It seems to be the year of Swede Hollow, that part of St. Paul’s East Side that began as a haven for immigrants and is now a park.

Swedish author Ola Larsmo was recently in the Twin Cities to launch the English translation of his novel “Swede Hollow,” a bestseller in Sweden, and the vanished community has inspired an opera and an on-site theater piece. Now, the long life of this 390-acre ravine is recounted by Karin DuPaul, chair of Friends of Swede Hollow, and her daughter, Angela DuPaul, in “The Life of Swede Hollow: a pictorial history.”

The oversized paperback, packed with drawings and pictures, is dedicated to Olivia Irvine Dodge, a major driving force in the creation of Swede Hollow Park (and Dodge Nature Center in West St. Paul), and Margaret Hamm Kelley, who helped the authors learn about the Hamm brewing family and the surrounding area that included Swede Hollow. (The Hamm mansion stood on a hill above the hollow.)

The book is divided into sections: In the Hollow, Up on the Street (the area around the hollow) and Swede Hollow Park.

The authors point out that during the 1880s, St. Paul saw a surge of European immigrants who needed places to live. Swede Hollow was ideal because it had a relatively generous amount of space, was somewhat sheltered from the elements by virtue of being lower than the surrounding land, and was far enough from the Mississippi River to avoid major flooding.

Although the hollow has been portrayed as having less-than-adequate housing — no electricity, plumbing or running water — the DuPauls write that some houses were solid, with several rooms.

As Swedish immigrants moved “up the hill” onto Payne Avenue and into the middle class, the hollow became home to Italian and then Mexican families who worshiped in the “boxcar church,” a church literally held in a rehabilitated railroad boxcar.

By 1956, the City of St. Paul was concerned about health and safety issues in the hollow and the remaining residents were ordered to move.

Gareth Hiebert, St. Paul Dispatch Oliver Towne columnist, visited the hollow that November, just before the last families left.

“… Swede Hollow has been an enigma, shabby and a little on its uppers, ever since Edward Phelan (Phalen or Faylen) built his crude cabin at the head of the ravine, where Hamm’s brewery now stands, in 1839,” Hiebert wrote in his column. “And except for brief bursts of unorganized housecleaning, Swede Hollow went along its disorganized way to the moment I stood there — in 1956 — straddling what once was a lusty, rushing flow of water called Phalen Creek and for whom the ravine’s single, lackadaisical street was named.”

After the 13 remaining structures were burned by the fire department, the area went through hard times for a while, with trash and old tires dumped down the hills. But the ravine was loved and cherished by many and, in 1973, neighborhood residents and the St. Paul Garden Club began working with the St. Paul Parks Department to make Swede Hollow a city park. Today the leafy, quiet park is considered by some to be a magical place outside of time.

Besides lots of interesting old drawings and photos, “The Life of Swede Hollow” includes stories, poetry and reminiscences from people who grew up there, as well as articles about the place from old newspapers.