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‘Me I didn’t know I was such a brave writer and photographer,” says Anna Fiske, a soft-spoken Swedish writer who lives in Sweden. Norway who received death threats for a book he wrote in 2019. “I’m just telling it like it is.”
Fiske doesn’t write about political issues but children’s books: the title of the disturbing book is Hvordan Lager Man en Baby?,”How Do You Make a Baby” – and, yes, there are pictures.” Published in English-speaking countries through Fiske’s publishers in New Zealand, it prompted threats from Canada and was banned from several school libraries in the US. “They said it was pornographic.”
In jaunty style, Fiske’s book explores the complexities of IVF, insemination and contraception and what goes into sex. A women’s group in Russia spoke to him to protest the sad, contorted faces in his pictures of pregnant women. “They said, you have to draw happy faces,” he recalls, laughing. “Like he should have jazz hands.” The push back left Fiske stunned. I asked myself: ‘What is this?
In his native Norway, by contrast, Fiske’s introduction to the birth of a child and other studies was received with open arms. His “How to” series has sold more than 100,000 copies, and the author won the Honorary Brage award in 2025, one of Norway’s most prestigious awards. Its success reflects a literary business that uses unconventional stories as its calling card. Norwegian literature and illustrations for children aim to “inquire, explore and think without limits”, according to Norla (Norwegian Literature Abroad), a government organization that promotes Norwegian literature worldwide. “Children are independent individuals with their own thoughts, feelings and perspectives – and they need creative voices that take them seriously.”
In June, at the book festival in Norway in Lillehammer, the biggest event of its kind in the country, that opinion will be proud: this year’s program offers books on various difficult issues such as “exclusion, bullying, awareness, difficult literature, climate problems, mental health problems and people who are fleeing from their homes”, says the director of the festival Marit Borkegen. He admits that not all topics are suitable for all ages. “But it depends on how you tell difficult stories, and what they’re struggling with: children or adults?”
The festival has already been held by Laurie Halse Anderson, an American author and winner of the Astrid Lindgren memorial prize, whose books for young people dealt with rape and anorexia and were banned in her country. “But in Norway they didn’t criticize his books,” says Borkenhagen. There has been a similar welcome response to local talent: Girls by Cathrine Sandmæl, a Norwegian fairy tale about girls who love girls (for readers between the ages of 9 and 11), and Super Brother by Cathrine Louise Finstad and Karoline L Førsund’s parable, which revolves around a boy whose sister has died, have all been well received by audiences.
Fiske is a regular at the Lillehammer festival. When we met at the children’s book fair in Bologna at the beginning of the year, he said that children are like sponges that absorb the worries of adults. They feel that their parents are afraid to look at the war and the news, and they just say what we talk about and make up their own thoughts and dark thoughts. His father had bipolar disorder, a disorder that was not explained to him as a child. “I think that’s why I want to write these books.”
“It’s all about form,” says Svein Nyhus, a Norwegian author and illustrator who co-authors children’s books with his wife Gro Dahle. “Symbols, descriptive imagery, poetic language, metaphors.” The family’s works include Angry Man (about a violent father) and The Octopus, which dealt with family sex. Nyhus says the only problem is “taking hope away from children… I can’t do that”. The purpose of his books is to “open doors and let light into these rooms”.
Two important factors support the Norwegian approach, one cultural, the other economic. The people of Scandinavia see childhood very differently from the British, where the child does many things. There is very little discipline and a lot of discussion between the generations. Helicopter parenting is frowned upon, while something dangerous is seen as normal, healthy. Gunnar Breivik, a professor at the Norwegian School of Sport Sciences in Oslo, said: “We as parents have failed if our children do not break a bone by the age of 18.”
In this rough and tumble environment, children’s books serve little purpose. And this is where money is needed: the publishing industry in Norway is subsidized by the government, which buys a large stock of each book for its national libraries, regardless of the popularity of the title. Books are seen as part of the toolkit of parents and teachers, as tools for groups as tools. And writers are well supported by government subsidies. The Norwegian example shows that when authors do not need the market, experiments can be successful.
Yes, publishers in other countries they are also brave. Girl With Scars by German writer Lilly Bogenberger, which was being presented to foreign publishers at the Bologna exhibition, follows the struggles of a 15-year-old girl who self-harms. Italian publisher Corraini Edizioni did well this year with the title Where Do We Go When We Die? and Samy Ramos, who won the Opera Prima at the BolognaRagazzi awards. Ramos’s method of death is macabre and jaunty – the cover features a body lying on the ground surrounded by maggots, while a bird looks down on the earth. It is a book of philosophy without answers. Instead, death is treated as an interesting, unresolved metaphor.
Difficult issues lead to political opinions. It’s not just the US where banning children’s books has become a problem – Budmouth Academy in Weymouth, Dorset, he recently removed The Hate U Givea young adult book by Angie Thomas about a black girl’s friendship with police brutality in the US, from her 10-year series. “Here in Italy, I know our government would like to ban books,” said Elena Pasoli, director of the Bologna Children’s Book Association.
But the Norwegians seem to be pushing the boundaries more than most. I ask Fiske where his responsibility lies: with the child or the parents? “Children first,” he tells me. “And I always write books that I like to know about myself. Things that I wonder about… Imagination is very important.”
But are some thoughts difficult for a child? “No. Nothing much. It’s what you say,” says Fiske. And he tries to avoid scaring his readers. He said: “I wrote a book about death and I wanted to talk about suicide, because it’s a common thing. “I saw a child psychiatrist who looked at what I wrote and said: ‘That’s really good, but you can say it differently.’ Many children think it’s their fault when a parent commits suicide, Fiske said. “I wanted to comfort the children and say: ‘It’s the parents, not you, not you. I want to remove the misunderstanding, the spirit of thought. “
