Involution Labs

Tag: Fiction

  • En tidsresa

    Nora är en liten trästad mitt i Bergslagen, omgivet av skog och sjöar som sträcker sig bortom horisonten. Jag, Toini, har alltid älskat Nora för den där känslan av närhet till naturen, som om platsen själv var en del av mitt ursprung. Inte bara född av min mamma, utan av själva jorden, träden och vattnet.

    Det finns ett träd i Striberg, en liten by åtta kilometer härifrån, som jag alltid känt en särskild koppling till. Det var som om det skickade en signal till mig för länge sedan, och då byggde jag en koja där uppe bland grenarna. När jag tog med mina barn dit förrförra sommaren fanns kojan fortfarande kvar, sliten men stadig.

    Det fanns något särskilt med den där platsen. Vi klättrade upp, och jag såg hur mina barn, som nästan vuxit ikapp mig vid det här laget, enkelt fick plats. Jag satt där med benen dinglande över kanten, när något märkligt hände. Det var som om tiden vände sig själv ut och in. Plötsligt var jag liten igen, precis så liten som när jag byggde kojan första gången.

    Mina barn skrattade rakt ut, inte av chock utan av ren glädje. Marika kramade mig hårt.

    ”Du är så söt, Toini! Du ser ut som ett busfrö som precis planerar något stort… som att gömma en macka i en sko.”

    Kejt torkade bort några lyckotårar.

    ”Eller som någon som redan gömt mackan och bara väntar på att någon ska sätta på sig skon.”

    De kände igen mig direkt från gamla fotografier. Nu var de äldre än mig, elva och tolv, och vi skrattade tills magen gjorde ont.

    Jag hittade en platt metallgrej i fickan och höll upp den.

    ”Vad är det här?” frågade jag.

    ”Din nya drog,” svarade Marika torrt.

    ”Ja,” sa Kejt, ”du kollar på den minst 125 gånger om dagen.”

    ”Mer som 1125 gånger,” inflikade Marika med ett skratt.

    ”Så den funkar som ett fönster till en parallell värld? Typ som en magisk spegel?”

    ”Mest som en magisk spegel som visar vad folk åt till frukost och vilka memes som trendar,” sa Kejt.

    De visade mig hur man tog en bild, en ”groupie” som de kallade det. Kejt höll upp apparaten, vi tryckte oss nära och sa ”hej” samtidigt som han klickade på skärmen. Plötsligt fanns jag där, på skärmen, med mitt spretiga, egenklippta hår.

    ”Jag ser ut som en blandning mellan en igelkott och en vildidé,” sa jag.

    Vi skrattade igen, lika mycket åt bilden som åt min min.

    Det var något särskilt med den dagen. Vi stannade i kojan tills solen började gå ner, och vi visste att så snart vi lämnade den, skulle jag vara vuxen igen. Men det gjorde inget.

    ”Det gör inget att du blir vuxen,” sa de i mun på varandra. ”Du har alltid varit på vår nivå. Fast med fler räkningar att betala.”

  • End of Year Ceremony

    Karin read the joint email from the city’s schools one more time.

    The principal of the secondary school wrote that they would very much like to continue the tradition of holding the end-of-year ceremony in the church, but that her speech must not contain any religious elements whatsoever. Not like last year, when she had ended by wishing the children a pleasant and blessed summer.

    One word.

    Blessed.

    “Then why are you holding the ceremony in a church,” Karin muttered as she typed her reply, “if you want to restrict my right to say what lies closest to my heart—the very thing I have been called to say in my role as a priest?”

    She smiled to herself.

    She always built her sermons around the infinite love of the cosmos. She intended to do the same this time.

    Karin practiced a form of spirituality that not even the Church of Sweden quite knew what to make of, but her message had always been the same: to bring people together, not divide them.

    When the day arrived, she was unusually nervous.

    What was expected of her and what was about to happen were not necessarily the same thing.

    She reminded herself that light had always made people uneasy.

    Karin welcomed everyone into the church, dressed in its summer finery. Once everyone was seated, she closed the doors and, her legs trembling slightly, climbed into the pulpit.

