Trigger Warning
Sep. 20th, 2017 08:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
qatsiBook Review: A Man Called Ove, by Fredrik Backman
I'm behind on book reviews. This had been on my to-read list for a while when it turned up in the work book sale; when I discovered Reading Film Theatre is showing the film adaptation this term, it was queue-jumped to discover whether I would want to go and see the film. I think I probably will.
Looking back, there are many ways to categorise this story: the most uplifting is as the story of a man in late middle age who has lost his wife and his job, and feels he no longer has a purpose in life, being helped by his neighbours to discover a new purpose. But that's only apparent after you've read the book. Chapter by chapter, the story is of a man who was too honest, but not sociable enough, for his own good, who would surely feature on the autistic spectrum but who would probably harrumph at the idea. Having no purpose in life any longer, he tries to kill himself, in a way that will prove of minimal inconvenience to those who have to deal with such an event. Each of several attempts by different methods is thwarted in an absurd manner. It's this aspect of the book that troubles me: this subject is really no joke. Ove's neighbours are caricatures too, of course, and they are very intrusive into his solitary life; no wonder he can't stand them. There are flashbacks to earlier episodes in Ove's life, which don't so much explain the story of the book as reinforce Ove's personality. The neighbours unashamedly seek favours from Ove, sometimes absurdly. The young people around him are hopelessly incompetent; a couple with whom he was good friends but fell out years ago need help in dealing with the local social services, who want to put the husband into care. And there's a cat, which seems to adopt Ove. Through all these things, it seems, he discovers a new purpose. So long as that nagging thought remains over whether the story is funny at all, the story can be very funny indeed.
I'm behind on book reviews. This had been on my to-read list for a while when it turned up in the work book sale; when I discovered Reading Film Theatre is showing the film adaptation this term, it was queue-jumped to discover whether I would want to go and see the film. I think I probably will.
Looking back, there are many ways to categorise this story: the most uplifting is as the story of a man in late middle age who has lost his wife and his job, and feels he no longer has a purpose in life, being helped by his neighbours to discover a new purpose. But that's only apparent after you've read the book. Chapter by chapter, the story is of a man who was too honest, but not sociable enough, for his own good, who would surely feature on the autistic spectrum but who would probably harrumph at the idea. Having no purpose in life any longer, he tries to kill himself, in a way that will prove of minimal inconvenience to those who have to deal with such an event. Each of several attempts by different methods is thwarted in an absurd manner. It's this aspect of the book that troubles me: this subject is really no joke. Ove's neighbours are caricatures too, of course, and they are very intrusive into his solitary life; no wonder he can't stand them. There are flashbacks to earlier episodes in Ove's life, which don't so much explain the story of the book as reinforce Ove's personality. The neighbours unashamedly seek favours from Ove, sometimes absurdly. The young people around him are hopelessly incompetent; a couple with whom he was good friends but fell out years ago need help in dealing with the local social services, who want to put the husband into care. And there's a cat, which seems to adopt Ove. Through all these things, it seems, he discovers a new purpose. So long as that nagging thought remains over whether the story is funny at all, the story can be very funny indeed.