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Literatuur Zonder Leeftijd. Jaargang 9 (1995)

Literatuur Zonder Leeftijd. Jaargang 9

(1995)– [tijdschrift] Literatuur zonder leeftijd–rechtenstatus Auteursrechtelijk beschermd

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illustratie

Peter Pohl's Janne min vän
Laurie Thompson1

Ingrid Nettervik, writing in Smålandsposten,2 is convinced the book she is reviewing is outstanding: It has everything you expect of a really good book: excitement, mystery, commitment, insight, authentic atmosphere, local colour, and vigorous language of literary distinction. What follows gives the game away, however: The qualities of this book are such that adult readers with high literary expectations should be able to get as much out of it as teenagers, albeit to some extent on different levels.

One important reason why Peter Pohl's first novel, Janne, min vän [Johnny, My Friend],3 has not received the recognition it deserves among serious critics and readers is that when it appeared in 1985, the publisher classified it as en ungdomsbok, a book for young people. Nils Schwarz described the situation exactly in his review for Expressen4: Quite correctly, the publisher's blurb is uncertain about whether the book should be classified as a book for adults or for young people, but the cover and the way it is being marketed place it in the latter genre.5 Most scholars, critics and serious readers are busy reading and pontificat-

ing on books by authors who are quite obviously writing for adults, and cannot find time for a book which looks like teenage fare. This is a pity, for Jan, mijn vriend could well be worth a place among the best novels of any kind written in Swedish for some considerable time.

It certainly attracted critical acclaim in the world of ‘children's literature,’ being described by a specialist in the genre as the book for young people in the 1980s - indeed, possibly The Book for young people of all time.6 Jan, mijn vriend was only the second novel ever to be awarded both the Nils Holgersson-plakett and Litteraturfrämjandets barnbokpris; the German translation (1989) was given a similar prize. Such distinctions are of course as gratifying as they are well deserved, but they help to establish the novel as reading for children, and hence not to be taken seriously by adults.

This paper will attempt to indicate some of the merits of Jan, mijn vriend as an outstanding novel well worth the attention of adults - and indeed, deserving of more detailed and serious critical study than there is room for here. After a brief summary of characteristics under the headings Language, Characterization and Narrative Technique, an attempt will be made to solve The Mystery which so fascinates everyone who reads the book, but which has not yet been explained.

Language

Peter Pohl professes surprise at the way in which reviewers reacted so positively to his language in Jan, mijn vriend, but he must be aware that it is a tour de force. His narrator, Krille, is a young boy turning twelve, writing in the mid-1950s, living in the Söder district of Stockholm, yet from a slightly higher-class background than most of his neighbours - his father is a chief clerk, with an English wife: most of his friends have fathers who are welders and glaziers and bricklayers, apart from Berra's who was a wino (p. 37).7 For much of the time, Krille uses authentic södersnack, the slang of what was at the time the

working-class area of Stockholm, vintage 1950s, with an appropriate measure of schoolboy slang; those in a position to judge are unanimous about the authenticity of the language, imbued with ironic humour in the fashion typical of big-city folk language. Thanks to the high level of education in his home, however, and the presence of a mother with a different native language, not to mention his own predilection for mathematics and scientific precision, Krille is nevertheless inhibited in his use of södersnack and frequently embarks on monologues couched in careful and correct Swedish, much to the frustration of his friends. (This aspect of his speech is typified in Krille's apparent inability to use any one of the various slang words for ‘bicycle,’ and his friends tease him mercilessly on this score.

When the context demands it, however, Krille's language throbs with half-suppressed sensuality and passion, as during their cycle ride to Flaten, the recreation area south of Stockholm where Krille and Jan are going to camp out for the night (p. 187-187), or shortly before Jan wakes up the next morning, or when Krille and Jan swear eternal friendship and Jan produces his poem.

At first glance, then, the language Pohl uses in Jan, mijn vriend seems to be humorously authentic södersnack; a closer examination reveals considerable subtlety well worth detailed critical examination by sophisticated adult readers.

Narrative Technique

The narrative technique used by Pohl in Jan, mijn vriend is complicated, much more so than one would expect in a ‘children's book.’

