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A review by avalinda
Tales From the Loop by Simon Stålenhag
5.0
A hauntingly beautiful and visceral work of art that once again reminds me what a privilege it is to walk through this artist's imagination.
The book reads like a series of vignettes interspersed with illustrations that made my heart ache for a world I never lived in. Some of the paintings have such a dreamlike quality, with hazy edges as though remembered distantly, from a childhood long ago - so that even as they depict moments of childhood against the forbidding technology of the Loop, they still remain so human and nostalgic. It made me think of my own childhood and the bleak landscape that it was set in; the stories speak to the resilience, adaptiveness, and even optimism of children in their ability to seek out things that give their lives meaning even in a dystopian environment.
In other words, this is a remarkable instance of how pictures can be worth a thousand words, but also how a few words can tell us so much about humanity and about ourselves. Stalenhag is phenomenal at depicting how small we are against our enormous, magnificent and terrifying creations, either as extensions of ourselves or manifestations of our lofty goals - and yet there are some things that, just as the description states, are instantly recognizable. The ebb and tide of human life continues in spite of the constant danger and disturbance, and we are presented with an eclectic cast of characters illustrating the different ways people react to the unknown. A touch of the macabre here and there makes it all unforgettable.
And, of course, I would be remiss if I didn't admire the science behind the science fiction. I love the interspersed snippets that read like little ads or informational blurbs, as well as the strange rumors that are never fully confirmed or discredited. The vast mystery of the Loop and its effects on space-time; aerial travel via the magnetrine effect; artificial nervous systems and sentient machines that are sometimes as lost as the humans in this alternate universe. ("The Escapee" particularly tugs at my heartstrings and I would love to see the side of the story from one of these robots.) The possibility of time travel, both for us and for creatures that came before us (the dinosaurs come to mind, along with the giant two-legged robots that look, walk and turn in ways strangely reminiscent of them). And then there is Nature slowly but surely reclaiming what is left of our abandoned forays. One of the final pieces of art accurately illustrates just that - the end of a technological age in a bleak landscape of man-made structures, broken-down humanoid robots sitting in disarray beneath gray skies.
I could probably go on for hours about the thoughts and emotions that this work invoked, but I'll simply end with some quotes that stuck with me:
An unforgettable book that will always have a place on my bookshelves.
The book reads like a series of vignettes interspersed with illustrations that made my heart ache for a world I never lived in. Some of the paintings have such a dreamlike quality, with hazy edges as though remembered distantly, from a childhood long ago - so that even as they depict moments of childhood against the forbidding technology of the Loop, they still remain so human and nostalgic. It made me think of my own childhood and the bleak landscape that it was set in; the stories speak to the resilience, adaptiveness, and even optimism of children in their ability to seek out things that give their lives meaning even in a dystopian environment.
In other words, this is a remarkable instance of how pictures can be worth a thousand words, but also how a few words can tell us so much about humanity and about ourselves. Stalenhag is phenomenal at depicting how small we are against our enormous, magnificent and terrifying creations, either as extensions of ourselves or manifestations of our lofty goals - and yet there are some things that, just as the description states, are instantly recognizable. The ebb and tide of human life continues in spite of the constant danger and disturbance, and we are presented with an eclectic cast of characters illustrating the different ways people react to the unknown. A touch of the macabre here and there makes it all unforgettable.
And, of course, I would be remiss if I didn't admire the science behind the science fiction. I love the interspersed snippets that read like little ads or informational blurbs, as well as the strange rumors that are never fully confirmed or discredited. The vast mystery of the Loop and its effects on space-time; aerial travel via the magnetrine effect; artificial nervous systems and sentient machines that are sometimes as lost as the humans in this alternate universe. ("The Escapee" particularly tugs at my heartstrings and I would love to see the side of the story from one of these robots.) The possibility of time travel, both for us and for creatures that came before us (the dinosaurs come to mind, along with the giant two-legged robots that look, walk and turn in ways strangely reminiscent of them). And then there is Nature slowly but surely reclaiming what is left of our abandoned forays. One of the final pieces of art accurately illustrates just that - the end of a technological age in a bleak landscape of man-made structures, broken-down humanoid robots sitting in disarray beneath gray skies.
I could probably go on for hours about the thoughts and emotions that this work invoked, but I'll simply end with some quotes that stuck with me:
"Small flares of light swarmed above the mounting around the tower. They danced in the cold air, emitting soft siren calls that echoed in the valley."
"Some days are like jittery, malicious clockwork -- sometimes things freeze mid-movement and we age several years in a few seconds."
"Suddenly, our machines were bestowed balance and grace previously reserved for biological organisms."
"I remember at the end of August, when the vacationers started to migrate back into the city and the guest pier was deserted, you could hear the distant breaths of the vane turbines rise and fall under the water, like monotonous whale songs in the chilly water."
"A moist mass of cardboard boxes, pillows, and mattresses had erupted from the front door, like the house was vomiting forth its stomach contents."
"If I look at my memories from the side, that weekend is a black line, like the dark boundary in the rock layers left by the disaster that killed all the dinosaurs."
"A new and dark inner landscape had opened up, and we wanted nothing more than to talk about it. We abdicated from childhood, tried to learn how to talk as adults, and shamefully glanced back at our playgrounds."
"... and then we returned to our old playgrounds like zombies around a mall. We sat wedged into the swings outside the school, or crouched in someone's old treehouse, smoking stolen cigarettes."
"We walked in long lines through winter nights, and you could see little points of light go on and off in the darkness - cigarettes smoked by teenagers who had gathered around their wrecked memories, like a requiem.
We made our nights our days, squinted at the horizon, and sighed. Way over there, the morning dawned."
An unforgettable book that will always have a place on my bookshelves.