    “When I stand here before you,” she said, “I am dazzled by your light. The inner light that shines so brightly it can sometimes be difficult to see. But I can see clearly that the future is bright because of you.”

    She let her gaze wander across the room.

    “You have chosen to celebrate an ending and a beginning here. You are ending a school year and stepping into a summer of unfamiliar things. You do not need to go to church to be loving, and you do not need to be here to believe in something greater than yourselves. But sometimes people need to gather in ways they otherwise would not, to acknowledge what brings us together.”

    She paused.

    “Light.”

    The children sat quietly.

    “You celebrate your birthday once a year. You come here once a year. Days like these are for letting go and replenishing yourselves. You are concluding a year of worldly learning in a place that can remind you of something larger. The cosmos dissolves boundaries.”

    She smiled.

    “I hope you at least catch a glimpse of your own greatness. I don’t mean followers or comments, but your inner light.”

    She stepped down from the pulpit.

    “To see yourselves and one another more clearly, we are going to do a simple exercise.”

    Karin demonstrated with her hands.

    “Stand like warriors. Follow the movements and sweep away whatever no longer serves you. What truly belongs with you will remain.”

    They followed her lead.

    “Now take each other’s hands. Form an unbroken chain.”

    The church fell silent.

    “Close your eyes if you wish. Think of something you are grateful for. Say it silently or aloud. Feel that gratitude moving through you, like a wave of light.”

    Karin walked slowly through the church, between the rows.

  • What Astrid Lindgren Understood About Children That We Still Don’t

    We like to believe that we respect children. We say we care about them, we protect them, we educate them, and we make decisions for them in what we call their best interest. But respect is something else entirely, and if we’re honest, we’re not very good at it.

    Astrid Lindgren understood that, not as an idea, but as a way of being. She didn’t just write stories for children, she wrote from their perspective, which is a very different thing. Most adults write down to children, simplifying, correcting, shaping, but Astrid entered their world without trying to control it.

    That’s why characters like Pippi Longstocking didn’t make sense to adults. She was too independent, too strong, too unpredictable. Adults were uncomfortable with her, but children weren’t. Children recognised something in her that adults had forgotten or perhaps never really trusted in the first place.

    We often say we love children, but love without respect easily turns into control. We decide what they should feel, what they should learn, how they should behave, and we call it guidance, when in reality it often becomes management. Astrid believed something much simpler and much more radical: give children love, more love, and then some more love, and common sense will come by itself. It sounds soft, but it isn’t, because it requires trust, and trust is exactly where we struggle.

    We don’t trust children to know themselves. We don’t trust them to feel deeply. We don’t trust them to grow without being shaped into something acceptable. And it shows in how we speak to them, how quickly we correct them, and how little space we give them to be fully themselves.

    Astrid didn’t just write about children, she defended them. She influenced how people thought, and her work contributed to Sweden becoming the first country to ban corporal punishment. That didn’t happen by accident. It came from a very clear understanding that children are not something to control, they are people.

    And yet, even now, that idea still feels radical. We celebrate her stories, we turn them into films, we quote her, but we don’t always live by what she believed. Because if we did, we would have to change how we listen, how we respond, and how much control we think we are entitled to have.

    It’s easier to admire Astrid Lindgren than to take her seriously. But maybe that’s the point. We don’t just struggle to understand children. We struggle to respect them.

  • Literature and Journalism: Where Do They Meet?

    What is the difference between literature and journalism? Are they two completely separate forms of writing, or are they simply different ways of telling the truth?

    Literature refers to written works, especially books and other printed texts. It can include fiction and non-fiction, prose and poetry, and many different forms such as novels, short stories, and drama. Literature uses language to create worlds, characters, and situations that may be fictional but still reflect real human experience.

    Storytelling is ancient. Long before printing presses and newspapers existed, people told stories orally. When writing systems developed in places like Mesopotamia and later in the Americas, stories began to be recorded. The invention of alphabets in the Middle East and Greece, papermaking in China, and later printing technologies transformed how stories were preserved and shared.

    Literature shaped human understanding of the world for thousands of years. Our sense of history, culture, and identity would be unimaginable without it.

