjalmar Söderberg, men jag har inte funnit något som bekräftar det. Vad jag däremot vet är att av alla berättelser jag läst i mitt liv, så är det denna som aldrig lämnat mig. Den förblir en stilla gnista bakom varför jag skriver idag.

Därför vill jag vädja: om det finns några svenska litteraturstudenter, professorer eller författare som känner igen berättelsen jag beskrivit—en lärare som föreställer sig sina elevers inre liv—skulle jag vara djupt tacksam för att höra från er. Att identifiera denna författare vore att återknyta till det ögonblick som först väckte mig för skrivandets möjligheter. 

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"People want to be loved; failing that, admired...They want to evoke some sort of sentiment. 

The soul shudders before oblivion and seeks connection at any price."

— Hjalmar Söderberg, Doctor Glas

Image generated with the assistance of Microsoft Copilot

I was hospitalized a while ago and there was a younger man in the bed opposite mine who often spoke on the phone, visibly distressed. At the heart of his issues was his frustration at not getting his own way. He desired more love and affection from those around him, despite being abusive towards them.

Considering this, I offered him a piece of wise verse. His immediate response was, “I’m going to share this.”

       “Whoa,” I said, “Why not reflect on it first?”

       “Sure, after,” he replied. But, he never did.

This got me thinking. He was putting himself in a self-contained loneliness because of the way he was treating others and now he was shifting to this instant sharing to find some human connection albeit artificial.

In this digital age, where social media reigns supreme, it’s all too easy to fall into the habit of sharing content rapidly for quick likes and fleeting interactions. This instant gratification, while exhilarating, often comes at the cost of deeper, more meaningful connections. I urge you, especially the younger generation, to consider a more enriching path—one that prioritizes genuine human contact over digital immediacy.

Social media platforms promise connectivity; indeed, they offer a kind of interaction that can feel immensely rewarding. Receiving likes, comments, and shares can seem like valid social exchanges, but these are often shallow substitutes for real conversation and connection. They provide a dopamine rush, a quick hit of pleasure, but they lack the staying power and emotional depth of face-to-face interactions. These digital interactions, though numerous, are fleeting and can leave us feeling empty and craving more substantive exchanges.

Contrast the quick interactions of social media with the profound satisfaction that comes from in-person conversations. Engaging with someone face-to-face allows for the expression of empathy, the reading of emotional cues, and the building of trust and understanding elements that are often lost in translation online. Real-world interactions also offer opportunities for deeper discussions that can challenge our thinking and stimulate personal growth.

Just think about the last time you were out with friends. Perhaps walking, stopping for lunch and enjoying an enriching day. Every time you think of that occasion, a film unpacks in your head giving you a warm glow; a hygge feeling. You don’t get that on social media.

To shift away from the ephemeral nature of digital interactions, consider immersing yourself in activities that require your physical presence. Joining a night class or a workshop not only broadens your knowledge but also puts you in a room with like-minded individuals who share your interests. Whether it’s learning a new language, taking up pottery, or studying photography, these classes offer a dual benefit: acquiring a new skill and connecting with others on a meaningful level.

Similarly, participating in local clubs or community groups can foster a sense of belonging and provide a network of support that social media cannot replicate. From book clubs to hiking groups, the options are endless. These groups do more than just share hobbies; they share life experiences, support each other in times of need, and celebrate together in moments of joy.

Volunteering for a cause you are passionate about can be especially rewarding. It connects you with people across diverse backgrounds and generations, offering perspectives that might never crop up on your social media feed. These interactions not only help build a better community but also imbue your life with a sense of purpose and fulfilment that fleeting online interactions often fail to deliver.

Embracing more face-to-face interactions doesn’t mean you must abandon digital spaces entirely. Social media can be a powerful tool for staying connected with distant friends and family. However, balancing these digital interactions with substantial real-world engagements can lead to a more fulfilling life. This balance allows you to enjoy the benefits of technology without becoming dependent on it for social fulfilment.

As we navigate this digital world, let’s not forget the power and depth of real human connections. I encourage you to step beyond your digital comfort zone and explore the enriching experiences that real-world interactions can offer. In doing so, you may find that the deepest joys and most enduring satisfactions come from the people you meet and the relationships you nurture away from the glow of a screen.

However, there is something else you can do: ask God for help. The scripture reads "If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer.” Matthew 21:22 (BSB). After praying, work in harmony with the prayer. Get out there where God can open up some door for you.