What can I say about Fredrik Backman's novel A Man Called Ove (#615) except that it's a wonderful read. Mr. Backman has nailed his Swedish curmudgeon so perfectly that at first you are taken in completely by his prickly non-interest in the people around him, and his general impatience with the world. It's only as the author switches back and forth in time to illuminate what shaped Ove's personality that you begin to understand him and his extraordinary strength. By the end of the book I was going through tissues like there was no tomorrow - the best kind of catharsis.
Not that this is a solemn or preachy kind of book; just the opposite! When my book group got together to discuss it, we disturbed the choir rehearsal across the hall because we were laughing so hard remembering so many episodes involving Ove and his neighbors. It's just not possible to resist the pregnant Iranian lady who has moved in next door with her utterly unhandy Swedish husband, nor their seven and three year old daughters who will not let themselves be ignored. Why can't everybody in the neighborhood just leave him in peace and allow Ove to commit suicide quietly instead of presenting him with one problem after another to solve?
This book truly does have it all. My advice? READ. THIS. BOOK. - SOON!!!
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