It is hard to explain the specific kind of melancholy that hits when you open the Tales from the Loop art book for the first time. You expect robots. You expect sci-fi. What you don't expect is the overwhelming smell of wet pavement and 1980s suburban boredom that somehow leaks off the pages.
Simon Stålenhag is a genius. No, honestly, the word gets thrown around too much, but in this case, it fits. He didn't just draw some cool mechanical structures in a field; he captured a very specific, very weird intersection of mundane childhood and high-concept physics. If you grew up in the suburbs, you know this feeling. The feeling of wandering too far into the woods behind your house and finding something that shouldn't be there. Usually, it's just an old tire or a rusted-out fridge. In Stålenhag’s world, it’s a cooling tower for a massive underground particle accelerator.
What is the Tales from the Loop art book, really?
People think it’s just a collection of pretty pictures. It isn't. It’s a narrative experiment. Published back in 2014 after a massive Kickstarter success, the book (originally Ur Varselklotet in Swedish) focuses on the Mälaren islands just outside of Stockholm. In this alternate history, the government built the world’s largest particle accelerator—the Loop—in the 1950s. By the 80s, the side effects of this massive machine are just... part of life.
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Massive cargo ships hover in the sky using "magnetrine" technology. Dinosaurs have leaked through temporal rifts and roam the snowy Swedish countryside like stray dogs. Huge, bipedal robots are left to rust in people’s backyards because the tech moved on and nobody bothered to scrap them.
What makes the Tales from the Loop art book work is the juxtaposition. Stålenhag uses a digital painting style that looks remarkably like thick oil paint or gouache. He paints a Volvo 240—the most boring car ever made—parked next to a malfunctioning robot that looks like it belongs in a scrapped Star Wars prequel. The robots aren't shiny. They aren't "cool." They are dirty, leaking oil, and covered in graffiti. They feel heavy.
The Lore You Might Have Missed
The text accompanying the art is written from the perspective of a narrator looking back at his childhood. It’s dry. It’s nostalgic. It mentions things like the "Riksenergi" agency and the "Gorgon" processors with the same casual tone you’d use to talk about a local power plant.
The story isn't a hero's journey. There are no epic battles. It’s just kids being kids in a world where the laws of physics are slightly broken. They break into abandoned facilities. They find "echoes" of people who don't exist. They deal with the fact that their parents are overworked and the world is changing too fast.
The Tales from the Loop art book isn't just one book anymore, either. It spawned a whole ecosystem. You’ve got Things from the Flood, which moves into the darker, grittier 90s. Then there’s The Labyrinth and The Electric State. Each one feels like a punch in the gut, but Tales is where that specific "suburban sci-fi" aesthetic was born. It’s the blueprint.
Why the Aesthetic matters more than the Tech
Let's talk about the "Loop" itself. We never really see it. It’s underground. We only see the three massive cooling towers—the "Bona Towers"—rising out of the mist. This is a classic storytelling trick. By not showing us the machine, Stålenhag makes it feel infinite.
Most sci-fi tries to explain everything. It gives you blueprints and lore bibles. The Tales from the Loop art book doesn't care about your need for technical specs. It cares about how the light hits a rusted metal plate at 4:00 PM in late November.
- The Lighting: Stålenhag captures the "blue hour" of Nordic winters perfectly.
- The Scale: Humans are always tiny. The machines are monolithic.
- The Decay: Everything is breaking down. The future is already old.
The sheer "Swedish-ness" of the book is also vital. There is something about the Scandinavian landscape—the flat fields, the pine forests, the grey slush—that makes the sci-fi elements feel more grounded. If this were set in New York or Los Angeles, it would feel like a Michael Bay movie. In the Swedish countryside, it feels like a documentary.
Impact on Pop Culture (The Stranger Things Connection)
It is impossible to look at the Tales from the Loop art book and not think about Stranger Things or Super 8. There was a massive wave of "80s kids on bikes" media in the mid-2010s. While Stålenhag was part of that wave, his work feels more lonely. Less "adventure," more "existential dread."
Amazon eventually made a TV series based on the book. It was... divisive. Visually, it was stunning. They captured the look of the paintings perfectly. But the show was slow. It was meditative. Some people hated that. They wanted Transformers. But the fans of the book understood. The book isn't about the robots; it's about the silence between the robots.
The tabletop RPG by Free League Publishing is another beast entirely. It uses the art as a springboard for players to create their own stories. It won five ENnie Awards in 2017, including Best Game and Best Product of the Year. Why? Because the Tales from the Loop art book provided such a strong visual language that people felt like they already knew how to play in that world.
