People in Småland are being provoked into action by a destructive species. It moves in packs at night. Gardens are being destroyed, farmland churned up. Yet its illusiveness draws in both visitors and inhabitants.
The forests of this stony province are home to a growing population of wild boar once on the verge of extinction. Told by three people newly arrived in an isolated community, Wild Boar is a compelling and poetic debut from Finnish/Swedish author Hannah Lutz about animals and people, their places in a changing ecosystem, and their capacities to grow and to destroy.
A short, poetic novella about a group of people moving to the Smaland forest where a group of wild boar are near extinction. The way this is written is so unique and I really have to praise the translator for such a poetic and surreal prose that makes you feel like you are walking through a dream.
I was a bit confused by the structure at first but it soon draws you in and it's very easy to appreciate the magic of the text. It really encapsulates the fairytale feel of the forest without coming across like your average fable or folktale. It definitely does something different and celebrates the dreamscape of the forest in a way I wasn't expecting.
If you want a very unique and short translation about nature and it's effect on the human mind, and vice versa, definitely would pick this up.
“I have seen them, the wild boar, they have found their way into my dreams!” Ritve travels from Finland to the forests of southern Sweden to track the creatures. Glenn, who appraises project applications for the council, has boar wander onto his property in the middle of the night. Mia, recipient of a council grant for her Recollections of a Sigga Child proposal, brings her ailing grandfather to record his memories for the local sound archive. As midsummer approaches, these three characters plus a couple of their partners will have encounters with the boar and with each other. Short sections alternate between their first-person perspectives. There is a strong sense of place and how migration poses challenges for both the human and more-than-human worlds. But it’s over before it begins. I found myself frustrated by how little happens, how stingily the characters reveal themselves, and how the boar, ultimately, are no more than a metaphor or plot device – a frequent complaint of mine when animals are central to a narrative. This might appeal to fans of Melissa Harrison’s fiction. In any case, I congratulate The Emma Press on their first novel, which won an English PEN Award.
Originally published, with more quotes, on my blog, Bookish Beck.
Mused on my review for this for quite a while. Perhaps wrong time, but this book hasn't landed as I hoped it may for me. The three characters provide different facets to a story. The story may have a wild creature at the heart, but the telling is incredibly human: love, regret, memory.
It's quiet, the moments of character reflection are quite beautiful. But didn't click.
Mildly existential, somewhat vibrating with dread, but also touching. I enjoyed getting through this in little over an hour, taking me to Småland and in the mind of these three characters with zero context. It’s just a window and a brief visit, nothing happens but a lot does too. It spoke a lot to my own fears and uncertainties in a way that felt comforting.
I loved this. We’re dropped straight into the action—no context, no introductions—and the result is a voyeuristic intimacy that feels both dreamy and unsettling. The plot is slippery, maybe even secondary, but the feeling is profound: a fog-drenched, moss-covered countryside that’s climatologically off-kilter. The sense of place is dense with foreboding, inhabited by a quiet constellation of queer lives shaped by their shifting environment.
Pappa och jag läste den på samma dag och har diskuterat den en stund nu. Ska ärligt säga att jag inte riktigt greppade innebörden, men vi har diskuterat nynazism och landsbygd och det spöklika i att vildsvinen i princip aldrig syns fast att alla pratar om dem och vet att de är närvarande i skogarna runt Siggalund.
I was hoping another review might point me towards what I was missing in this book - I even translated the Latvian review from Villis. I am still confused what I was supposed to be taking from each of the narratives - but at least now I can take heart that I am not the only one.
But, hey, always happy to support the lovely Emma Press.
It gets bumped up to a four for the quality of the prose/translation. I’m not sure I understood what was going on (if there was a deeper metaphor etc) but it was very dreamy. A story which floated along…
En poetisk skildring av det stora problemet med vildsvinen i Småland som alla sett men aldrig kan peka ut. Om jakten att få se dem, djuren som är överallt men ingenstans. Och om ensamhet. Och jakten på att få vara med om det som alla pratar om men man aldrig får vara med om.
En lille poetisk bog om drømme og længsler - og vildsvinene i den smålandske produktionsskov, Glenn, Mia og Ritve drømmer, men vildsvinene er ikke sådan at kontrollere.
An odd little book, kind of compelling, kind of a mystery, the boar like a phantom through it all, unseen, perhaps even a bit of a metaphor (for nature? migration?). An intriguing debut even if it didn't quite click for me.
I really wish this style of writing gripped me like it does other people. I just can’t get on well with it. The poetic flow was what kept me going to the end — and the fact that 102 pages can be chewed through quickly — but, to be honest, I felt nothing while reading this novella.
I’m not entirely sure what I was supposed to take from each of the characters’ tales and lives. None of them were interesting, and the pages about Mia were irritating to read. The stories aren’t long enough to adhere to the existentialism as there’s no depth; no time to relate to the characters or get to know them.
The whole book feels like a first draft, one that the author was supposed to add to but forgot.
This book is up there with Pedro Paramo and The Living and the Rest in my personal category of “uhhh…..?”. Like, I get it — I get the idea — I just don’t feel it.
En lille krøllet poetisk bog, jeg er ikke sikker på, jeg nogensinde bliver helt klar over, hvordan skal tolkes, men den slags bog, det er okay at gå og spekulere over.