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Ulf Stark’s
Though ostensibly oblivious to class issues, the children in Stark’s novels learn about class differences through dealing with “stuff”: having things or not having them, trying to get the things they want, learning the exchange value of the things they have in order to trade them for other things – these are amongst the main preoccupations of the characters in Stark’s trilogy. This paper intends to investigate how the relationship between Ulf and Percy allows Stark to discuss the often paradoxical economic ideology of the folkhem, and how material objects are used as a narrative strategy to make class differences visible in a world that tries to deny them.
Among the many works Ulf Stark penned during his long career, there are some which display a retrospective attitude, mixing events, places and situations derived from Stark’s early years with fictional elements.
Before moving on to an analysis of Stark’s novels, however, I will begin by briefly sketching the ideology of the folkhem, especially in its relation to children.
Though the term folkhem (“the people’s home”) made its appearance in Swedish in the beginning of the 20th century as a way to refer to “community centers” or meeting places for the poor, it was soon appropriated by different political ideologies as a shorthand for the ideal society they envisioned (Dahlqvist; Götz). In its current use, folkhem indicates the political, economic and social ideology that sustained the so-called Swedish model from the 1930s to around the end of the 1980s, during the political hegemony of the Social Democratic Party. Substituting the revolutionary ideas of socialization of the means of production with the attempt to gain control over the wealth produced by the capitalistic system, from which the whole of society was to benefit, Social Democracy envisioned a political and economic model marked by “the combination of an expansive Welfare State with successful big corporations and a powerful trade union movement” (Rojas 22).
The most enduring metaphor for this ideological framework is that of the nation as a good home for all Swedes, with the state cast in the role of the wise family head. This idea is best expressed in a 1928 speech to the Riksdag by Per Albin Hansson, Chairman of the Social Democratic Party and Prime Minister between 1932 and 1946. Hansson understood the potential of the term folkhem for “uniting the ideas of home, nationalism, and socialism,” envisioning that “the People’s Home would substitute a class-based society, both in rhetoric and in future political reality” (Brandal et al. 51):
The foundation of the home is community and solidarity. The good home knows no privilege or neglect, no favorites and no stepchildren. […] In the good home equality, thoughtfulness, cooperation and helpfulness prevail. Applied to the great people’s and citizens’ home this would mean the breakdown of all social and economic barriers that now divide citizens into privileged and deprived, into the rulers and the ruled, into rich and poor, the propertied and the destitute, the robbers and the robbed. (Quoted in Hilson 109)
According to the ideology of the Swedish model, social unity was seen as a higher goal than individual aspirations, and social status was not primarily related to one’s wealth but to the contribution one could make to the general well-being: as Stockenström puts it, “money was in Sweden primarily discussed in terms of the common good and never as the sole means to individual success”(242). Accordingly, the Social Democratic policies that, from the end of the 1940s to the beginning of the 1970s, led to fast economic growth, increasing urbanization, wage equalization, a rise in consumption and taxation, and a general improvement in living conditions (Magnusson 232–256; Hägg 153–158), also reshaped the Swedish national identity, promoting “a vision of a genuine Swedish community of people above and beyond the existing class divisions” (Stockenström 241), whose ultimate goal was to “create equality through uniformity” (Rojas 38).
The well-functioning family mentioned by Hansson was not just a metaphor for the Social Democratic vision of what the state should be, or for the economic model that Social Democracy tried to implement: the ideals of the folkhem also had to be applied to actual families, especially when it came to childcare policies. The Swedish state presented itself as a warrant for the well-being of children, and from the 1930s the welfare system took actions to improve the general conditions of families, framing childcare as a collective responsibility. Since all children in the folkhem had to be equal before the state, the welfare system had to actively cancel all inequalities. Childcare was, moreover, seen as an investment for the future: the scope of childcare policies was to produce well-adjusted and independent individuals that could, at the same time, function well as members of a collective; what was at stake was the future of the nation, and even of democracy (Andresen et al. 172–6; 330–332).
The idea of children as the citizens of tomorrow, with a strong emphasis on their individuality and freedom, is reflected in the character of the “competent child,” which is often encountered in the literature for and about children produced within this intellectual climate (see Goga), with the heroine of Astrid Lindgren’s 1945 novel
This redefinition of childhood was at the heart of the project of the folkhem. As Bengt Sandin puts it, “the meaning of childhood was intimately associated with the welfare organization being created” (114). The concept of the competent child can thus be read as a reflection of the strong emphasis put by the ideology of the folkhem on the idea of a direct alliance between the individual and the state: the individual had to break loose from his traditional network of social relations and become a full citizen; in Orvar Löfgren’s words, “the new Welfare state should be populated by modern individuals, who have though to learn to exercise their freedom with a high degree of social responsibility.”
It is my opinion that the story of Ulf and Percy, at least in the first two parts of Stark’s trilogy, can be read against the backdrop of the egalitarian ideology of the folkhem, and as a reflection on and a critical evaluation of precisely the ideal of the competent child, as their freedom, their agency and their personal development are still limited by the class differences the Swedish model aimed at removing.
As a matter of fact, ideology is far from foreign to children’s literature (see for example Sarland; Hunt). In children’s books, however, ideology often appears in a covert manner, both through a text’s linguistic features and its use of narrative elements, such as narrator and point of view (McCallum and Stephens 361–362). Therefore, before proceeding to examining how Stark questions the ideology of the folkhem, I deem it necessary to take a brief look at the novels’ narrative structure, in order to fully grasp Stark’s approach to the matters at hand.
As mentioned above, both
The same effect of temporal distance is also brought about by the retrospective style adopted by Stark and by the “autobiographical pact” the trilogy elicits. Not only is the main character Ulf’s last name Stark,
The temporal distance between Ulf’s adventures and the narrator is further amplified by Stark’s use of irony: commenting on the role of the narrator in first-person young adult fiction, and on the role of irony in this kind of narration, Wyile states that often “[i]n looking back on their youth, older narrators present their lack of experience with an irony fine-tuned by hindsight” (186). This is precisely what happens in Stark’s novels, where Ulf’s often naive point of view is that of a child of the 1950s, but is presented to the reader by an arguably older and wiser narrator.
This “double perspective” also applies to the ideological frame through which Ulf sees the world: while Ulf’s point of view is fully imbued with the ideals that were at the basis of the Swedish model, the narrator seems to adopt a retrospective critical and ironic gaze which reveals the contradictions and the limits of that model.
As Magdalena Żmuda-Trzebiatowska points out, several 1990s coming-of-age novels look back at the origins of the Swedish welfare state with a mix of nostalgia and criticism, stressing both the utopian promises of the folkhem and its shortcomings (“Styvbarnen”; “Myten”). Though aimed at a younger audience than Żmuda-Trzebiatowska’s examples,
The same contrast between an enthusiastic and a critical approach to the Swedish model can be perceived in the gulf that separates Ulf and Percy. While the former’s apparently egalitarian and class-blind gaze seems to be informed by the ideology of the folkhem, the latter shows a much more pragmatical – almost cynical – approach to reality. Percy’s presence (much like the narrator’s hindsight) offers a constant counter-narrative to the main character’s perspective.
