fredag 22 september 2017

Sigfrid Kall står pall

In Swedish. -- Härmed en kortnovell om en diskret trumslagare i tillvaron: Sigfrid Kall.

Han hette Sigfrid Kall. Han var en kall typ. Dessutom var han en slim nordisk figur, verksam i mediabranschen. Nu satt han i sin lägenhet på Norrlandsgatan och sa till sin papegoja:

"Jag vill dö. Nej, seriöst. Döden är ju tabu. Men tänk vilken poetisk kraft det är i ord som 'dö, döden, avlida'."

"Men dö då," sa papegojan, "det är väl ingen big deal. Vi ska alla dö. Och jag skulle ju inte sörja dig för du är ju bara som en matserverande maskin för mig."

"Nej, tycker du det?" sa Kall och tände en cigarrett.

"Nja," sa papegojan, en vit kakadua vid namn Stoss, "lite känner jag väl för dig. Men inte mycket. Jag älskar papegojor."

"Jaha," sa Kall. "Jag säger som en okänd internetpoet: 'Jag vill dö'."


"Ja," sa Kall, "'verkligen' i så måtto att det där verkligen är ett citat från en poesisajt i det 21:a århundradet. En rad bara. 'Jag vill dö.'"

"Dö då."

"Nu dör jag."

Men Kall dog inte, han levde vidare för att röka sin cigg och snöa in på tillvarons irrgångar.

Tänk på döden
Byxdress i Düsseldorf
Typ: Förståndig
Typ: Turist
En asiatisk briljans över västerlandets konstans

tisdag 19 september 2017

Inlägg idag

In Swedish. -- Detta inlägg skrivs och postas den 19 september 2017.

Idag är det tisdag. Igår var det måndag. Då läste jag Arthur C. Clarke-novellen Summer on Icarus. Den handlade om en man strandad på en asteroid nära solen. Den var bra.

Summer on Icarus är sf. Och apropå sf har jag skrivit denna bok. Men det är väl allmänt bekant.

- - -

Apropå inget så hade min morfar en Chrysler Valiant. Röd, 1960 års modell. En som vi barn tyckte stor bil men den var ju en compact car. Liten med amerikanska mått.

Så var det ju. Inlägget handlar om alla de bilar min morfar ägde, med denna Valiant som främsta symbolbärare.

Inte för att detta har något med något att göra. Jag vill bara antyda att på denna blogg finns det mycket.

- - -

Den 22 november i år är det tioårsjubileum för bloggen. Då blir det -- om Gud så vill -- postning av ett inlägg som säger, typ, "idag är det tioårsjubileum". Med tillbakablickar, minnen, länkar och annat smått och gott. En exposé över bloggens liv och leverne, från skapelsen 22/11 2007 fram till dagens dagliga verklighet, 2017.

Tills dess hänvisar jag till detta inlägg. Som är nioårsjubileet. Alltså högtidlighållandet av årsdagen 22/11 2016.

Detta inlägg har helt andra länkar än vad tioårsjubileet planeras att ha. Nioårsjubileet fokuserar för sin del på intressanta personer jag bloggat om. Tioårsjubileet kommer att ge en mycket vidare rundmålning av bloggens innehåll, utfört genom stickprov av allehanda ämnen som berörts genom åren.

Och innan dess kommer väl ett och annat nytt att postas. Vad vet jag inte nu. Men jag kommer nog på något vad det lider.

Morfar hade en Valiant
Förra året firade bloggen nioårsjubileum
Science Fiction Seen from the Right

torsdag 14 september 2017

Svensson: Fragments of a Story

These are fragments of a story. A science fiction story.

These are fragments of a story.

They are about Stax Medon, a soldier of a future war. In excerpt one he's a Sergeant. In excerpt two, he's out riding in a quibble craft. In excerpt three, he's promoted 1st Lieutenant.

That's all I have to say about these passages. Maybe you'll enjoy them. More fiction by me can be had in this book.

Now, for the fragments at hand. Skiffy!

- - -

Medon thanked for the assistance, peeked inside the new corridor and then threw a Q-grenade to be on the safe side. He waited for the explosion and then led the patrol along the smooth, steel-lined corridor. Kind of like in the caves of Bononsia of my youth, Medon thought.