The time sequence is convoluted: the actual chronological sequence is quite short, and only a few hours pass between the beginning of the novel as the police start interrogating Krille and the gang, and the end of the novel over two hundred and fifty pages later, when Krille leads the police to the scene of a crime evidently involving the death of Jan. In between, a series of flashbacks supplies details of what has happened over the previous year and a half. Krille, the first-person narrator, is cross-questioned about his relationship with Jan, and key words or incidents evoked by his answers to the questions result in often quite lengthy descriptions of what has happened in the past. Add to this the insertion into the narrative of passages in italics (denoting Krille's thoughts which he does not disclose to the police),

bold print and double spacing (registering in the narrator's mind - possibly at different levels - simultaneous happenings), and it is understandable why at least one German lady was confused by it all:

... je weiter die Geschichte fortschritt, desto verwirrender wurde der Inhalt... Völlig enttäuscht bin ich von dem Ende der Geschichte. Die letzten neun Seiten strotzen vor unglaublicher, nahezu philosophischer Betrachtungen eines Kindes... Ein völlig unerklärliches Spiel mit Druckerschwärze verwirrt noch mehr.8

There is clearly a gap between what some specialists in children's literature expect, and what fascinates not only children, but adults as well.

Of considerable interest is the way Pohl toys with aspects of documentary techniques. Krille is developing from a child with a restricted range of understanding into a young adult with much more sophisticated insight, and hence his conception of reality is constantly being adjusted. It is important that events in the novel should appear to be realistic, even if they are sometimes beyond the comprehension of the narrator. Pohl has stated that everything that can be checked must be true,9 and he certainly remains true to his beliefs in Jan, mijn vriend in this respect. In order to make the apparently less likely aspects of his novel seem plausible, Pohl is meticulous in providing an authentic setting and a mass of details about events, statistics and any number of other things which establish the reality of his plot.

The streets, shops and houses, and such things as the steps down which Jan rides his bicycle (p. 25) are absolutely authentic. The description of Södra Latin, the grammar school in the working class Söder district, is accurate to the smallest detail, and Pohl takes great delight in satirizing most traditional aspects of the school (something which was to become characteristic of several of his later novels): former pupils acknowledge the authenticity, and although one need not necessarily agree with all Pohl's satire, he certainly describes Swedish education in the 1950s in a way which is recognizable to anyone familiar with it.

The novel is liberally supplied with statistics concerning such things as the population of Stockholm, the accident rate, car sales data, sports records, temperatures and weather at various times of year, and so on. The author of this paper has taken up Pohl's challenge and ‘checked everything that can be checked,’ and concluded that the author is justified in his claim - with a few inevitable and minor discrepancies. (Pohl claims, for instance, that the Easter of 1955 was the coldest for 72 years: according to Svenska Dagbladet,10 it was the coldest for 78 years - but does it matter? It was pretty cold anyway...) The references to former pupils of Södra Latin and their subsequent eminence on the stage and in politics are authentic, as are the high jump records of ‘Benke’ Nilsson, the motor-cycling exploits of ‘Varg-Olle’ Nygren, Russian submarines being spotted off Stockholm, and references to the abandoning of the ration book for spirits. The summer of 1955 was indeed the hottest for many years, and there were certainly frequent press reports of sexual abuse of young children, culminating in the notorious case of Kerstin Blom, who disappeared on 18 July and was discovered dead in a suitcase in Ålbysjön on 24 July.11

Perhaps most interesting is the death of Per Anders Andersson and his father Karl Hildur in the summer cottage at Bromma: not only are the details absolutely authentic, the newspaper articles quoted in the novel (p. 89-91) are identical with reports in Dagens Nyheter on 6th and 7th April, 1955 (apart from the fact that the real father was called Hilding rather than Hildur). Even the references to the sheath knife, the small axe and the smell of paraffin are present in the DN articles (and in parallel articles in other Swedish dailies).

In short, Pohl uses authentic facts to establish the plausibility of his story, and hence adds an aura of credibility to the (apparently) fictional aspects. So successful has he been in establishing this reality,

he has grown weary of assuring interviewers that he is not in fact identical with Krille, and that Jan may not be after all a factual person, and that although part of his aim was to draw attention to the exploitation of the weak in Swedish society, this does not necessarily mean Jan was based on a real person.

