A new book uses strange, sometimes mystical imagery to retell a fragmented family memoir.

"Magical," “Narrative" and "Storytelling" are three words photographers and tech brands often overuse to describe work and products that often don't actually imbue any of those characteristics. Sure, humans love to tell stories – we're drawn to them like cave sketches, right? They bring us together and make for a sticky TED Talk intro. But do they actually tug at us with just enough "mystery" to keep us guessing? With Paul Thulin's new book, Pine Tree Ballads, published by Candela Books, the answer, said in both a shout and a whisper, fist wrapped around the heart, is absolutely fucking yes.

Pine Tree Ballads takes us on a wonderfully confusing journey through the reenacted fantasies of Thulin's family history set in a small community in Maine. His great grandfather settled there in the early twentieth century, drawn to its resemblance to his Swedish homeland. Thulin reenacts these stories using a dreamlike sequence of images. Some feel staged, some feel like found family relics, and others rest somewhere in between.

As viewers, we're able to weave in and out of Thullin's consciousness with a dreamlike fluidity. Subtle photos of notes written in cursive text and an unexpected balance of black and white, color, and alternate-processed images help to pace, break up, and chapter-mark nearly 100 images that somehow, despite their volume, feel like an immaculately tight edit. Oh, and the inside front and back covers are peppered with glitter.

I emailed with Thulin to learn more about his journey.

Jon Feinstein in conversation with Paul Thulin