A Man Called Ove

"Even the most serious reader of fiction needs light relief, and for that afternoon when all you want is charm, this is the perfect book."-San Francisco Chronicle

No, no, no.

"charming"-CBS Local

The least of it.

"..this celebration-of-life story..."-Shelf Awareness


That comes closest. Frederik Backman shows us how high the human spirit can soar. A Man Called Ove is a joyful hymn on the human spirit.


Ove brushes his hand over the gravestone again, even though he's already brushed off all the snow that can be brushed off.

"Well, yes, I told them one might like a bit of peace and quiet like a normal human being. But they don't listen, they don't," he moans, waving his arms tiredly towards the gravestone.

"Hi, Sonja," says Parvaneh behind him, with a cheerful wave so that her big mittens slip off her hands.

"Hajj!" the three-year-old hollers happily.

"'Hi,' you're supposed to say 'hi,'" the seven-year-old corrects.

"Hi, Sonja," say Patrick, Jimmy, Adrian, and Mirsad, all nodding in turn.

Ove stamps the snow off his shoes and nods,with a grunt, at the cat beside him.

"Yeah. And the cat you already know."
...
"This flower is from  Patrick and the children and me," says Parvaneh with a friendly smile at the stone.
...
"And this one's from Anita and Rune. They send loads of love."

The multifarious gathering turns around to go back to the parking area, but Parvaneh stays by the gravestone.

When Ove wants to know why, she just says, "Never you bloody mind!" to him with the sort of smile that makes Ove want to throw things at her. Nothing hard, perhaps. But something symbolic.

He replies with a snort in the lower octave range, then finds...that a discussion with both of those women at the same time would be redundant...

"Girl talk," says Parvaneh succinctly...