Character

In many respects, the way in which Pohl establishes the character of Jan and Krille is an extension of the narrative technique. Jan is a mysterious figure with no apparent background. The reader knows only what Krille tells him, and that naturally concentrates on Jans daring exploits and skills, and his refusal to say anything about his past or even his present way of life. The italicized thoughts Krille has while talking to the policeman indicate from the very start, and before the reader has time to work it out for himself, that the relationship between Jan and Krille is very strong, more than a normal friendship, and that something catastrophic has happened to Jan; but the piecing together of the facts is a slow process, and often has to be based on deductions and assumptions rather than given data. Krille may well have suspicions which he represses, but it is not until the end of the novel that he recognizes what the alert reader has understood long before, namely that Jan is in fact a girl (or more probably, a young woman) and a circus artiste. It occurs (or should occur!) to the reader quite early in the story that Jan does not appear to go to school, that he (let us continue to refer to Jan as ‘he’!) is unduly sensitive to playful attempts to remove his trousers (p. 44), or to go swimming with the gang (pp. 16-19), that he lacks the ball sense that comes naturally to most boys and has no interest in football (p. 47), that he is suspiciously prone to kiss people (p. 60), that he is surprisingly well informed about circus clowns (pp. 69) while being amazingly ignorant on other matters of general knowledge, that he conspicuously fails to turn up for a planned dinner followed by a visit to the circus - Krille is unpleasantly surprised by Jans absence, yet does not register the fact that his parents are not in the least put out, and that his mother did not even prepare an extra portion of dinner (p. 126). We are never told how much Krille's parents and sister know about Jan, but it is obvious they know much more than Krille has realized; the reader, being aware of Krille's private

thoughts and his experiences together with Jan, knows more about the shady nature of Jans background and is thus more prepared for the catastrophe when it comes.

But Pohl makes Jan more than just a realistic person. To Krille, Jan is almost mythological, a god-like figure to be worshipped, but mysterious, possessing magic powers and not really of this world - an attitude that begins to be undermined as he falls in love with Jan: for that is surely what happens. This mysterious quality is emphasized by references which must pass well above the head of a young reader, but which are available to an educated adult. Jan is frequently compared to Astrid Lindgren's Pippi Longstocking, the irrepressible and naughty little girl with no family around her, amazing skills, enormous strength and great self-confidence, but the literary references go further. Like Pippi, Jan does not wish to grow up, and there are indications of an eternal childhood world but with constant external threats reminiscent of Peter Pan. Jans ambiguous gender and habit of suddenly appearing and disappearing put the reader in mind of Romantic characters and mythological figures, not least Tintomara in C.J.L. Almqvist's Drottningens juvelsmycke. Indeed, Jan has traces of a siren or Waldweib about him, and when Krille begins to associate him with the snatch of rhythmical poetry so young, so lovely, so far far away, one is reminded of Rydberg's young and beautiful gypsycum-wood-nymph Singoalla, who announced: I come from far away and never stay in any place. The tragic ends of Tintomara and Singoalla must prepare the reader for what happens to Jan.

Krille is a brilliant psychological study of a young, talented boy approaching the age of puberty, limited in his experience, knowledge and background but with intelligence and insight beyond his age. Over and over again, one feels Krille knows more about what is happening to him and round about him than he can bring himself to acknowledge, that his awareness is frequently suppressed but is nevertheless there, nagging away at his mind. His instinctive suspicion that there is a connection between Per Anders Andersson and Jan drives him to spend so much time investigating the crime and looking for the boy's body: Krille clearly knows Per Anders and Jan are not identical, but persists in pretending to himself that they might be. He is aware that the circumstances of his life dictate that he must gradually disassociate himself from the gang, but is reluctant to accept the fact, and this dichotomy is typical of Krille's thoughts and actions as he slowly edges towards becoming a young adult. The

trauma of Jans abduction and evident death hasten Krille's growingup process, and at the end of the novel he is asking himself the question so familiar to young people: why did I not accept what I really knew deep down and do more to help my friend, and how will I ever recover from the guilt I feel for this appalling tragedy?

