People said Ove saw the world in black and white. But she was color. All the color he had.
Oh, my goodness. I haven’t felt these many feelings in a book since The Great Alone. If you want to laugh, cry, sob, sit and reflect on life… A Man Called Ove would be that book. It is told beautifully and progresses perfectly. At first, as a reader, you get to know Ove. Then, he worms his way into your heart. And then, he stays there. I think this book honestly changed my life.
A Man Called Ove makes you think about everything in your life, and everyone around you. Who are you spending your life with? People have a huge impact on your life, and shape who you are. When’s the last time you spoke to your neighbors? When’s the last time you checked in on anyone else? Are you aware of your actions to other people? How do you treat your waitress, your neighbor, your coworker, your clients….? Do you realize that they have lived an entire life that you haven’t the slightest clue about? Do you realize that even if you try to worm your way in, they may never tell you what is going on in their head?
Gosh, Ove is the grumpiest old man there is, but he is a good man. He comes off grumpy, but mainly he is just quiet. He has a big heart, although he would never admit it. Oh, good old Ove. This book tore my heart apart and tried to band-aid it somewhat back together, but it didn’t do a good enough job so I am left with a small tear, which will probably remain with me every time I think of Ove.
Also, I’m currently reading Beartown by Fredrik Backman and I would just have to say that I am probably going to be reading every single book he has. The man is a genius. He has so many quotable moments that it’s absolutely unreal… for example, here’s a longer quote for you:
“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 mad, 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 it’s perfection, but rather for it’s 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 how to open the wardrobe doors without them creaking. These are the little secrets that make it your home.”
It’s just amazing, right? I mean, he captures this idea of a long-term love by comparing it to home ownership. Something that makes so much sense, but nothing I would have thought of on my own. Anyway, kudos to Fredrik Backman, thanks for tearing my heart a little, and I’ll be reading more of his work.