    Journalism developed much later but shares some of the same roots. Journalism focuses on gathering, assessing, and presenting information about real events. The earliest journalistic records can be traced back to ancient Rome, where daily news was carved on stone and displayed in public places. In China, government bulletins also recorded events to keep officials informed.

    Modern newspapers began to appear in Europe in the early seventeenth century. The first regular German newspaper appeared in 1609, and English-language newspapers followed soon after. Over time, journalism became an organised profession with its own standards and practices.

    While literature explores truth through imagination, journalism aims to report facts about current events. Journalists traditionally focus on answering five key questions: who, what, where, when, and why. Their work is expected to be informative, accurate, and accessible to a broad audience.

    Today the internet has transformed both literature and journalism. Blogs, social media, and online publications have changed how stories are written, distributed, and consumed. At the same time, the boundary between professional journalism and citizen reporting has become less clear.

    The relationship between literature and journalism is often summarised in a famous phrase: journalism is literature in a hurry. Journalists must publish quickly, while writers of literature may spend years refining a single work.

    Yet both forms of writing attempt to capture truth. Literature turns truth into art and allows readers to imagine other perspectives. Journalism attempts to reveal what is happening in the world right now.

    Perhaps they are not opposites after all, but two different ways of helping us understand reality.

  • Where Do Fact and Fiction Begin and End?

    Is there really a clear line between fact and fiction?

    When we think about fantasy, it is easy to assume it is entirely invented. Yet imaginative writing often requires deep research. In some ways, fiction can be a way of searching for truth.

    Does it matter whether something really happened? Are works of non-fiction always completely truthful? And would non-fiction even be as interesting without a flicker of imagination?

    Sometimes fiction can contain more truth than factual writing. Non-fiction may also include narrative shaping, interpretation, or omissions. This is especially true in journalism, where reporters must interpret events based on incomplete information and sources that may disagree.

    Historians face the same challenge. History is not simply a collection of facts; it is an interpretation of events layered with perspective. Even if we had witnessed an event ourselves, we would never see all its layers. A historical novel therefore becomes a mixture of fact and fiction by necessity.

    Perhaps the most useful approach is to keep an open mind. When we read fiction, we can assume there may be truth hidden inside it. When we read non-fiction, we can assume that interpretation and bias may also be present.

    After all, stories marketed as “based on a true story” often attract us more strongly. They seem to carry greater value, even if the boundary between truth and invention is unclear.

    Today it may not be literature that shapes our sense of reality, but the stories we share online. Viral stories often gain trust simply because they are popular.

    So, do we prefer fiction, or at least a mixture of fact and fiction? And is that why people are often more interested in the stories behind the news than the news itself?

    Perhaps fiction is not the opposite of truth, but simply another way of approaching it.

  • The Blurring Lines: Fact, Fiction, and the Changing Face of Journalism

    A Communication Revolution

    We are living in the middle of a communication revolution and change is the only thing we can trust. We have gone from handwriting to print to the internet, and we still don’t know the full effect of this most recent communication revolution. Journalism is writing, but it’s also storytelling and a filter of reality.

    The Foundations of Journalism: Facts vs. Fiction

    Journalism is still about the five w questions and one h question.

    Who? What? When? Where? Why? How? At times, one might feel the urge to add are you joking? And seriously? Or at least to oneself, is this real?

    Journalism is a filter of reality. Journalists are information consultants who filter through information and opinion

    The Rise of Engineered and Fake News

    Today, we live in a world with engineered news and fake news. Journalism is losing power to people journalism or citizen journalism. We live in a reality where alternative news and facts are shaking and stirring not just journalism but politics and democracy.

    It’s old media against social media and also asocial media. Today, journalism compete with people shaping news with their opinion and feelings.

    The Blurred Lines: Information vs. Opinion

    Journalism has to adhere to ethics and take responsibility for unbiased reporting. Journalism must tell, inform and enlighten not falsify, mislead and seduce, but the border is gone.

    It’s hard to see what’s real and what’s propaganda. We filter news to get our worldview confirmed not challenged. Friends and family and celebrities mean more to us than journalists. X breaks the news now, not newsrooms.

    Different truths fight for attention in media, and false news have it easier since disbelief is everywhere now. It’s no longer sure that news is real and unbiased, the lie has become normal. Journalism has lost its status. Journalism has become misplaced.