The reader has to work out the details of Krille's character for himself, however, since all the evidence he is given is channelled through Krille, the narrator with only a limited understanding of what is happening round about him. It is this restricted narrative viewpoint which creates the mystery all commentators refer to and all readers are forced to contemplate.

The Mystery

As suggested above, some of the mystery surrounding Jan should be unravelled before an alert reader comes to the end of the book; but there are details which need much detective work and several readings of the text before they can be fitted into place. This is an aspect of Jan, mijn vriend which never fails to stimulate thought and discussion, and no commentator has yet attempted to suggest a detailed solution in print - understandably so, since any interpreter has the nagging worry that while his explanation is probably correct, it could just be that some pointer, some detail has been overlooked or misconstrued... At the very end of the novel, for instance, it is obvious that Jan is dead, and probable that he has been murdered - but why, and by whom? In a radio interview (19/8.91), Pohl was asked why two ambulances arrive on the scene at the end of the book: he claimed he did not know. What had Jan done which was so awful, he had to be killed? asked the interviewer. Pohl replied that he could not explain that, the answers were in the book - his stock answer to all requests for help in interpreting his novel.

Before attempting to supply a solution to the more obscure mysteries, let us begin by outlining the bare bones of the plot as presented by Krille, the narrator: Krille and his gang of friends, all boys living in a restricted area in the Söder district of Stockholm, are playing on their bicycles as usual after school, when Jan emerges from nowhere, impresses them all with his skills as a rider and mechanic, and goes on to impress even more with daredevil stunts such as riding down a long flight of steps beside the grammar school

and narrowly escaping death at the foot, and walking along a narrow rail over a deep ravine with a busy road down below. Krille and Jan become special friends, and Jan often visits Krille's home in the evenings. But Jan disappears for long periods without trace and without explanation, and it transpires he has no parents and lives in a filthy cubby-hole in what appears to be a cycle repair shop run by a man nicknamed ‘the Monster’ by Krille. Krille becomes increasingly worried and upset at these absences, and the bond between the two seems to be on the way to something stronger than mere friendship. After one of his long absences, Jan turns up one morning covered in bruises, but refuses to give any explanation. At around this time, Krille comes into conflict with his English teacher at school, nicknamed Mr G.G., and there is a major conflict at the end of the school year when Mr G.G. is shown to have falsified the marks awarded to Krille, whose mother is English; there is an enquiry, Mr G.G. is exposed, and is forced to resign. Jan is missing all the long, hot summer of 1955, but turns up as if nothing had happened soon after school has restarted. Jan and Krille go off to Flaten, spending the night in a wooden hut Jan has evidently built himself. By now Krille realizes that Jan has a host of dreadful secrets and leads a strange and degrading life, but he seems unable to persuade Jan to tell him the truth. During the night, Krille thinks he hears Mr G.G. and the Monster outside the hut - or was it a dream? The next day, they find a similar hut has been burnt down in circumstances reminiscent of a mysterious arson, murder and suicide incident Krille had read about in the newspaper during the summer while Jan was away, and for a while had thought the victim may have been Jan. By now Jan has admitted he knows Mr G.G., but he will not say how. Soon afterwards, Jan tells Krille they are ‘supposed’ to go to the hut again, and stages a fight which makes it look as though the two of them have quarrelled. A little later, the police question the gang, and Krille is able to give them details about Jan and eventually take them to the hut, where they seem to find at least one body, that of Jan. The policeman confirms what Krille had begun to suspect: Jan was in fact a girl and circus artiste who performed on the trapeze and tightrope under the name of Miss Juvenile.

As noted above, the alert reader will have deduced that Jan is a female circus artiste, and having become used to making such deductions, would doubtless have been alert to other clues suggesting explanations of apparently mysterious happenings, even if the precise

circumstances were not always clear. He would have noted Mr G.G.'s spiteful treatment of Krille, for instance, and suspected a link between that and Jans report that he had been told by G.G. not to mix with Krille (p. 179). He would have been suspicious when a picture of the circus manager in a newspaper seemed to look rather like Mr G.G. (p. 141-142), and been sure it was not a mere dream when Krille thought he heard Mr G.G. and the Monster outside the hut when he and Jan were camping (pp. 205).

