Lisa Ridzén

If you are hoping for another A Man Called Ove (which I hated), you won’t get it here. Instead of a surly, cute-nasty old man who Learns Life Lessons From Perky Neighbors, Lisa Ridzén’s debut novel introduces us to an ailing, loving, tough-minded, lonely eighty-something retired sawmill worker whose life and health are draining away. His wife Fredrika of sixty-plus years (to whom Bo’s musings are often addressed in the first-person narrative) lives in a facility for those with show more dementia, and no longer recognizes Bo or their middle-aged only-child son Hans. Bo lives on his own, camped on a daybed, with his dog Sixten and a cast of carers who come by several times a day to feed and shower Bo, clean house, and walk the lovely elkhound. His workaholic son Hans stops by at intervals, with bags of groceries, to nag Bo about eating more, and to worry. At this point, when Bo is increasingly forgetful, unsteady on his feet, and confused, Hans is concerned about Sixten’s care and is pushing to rehome him. Bo is furious. It is revealed that Hans was the prime mover in “rehoming” Fredrika as well, as her dementia progressed. As Bo frets and rages, he is drawn back into memories of his own stormy relationship with his father, and is unsettled to recognize some of his father’s behavior erupting into his own, in spite of his best intentions not to allow that to happen. The memories of this, his childhood, his long and loving marriage, and his lifelong friendship with a co-worker who doesn’t quite fit into the rural community where they live, weave through his dreams, as the year and its seasons turn.

We bear witness to Bo’s remembrances, his regrets, his fears, his resentments and acceptance of the the aid of the kind and patient (well, all but one) caregivers that he doesn’t want, but needs. His body and mind fray, weaken, swell, and fail. He won’t let the carer give him a shower, he won’t eat; he comes to the angry recognition that “what they don’t understand is that refusing is all he can do now.” It does him no good. Bo staunchly meanders onward, toward the end that awaits us all.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to read this book. I live 1000 miles from my 90-year-old demented mother, an angry, critical, judgmental person who refuses or sabotages every effort to help or protect her. I’ve been Hans. I have rehomed the dog who was not fed, whose claws grew back into her pads, who left urine and feces in every room. I have bristled and groaned at the resistance, the refusals, the criticisms. I have also sat and watched caregivers turn my dying father in order to change his diaper. Ridzén gets it all right. That spring, the cranes were flying north as my father’s spirit took flight. I finished the book in pouring tears. It is a deeply moving, empathetic, humane exploration of aging, loss, and rage against the dying of the light. show less

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A Right Smart Reflection on the Ravages of Time, Swedish Style

When the Cranes Fly South (Tranerna flyger söderut) by Lisa Ridzén is a Swedish novel reflection on the ravages on time. She’s a researcher, they say, and a doctor-to-be, which means she probably knows a thing or two about the inner workings of a body and a mind – and it surely shows in this, her first book. And let me tell you, it’s a mighty fine show more debut.

My Two Cents

This here book is a genuine peach, written with a hand as steady as a as a Swedish fisherman making fishcakes. It’s readable, pulls at the heartstrings , and leaves you pondering deeper than a philosopher with a head full of highfalutin ideas. From the get-go, you just know you’re in for a sad little journey, but it’s a gentle kind of sorrow, like a quiet sunset after a long day. And hats off to that Alice Menzies, the translator; she’s done a bang-up job making these Swedish words sing in English.

Our main fellow, a chap named Bo, he knows his time is about up. And he’s facing all the undignified stuff that comes with getting old – the body rebelling, memories slipping away like sand through your fingers, friends moving on to the great beyond, and that pesky independence just plain vanishing. But even with all that, he’s still got a dignity about him, stubborn as a mule sometimes, but we’re just standing by and watching. We’re right there in his head, feeling every bit as vulnerable as he does.

Now, as an American, one thing that struck me harder than a hickory stick was the way those Swedes treat their old folks. Over here, unless you’re richer than a king, you’re pretty much on your own, depending on kinfolk. But in Sweden? Why, the elderly get folks coming by three, four times a day – making their vittles, washing them up, sitting a spell for company, and all sorts of things. Makes a man wonder if we ain’t missing a trick or two on this side of the pond.

