A Man Called Ove
I'm a fan of Fredrik Backman's books.
Subtle humour, a tear or two, Ikea meatball fanatics, police silently hating
their jobs, grandparent-child dream teams, hostages rallying for their
incarcerator - love it. To this hodgepodge pile I've happily added A Man Called
Ove, a book about a sad old man who cares little for anybody's sympathy.
Ove is a stickler for principles. He drives
only a Saab, does his own house and car repairs, distrusts technology, hates
bureaucrats and goes to work without fail, even on the day after his wife's
funeral. Emotions confused him and he found work to help him understand or
often, repress the intangible. Losing his job was the final straw that sent him
into a depressed spiral leading him to decide to kill himself. To his eternal
chagrin, a riotous Swedish-Iranian family who introduces themselves to the
neighbourhood by mowing down Ove's mailbox have other plans.
Being taciturn meant that Ove alienated
everyone who crossed his path. With his gruff demeanour and insistence to have
things done his way, people steered clear, often misunderstanding his
well-intentioned efforts to be of help. His integrity landed him in trouble one
too many times, and being at the receiving end of scams didn't help his general
animosity towards any living thing either. His late wife Sonja saw through the
tough exterior, finally allowing him to let his guard down, even if only for
her. "He was a man of black and white. And she was colour. All the colour
he had" - these lines paint a touching portrait of this odd couple who
have nothing in common except a love that goes beyond their differences. So
intertwined were their lives that with her death, Ove had no reason to wake up;
her happiness was his own.
Grief is suffering of the worst kind; you
are bereft of the presence you cherished, grappling with the questions of what
could have been and what should have not. It’s not difficult to understand how
adrift Ove felt, and like him, there would be innumerable people struggling to
come to terms with their loss. In Ove’s case, the serendipitous arrival of a
young family next door forced him to behave as Sonja would have liked, leading
him to realise his actions would keep her memories alive. Perceptiveness is
also of the essence; his young Iranian neighbour taking cognizance of his state
and Ove himself being attuned to the needs of an ailing friend and his wife
helped them to intervene unobtrusively, changing their lives for the better. Ove’s
story certainly underscores the need to re-evaluate how we care for our elderly
and making accommodations for their limitations without stripping them of their
autonomy.
As with other books by Backman, A Man
Called Ove brings to us a charming slice of life in a town enriched by its
inhabitants, Swedes and non-Swedes alike. This blend of cultures provides a
heart-warming narrative of how this chaotic community rallies together for the
common good, resolving problems in their unique, sometimes eccentric ways. Anxious People didn't disappoint and was one of the best books I read in a long while, and A Man Called Ove is pretty close at its heels.
Comments
Post a Comment