The first of Simon Stålenhag’s ‘narrative art’ books, Tales From the Loop is a fascinating example of storytelling delivered across both prose and visual art, in which evocative images of stunning Swedish landscapes, populated by wildly imaginative sci-fi creatures and machines, are contextualised and expanded upon with episodes of text interspersed throughout. In this alternative history of 1980s and 90s Scandinavia, Stålenhag explores the realities of growing up amongst the fading grandeur of the Loop, a vast particle accelerator constructed in the 50s beneath the Swedish countryside. Despite having been largely decommissioned by the time these stories take place, the presence of this ambitious technological marvel is clearly felt on the landscape and in the lives of the locals.
After a brief introduction giving a little backdrop to the Loop, just enough to contextualise its science fiction-esque technology and impressively believable history, things settle down into a fairly regular rhythm of artwork and accompanying text, with the occasional addition of pages from a sketchbook or standalone image. Stålenhag’s artwork is darkly beautiful and atmospheric, with a sense of melancholic nostalgia visible in almost every piece, reinforced by his sparse, economical prose. There’s a real sense of the everyday mixed with wonder in these stories, with discarded robots lying abandoned and overgrown, and dinosaurs and other beasts roaming wild, shown through the eyes of children sneaking around, playing in the snow, telling each other rumours and (probably) exaggerated stories, or just searching for something to do.
Everything is delivered with phenomenal attention to detail, from the maps serving as endpapers to the beautiful, intimate details so often present in both artwork and prose. Every image and piece of text seems to hold some juxtaposition or interesting contrast; towering structures loom over quiet pastoral scenes, brightly painted vehicles or robots stand out against stark, crisp Swedish scenery, and high-tech machinery contrasts with 80s and 90s vehicle design. All to the backdrop of local stories, friendships and dramas, and worry-free childhoods just edging into early recognition of what adult life might be like. It’s unconventional storytelling, but as evocative and atmospheric as you like, somehow both vast and personal in scale at the same time.
Unlike later work such as The Electric State, this is less a single ongoing narrative, more a series of vignettes musing on a broad theme, exploring youthful memories of that interstitial period moving from childhood into adolescence as the world around changes. It reads like a wonderful collection of artwork created individually before being linked together by a loose narrative after the fact, but it’s no less impactful for that (as evidenced by the fact it’s been adapted into its own TV show). It sticks proudly to its concept, as if Stålenhag is looking back to his own childhood to tell these stories and paint these incredible pictures of technology, everyday life and occasional whimsy all mixed together. If it’s (understandably) not as sophisticated as The Electric State, it’s nevertheless a compelling, melancholic alternate history and a fascinating insight into the mind and imagination of a phenomenal storyteller.
Artwork copyright Simon Stålenhag, via simonstalenhag.se
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