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Real-World Inspiration
Stålenhag didn't just pull this out of thin air. He grew up in the area he depicts. The landscapes are real. If you go to the Mälaren islands today, you can find the exact spots he painted. Obviously, the robots aren't there, but the sense of scale is. He used his own childhood photos as references for many of the compositions. That’s why the kids in the book wear those specific, slightly ugly 80s jackets. It’s authentic because it’s based on a real, lived-in memory, just skewed ten degrees into the impossible.
The "Scandi-Futurism" Trend
Since the release of the Tales from the Loop art book, we’ve seen a massive uptick in what people call "Scandi-Futurism." It’s a design language characterized by:
- Functionalism.
- Muted earth tones.
- High-tech machinery integrated into rural environments.
- A sense of social democracy failing or being ignored.
You see this influence in games like Generation Zero or even the aesthetic of certain Star Wars spin-offs like Andor. It’s a move away from the "neon and chrome" of 80s cyberpunk and toward something that feels like it could actually happen in your backyard. It's "Low-Life, High-Tech," but the "Low-Life" is just a kid trying to get home before dinner.
Is it worth the price tag?
Look, art books are expensive. You’re usually looking at $35 to $50 depending on the edition. The Tales from the Loop art book is a hardcover, oversized volume. The paper quality is heavy. It’s the kind of thing you keep on a coffee table to make people think you’re deep, but then you actually end up looking at it yourself every Tuesday night.
If you are a concept artist, it’s a masterclass in composition. If you are a writer, it’s a masterclass in world-building. If you’re just someone who likes "vibes," it’s the ultimate vibe.
There’s a specific painting in the book—one of my favorites. It shows a kid standing in a field looking at a group of "strays." They aren't dogs; they're small, spindly robots that look like they’re made of junk. They’re just... huddling. There’s no explanation. Are they dangerous? Are they sad? The book doesn't tell you. It lets you sit with the mystery. That’s the power of Stålenhag’s work. He trusts the reader to be smart enough to be confused.
Common Misconceptions
One thing people get wrong is thinking this is a "graphic novel." It’s not. There are no speech bubbles. There’s no traditional panel-to-panel flow. It’s an art book with short stories and vignettes. You don't read it in one sitting. You sip it.
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Another misconception: that it’s for kids. I mean, kids can look at it, sure. But the themes are pretty heavy. There’s a lot of loneliness, divorce, and the feeling of a world that is fundamentally broken. It’s "Young Adult" in the same way Bridge to Terabithia is for kids—it's actually for the adults who remember how much being a kid sucked sometimes.
How to get the most out of the book
Don't just flip through the pages. That’s a waste.
First, put on some ambient synth-wave. Something like C418 or even the official soundtrack by Philip Glass and Paul Leonard-Morgan. Then, read the text first. The text sets the stage for the image. It gives the machine a name and a purpose. Then, look at the painting and try to find the small details. Look for the trash on the ground. Look at the stickers on the side of the machines. Stålenhag hides a lot of narrative in the "noise" of the image.
The Tales from the Loop art book is a reminder that the most interesting stories aren't about the "New." They are about what happens when the "New" becomes "Old" and we have to live with the consequences.
Actionable Steps for Collectors and Fans
If you're looking to dive into this world, don't just stop at the first book. The narrative actually evolves across the series. Here is how to actually engage with the "Loop" universe:
- Start with the Source: Buy the original Tales from the Loop art book (Hardcover). Avoid the digital versions if you can; the scale of the art needs the physical page to breathe.
- Expand the Timeline: If you like the 80s vibe, move to Things from the Flood next. It covers the 90s and deals with "Machine Cancer," which is as weird and unsettling as it sounds.
- Check out the RPG: Even if you don't play tabletop games, the Tales from the Loop RPG core rulebook contains even more lore and maps that aren't in the art book.
- Visit the Locations: If you’re ever in Sweden, take a trip to Stenhamra. Seeing the actual quarries and suburban streets that inspired the "Loop" is a surreal experience for any fan.
- Follow the Artist: Simon Stålenhag is active on social media and often shares "process" shots. Seeing how he builds these images from simple shapes into complex, textured worlds is incredibly educational for any aspiring digital artist.
The "Loop" isn't just a place in a book. It’s a mood. It’s that feeling of looking at a sunset and feeling like something incredible—and maybe a little bit dangerous—is about to happen just over the horizon. Grab the book, turn off your phone, and let yourself get lost in the snow.