As we have seen, the “competent child” was one of the central concepts within the redefinition of childhood that took place within the ideological framework of the folkhem. As Åse Marie Ommundsen writes:
The competent children depicted in children’s literature act as autonomous, active, robust, and responsible figures[.] […] This picture of the competent child contrasts with the notion of children as innocent, inexperienced, powerless, vulnerable, ignorant, dependent, and immature human beings. (Ommundsen)
These sets of qualities play an important role in the characterization of Ulf and Percy; at the risk of oversimplifying a little, one might say that Ulf and Percy represent two (incomplete) versions of the competent child, each one of them falling short of the ideal in his own way. In a critical reading of Stark’s Percy novels focused on the ideological construction of manhood, Magnus Öhrn points out that the main events in Stark’s trilogy – apart from a handful of scenes set in domestic or scholastic settings – take place in a deeply homosocial environment, with the protagonists and their friends trying to come to terms with different ideas of manhood (132–134). This “boys’ land” (“
However, it is not entirely true that the space occupied by Ulf and Percy is completely separated from the adult world and its worries. If Ulf almost exclusively is concerned with constructing his own boyhood, the same cannot be said for Percy: for him, the adult world of commerce is indeed highly relevant. In many ways, in fact, Ulf and Percy are depicted as almost antithetical characters. Ulf is plump, childish, naive, and is bullied both by other kids in the neighborhood and by his older brother. Percy, on the other hand, is strong and brave: he is good at fighting and spitting and is great at sports; he is so self-confident that he can even defy gender stereotypes by openly enjoying sewing lessons. Percy clearly becomes a sort of (male) role model for Ulf. At the end of chapter two of
Percy and Ulf seem to show the same polarization that Berggren and Trägårdh see in the characters of Pippi and Annika in
Ulf – as opposed to his other friends, who at first reject Percy – is peculiarly oblivious to Percy’s social background; for him, he is just a fairly good approximation of his (manly) ideal. The narrator, however, subtly emphasizes those markers of Percy’s social inferiority that the focalizer does not seem to notice or care about. This is particularly evident in the depiction of the material world that surrounds the children and the way they deal with “stuff.” Thus, we are informed that Ulf lives in a spotless multi-storey house full of expensive things, such as the big chandelier that catches Percy’s attention the first time Ulf invites him over, while Percy lives in an apartment building. While the first
On the other hand, Percy’s father sells Venetian blinds and is almost always out of work and money; he is often tired, and even more absent than Ulf’s dad (when Percy gives him a birthday present he does not seem to pay any attention to it). Percy’s mother is first shown wearing curlers, reading a magazine, and then dreamingly dancing to a Frank Sinatra song. The material space the two families occupy, their different occupations, interests and cultural tastes, clearly put Ulf and Percy’s families in different class fractions.
The
In this regard,
In this sense, both characters only partially approximate the ideal child envisioned by the folkhem ideology. Ulf comes from the safe background that the folkhem desired for all children, but he never fully acquires all the qualities of the competent child. Percy, on the other hand, has all those qualities, but he is still what Per Albin Hansson would have called a “stepchild,” lagging behind and trying to overcome privations and relative poverty.
Ulf, as already mentioned, tends to be represented as much more naive than Percy. This is especially evident in the way he believes in non-realistic and supernatural events and powers. For example, in
Our teacher just looked at the shoes in silence. She lifted one of them up by the laces.
It was the first time I had seen Percy’s shoes. They looked like a pair of drowned rats.
Our teacher shook her head as if she felt sorry for them.
“You had better get yourself a new pair of shoes, Percy,” she said. (Stark,
Later on, the teacher once again comments on Percy’s shoes:
[T]he teacher wasn’t happy. She wrinkled her nose.
She pointed at Percy’s shoes. “Have you got those shoes on again?” she said. “Next time you must come with a new pair.”
“These are my best ones,” said Percy.
“I do not want to see them again. Do you hear?” said the teacher. “Those are the worst sneakers I have ever seen.” (Stark,
Percy’s shoes mean different things to different observers: to Ulf, they might be tattered but, when Percy tells him they are magical and can make him stronger, that does not diminish their allure: by the end of the chapter, he prays to God for a pair of similar shoes. To the teacher, Percy’s sneakers are simply inappropriate; strikingly, the teacher – who is otherwise represented as a sympathetic character, with a soft spot for Percy – is incapable of inferring that they are a sign of Percy’s lack of means. Percy’s opinion, by contrast, remains unexpressed. However, the reader can guess that the teacher’s remarks do not go unnoticed by the fact that Percy immediately tries to take advantage of Ulf, sparking his interest in the sneakers.
In her discussion of fashion in the fairy tale, Rebecca-Anne Do Rozario points out that clothing items are often used as a way to discuss issues of class, status, and social mobility; in this context, shoes are especially relevant in that, as shown by the example of Cinderella, they often function as symbols for transformation and advancement; with reference to Perrault’s
“I would give anything to be able to walk on the beam like you can.”
“Like what?” [Percy] said, looking up.
