Ellika Lagerlöf’s debut collection of short stories, ”Den sista kastraten” (The Last Castrato), introduces a parade of peculiar characters, each navigating the absurdities of existence. The titular castrato, for instance, opens the collection with a startling autobiographical account, recounting his self-inflicted castration as a preschooler – a visceral image further cemented by the detail of the yellow plastic-handled scissors. This narrative sets the tone for the collection, establishing a thematic undercurrent of body horror, a subgenre of horror literature that fixates on the grotesque and the unsettling transformations of the human body. While this might deter some readers, those intrigued by the darker, more surreal aspects of human experience will find themselves captivated by Lagerlöf’s unflinching exploration of the bizarre.
The collection’s engagement with body horror brings to mind the heated cultural debate in Sweden during the late 1980s and early 1990s surrounding the then-maligned genre of horror. Often dismissed by critics as sensationalist and lowbrow, the genre, encompassing both horror and gothic elements, struggled for recognition within the literary establishment. Authors like Magnus Dahlström and Carina Rydberg, who ventured into this territory, were often misunderstood and their works undervalued. However, in contemporary literary discourse, the power of the horror genre to dissect social and psychological landscapes is widely acknowledged. Lagerlöf’s collection, while not strictly adhering to conventional horror tropes, utilizes the genre’s unsettling potential to explore the human condition in all its unsettling complexities.
Lagerlöf skillfully crafts an atmosphere of creeping unease, not through overt displays of gore, but through a distinctly Swedish realism. Employing a first-person narrative perspective in many of the stories, she creates an intimate and often uncomfortable proximity to her protagonists. Her language, deliberately blunt and sometimes clumsy, amplifies the sense of disquiet. The effectiveness of this approach is evident in the depiction of brutal, almost torturous practices at a Swedish summer camp, narrated through the detached observations of a teenage girl in her diary. Amidst descriptions of children’s mouths being filled with earth and sealed with silver tape, the narrator remains preoccupied with the mundane, lamenting the lack of Monopoly money and confessing a possible infatuation with one of the camp leaders. This juxtaposition of the horrific and the commonplace underscores the disturbing normalization of cruelty and the complexities of adolescent perception.
Returning to the castrato narrative, the story concludes with a surprising twist. Despite his self-mutilation, the protagonist leads a remarkably successful life, singing for dignitaries and world leaders. The story, delivered as a brief memoir from his deathbed, ends abruptly, leaving the reader to grapple with the stark contrast between the initial shock and the subsequent banality of his existence. This abrupt ending, reminiscent of a children’s story, further underscores the story’s unsettling nature, highlighting the jarring disconnect between trauma and its outward manifestation.
Lagerlöf’s collection, while steeped in body horror themes, is punctuated by a darkly humorous undertone that might alleviate some of the discomfort for readers less tolerant of bodily grotesqueries. The narratives often veer into the absurd, evoking the spirit of writers like French pataphysician Jean Ferry or Swedish author Magnus Hedlund. This blend of absurdism and stark realism is evident in the opening story, featuring a home healthcare worker attending to an elderly woman who meticulously vacuum-seals all her food, labeling each package with dates spanning decades. This meticulous preservation, bordering on obsession, hints at deeper anxieties surrounding mortality and the relentless passage of time.
The collection’s absurdist fantastical elements lend themselves to a multitude of interpretations. The woman with her uterus in the bathtub, for example, can be seen as embodying the feminist theory of gender fluidity, challenging conventional notions of biological determinism. Other stories touch upon themes of societal anxieties, from body image obsession to the overwhelming influx of information in the modern age. Lagerlöf’s debut collection, while unsettling in its depictions of bodily grotesqueries, ultimately offers a thought-provoking and darkly humorous exploration of the human condition, inviting readers to confront their own anxieties and interpretations of a world riddled with absurdities.
