“A teacher who blackmails her way to controlling unruly pupils. A mysterious book that makes wives divorce their husbands. A non-existent Hungarian colleague who creates more trouble than his inventor could ever have imagined. A teenager waiting for death, and daily life as lived through computer games. These six stories were generated – if we are to believe the final, eponymous story – by an algorithm.”

The Story generator is reviewed in the latest issue of the Swedish Book Review. Full review here

Straight from the photo-manipulator’s office, a new and improved version of me for the cover of the Story Generator (thanks, Jonas, for “the package-enlargement”). And don’t worry, everything is explained in the book.

The wonderful Ting Adolphus has drawn six illustrations for my new book. Here are a few of them. Any spots appearing in the images are due to my children using the scanner to scan their faces (including some runny noses)

New cover for new book. The Story Generator (Historiegeneratorn) will be published in Sweden this coming April. Doing the last (hopefully) editing round right now.


Here comes a first little taste of Darkday, an animated graphic novel I am working on in collaboratiton with graphic designer and art director Jonas Strandberg Ringh.
Darkday is a story about guilt, dreams of a better life and the way we bend reality in order to justify and live with our actions. It is a dark tale about love, identity and the importance of always wearing a polo-neck sweater right after a head-transplant.

The book Treehouse boy that was the result of a project with 22 Swedish eight year-olds has now been published in the Czech Republic. I have not been in touch with the publishing house myself, but have heard that the translation is excellent.

And take a look at the beautiful new cover:


treehouse chech

Just finished the second draft of a new picture book called When we had fruit that I am writing in collaboration with the wonderful Adelaide-based illustrator Danny Snell. The book is a more positive take on Kafka’s the Metamorphosis and starts when young Isabella one morning notices that a plant is growing out from between her shoulder blades.



Sitting in Australia, writing in Swedish is a funny way to make a living. Especially as not one of my books so far has been translated into English. Consequently people here could easily believe I am just making this whole writing-thing up. I mean, they cannot read what I am writing, so how on earth would they know if I am telling the truth or not. (Even though pretending to be a writer seems like a very writer thing to do, and something Paul Auster surely must have written at least one book about.)

As an example, the woman who works in the café where I am sitting this morning (who just referred to me as “Dostojevskij”) suggested that I could just as well be a mass-murder who uses the writer-cover as a front to move freely around town (which of course also would be a very writer thing to do).

Anyway, here is hoping that things might change, as the latest issue of the wonderful Swedish Book Review (whose main aim is to present Swedish literature to the English-speaking world) contains a really great review of Herr Isakowitz’ Treasure.

Those of you who are still unsure whether I really am a writer or if I am just planning my next heinous crime can read the review here (Even though I certainly could have built the web site myself and written a fake review under a pseudonym to avoid unnecessary suspicion. A precaution that incidentally also would be a very writer thing to do.)





Herr Isakowitz’ Treasure has long ago taken on a life of its own. Today the book is being released in Italy and France, as Il tesoro del signor Isakowitz and Le trésor de M. Isakowitz.

Happy travels book.




Back in Adelaide after a wonderful writer’s festival in Reykjavik. As a writer it was so inspiring to be in a place where the arts still seem to have an important role to play. Where people buy more books per person than anywhere else in the world and where everyone you encounter, it seems, play in at least one band.

The festival was great as well, with a number of very interesting visiting writers and publishers from around the globe, as well as some great Icelandic authors. During my time there I picked up and read The Indian by former Reykjavik mayor Jon Gnarr (a book that took me right back to my own childhood) and the sharp dystopian LoveStar by Andri Snaer Magnason.

Next up is From the mouth of the whale by Sjón.

The festival recorded all the book talks (among them my discussion with Timur Vermes). You can see them here.