Old Bo, he looks back on a long life, seems like it just flew by like a startled bird. He ponders his father, his boy, and his missus. His grand-daughter, bless her heart, and his old pals. And, of course, that faithful dog of his, Sixten, his one steady companion, who they’re trying to take away from him.
And that just isn’t right!

Sad and emotional as this book is, it’s harder to put down than a good hand of poker. If you’ve ever had to bid farewell to someone you cared for, this book’s gonna grab hold of your heart and not let go. Those characters, they’ll stick with you for weeks, setting up shop in your mind and making you think on all your own loved ones.

The Gist of It

So, our hero, Bo, he’s eighty-nine years old, and he knows the Grim Reaper is just around the bend. He misses his wife, Frederika, who’s got that memory-stealing sickness, Alzheimer’s, and the only comfort he gets is sniffing a scarf that still carries her scent.

Bo’s madder than a wet hen at his son and those caretakers, because they’re trying to snatch away his only buddy, that elkhound, Sixten. And all through the book, Bo just thinks back on his life, on all the folks he’s known and loved, and on the aggravating trials of a body that’s just plain wearing out. show less

I have absolutely no memory of adding When the Cranes Fly South to my TBR, but I strongly suspect one of my friends did it during a recent house party celebrating my ever-expanding personal library (yes, it was exactly as nerdy as it sounds) while my account was left unattended. To that friend: how dare you.

This book is quietly devastating in the most beautiful way—meditative on ageing, love, and the ways both shift into something unfamiliar over time (preferable to the alternative, I show more suppose, but still). It brought up a lot for me about my own grandparents, especially with the added shadow of dementia, and it’s going to sit with me for a while.

(Spoilers) Also, and I cannot stress this enough: how dare Bo’s son separate him from his dog. Unforgivable. I am emotionally compromised.

I will now have to cuddle my cat and get myself a little sweet treat show less

Wonderful ode to love in its many mundane manifestations, both between spouses, parents and kids as well as dogs and carers.

Ridzen applies an alternating style: most of the time we listen to the inner voice of an aging widower, Bo(sse), in the first person. This narrative is interspersed with short notes written by his carers (including Bo’s son Hans, who drops in regularly to re-supply). This works well, to provide a clear insight into the intensifying forgetfulness of Bo.

Bo’s wife show more suffers from dementia and is located away from his home, in a local full-time care institution. Bo’s dog Sixten is a loyal companion, but at some stage pressure mounts that he needs to be moved to a new owner who can take him out on his daily walks. The son, Hans, is a prime advocate of this move, certainly when Bo is found in the woods after a heavy fall. This sets the scene for a dramatic climax that also involves the death of Bo’s best friend, whom he phones regularly to let of steam.

Nothing much happens in the novel besides the fact that we wander jointly with Bo’s mind through his life as a sawmill worker, raised by a violent and stern father, and loving but mostly silent mom. These reminiscences can be triggered at any moment and they are craftily shaped by Ridzen. Ridzen is interested mainly in a certain type of masculinity as elaborated in father-son relationships and conventional marriage. In contrast, Bo’s best friend stayed alone his whole life, whereby it slowly dawns on both the reader and Bo that he was a homosexual (apparently never explicitly discussed between the two of them). At his funeral a mysterious man from Gothenburg appears and only then the penny drops. This is sooo typical of Bo’s generation (and that of my own parents).

Special attention is paid to the characters of the carers that drop in every 3 hours at Bo’s isolated home in the North of Sweden. Each in their own way make an impression. And then of course there are the personalities that carry a special place in Bo’s life – his grand daughter and his dog. The dog is ultimately removed, but makes a come-back at the very end at the behest of Ingrid, the best loved carer, who understands Bo best. This is a powerful novel that educates. It is also one of the few novels that made me cry at the end. Makes one wonder whether Ridzen has more stories up her sleeve – I hope so. show less