Strange echoes were heard from afar. Finally, the corridor led them into a vast chamber, a large hall with walls in silvery white, concrete grey and sandstone red. There were screens of polypropane, instruments of monometal and monel plastic, tarpaulins of isometane fiber and cantilevers of diffusion steel. Medon sent his people securing the premises with himself going up a ladder into a cupola, looking out through the prisms and watching how blue force quibbles hovered over them.

- - -

Medon and Knake flew in a quibble over the northwestern outskirts of Fula. They were going to the 3rd Division HQ for a briefing. Down below they could see wrecks of Saurians rectangles, bombed out woods and advancing columns of Mirotanians.

“What do we see?” Knake said.

“It’s the rest of the breakthrough,” Medon said to his deputy. “We’ve penetrated the Saurian lines here on Cressida and made the enemy fall back.”

“And then...?”

“Then we’ve approached a fortress called Retoika, a strongpoint in the enemy’s second line of defense.”

“And where are we heading now? The two of us, today?”

“We are heading for an HQ to be briefed by General Glaubenskraft.”

They sat opposite each other by a porthole. Suddenly Knake got sight of an enormous crater in the terrain. He pointed towards it and said:

“What’s that?”

Medon looked at it, pondered and said:

“It must be from the orbo before the landings.”

“But we didn’t land here.”

“No, but we laid prep fire here.”

The crater was about one kilometer in diameter, a giant kettle being bombed out by a 1,000-ton lump of steel. This block had been hurled from a spaceship in orbit and then impacted here. In one word, it was an orbo, acronym for "orbital bomb".

- - -

Medon got his commission on December 20. Then he went for some R&R in Trypsium, again meeting with Deelah for some magic days with wining, dining and play; golden days, poetry and song, swimming in a sea of love...

Then their dream was torn apart, ripped asunder by the sound of a capsule thumping down in the pneumatic tube receiver in their apartment. Medon awoke and for a moment wondered where he was, groping for the woman lying by his side, tumbling over the remains of yesterday’s dreams, getting hold of the capsule and extricating its contents.

He tried to discern what it read but his eyes wouldn’t focus, he was still sleepy. He took a packet of cigarettes from a sideboard, lit one and inhaled the smoothly flavored smoke.

A cold morning light filtered through the Venetian blind. Deelah was sound asleep. Bostron smoked his cigarette slowly, treating his lungs with the ethereal drug. Then he stubbed it out, unfurled the paper of the tube and read:
Unit Code Office Number Valid From
227768 932 2568-01-01
Order For
2541-04-07 Medon, Yoshi
98864, Destobryl, District 43, Trypsium
You are hereby ordered to report for duty at 3rd Division, Guards Battle Group,
2nd Batt, D Comp, on 2568-01-02. Appointment as COMPANY
COMMANDER. You are hereby promoted 1st Lieutenant.
Guards Battle Group, Medon thought, that’s nice, although it’s another battalion since last we met. And company commander and 1st Lieutenant, well that’s alright with me! It’s about time. And I’m no absolute beginner, I’ve commanded a company already, in the toughest conditions conceivable: in lethal combat against the Sauropods.

Redeeming Lucifer (2017)
Grey Area Gabble
Ernst Jünger -- A Portrait (2014)

måndag 4 september 2017

Book News: Actionism -- How to Become a Responsible Man (Svensson 2017)

This is the new book by renowned author Lennart Svensson. It's called "Actionism" and it can be bought here, on Adlibris and here, on

If you want a self-help guide teaching you how to live a will-powered life, this is the book for you.

This is "Actionism -- How to Become a Responsible Man".

- - -

The creed is called Actionism since we all have to act.

That is, you might think that you can live without acting -- living like a recluse, the "vita contemplativa" doing nothing.

This is an illusion.

We all have to act. Even the placid recluse, the mild-mannered hermit spending his day meditating.

Because, we all have to sustain our bodies. We all have to breathe, drink and eat.

Thus, we all have to act.

Thus, "we are all Actionists". We all live a "vita activa".

- - -

For starters, this book sketches essential reality, all founded in perennial thought. Then, an ethic is delieanted on the basis of this, having willpower, reason and passion to the fore. It's about "memento mori", "action as being" and "winning as propensity" and other arousing memes.