“What do you mean, like what?”
“What would you give?” he said. “You said that you would give ANYTHING!” (Stark,
Percy’s attitude to his new friend is, to say the least, ambiguous: he both acts as a loyal comrade, helping Ulf overcome his limits, and as a cunning con artist in-the-making. When Ulf invites him over, and the children start negotiating the sale of the “magical” shoes, we perceive again the differences between them. Ulf sees Percy’s sneakers as an enchanted object, much like the “magical agent” identified in folktales by Vladimir Propp (43–50). He is ready to give Percy everything he demands, disregarding the actual economic value of the shoes.
Percy, on the other hand, appears stunningly aware of the law of demand and supply, and he is ready to exploit his advantage: noticing that Ulf sees the shoes as a sort of “specialty good” for which he is willing to pay any price, Percy displays an almost predatory attitude, exploiting Ulf’s naivety. When the two children take a tour Ulf’s house so that Percy can choose the things he will take in exchange for the sneakers, we are once again told nothing about Percy’s thoughts, but we can guess from his attitude that he is carefully evaluating each item’s value:
We started in the basement where Dad had his moped and a safe with some old gold teeth in it.
The we carried on up.
We went through the rumpus room with the stuffed bird. And the library where Dad rested between seeing patients, with a black cushion on his stomach. In the living room, Percy took an extra look at the big chandelier and tinkled with a few keys on the piano. Then we went through the dining room where there wasn’t much to look at.
And finally we came up to my room in the attic. Percy immediately spread all my things out on the floor so that he could see them properly. (Stark,
In
“You have to do division,” said Ulf. “It’s about the hardest thing there is. It’s like you were going to give eighteen buns to six small kids. They all have to have the same number of buns. How many will each one get?”
“They won’t be given any stupid buns,” said Percy. “They’ll have to buy them, three each, for cash. And if I get five cents for each bun that’s ninety cents.”
Ulf wrinkled his forehead. He had to do the sum on a piece of paper.
“You’re right!” he said. “That’s multiplication. You are becoming a mathematical genius!” (Stark,
For Ulf, his family and his middle-class friends, all children can get any amount of buns they want (after all, Ulf’s mother has an open account at the local bakery), whereas Percy knows all too well that buns have to be bought. Moreover, Ulf and his peers seem to have introjected the Swedish attitude to money described by Stockenström: they do not like waste, they do not flaunt their wealth, and they never discuss financial matters. Most importantly, they seem so convinced that the Swedish state knows no favorites or stepchildren that they cannot see the class differences that are still present in their society: such is the conviction that all children should be equal, that they see all children as
Only towards the end of
“Your father is a dentist. People come to him and get the holes in their teeth fixed. […] And all the time people keep getting new holes in their teeth,” said Percy’s father. “And that means your father gets more money. Dentists don’t have to worry about whether there is enough money. They have enough to manage. But it’s not like that for everybody. Have you never thought of that?”
“No-o,” said Ulf. “No, I never have.”
“You think I’m only thinking of myself,” he went on. “You think I don’t know that Percy wants to stay here. Actually there’s nothing I want more. […] I sell Venetian blinds, Ulf. And if no one wants to buy my Venetian blinds we have to move.” (Stark,
The sudden appearance of the Sheik – a radio friend of Ulf’s father’s – saves the day, buying twenty thousand blinds and allowing Percy to stay in Stureby. Percy has surely “done the deal of a lifetime” (Stark,
In an interview with
On the often contradictory mix of collectivism and individualism in the Swedish model, see Berggren and Trägårdh 229–258, and Dencik.
“Den nya välfärdstaten skulle bebos av moderna individer, som dock måste lära sig att bära sin nya frihet med en stor portion samhällsansvar” (my translation).
According to Philippe Lejeune, the nominal identity between author, narrator and the main character is the most important marker of the autobiographical nature of a text (
On autobiographical texts in the third person, see Lejeune “L’autobiographie à la troisième personne.”
See the brief desciption of Stureby “Stureby – kort beskrivning av områdets historia.” On the housing policies of the folkhem, and their social consequences, see Hall.