At its worst it's overly sentimental and too Forest Gumpish.

At its best it's a tender story brimming with humanity, the importance of connection, and a reminder that everyone we meet is fighting a battle we know nothing about.

I loved it.

4.5 stars ( )

This one grew on me. Had to get past the cat that didn't act much like a cat...which bugged me enough I considered not finishing the book. Glad I stuck with it. ( )

I can see why [b:A Man Called Ove|18774964|A Man Called Ove|Fredrik Backman|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1405259930s/18774964.jpg|21619954] has been so popular. It's light and sweet and everything's tied up neatly with a little bow by the end. This is comfort reading, an antidote to the bleak realities of public discourse and selfish consumerism that seem now to be so entrenched in the western world. [a:Fredrik Backman|6485178|Fredrik Backman|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1493098924p2/6485178.jpg] has written a story about a Saab-obsessed man who yearns for a simpler time, who is unable to cope with the rapid changes of the last twenty-five years and whose consequent anger and frustration prompt behaviour that would probably get him arrested and/or sectioned were he an actual flesh-and-blood person.

Ove reminds me, unsettlingly, of my own 70-something father. German-born, rather than Swedish, and utterly unattached to any particular make of car, he nonetheless bears more than a passing resemblance to our 'hero.' An engineer by training, he methodically renovated our family home for upwards of a decade when he wasn't struggling to grow his small consultancy business throughout the eighties and nineties. Dad and Ove both have all the emotional intelligence of a housebrick. Sadly, my father's marriage wasn't quite as solid (nor as redemptive) as Ove's and my parents endured many unhappy years together before finally splitting in 1998.

My father's life now is rather bland. He's disinterested with much of the world and tends towards pessimism. With his new partner he went bush-walking and nordic skiing, lived in Victoria's high country for ten or so years, travelled widely and socialised more than he was accustomed to. I wish I could say that his next relationship fixed everything, and it did address much that was missing in his life, but his fundamental inability to accept, process and express anything to do with his and anyone else's emotional lives has hollowed him out. He is made of cardboard. His views are utterly inflexible and he simple disengages when someone he's interacting with voices any opinion or behaves in a way that conflicts with his ideas of What Is Right and How Things Should Be Done. This is the reality for men like Ove. There are generally not savvy, altruistic neighbours ready to swoop in and intervene to the extent that Parvaneh does with Ove. Even those closest to them cannot bridge the yawning chasm between them. These men become increasingly bewildered, frustrated and ultimately ossified in their own systems of thought. They withdraw from the world, reasoning that it has left them behind with nothing to do.

So though I enjoyed the blithe humour and tidy ending of this book, I cannot in honesty say I was "unbearably moved". This story is like Persian fairy floss. Pleasant, sweet, and insubstantial as dandelions on the breeze. ( )

I loved this book: I would give it 7 stars if I could!

Warning: you may not want to read it on public transit as you'll likely miss your stop; and, there could be tears...

Kudos to the translator for doing a brilliant job of capturing the tone, humour, and emotion so beautifully and simply. ( )

Laughed. Cried. Loved it. ( )