Between Girlhood and Apocalypse: An Interview with Hanna Nordenhök
Between Girlhood and Apocalypse: An Interview with Hanna Nordenhök Ulrika Lindqvist With a voice both poetic and political, Swedish writer Hanna Nordenhök crafts novels that explore power, language, and the dark undercurrents of human systems. In this conversation, she reflects on translation as a form of haunting, the aesthetic of surfaces, and why fiction may be the last refuge for truth in a post-post-truth world. Ulrika Lindqvist: Caesaria was originally published in Swedish in 2020 and only last year released in English translation. How did it feel to see your work reach a new audience, four years later and in a different language? Hanna Nordenhök: The mesmerizing experience of travelling with one’s words – that of which being translated consists – is a rare gift not given to all authors, and I am deeply grateful for the translations of Caesaria that’s been made so far: the English and the Spanish one’s as well as the upcoming Portuguese and French. That a novel like Caesaria, with its peculiar universe and very Nordic setting and rural landscape, would reach Mexican, Chilean, Canadian, British, Brazilian and French readers was a surprise. And another thing about being translated is of course that it gives you the sometimes wonderful, sometimes horrific, opportunity or obligation to revisit your earlier writing. With her translations Caesaria keeps travelling with me even though I created her more than six years ago, which means I cannot avoid her: I need to face the reasons why I wrote her and felt the necessity of creating her world exactly like that, and not in another shape or expression. UL: Were you involved in selecting Saskia Vogel as the translator for Caesaria? If so, what drew you to her as a collaborator, and how would you describe your relationship to the translation process? HN: Actually it was the other way around: it was Saskia Vogel that found her way to Caesaria. Which means it was partly thanks to her that the book was published in the UK and Canada. And to have Saskia as a partner in crime and literary creation is pure joy, a wonderful human being and a brilliant translator – I consider myself very lucky. The fact that Saskia, much like myself, also possess the interesting, ambivalent and deeply enriching artistic position of being both author and translator, is another dimension to it that I really cherish being in dialogue with. With her I have an ongoing meandering conversation on writing and translating, but also on Birgitta Trotzig, kids, life, the experience and memory of girlhood as a never-ceasing source of knowledge about this dark and surreal world… As I said: pure joy. UL: What initially sparked the idea for Caesaria? Were there particular events, images, or questions that guided you during the writing process? HN: The spark for Caesaria was a foot-note I found in a dissertation in history of ideas, that I was reading as part of my research for another novel, Asparna from 2017, where I explored 19thCentury reformatory detention centers and institutional violence against “savage children”, that is, criminal or anti-social low-class children that were subjected to the disciplinary system of that very emblematic epoch. This dissertation, though, dug into the history of Swedish gynecology, obstetrics and medical science on woman diseases, also during late 19th Century. And in that little foot-note I found the story of a girl born in 1862 through the first Caesarian section made in the city hospital of Uppsala by one of the pioneers in the field, a well-known doctor that operated on a poor, single woman who died after a couple of days: the orphaned girl was then named Caesaria by this very doctor, after the cut that brought her to life. I found this story so compelling and macabre, full of interesting aspects of power and powerlessness that had to do with class society as well as the male scientific gaze at the time that has shaped notions and fantasies on woman and women bodies prevailing up until our days. Around the real case Caesaria my own fictitious Ceasaria started to take shape in my head, she awoke so many thoughts on girlhood in patriarchy that I needed to explore. The fact that my work with the novel also took place while the first waves of the #metoomovement started to burst out was, of course, another contributingfactor, that in writing it formed a necessary bridge between history and present. UL: In your latest novel, Underlandet (Wonderland), you shift from the historical settings of your earlier works to a contemporary environment. How did that change affect your writing? Did you experience the creative process differently? HN: I find that I, in all of my novels to some extent, have been exploring zeitgeists, that is, certain epochs fashion of thoughts, political agendas, ideology productions and dominant ideas on what it means to be human or not – and how life takes shape inside different systems of selection and de-humanization. Who is cared for and who is abandoned or exploited in such systems?, has been a recurring question for me in my writing. In that sense, I feel there is little or none difference between my historical fiction and Wonderland, a novel that also, to me, very much consists in an exploration on the spirit of our times – or maybe more correctly the spirit of post-truth society that has led up to the moment we’re living right now: a post-post-truth world where all masks have fallen and what we see is pure violence, the shameless and non-disguised rise of fascism all over the planet. Which will be interesting to dwell upon when the Polish and Spanish translations of Wonderland will be published this fall. But maybe I’d rather describe the shift between historical fiction and contemporary fiction in my writing as a shift, or even connection, between past and apocalypse. For me it has been the same desire or compulsion to understand our existence that’s led me intohistorical settings and more contemporary ones. The bridge, I would say, is this sense of apocalypse – both as a revelation of a disastrous future or of those hidden undercurrents that rule our