    But does it have to be like this?

    The Impact of the Digital Era on Journalism

    We consume more news now than ever before. Technically, journalism has never had such good conditions to be produced and distributed as in the digital era, but everyone wants news and stories for free, and it must be short and instant. The erosion of the boundary between truth and lie has changed journalism.

    The erosion of the difference between information and opinion has changed journalism.

    The fact that good journalism can still be produced does not mean that it will be able to play the same role in people’s perception of reality as before. The information gap we see opens up in a digital society is not because the information is missing or unavailable, but the digital era has revolutionised the terms not only for journalism but the conditions for all human communication.

    How we tell the world has an impact, and as we today say it more through pictures, we don’t necessarily get more than a thousand words. A picture hasn’t been analysed the way a printed text on the subject has been and images can also be manipulated and sometimes we don’t know if what we see is what is there.

    Fiction as a Lens for Truth

    What is communicated directly through sound and moving picture say something different than when the same news is delivered through print. It speaks to another part of our brain. We are intellectually more defenceless when faced with pictures and also emotionally more vulnerable. The internet is changing how we see the world.

    How we tell the world is no small matter, we can make it better or worse depending on our ability to truthfully depicting our experience and the stories we are told to the world. Veracity is not the same as truth. Veracity is an aim, not a result.

    Journalism can’t be fiction or lies or untruth or degrees of truth. Journalism is the art of relevant storytelling, and we need it more than ever. Journalism informs and educates us on what we need to know not just what we want to know. The innate level of journalism is curiosity.

    Realistically today, we can charge for good journalism on the internet if the demand for good journalism exists and it does. We have to make the internet free and let people pay for quality content instead.

    What This Means for Journalism Today

    I grew up in an era when reading the morning newspaper and watching the eight-o clock news were sacred rituals. The news seldom confirmed my worldview, but we didn’t question the news as we do today. The news informed, and people took newsbreaks instead of getting depressed. Today part of being both a journalist and a citizen is the ability to distinguish between true and false.

    Facts are essential in journalism, and no fiction is allowed. Fantasy is allowed and expected in fiction, but it must still be believable and also contain facts.

    So, is there is a clear line between fact and fiction?

    As an unconventional fiction writer, I know that everything I’ve written so far is way off the mainstream, but still, it contains facts but perhaps because a lot of my stories are fantasy it’s easy to think it’s all made up, but there is also a lot of research in imaginative writing. I like using fiction to find facts if that makes sense at all.

    Does it matter if something really happened? Are all non-fictional works absolutely truthful? I doubt it as without even a flickering of fiction a non-fiction book would be dull. There could also be more truth in fiction, but non-fiction is sometimes written as fiction for protection.

    Could it be the same in journalism?

    Non-fiction reveals lies while fiction shows us the truth? Does the value of the story lie in its truth or how it makes us feel?

    A Call to Action: The Need for Veracity in Journalism

    We value truth, but all of us lie every day. We have always mixed fact and fiction, but anything marketed as based on a true story seems to give a story more value, whether we are reading or watching. Even historians make interpretations of the truth, so a novel set in the past must be both fact and fiction, it can’t be anything else. A historical novel can be based on historiography, but it can still never be truly non-fictional because history has layers and even if we were there, we can’t see all the layers of an event. And so can’t a journalist, they have to interpret the facts at hand which can differ from source to source.

    The best way might be to keep an open mind when we read fiction, and presume there is some truth in there and when we read non-fiction presume there are some inventions or biased views in there.

    All fiction can also be true depending on what multiverse one presently occupies. My daughter who frequently inhabits the magic world asked if Harry Potter is fiction or non-fiction and when I replied by asking what she thinks she said, both. And why not?

    Of course, that’s not the correct journalistic view to take, but it certainly can be a more liberating view of literature.

    People don’t read the way we used to though, and it’s not literature shaping our present reality, apart from perhaps Harry Potter, but the stories we share online and the stories that go viral are the ones readers seems to trust the most because they are the most popular ones. So, do we as humans prefer fiction or at least a mix of fact and fiction and is that why so many prefer the stories behind the news?

    Is fiction just another angle of truth?