A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman
Title: A Man Called Ove
Author: Fredrik Backman
Published: 2012
Type: Fiction
Pages: 337
Of all the imaginable things he most misses about her, the thing he really wishes he could do again is hold her hand in his. She had a way of folding her index finger into his palm, hiding it inside. And he always felt like nothing in the world was impossible when she did that. Of all the things he could miss, that’s what he misses most.
In Brief:
A quick read, not bad/not great. I got annoyed with it at times – most characters are one-dimensional, I didn’t find the cantankerous old man as charming or sympathetic as I think I was meant to, the wry commentary became overplayed – but overall it’s a nice blend of funny, sad, and sweet.
Rating: 3.4
Synopsis:
Ove is a grumpy old Swedish man who drives a Saab. After the death of his beloved wife and getting laid off from his job, he determines that there’s nothing left to live for and he’s going to kill himself. If his neighbors won’t stop interfering.
The book alternates chapters between past and present. In the past, the reader learns about Ove’s bleak history – he became an orphan at 16, at which point he dropped out of school and began to work. His family’s house burned down. He tried to join the military but was denied. Ove was saved from despair when he met his wife Sonja, a kind and outgoing woman. When she died, the color left Ove’s life.
In the present, Ove’s suicide attempts are repeatedly, accidentally interrupted by his new neighbor Parvaneh, a pregnant, straight-talking Persian woman with two young daughters who find Ove hilarious. Parvaneh all but drags Ove out of his reclusion, intertwining his life more and more extensively with that of his formerly-ignored community. There’s a stray cat that makes its way into his home. A greasy teenager trying to find love. A gay barista disowned after he comes out to his conservative father. An old friend-turned-enemy suffering from Alzheimer’s and his wife fighting to keep him from being taken away. Ove helps them, and they help Ove find a reason to live again. Very sweet.
Where I’m At:
Once again – not too much going on presently that I can point to here for reference. I spend most of my time at home with my cat Matilda, which made the cat in this book my favorite character. The way that Ove finds a community with his neighbors was perhaps particularly poignant, given that interacting with neighbors (or anyone) isn’t really an option right now, and I wish it was – I’ve really been craving more human interaction.
But even if there wasn’t a pandemic – a community can be difficult to find in a city, when there are so many people running around with so many lives. Though I have plenty of communities among my friends, they’re scattered about, and that’s just a different thing than having a connection with those you’re physically living alongside. I can’t really put a finger on it, perhaps because since leaving Carlsbad, I’ve never become close with my neighbors. That feels like a loss. The closest I’ve come is calls and texts to my upstairs neighbor when the ceiling in my bedroom started leaking recently. Even when I was in the Caribbean, I lived in a pretty spread out, reclusive community. I loved to visit my friend Katie, largely for the sense of community at her site – neighbors coming by to say hello, sharing food, checking in. That was new for me, and felt like something precious.
Now I’m just thinking about the show Community. Great show, doesn’t age great.
Anyway.
There are a couple of other personal let’s-say-quirks that affected my read of the book and perhaps sympathy towards Ove as a character. On one hand, pretty much all the men in my family are similarly introverted, fixated on The Way Things Are Done, with gruff exteriors hiding hearts of gold. I love and admire these men, so in that sense I am inclined to sympathize with Ove.
On the other hand, I’ve had something of a history dating men who are emotionally unavailable and/or reliant on me for emotional labor. Though I’ve loved and admired some of them too, I’ve become pretty exhausted by it. So in that sense, I am inclined to be frustrated with Ove, irritated by the fragile masculinity of it.
(No, these two certainly aren’t related, why would you ask?)
Getting Into it:
I’ll start with my criticisms. The book is sort of based on the assumption that the reader will find Ove charming and lovable despite his flaws. Though I did come to care about Ove, I felt begrudgingly forced into it, and could never really let go of some major issues. Namely, it bothered me that Ove never really learned how to be on his own – he relied on his wife, then on Pavarneh – women to tend for him and shoulder the emotional labor. Though the backstory gave some context, it still relied on an outdated, toxic form of masculinity that I don’t find at all endearing. At one point, when a man repeatedly honks at Pavarneh during a driving lesson, Ove gets out of the car and screams in his face, grabbing him by the throat. Are we supposed to celebrate that? Ove is often rude and downright mean to people – neither his past nor his secret kindness really makes up for that.
I also took real issue with the way suicide was addressed in the book. Ove is very matter of fact about it, just trying again and again, in different forms, only to be repeatedly foiled. It’s light, even supposed to be humorous, but left a bad taste in my mouth.
Lastly, I found the writing to be rather lazy. Other than Ove, all the characters were incredibly one-dimensional, which made them ultimately boring. The style relied on a lot of wry commentaries, which quickly became old and not as funny as they were supposed to be. The story moved slowly and very predictably – in a way I don’t mind that because it’s just sort of the type of book this is, but I also wished for a bit more depth or surprise.
Still, though I didn’t love this book, there were some redeeming aspects. The flashbacks worked really well, I think in part because neither story was particularly dramatic. When reading Severance, I’d sometimes get annoyed with the post-apocalyptic adventure narrative got interrupted by a chapter about her desk job, but that wasn’t an issue here. Sometimes a chapter would end with another suicide attempt, but you always knew that Parvaneh would appear at any moment to interrupt.
Most of all though, A Man Called Ove was just heartwarming, in a simple kind of way. You can’t help but cheer for this grumpy, good-hearted old man and the colorful host of characters that surround and uplift him. There are aww moments, like when Parvaneh’s children start calling Ove grandpa. There are laugh-out-loud funny moments, like when Ove does an early-morning neighborhood inspection followed by his cat, enforcing the rules (perhaps most funny to me since I can imagine my Pop-pop doing this exact thing). The overall message emphasizes the importance of love – between spouses, neighbors, even strangers. It’s hard to take issue with that.
Do I recommend this book? Kind of, if you’re just looking for a quick, feel-good story to read. If so, you should really lean into it – I probably would have enjoyed it more without my cynical eye-rolling. If you like the idea of stories about a grumpy-but-kind old person, but you want more nuance or depth, I recommend Olive Kitteridge, which accomplished a lot of the same things as A Man Called Ove – just better.