Next the book looks at the "actionist" aspects of the life and thought of D'Annunzio, T. E. Lawrence, Castaneda and Julius Evola.

The following chapters deliberates on how to conduct operations -- military, intelligence, catering etc.

The book also looks at how to arrange an Actionist society. And there are chapters on history, the impossibility today of major war, Antropolis and other pertinent stuff.

This is "Actionism -- How to Become a Responsible Man".

- - -

Product info:

Paperback: 464 pages
Publisher: Manticore Press (August 14, 2017)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0994595875
ISBN-13: 978-0994595874
Product Dimensions: 7 x 0.9 x 10 inches

The Book Described at the Publisher's Website
Lennart Svensson: a Short Biography
Buy the Book on Adlibris
Buy the Book on
Buy the Book on

söndag 3 september 2017

Robert Svensson-retrospektiven i Sundsvall, april 2017

In Swedish, about a Swedish art exhibition. It showcased art of my deceased brother Robert. A bio in English of him is to be found here. -- En retrospektiv utställning hölls i våras i Sundsvall. Objekt: Robert Svenssons måleri. Jag nämnde eventet här på bloggen, som en utannonsering före. Härmed en exposé över hur det hela såg ut i färdigt skick. -- Bilden överst visar Robert Svensson då han ännu var i livet, någon gång i början av 2000-talet. Han levde 1963-2016.

Till Norrlands ungdom (olja).

Nordingråkust (olja).

Färgspel (olja).

Havet (akvarell). -- Inrikespolitisk rapport (foto).

Söråselesjön (olja). -- Sommar i Söråsele (olja).

Akvedukt, rosa himmel (olja).

Längst till höger, Motiv från Nordingrå (olja).

Balingsta kyrka (olja).

Svenska Sörgårdsidyller (akvarell). -- Tranor vid Överön (akvarell).

Lupiner (akvarell). -- Passage till Paradiset (akvarell).

Den röda båten (akvarell).

Robert Svensson: mina minnen av min bror
Ett rike utan like

måndag 28 augusti 2017

Svensson: Temple and Tree (poem)

Hereby a poem, summing up the current being of its author, Lennart Svensson.

I am temple and tree,
the guru in the garden --

a golden guru going south,
a hat-clad don Juan,
Merlin the Magician --

a golden river flowing south,
arcane, hyaline, beatified.

I am Martian Messiah,
Pleiadean Preacher --

"glowing God of Mars,
body burning bright" --

riding on the wind,
guided by the immemorial
voice of a myth --

teaching, preaching,
dreaming, scheming.

I am myth, math and metaphor,
the alchemy of time and

I am movement as a state
of mind: MAASOM.

I am a creative Self in
an ever-present Now.

Painters and Draughtsmen
The Swedenborg Machine
The Not-So-Good of Philip K. Dick
In Swedish: Jag och sf-fandom
In Swedish: Ett rike utan like
Pictures: (1) Skönsmon's church, Sundsvall (2) A painting by Henri Rousseau (3) The altar of Själevad's church, Övik (4) Unknown space art (5) Immanuel's church, Stockholm (6) A painting by Prince Eugen (7) A painting by van Gogh (8) Norwich cathedral (9) Detail from painting by nknown artist (10) Commercial photo, France.

lördag 19 augusti 2017

Rig Veda 10:129 -- An Interpretation

Ego sum. And now it's time for me to publish a translation of Rig Veda 10:129.

The poem called "Rig Veda 10:129" is about creation. "Hymn of Creation" it's been called. The following translation is partly based on Avinash Sathaye's, partly on Arthur Anthony MacDonnell's. The latter is found in A Vedic Reader for Students, Oxford 1917.

The poem has seven verses. First is given the Sanskrit text for each verse, then the English translation. The Sanskrit text is after MacDonnell (ibid). That text has added periods, commas and question marks to facilitate the reading.

"â", "î" etc. means long vocal. Due to technical limitation retroflex sounds etc. have not been transcribed.

So, here goes.


nâsad âsîn, no sad âsît tadânîm;
nâsîd rajo no viomâ paro yat.
kim âvarîvah? kuha? kasya sharmann?
ambhah kim âsîd, gahanam gabhîram?