Just how Jan became involved with the circus is not explained, although Krille's apparently far-fetched theories about baby-snatching and kidnapping may not be quite as wide of the mark as they first seem (p. 142-143). The moving story of how Jan accidentally hit his little brother with a knife while throwing at a target on a tree (p. 63) might suggest a hold the circus people had on him: had he run away from the consequences, hence his lack of a family but emotional memories of how pleasant family life had once been? What is beyond question is that Jan has been exploited by the circus people from an early age, but that for some reason he is terrified of revealing the truth or running away.

It becomes increasingly clear also that Jan has been sexually abused. Krille comments on the many newspaper stories of child sex abuse during the hot summer of 1955 in Stockholm, on how his father has always told him never to accept help from strangers in return for little favours, and there is even a description of how such an attempt is made on Krille outside the cemetery. Jan admits to having earned money by doing little favours, and although the book does not spell it out, it seems virtually certain that Jan is involved in some kind of sex ring. Krille comments on how Tok-Göran seems to have all the attributes of a dirty old man, but has never made any overtures to him. On the other hand, Tok-Göran clearly knows Miss J.J., as she is known in the circus world, very well, and although this could be because he had met her while working at the circus, there are hints that he might have more intimate knowledge than that. Could it be that Tok-Göran is in fact a dirty old man, who may not be interested in little boys but very interested in girls?

That may be peripheral, but the obvious similarity between ‘J.J.’ and ‘G.G.’ plus the evidence referred to above makes it clear that the English teacher is deeply involved in Jans fate. He may well be connected with the circus management, and it seems highly probable that he is a leading member of the sex ring, together with the Mon-

ster. The way in which G.G. was exposed and forced to resign by Krille would be ample reason for G.G. ordering Jan to have nothing to do with him, partly from spite and partly from a fear of being further exposed. It seems highly probable that by the end of the book, G.G. and the Monster are in great fear of being caught, and that they are planning the death of both Jan and Krille - a murder which looks like an accident.

One of the most nagging problems for the reader to solve is the precise role of the incident at Bromma during the summer, when Karl Hildur Andersson, a depressed and crippled father, apparently murders his son Per Anders, a pupil at Krille's school, then sets fire to the cottage and commits suicide before the fire catches hold. Some stress is placed on the fact that when police investigated, they found a sheath knife and a small axe, and commented on a smell of paraffin.

It must, then, be significant that when the roughly-made hut was burnt down at Flaten the night Krille and Jan were out camping, there was a distinct smell of paraffin (p. 210). In the much more substantial hut where the pair stayed, built by Jan, there was a sheath knife and a small axe hidden in a recess (p. 188). It seems obvious that the roughly-built hut was burnt down by Mr G.G. and the Monster, either in the hope of killing Krille and Jan, or as a warning to them. But what about the knife and the axe? Krille assumes they were used by Jan to build the hut, and no doubt that was so (p. 224). But could they also have had some other purpose? Could they be useful weapons to have handy in case, during the granting of ‘small favours,’ Jan found himself in danger?

The police version of the incident at Bromma was that it was a case of murder and suicide, but Krille is not so sure. The son allegedly killed by his father was agile, a goalkeeper in his school football team, while his father was a cripple who could only walk with the aid of crutches: is it really credible that the son could not escape an attack from a cripple? Moreover, it was stressed by all who knew the family that the father was devoted to his son. Could there be an even more sinister explanation?

Jan could not have been involved in the killings, because we know the circus was performing in Nuremberg at the time of the tragedy. It was term time, however, so that Mr G.G. would still have been in Stockholm. Even if Jan were not present, the knife and the axe found in the cottage suggest he was somehow involved. It transpires later

that he almost certainly knew the murdered boy: when Krille asks him if he knows Per Anders Andersson, Jan says one cannot know a person who doesn't exist; Jan is evasive when Krille asks if Jan knew him when he did exist (p. 206). Curiouser and curiouser! How could Jan know a boy at Södra Latin School who was not in Krille's gang? He could hardly have read about the case in the Stockholm newspapers if he was performing in Germany. Had he been told about the incident in some other way? Or did he in fact know Per Anders before his murder, and if so, how?

