I took against this book in the first few pages. It was obvious that the story line was going to be 'curmudgeonly old man, widely disliked, is revealed to have a heart of gold, and after about 250 pages, everyone lives happily ever after'. This is exactly what happened.

I turned the pages readily enough, but was unconvinced by almost everyone but the cat. I didn't believe in Parvaneh, friendly new neighbour. I didn't quite believe in Ove's wife Sonja. Would she really have chosen him as her life-time partner? I wasn't sure about his on-off (mainly off) relationship with his neighbour Rune either. But most of all, I didn't believe that Ove would turn from irritable and irritating to everyone's favourite grandfather in the space of about three weeks.

A decent enough beach read, but this whimsical tale was far to fey to appeal to me. I read it a week ago, and have had trouble remembering it well enough to review it. ( )

I laughed and cried in equal measure! ( )

AN ENTIRE SPOILER ALERT (of one of the best books I've ever read. I did my best to write this review in the style of Ove-please forgive the run-on sentences. Ove would understand them, and I liked Ove.):

I read a lot. I enjoy most of what I read. But occasionally, a book is so well-written, so true to form, of prose and content, and believability that I not only enjoy the characters, I know them. I knew Ove. I loved Ove. I hurt for Ove. I laughed and cried and hoped for Ove.

Ove (pronounced oova) is a man of 59 who sees the world in black and white. A true right vs. wrong, BMW vs. Saab kind of man, turned out from his job through forced retirement shortly after his wife, Sonja, passed. Without Sonja to care for and a job to do, Ove fails to see any reason to continue with life. And if it weren't for the meddling, needy new family who moved in down the road, comprised of a "non-caucasian" woman (Ove isn't racist, he's blunt, factual, matter-of-fact, and from Ove's perspective, a woman from Iran is in fact, not caucasian. That isn't a matter of being racist, it's simply the way it is), her "incapable husband" (again, from Ove's perspective, Patrick, who can't do so much as back up a bloody trailer without hitting Ove's mailbox, is not a capable person) and "curious" children (curious not only because they ask too many questions, but because they are strange little creatures to a man who never had children), Ove may have succeeded in dying. But things happen, plans change, tomorrow may be better timing.

Ove, who insists on following the rules (no bikes parked outside the bike shed because the sign says so; no driving in the residential square because, again, there is a sign posted that says otherwise), tries desperately to join his wife in the afterlife, promising her he will do so while on his daily visits with her. Still, through whatever reasons, divine intervention, nosey neighbors, or pure luck, the non-caucasian woman and her incapable, curious family, along with a group of unlikely people which include an orphaned man in the house next to Ove's, the woman and her infirm husband who once was Ove's friend until the man purchased a BMW, a homeless, "bent" young man, his stand-on-ceremony father, and the bent young man's best friend who is too incompetent to change a bike tire, and a mangy cat with only one ear, half a tail, and patches of missing fur intervene. Showing Ove in strange, uncomplicated, and unplanned ways, Ove is still relevant and needed.

Without exception, a Man Called Ove is one of my new favorite reads. Of course, it won't be for everyone; not everyone understands a "Get off my lawn" kind of attitude, but I do, and I loved it.

( )

A Man Called Ove – it was great to meet you

Here is a book about love, loss, grief, depression, perseverance against all odds, friendship, finding new purpose in life, and more love. This is all wrapped up in humorous writing – and by this I don’t mean laugh-out-loud funny, but writing full of absurd situations and descriptions.

Grumpy old men can have all the best reasons in the world to be grumpy, they have seen it all. I really liked how Backman slowly unveils Ove, page after page. The writing is so, so simple, done seemingly without effort, but this is deceptive, of course. It takes skill to make the reader enter the world of your book and stay there, see the characters, here them speak. Ove’s story is both beautiful and incredibly sad. I ended up loving him, and I loved his wife, Sonja.

“Loving someone is like moving into a house," Sonja used to say. "At first you fall in love with all the new things, amazed every morning that all this belongs to you, as if fearing that someone would suddenly come rushing in through the door to explain that a terrible mistake had been made, you weren't actually supposed to live in a wonderful place like this. Then over the years the walls become weathered, the wood splinters here and there, and you start to love that house not so much because of all its perfection, but rather for its imperfections. You get to know all the nooks and crannies. How to avoid getting the key caught in the lock when it's cold outside. Which of the floorboards flex slightly when one steps on them or exactly how to open the wardrobe doors without them creaking. These are the little secrets that make it your home.”

I rarely cry over books, but this time I had tears in my eyes. More than once. More than twice. More than three times. Thank you, Ove, thank you, Fredrik Backman.

P.S. There is a cat, too. The cat is wonderful. ( )

Backhand is turning into one of my favorite authors! I love, love his writing. He has such a wonderful way of capturing real life and putting it into beautiful words.
If you have read Beartown or Us Against Them, do not expect the same type of book. This book is magically written in its own special way. It’s a beautiful story of love, grief, and friendship. I laughed as much as I cried. Fantastic book! ( )