Then [= before creation] even nothingness was not, nor existence.
There was no air then, nor the heavens beyond it.
What covered it? Where was it? In whose keeping?
Was there then cosmic water, in depths unfathomed?


na mriytur âsîd, amritam na tarhi.
na râtria ahna âsît praketah.
ânîd avâtam svadhayâ tad ekam.
tasmâd dhânyan na parah kim canâsa.

Then there was neither death nor immortality,
nor was there then the torch of night and day.
The One breathed windlessly and self-sustaining.
Other than that there was not anything beyond.


tama âsît tamasâ gulham agre;
apraketam salilam sarvam â idam.
tuchyenâbhu apihitam yad âsît,
tapasas tan mahinâjâyataikam.

Darkness was in the beginning hidden by darkness;
indistinguishable, this was all water.
That One which came to be [âbhu yad âsît], enclosed in nothing [tuchyena apihitam],
arose at last, born of the power of heat.


kâmas tad agre sam avartatâdhi,
manaso retah prathamam yad âsît.
sato bandhum asati nir avindan
hridi pratîshyâ kavayo manîshâ...

In the beginning desire descended on it --
that was the primal seed, born of the mind.
The sages seeking in their hearts with wisdom
found out the bond of the existent with the non-existent...


... tirascîno vitato rashmir eshâm:
adhah svid âsîd, upari svid âsît?
retodhâ âsan, mahimâna âsan;
svadhâ avastât, prayatih parastât.

... and their cord extended across the void:
was there below or was there above?
Seminal powers made fertile mighty forces.
Below was energy, over it was impulse.


ko addhâ veda? ka iha pra vocat,
kuta âjâtâ, kuta iyam visristih?
arvâg devâ asya visarjanena:
athâ ko veda yata âbabhûva?

Who knows truly? Who shall here declare,
whence it all came, whence is this creation?
By the creation of this (universe) the gods (came) afterwards,
so who knows truly whence it has arisen?


iyam visristir yata âbabhûva;
yadi vâ dadhe yadi vâ na:
yo asyâdhyakshah parame vioman
so anga veda, yadi vâ na veda.

Whence this creation has arisen;
whether he founded it or not,
he, who surveys it all from highest heaven,
he knows -- or maybe even he does not know.

Essay on SF
Painters and Draughtsmen
The Swedenborg Machine
The Not-So-Good of Philip K. Dick
(In Swedish): Jag och sf-fandom
Otto Hesselbom, "Vårt land" (= Our Land), 1904

lördag 5 augusti 2017

Svensson: Möte vid vattenpölen (novell)

In Swedish. -- Här följer en novell av Lennart Svensson, författare till en rad verk. Dit hör essän "Borderline -- A Traditionalist Outlook for Modern Man" (2015) och romanen "Redeeming Lucifer" (2017). -- Den novell vi nu ska bjudas är en gripande vision av en möjlig framtid.

Härmed alltså novellen "Möte vid vattenpölen".

Det är en aktuell novell. Den handlar om vad som händer efter atomkriget. För säkert som amen i kyrkan kommer atomkriget vilken sekund som helst nu. Så är det ju, säger envar internet-pundit med förnöjt leende. Det är ju det mest naturliga...!

Och det är det ju. Krig är tingens naturliga ordning. Krig råder redan. Framtidens krig är bara en fråga om eskalation. Jojomensan.

Atomstormen kommer och den överlevs bara av en råtta och en kackerlacka. Det vet vi ju; detta är så vedertaget att man knappt behöver nämna det. Och vad som i denna situation händer med denna råtta och insekt, det ska jag nu berätta...!

- - -

Det sista kärnvapenkriget hade rasat. Alla människor hade dött. Kvar var bara en kackerlacka och en råtta.

Det var en morgon i icke-tiden efter katastrofen. En blå himmel välvde sig över ett landskap med ruiner. Och här var det så att en råtta smög sig fram under en betongbalk, en grå parodi på ett byggelement med armeringsjärn utstickande från den i en vanmäktig gest.

Och råttan då, vad gjorde han i sammanhanget...? Jo, ser ni, råttan, sjuk av radioaktiv strålning, han smög ner till en pöl med radiaksmittat vatten.

