Here's the truth. Over the last few years I have spent countless hours reading books to better the education of my children. Sounds great to me. But I miss the feeling of longing for a book, that next page, that character, that tear stain on a page, a clutch to the heart or the need to throw it to the ground and never open it again. I need to read for myself. Just as I need to be exercising (heh) and pulling weeds (ew) and finishing that quilt I started two years ago (ugh). Not like, I need to go to the dentist, but like, I need that steaming cup of coffee with the pinch of coconut oil and just the right splash of 1/2 and 1/2 by 6:30 every morning.
Well, neither do I. Sorry.
Back to a Man Called Ove. I chose this book out of the countless others published last year because I liked the name. There is a lot to be said about a name. And this one is just so simple it drew me in. Who is this man called Ove and why would someone write a book about him?
Ove is just an ordinary guy with a story who would be the first to tell you not a story worth writing a book about. But we all do have a story. And all of our stories connect to and intersect with each other in different ways. Memorable books start with simple, normal characters who with every page turn become more interesting until the reader is in love and did not see it coming. Ove is just that character.
A good book makes a reader feel something. This book pissed me off, maybe cry a little, then laugh some, and then sigh. It's just about a normal man, a normal life, a normal story. Which is what makes it so incredibly beautiful.
Rating: 5 stars
Second Read Worthy: No, but I will be thinking about it for some time
Share it with a friend: Definitely
A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman