Around the time Sommaren på Nornö was published in 2021, Boktugg asked me to recommend five feelgood novels with Black protagonists. I loved this brief—so many books came to mind, stories that had moved me, made me laugh, or stayed with me over the years. But there was a catch: each novel had to be available in Swedish.
I took a broad approach to “feelgood” (more hopeful than overly sentimental) and immediately included Suad Ali’s Dina händer var fulla av liv—one of the most powerful books I’ve ever read. However, as I searched for other homegrown Black Swedish novels within this genre, I had difficulty finding them. So, I turned to Swedish translations of English-language books by beloved authors Terry McMillan, Mike Gayle, Kiley Reid, and Brit Bennett.
This exercise made me realize that I was stepping into the Swedish publishing landscape as something of an outsider. As a Black writer or Afro-Swede (as we’re called here), with a Swedish-language novel featuring Black and Swedish characters, I found myself in a space where stories like mine are still relatively rare. Despite having lived here for over 25 years, raising two biracial children, and holding dual Swedish and American citizenship, the usual pre-publication jitters felt more pronounced, taking on a deeper significance.
Once Sommaren på Nornö was officially released, I breathed a sigh of relief, heartened by the positive reception it received. The novel reached a wide audience, chosen as a summer serial and published in over 40 newspapers nationwide. Readers’ kind messages and meaningful discussions exceeded my expectations and affirmed that stories from diverse perspectives do, indeed, strike a chord.
My novel was published in the wake of 2020, a pivotal year that ignited a global reckoning with race and representation, sparking heightened interest in Black narratives worldwide. This shift created new opportunities for authors like me, but as time has passed, the momentum seems to have waned. While Afro-Swedish memoirs and children’s books have carved out niches in the market, Afro-Swedish fiction titles remain scarce, emerging perhaps once every two or three years. This rarity makes Kayo Mpoyi’s novels all the more impactful, as they enrich the Afro-Swedish literary canon by illuminating themes of family, identity, and migration.
Even proven Afro-Swedish authors face challenges. Despite being a 2024 NAACP Nominee for Outstanding Literary Work, Nigerian-American-Swedish author and travel writer Lola Ákínmádé has yet to see her two bestselling, Sweden-set novels translated into Swedish. Meanwhile, her nonfiction book Lagom is available in over 15 languages—but none of them Nordic. Philadelphia native Kim Golden, a USA Today bestselling author of romantic fiction, has called Sweden home since 1995. Her novels celebrate smart, sexy Black women finding love and fulfillment both at home and abroad—including in Scandinavia. Yet, none of her books have been translated into Swedish. Ákínmádé and Golden's experiences underscore the uphill battle Black authors face in the Swedish publishing industry.
The commercial success of titles from Ali, Mpoyi, Ákínmádé, and Golden is a clear indication of readers’ desire for diverse narratives that reflect the multifaceted experiences of society. Yet, the publishing industry appears hesitant to embrace this demand fully. This reluctance is not confined to Sweden; a 2023 survey revealed that 72.5% of the dominant U.S. publishing industry remains white, emphasizing a systemic lack of diversity that inevitably shapes which stories are told and promoted.
Afro-Swedish hip-hop and R&B thrive in mainstream culture, benefitting from widespread support and exposure, while Afro-Swedish fiction still yearns for the same nurturing and visibility. What accounts for this disparity?
From my perspective, several factors contribute to this situation. Swedish publishers often prioritize established international Black authors with proven track records, viewing them as safer investments for translation into Swedish. In contrast, emerging Afro-Swedish writers without large, established audiences often struggle to be perceived as commercially viable. The historical underrepresentation of Afro-Swedish voices in literature creates a self-perpetuating cycle: publishers perceive limited market interest and are less likely to invest in these stories, which only makes them more scarce. White debut authors, however, are often given more opportunities to break into the market. Access to key literary networks is another roadblock for many Afro-Swedish writers; without connections to key industry players, they find it difficult to secure publishing opportunities.
Additionally, industry biases often champion narratives that align with conventional Swedish cultural norms. Afro-Swedish experiences—frequently exploring themes of marginalization, integration, racism, cultural appropriation, and belonging—are sometimes regarded as subversive or damaging to Sweden’s image as an inclusive and progressive society. In Sommaren på Nornö, I examine some of these issues through the character of Zoë Holmgren. However, I intentionally present a more holistic view of her existence, not only her struggles but also her wins, growth, and resilience. As an Afro-Swedish writer, my goal is to transcend prevailing narratives and tell stories that capture the full breadth of the Black experience—love, friendship, work, and joy—not just the pain, violence, or trauma that is disproportionately portrayed in popular culture.
Since Sweden prides itself on being a color-blind, egalitarian society, the government does not collect official statistics based on race or ethnicity. Instead, it tracks data based on nationality, country of birth, and parental heritage. While this approach can be seen as noble, it inadvertently erases the unique experiences of Afro-Swedes, reinforcing the importance of literature in lifting voices that might otherwise fade into the margins.
Sweden’s demographics are evolving, and projections indicate that the population will reach an estimated 11.16 million by 2040, with roughly an equal split between ethnic Swedes and those with foreign or mixed backgrounds. A more multicultural society not only creates new literary opportunities for Afro-Swedish and other underrepresented writers but also increases the reader base for publishers. One key strategy to meet this potential would be for publishing houses to actively recruit and promote qualified individuals from diverse backgrounds. With a more varied team, the industry can gain broader perspectives and advocate for stories that might otherwise be overlooked. By establishing forums where authors from marginalized groups can connect with publishers, collaboration can flourish. Instead of treating diverse narratives as a fleeting trend, the industry must commit to sustained support, ensuring that all voices have a solid presence.
Furthermore, initiatives like workshops for non-white and immigrant writers can provide guidance on storytelling techniques, navigating the publishing industry, and building author platforms. Mentorship programs that pair emerging writers with experienced authors and industry professionals can offer advice, feedback, and support. In addition, literary events, book launches, and festivals can spotlight multicultural narratives. Traditional and social media can further elevate diverse authors, showcasing their work through interviews, articles, book reviews, podcasts, and digital content.
Language inclusivity is another effective approach—encouraging writers to create in both Swedish and their native languages broadens readership while preserving cultural heritage. Utilizing AI-driven translation tools could make these works more accessible, integrating them into the national literary conversation.
Fortunately, several organizations and individuals are working to amplify underrepresented voices. Literary magazines such as The Stockholm Review publish poetry and fiction, championing diverse perspectives. The Uppsala Internationella Litteratur Festival, taking place from March 27–29, will provide a space for literary voices from around the world to engage in discussions on identity, migration, and cultural exchange. Multi-hyphenate storyteller Lola Ákínmádé has added to her impressive repertoire and is developing an innovative publishing and author discovery platform sharing diverse stories from the Nordics and beyond. She has launched ATTVARA Foundation to support and facilitate storytelling workshops, author development, and mentoring.
For over a decade, Johanna Lundin has been a prominent figure in the book community. Born and raised in Sweden to a Swedish mother and a Ghanaian father, she developed a keen passion for literature early on. However, she struggled to find books that resembled her own identity and background. “Literature can be both a window and a mirror. I always had a window but never a mirror. We don’t like to talk about race here, so I read Black stories in English,” she explains. Today, Johanna is well-known to book lovers as a reviewer on Go’kväll (SVT) and as a moderator for various author discussions. She is also a strong advocate for a more inclusive publishing world and books that embrace diverse voices and experiences.
Studies indicate that reading fiction is important as it enhances empathy and deepens our understanding of diverse perspectives. It allows readers to step into the lives of others, fostering connection and emotional intelligence. As such, readers can play a crucial role by supporting multicultural writers—buying, reading, listening, discussing, and recommending—signaling to publishers that diverse stories are in demand.
But beyond reading, writing Black fiction—especially as a Black author in Sweden—is, in many ways, a radical act. Despite barriers, we are asserting the power of our imaginations, challenging dominant narratives, and reclaiming space on the page. We are redefining assumptions about whose creativity resonates and broadening the notion of what Swedish literature can be.
One of the greatest compliments I received about Sommaren på Nornö was from a Swedish mother who told me how much her mixed-race daughter appreciated seeing herself represented in the novel. Sweden, the land of Nobel and literature’s most prestigious prize, is uniquely positioned to celebrate the voices of non-white and immigrant communities at home, embodying Toni Morrison’s belief that literature should expand, not limit, the imaginative possibilities of whose stories are told.
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