Han tog sig en slurk och såg sig matt omkring. Jojo, tänkte han, människan dog i denna atomstorm som just timat. Men jag, råttan, överlevde...! Åtminstone ett tag.

Då kom ett litet väsen krypande från under en hög med krossmassa. Han gick på sex ben och hade ett exoskelett.

"Nej men, vad är du för en liten figur?" utbrast råttan. "Knappt en tvärhand hög. Och sex ben."

"Jag är en kackerlacka," sa varelsen. Och minsann, han var det: han var en insekt. En motståndskraftig liten rackare också, som vi snart ska se...!

"OK," sa råttan. "Så du har också överlevt."

"Ja," sa kackerlackan, "och mer än så. Ty jag står lägre på närings- och utvecklingskedjan än du. Jag andas med trakéer och absorberar även en del vatten den vägen. Jag gör inte som du, äter andra djur varmed du får i dig relativt större dos radioaktivitet med ditt näringsintag. Därför kommer du strax att dö!"

"Oj," sa råttan, "ja det stämmer ju. Jag mår inte så bra..."

"Nej!" sa kackerlackan. "Du dör snart av radiakförgiftning. Men jag, jag lever vidare!"

Och se, i det ögonblicket la sig råttan ner och dog.

Men kackerlackan, han skuddade stoftet av sig; han gick soligt leende in i framtiden, traskande iväg över ett öde ruinfält. Han log ty han visste att hans tid, insekternas tid, var kommen.

Och det var den ju. För just i detta nu såg den lille sexbente rackaren en rymdflotta i skyn -- en flotta spakad av hans insektsbröder, den mest livskraftiga arten i universum. Nu var de här för att ta över jorden.

Det var också vad som hände.

Och tror ni mig inte, så goggla insect alien. Jämte humanoider, små grå och katt- och fågelmänniskor är insektsalien en väldigt vanlig art i universum.

Byxdress i Düsseldorf
Dräneringsmönstret från senaste istiden
Akvarell av Hans Liska

söndag 30 juli 2017

The Legacy of Space

This is written on July 30, 2017. It's about space and who will conquer it.

Many have been to space. Even non-whites. Kudos to you.

But who commanded the spaceships in question? Who was top man aboard the space shuttle, rocketship etc.? Who was Responsible Man?

Without checking, I'd say 99% of spaceship commanders have been white men. Therefore, white man shall conquer space.

It's simply his bent of nature.

And according to Sheldan Nidle, Your First Contact (2000), 2 million years ago Pleiadeans -- whom we all know are white -- colonised Mars. And left it 1 million years ago to eventually end up on Earth.

White man shall conquer space. And then retake Mars and head for the Pleiades. It's written in the stars.

- - -

The race historically having an urge to go to space, white man, naturally will dominate space colonisation.

The non-white citizen won’t have the same inherent urge to go to space as white man. White man, the heir to the legacy of Kepler, Copernicus, Newton, Einstein, Swarzschild, von Braun, Armstrong. And Bach, Shakespeare, Goethe. All viable Western art speaks of striving beyond the beyond.

Thus, it's logical that space-faring man is to be white man.

- - -

White man will venture out into space, boldly going where no man has gone before. White men and women will be conquering new lands for man, land for him to till and cultivate and create new societies on. Lands of white men, lands of white culture – lands of responsible government, ordered communities, law and order. And, with due time, spiritual culture, art and science.

- - -

White man will conquer space.

White man, Aryan man, Faustian man.

Only he has drive to go there.

In the past, what race was most persistent in conceiving of the stars, the planets...?

The white race.

Indeed, there might have been stargazers and astronomers-astrologers in other cultures. But the enduring scientific strain of looking at the stars and trying to fathom their inherent mechanics, that strain was an expression of white man, Aryan man, Faustian man.

A man breeding a culture of exploration, of going Beyond the Beyond, conceptually and tangibly.

The culture of Erathosthenes, Gallilei, Brahe, Kepler, Copernicus, Newton, Tsiolkovskij, Goddard, Oberth, von Braun, Koroljov, Gagarin, Shephard, Glenn, Armstrong.

- - -

For white man, going into space is a case of necessity. To other races, it's just “one of those things”.

Therefore, I see before me an Aryan space empire, with Mars as the first stopover. And with a possible, eventual re-connection with the Pleiadean Realm as the distant goal.

