Inger Edelfeldt

This is a collection of new fairytales, written in a classic style, and framed with glimpses from Akasha square in Pa Ghad, where storytellers endlessly pass the baton between themselves. Rather than feeling like the really old folktales, these stories come across as the more arty fairytales from the gothic period and early modernism – written stories rather than told.

It’s inevitable, I’m afraid, to make a comparison with the immensely massive and rich “The Orphan’s tales” which I read earlier this year, and “Namnbrunnen “ comes up very short. Most of these tales are engaging enough, but seldom feel completely fresh. Edelfeldt, like Valente, plays with a multitude of tropes and mythologies, but where Valente’s mixture left me stunned and full of images, Edelfeldt mostly feels like she’s alluding. That’s not to say there are not glimpses of greatness here too, mostly when she ventures into the more horrific corner of fairytales. The story of the wolf cloak is eerie, the image of the woman returned from death as a puppet, only speaking perky platitudes too. Mostly though, this is the kind of read that keeps you engaged while you read, but which is very easy not to pick up again.

Most annoying of all is probably how the frame turns to nothing. It has no arch and no conclusion. There isn’t even a final touchdown at the square after the last story. Sloppy structure bugs me.… (more)