I’m Swedish and have never visited America. I only know the country and the people from media, from messaging over the Internet, and the relatives who moved there.

So when I wrote a book set in a fictional, slightly run-down American big city, you would expect American readers to find fault with it. “He’s obviously never been to my country” …said no critic about PRECINCT 20: DEAD STRANGE.

I was fully aware that I wasn’t writing about “the real world as I saw it.” But then, PRECINCT 20: DEAD STRANGE is a story about a liminal space, a “twilight zone” where you can’t be quite certain what’s real.

Here is a review of the book, from an American: