Maybe they did not know it yet, but Mono was probably unconsciously in the process of creation already as Madelaine Levy and Magnus Larsson graduated at senior high school. Madelaine and Magnus, who were good friends and both studying the European program, knew each other from the parallel classes. After the graduation they thought of doing something together, they just did not know what yet. Since both Madelaine and Magnus, at this time, had writing careers of their own - Madelaine, writing for the Swedish music magazine Pop as well as for the Swedish newspaper Svenska Dagbladet. And Magnus writing for the Swedish hip magazine Nöjesguiden - a full time commitment was not on their mind. So Mono it was, a fan-zine not about music, but about literature. The layout was made by the two friends Per Backström and Fredrik Hurtig. And in short they gained their fifth member: Anders Billing, writer in Mono. Finding people who wanted to work with Mono was never a problem.
    "We say that we find our friends at the pubs," Madelaine says, explaining that most of those working with Mono are friends or persons who have taken contact after seeing their zine.
    Together they fill out the zine with interviews and articles about writers, book tips, contests, one and other comic artist, and Paris. Actually, I'm almost sure I have seen Paris mentioned in as good as every issue of Mono. I just had to ask.
    Madelaine smiles. "We always have something we joke about," she explains. "I lived in Paris for three months; during this time I worked very little with the zine. So they're getting back at me."

Although Mono gives an ambitious as well as professional appearance it is not a gold mine. Actually it rather, pretty much, sticks with the fan-zine's old ideal, both in lack of an office as well as the possibility to pay their photographers and writers. But if you, against all supposition, would doubt you just need to read the text in the upper left corner, once again, saying: "A literary fan-zine".
    Throught the few years of Mono's history, the zine has received some criticism for refusing to criticize, but rather chooses to write only about those things, which they like.
    "We have little space and there's many good things to write about," Madelaine says, "so why spend it on what we don't like?"
    When I ask about the name Mono, Madelaine shrugs her shoulders.
    "Mono is actually a bad name for a zine about literature," she says looking thoughtful. "It has nothing to do with literature. I don't really know why we chose it."
    I give a suggestion to the monochrome pages. "That sounds good, let's say that," Madelaine says and laughs.

Few probably know that Mono actually do have a homepage. But Madelaine will rather not talk about it. "It's so small it hardly exists," she says. "We haven't decided what we'll use it for." She tells there's one idea to have a site where you can by books, but as said: yet is nothing decided.

It is not easy to explain exactly what I like about Mono. Is it the dulled paper that levels totally right between my fingers? Is it the small cunning comments, slightly hidden in the big black and white photographs? Is it the clean layout? Or maybe the original 'mono-style', shooting warm vibes through my body? Maybe all of these things have their saying. What do I know?