- - -

This space venture will be a predominantly white affair.

Predominantly: this means that representatives of other races, if matching the required standards of certain specialists, will of course be allowed. They will so to speak be adopted into the ventures.

There will be no race laws in the space programs as I see it. But dominate them, non-whites will not.

This is what I see in my crystal ball.

Science Fiction Seen from the Right
Going After the Saurian Baddies (short story)
My Biography
The Pleiades, a star cluster aka. The Seven Sisters.

torsdag 27 juli 2017

Now a Major Fantasy Novel

Is Carl Griffensteen the savior of man...?

Is he the one who will be...


tisdag 4 juli 2017

Towards an Understanding of Right-Wing SF: "Science Fiction Seen from the Right" and Why It Was Written

Science Fiction Seen from the Right is a sermon on conservative sf and fantasy.

My name is Lennart Svensson. In 2016, Australian imprint Manticore Books published my book-length essay Science Fiction Seen From the Right. On publication I posted this to present the book.

But I can say more about it. Much more. In the post you're now reading I will give some more background, background of the "man in the street, sf-reader"-related type.

- - -

I was born in Sweden in 1965. I pretty early got to know about "science fiction," primarily by seeing TV-series such as Fenix 5, Star Trek and Space 1999. In the 1980s I started to read sf and fantasy in earnest, soon becoming active in Swedish sf fandom. I also became familiar with the English language which I now primarily write in.

When discussing sf in the fandom [link to Swedish blog post] of the 1980s and on, the drift among fans, writers, critics and editors was mainly of a left-leaning, anti-traditional, anti-conservative kind. For instance, "Heinlein" in those days was considered a label for reactionary, possibly fascist fiction -- as such, a veritable Mark of Cain and a plague flag. This was true in both Swedish and British fandom of those days, maybe even in the US.

I read some Heinlein back in the day. And I liked it. And as time went by I discovered that this Heinlein figure was more than a teller of mindless adventures. He conceptualised attitudes and ideas worth looking closer at -- right-wing attitudes, and as such not merely of the "libertarian, economic, pro-free enterprise" kind but of a generally traditionalist ilk, stressing the need for eternal values such as duty, honor, courage, self-restraint, magnanimity and faith.

- - -

Thus it was. Then, later, I thought: would it be possible to have this, Tradition in the form of traditional values, as an angle to look at 20th century sf and fantasy? Could a comprehensive study of "right-wing sf" be written, gathering my views and aspects of writers like Heinlein, Frank Herbert, C. S. Lewis, Tolkien, Lovecraft, E. R. Burroughs, Lovecraft, Howard, Pournelle and Bradbury? -- At least, in 2015 I set out to write such an essay and the next year it was published.

Exhaustive info on the book is given here. As I say there, the book also contains chapters on left-leaning or "neutral" writers of sf that nontheless can be interesting to look at from a right-wing angle, the eternal values-angle (such as Clarke, Moorcock, Ballard, European dystopian writers, Philip K. Dick and van Vogt). There are also chapters on sf film, sf art, sf comics and the development of the genre as such.

- - -

"Right" and "left" are topical issues in the sf field today. Heard about "the Hugo Wars"...? [Here's an entry in Swedish on the site Motpol explaining the Hugo Wars phenomenon.] Whatever the outcome the leftist hegemony in the field of SF has been challenged from 2014 and on. And as a man of the Right this, Science Fiction Seen From the Right, is my statement in the argument.

The book has been appreciated. For instance, on Counter-Currents, James O'Meara said of it: "[W]ith a title like Science Fiction from the Right, one can consider this an automatic purchase for anyone on the “Alt Right.”"

Also, the book was the main feature when I was interviewed by Red Ice Radio in June this year.

The Essay
Painters and Draughtsmen
The Swedenborg Machine
The Not-So-Good of Philip K. Dick
(In Swedish): Jag och sf-fandom

söndag 2 juli 2017

I'm on Twitter


I'm on Twitter now. I plan to post new stuff every day.

Here it is.

Related (in Swedish)
Svenska stories
Arméstaben: SoldF 1957
Poe: Den gyllene skalbaggen (1962)
"Sörnoret". Oil painting by Robert Svensson.


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