An explanation which fits the facts goes as follows: Per Anders Andersson was also mixed up in the sex ring, as well as Jan - perhaps he had been corrupted by Mr G.G. His doting father had become suspicious, and what he discovered made him very depressed, especially when he discovered his own summer cottage at Bromma had been used for assignations. It was clear that a showdown was imminent, and Mr G.G. realized he must do something desperate to protect himself. Either on the father's initiative, or at the instigation of Mr G.G., a meeting was arranged at the cottage. (Jan had also been using the cottage when granting little favours, and had left his sheath knife and small axe there while he was away touring with the circus, either on his own initiative or in the care of his colleague, Per Anders.) Mr G.G. arrived, but surprised the father and son who were expecting a discussion of sorts, and instead killed them - the boy had been trying to escape through the door, but was beaten savagely; the father, being a cripple, could do little more than watch helplessly, only to be killed himself in turn. Mr G.G. then poured paraffin over the floor and walls, set fire to the cottage, and escaped by breaking the window and clambering through, leaving the door locked on the inside - the fire would shatter the windows in any case, and the blame would fall on the father.

Jan heard about what had happened to his ‘friend’ on his return from Germany, and became even more afraid of the situation in which he found himself. G.G. knew that Krille was also a threat, and having successfully got rid of young Andersson decided, in collusion with the Monster, that it was time to dispose of Krille and Jan. They encouraged Jan to take Krille to Flaten, where they expected them to spend the night in the cottage they eventually set fire to. The previous evening, Krille had seen the Monster standing smoking by the lake, possibly waiting for the pair to appear, or possibly keeping an eye on them. Jan was determined to protect Krille, and hence had

built the splendid hut hidden among the trees, unknown to G.G. and the Monster. The latter were thwarted when they failed to find Krille and Jan, and went searching for them - hence their appearance near Jans hut, and the voice of Mr G.G. Krille thought he heard as he was half-awake during the night. Frustrated and furious, G.G. and the Monster set fire to the roughly built hut even so, in order to scare Jan even more. Hence the tell-tale smell of paraffin.

Jan is soon afterwards instructed by G.G. and the Monster to take Krille to Flaten again, and Jan visits Krille to make the invitation. He knows he is being watched, but is still determined to protect Krille and fakes a fight so that he can tell G.G. and the Monster he tried, but because of the fight there is no possibility of his persuading Krille to make the trip. This leads to the struggle witnessed by neighbours as Jan is carried out to the Studebaker, kicking and screaming, by the Monster and another man - no doubt Mr G.G. They force Jan to tell them about the concealed hut, and make him take them there. There is a violent struggle in the hut, and Jan manages to grab either or both of his sheath knife and axe. He is eventually overcome and killed, but he manages either to kill or at least to wound seriously one of his assailants.

If there were two bodies, this would explain why two ambulances were needed. There can be no doubt that Jan is capable of murder - as early as the incident when a bigger boy steals the gang's football, Jan becomes involved in a fight and almost strikes Krille by accident with a spanner (p. 50). The blow had been aimed at one of the bigger boys (a goalkeeper, incidentally, who is agile enough to evade Jans charge), but Krille sees murder in Jans eyes and is so disturbed he asks Jan later if he really intended to hit the older boy (implying: did he really mean to kill him?). As usual, Jan is evasive (p. 51).

 

It is difficult to see any other satisfactory explanation for the ‘mystery’ upon which the author refuses to elaborate, and which commentators refrain from attempting to solve, for whatever reason. It is hardly the sort of subject matter one normally associates with a children's book, but as Ingrid Nettervik says in her review, the book can be read and understood on several different levels: younger readers may well be happy to leave parts of the mystery unsolved. After all, one of the main themes in the novel is that of growing up, of growing awareness as a young boy - Krille, the narrator - begins to emerge from the fantasy world that has been his early childhood and

starts to register in his conscious mind the stark reality of life round about him. Hitherto, he has suppressed conscious recognition of disturbing facts, retreated into the safe world of his card index file or the fantasy world of comics and science fiction theories about ‘other worlds’ and the fifth dimension. But as his English mother informs him, pointing at a map of the world: nothing you can think up in your imagination is so peculiar that it couldn't happen somewhere or other out there (p. 144-145).


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