Great Review for “Dusk and Dawn”

Issue 1/2025 of the Fenix magazine arrived in my mailbox on Aug 15. It contained a wonderful review about my collection of SF stories Dusk and Dawn. The reviewer concludes: “… the book is rich in flavour, a fantastic case of world-building, and genuine in ways you rarely see in genre literature. Here we get four stories, but it feels like the [book’s] Patchwork World contains many more.”

The book has been published as a paperback and as an e-book. You can buy it at Adlibris (link >>> ) and at Amazon (link >>> ).

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Dusk and Dawn Published as an Ebook

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The Patchwork World is a planet with a mosaic of smaller “worlds”. Each consists of a vast crater encircled by mountains that touch space. Each is an isolated milieu with its own qualities: wet or dry, hot or cold, flourishing or hostile, and so on. Dusk and Dawn is a collection of three short-stories and one novella that take you to two such craters.

Oceanica: a crater sea dotted with islands and girdled by mountainous rimlands. It is fractured in many nations that compete for resources and influence. Right now, an ambitious tyrant is seizing whatever he can. Three short-stories speak of ordinary Oceanic people who strive to build or rebuild their lives in a time of turmoil.

The Desolation: an arid crater whose city states survive thanks to an ancient canal system that brings water from the encircling mountains to the latifundios in the central flatlands. Now, a violent revolutionary regime seek to topple the old social order. The title novella Dusk and Dawn tells the story of Fennec, a bastard in a ruling house and the involuntary heir to its throne. Exiled by war, Fennec must now discharge xer sacred oath to xer ruler. But stakes are higher than that: the future of civilization.

Link to Amazon >>>

Finfin recension av Expert Nova 2.0

Sajten Sense recenserar Expert Nova och ger betyget 8/10, samt dekalen Rekommenderas. Ett citat ur recensionen:

Expert Nova är endast 63 sidor långt i A5-format (sic! — den är i det något större formatet G5), så det är inte en tjock regelbok att tugga sig igenom. Reglerna är förhållandevis enkla och lätta att lära sig. Det mest geniala med Expert Nova är att reglerna i boken kan anpassas precis hur du själv vill. Du kan använda delar av dem eller allihop, klippa och klistra för att det ska fungera med det äventyr som du vill skapa. Det som också är helt briljant är att du kan använda dessa regler till precis vilket äventyr du vill. Det kan vara dåtid, nutid, scifi eller skräck, endast fantasin sätter gränserna. Det som behövs är ett par tärningar och att skriva ut ett karaktärs-ark från hemsidan, sen är det bara att köra. På sätt och vis är det här det ultimata rollspelet, för du kan verkligen anpassa reglerna och historien precis hur du vill.

Läs hela recensionen här: https://www.senses.se/expert-nova-rollspel-recension/

Game-writing: the Power and the Pain

When my mind enters its RPG design mode at the keyboard, I shape-shift to a lesser kind of demiurge. I gain the power to create intangible realms, perhaps places that exist in the Platonic world of ideas. JRR Tolkien referred to this as being a “subcreator”. With words and pictures, I built virtual landscapes of dawn, dusk and darkness that others may explore in their thoughts and dreams.

I call myself a dreamsmith, a master of a small, specialized craft.

At several occasions people asked me: “How do you come up with all those colourful ideas?”

“I honestly don’t know,” I responded. “It is a kind of mental big bang”

I get a basic idea from somewhere – a dream, a phrase, a story, etc. That’s the singularity.

I ask myself: “What is THIS?”

BIG BANG!

I start typing: ideas, people, places – it’s cosmic inflation in my mind, my imagination running wild. Hectic hours ensue when I jot down notions, match ideas to the basic world structure, make sure that stuff fit together, that there is depth and width, a past and a future, societies and ecology.

And there it is: a new cosmos with its peculiarities, its challenges, its adventures. An intangible place that isn’t, but that ought to be.

Here lies the pain that comes with the power. I am but a man and cannot make my game worlds real – whatever I do, my subcreations remain stories in people’s minds and shadows dancing on a wall. It’s frustrating, because I want to go by steam-launch along an ancient canal from Vanzan Shor, I want to see sunrise over the ocean from the quays of the Atlantean city of Ausōpolis, I want to cross the ice plains of Alba in a juggernaut. And so on.

The most exquisite subcreations become shared realities. Tolkien’s Middle-earth is the most notable one. His readers share their visions of what that place is like, they experience it together when listening to an audiobook or watching Peter Jackson’s films. We who love Middle-earth know what it would feel like to walk the streets of Minas Tirith or the fields and copses of Ithilien.

That is the power and the pain: creating an imaginary realm but being unable to enter it. Like Moses at the borders of Canaan.

The Tintin connection

Around 1970 several Tintin stories were published for the first time as proper albums in Swedish. Before that, they had only appeared in magazines. I found the albums in the school library and immediately fell in love with Objectif Lune and On a marché sur la Lune. The exciting adventures, the bulky pre-transistor technology, the mixture of drama and slapstick — what more could an 11-year’s old sf-fan ask for?

Fifty years have passed and I still enjoy the Tintin adventures, particularly the thrills and joys of the protagonists’ traveling to remote places. Hergé was a stickler for technical details and I can see how he honed his skills with each album. The merchant ships in L’Étoile mystérieuse were not really up to the mark, but in Le Trésor de Rackham le Rouge a few years later the depictions of ocean voyages had improved notably.

The passing of time has made the content turn from “contemporary” to “retro”; the heroes’ comfortable journey to the moon is a piece of lovely 1950s tech-nostalgia. (The Apollo astronauts went to the moon inside a command module the size of small car and they drove a skeletal dune buggy on the lunar surface.)

I have subconsciously picked up one or two pieces of literary tactics from Hergé and put into to use in my own stories. The protagonists travel into the unknown aboard well-rendered vehicles/craft that are distinct “localities” by themselves. When the heroes set out on a daring adventure, it is never clear what they really are going to face. Unpredictability and danger — and clever solutions to escape the hazards. (Even though I nowadays find the denouement of Le Temple du Soleil too contrived.) When I wrote about Johnny’s and Linda’s journeys in diesel-powered juggernauts across the ice plains of Alba in The Ice War, the spirit of Hergé’s story-telling accompanied me.