Elin Lindell

A new sibling, a dying step-grandfather, and the introvert’s struggle in an extrovert age. With a sure sense of tone, Elin Lindell has written a pre-teen novel of impressively high quality. Although the book deals with life-changing events, it never becomes heavy or sombre. Instead, the text feels almost overheard, with dialogue that is as comical as it is true to life. 

Among the adults we encounter are a Nonna who keeps photos of all her former boyfriends in the toilet because “that’s where rubbish belongs”, a father who can’t travel backwards on the underground without feeling nauseous and breaking into a cold sweat, and a mother trying to manage both a baby and an eight-year-old in the midst of an existential crisis. In Jenka och jag (“Jenka and me”, not translated into English), Lindell offers a fully realised story which, while speaking directly to the child reader, also points towards the peculiarities of adults and their attempts to be so understanding and permissive that they become impossible to take seriously. The result is a genuinely funny book, without ever feeling forced in its pursuit of laughs. The humour arises naturally from the unexpected turns taken by the thoughts of the narrator, Uno. Although Uno has many thoughts, words don’t come easily, becoming an obstacle in a world that constantly demands quick responses. Through Uno, Lindell clearly highlights society’s view of those who don’t make themselves heard. To be quiet is to be considered strange.  

Yet in the waiting room of death – that is, the palliative care ward – Uno and his friend allow imagination to enter and take its place within the play of reality. It’s a clever choice by Lindell to situate play and imagination there. For surely it’s in the space between life and death that doubt can be planted about what’s real and what’s imagined.  

With Jenka, Uno is able to find his voice and become who he can and wants to be. At the same time, Lindell remains consistent in her portrayal of Uno, who still struggles to find words with anyone other than Jenka. Indeed, he is so much himself in other contexts – where he lacks Jenka’s protective intensity to lean against – that the adults around him are convinced that Jenka is an imaginary friend, conjured by the lonely Uno in the hospital corridors. The author even manages, for a moment, to make the reader question whether Jenka is real. The author even manages, for a moment, to make the reader question whether Jenka is real.  

Lindell portrays her characters with such natural flair that the reader feels they have encountered them all before, in one form or another, in different people. In her own everyday-style illustrations, which accompany the text, there is both reassurance and an expressive quality that enhances the book’s humour.  

Jenka och jag is an excellent pre-teen novel that dares to tackle big themes in a way that does not suffocate the reader under the heavy weight of sorrow and grief.  

Elin Lindell (b. 1981) is an author and illustrator. She made her debut in 2006 with the children’s book Stora syndboken (together with Lisa Bjärbo), and has since published and contributed to around twenty books. Her book Världens sämsta syster was awarded the Nils Holgersson Plaque in 2024, and Lindell has also been nominated for several literary prizes in Sweden.