A long time ago and far away in the dark forests of Varmland in Sweden, a land of summer days ringed in an aura of gold and the winters blow to icy white, where mushrooms grow wild and shy brown bears gorge on lingonberries, a famous writer once lived.

Her name was Selma Lagerlöf and my husband, Jerry, is closely related to her; his great-grandfather changed the “ö” to “oe” when he immigrated to the U.S. around 1900.

Selma wrote twenty-eight novels, many about social misfits, and in 1909 she was the first woman to be awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, the most prestigious literary award in the world.

It was a big deal because nine men had won before her. Sixteen years later, the second woman won. To date, there have been 103 men compared to 18 women. So it is still a big deal.

Selm

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