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liambornofshadows 's review for:
A Man Called Ove
by Fredrik Backman
I feel it is necessary to give a warning before I start the review: I tried to write the most detailed review I could for this book, and so this review is somewhat lengthy.
And before I get to the main review, let me confess something first: while reading "A Man Called Ove," I caught myself thinking that if someone doesn't read this book, they won't understand what Backman’s books are really about. It’s true that this book isn’t the best one Backman has ever written. Almost all of his other books are better than this one, and you know what? That's a good thing because it shows that Backman has progressed in his writing and storytelling. If his first book remained his best, it would be truly sad. Then, Backman wasn't really Backman at all.
So yes, I admit that this book can be boring, and I have never recommended it to someone who is just starting to read Backman’s works, nor will I. However, I am also confident that this book cannot be ignored just because it isn’t his best or doesn’t suit everyone’s taste. This book paved the way for Backman’s writing journey and, in my view, very straightforwardly shows what Backman wants to convey as a writer, how much he values the connection between the reader and the book as well as the network of characters, and most importantly, that he doesn’t write just for the sake of writing something. Additionally, Backman is a writer who clearly creates his characters by drawing inspiration from those around him, and while his other books encompass a range of people who may inspire at least part of a character, "A Man Called Ove" gives me the impression that it is about Backman and his wife. Other characters come and go, and there are other people mentioned, but ultimately the story revolves around one man and the woman who brought him to life.
That’s why I think if you want to read Backman’s writings, reading this book is a must—not just because it’s one of the books the author has written.
But about the book itself! This time I would like to use a new method to advance my review, which is to utilize the titles of the chapters to create a relatively clear path in this text because the titles have been chosen in such a way that when you put them together, it feels like you have a map of the entire book.
The chapters of the book follow a specific pattern in their titles: each begins with either "A Man Called Ove" or "A Man Who Was Ove." Clearly, the chapters titled "A Man Who Was Ove" are flashbacks in the story, and this different beginning is a method by which Backman advances two different storylines side by side. However, it’s not just that the difference between these chapters ends with their titles; even the writing style of the chapters is different. The present-time chapters, or those starting with "A Man Called Ove," are written in present tense, while the chapters titled "A Man Who Was Ove" are in past tense. Overall, the number of chapters related to Ove's past and memories isn’t that high compared to the chapters of the main story, but it is still important for these two types of chapters to be distinguished. Because while the story may ultimately be about one common character, the Ove we see in the past chapters directly influences the Ove whose story is told in the present; however, these two Oves are not the same. Therefore, "A Man Who Was Ove" and "A Man Who Became Ove," is still a man called Ove. Why should both storylines be read together? The answer lies within the book itself: "If you don't know the story, you don't know the man."
For me, the order of the chapters was interesting. I mean in a way that these two categories are arranged side by side. It seems like a simultaneous combination of following a pattern at first, but then the pattern breaks away. There’s a part of the book where these chapters alternate between the past and the present; in fact, in this part of the book, we have three chapters that are titled in this order: "A Man Called Ove And A Cat Annoyance In A Snowdrift", "A Man Who Was Ove And A Cat Named Ernest," and "A Man Called Ove And A Cat That Was Broken When He Came." For me, the way we moved from the present to the past in these three chapters and then returned to the present was interesting. However, ultimately, there is no discernible pattern in where each chapter is placed; where we delve into the past or where we return to the present. Whenever the story needs it, any part of the narrative is addressed as necessary. In fact, I’m looking at it now, and the first chapter that deals with Ove's past doesn’t even start with "A Man Who Was Ove." That chapter is titled "A Man Called Ove"; simple and concise.
We have two chapters titled "A Man Called Ove" in this book. The fact that one is positioned at the beginning of the book and the other at the end is beautiful. It creates a good contrast. The first chapter of the book is about Ove's early life, and the last chapter is close to the end of his life. One of the chapters is about a family that Ove had and lost, while the other is about a family that he perhaps didn’t want but gained. One is about the boy that Ove was, and one is about the man he became. Two of my favorite chapters in the book, perhaps even two of the best chapters in the entire book.
Now that I’ve mentioned these two chapters, I want to take this opportunity to discuss a character that made that chapter "A Man Called Ove" at the beginning of the book endearing to me: Ove's father.
I really liked this man, even though he doesn’t have a long presence in the book. Whenever I reached the parts related to Ove's father, I felt a strange sensation; a mix of respect, envy, and other feelings I couldn’t quite identify. This character was a quiet man who was more about action than words, which made his words even more valuable. It didn’t matter who he was dealing with; Ove’s father treated everyone with respect and would never turn someone away if they asked for help. However, his love was ultimately reserved for a few people: Ove and his mother. Everything he had was for these two. An example of this is when the wedding car of the daughter of the railway director where Ove's father worked broke down, and they sent for Ove's father; he arrived on his bicycle with a toolbox, fixed the car, and when they invited him to join them at the wedding celebration, he declined by saying, “A man whose hands and clothes are greasy doesn’t belong among dignified people at a wedding.” But in exchange for their thanks, he accepted bread and meat for his son who was at home. When that night Ove and his father ate bread and meat instead of their usual boiled potatoes and sausage, Ove felt like he had attended a royal banquet. This part was truly impactful for me, and I remember when I read it again, I stared at the wall for a moment and thought to myself: “Holy f***!" Right? What he did is simple but significant. Very significant. Because making your son happy with food is simple, but loving him in such a way that he feels like he’s attending a royal banquet is something every father can’t accomplish.
And well, I think that’s what made Ove more endearing to me as well. Because one of the things we know about Ove is that he's trying to minimize the difference between himself and his father as much as possible. (At the end of the book, in a part where Backman thanks those involved with the book, the last two lines are: “Ralph Backman. My father. Because I hope the difference between you and me is as minimal as possible.” I’m fine. I’m calm. I didn’t stare at the wall at all after reading those two lines. Not at all.)
Now that I've written about Ove's father, I should write about Sonja for two reasons: first, because both Ove's father and Sonia had the greatest impact on Ove's life, and second, because Sonia was not only all of Ove's colors but all the colors of the book. The story is Ove's story, and Ove didn't truly live until Sonja came along; even after Sonia, it took time for him to learn how to live again. In fact, this relearning was partly due to Sonja. Ove is the skeleton and body of the story, while Sonia is its soul. You can't help but love Sonja because she is portrayed through the perspective of someone who doesn't like people but has fallen in love with this particular person. It's not like you see the dialogue "Ove was black and white, and Sonia was all his colors" in the book without having evidence to support it.
The truth is that Sonja could have been dark and cold. Life was not kind to her and imposed a lot of pain on her, but Sonia remained light. She remained colorful. She taught troubled kids how to read Shakespeare. She turned her and Ove's house into a home. She hid her hand in Ove's and stroked his palm to calm that grumpy man and alleviate some of his bitterness. Not only that, but another interesting point about Sonja's character, which I think ultimately transferred to Ove as well, was that she accepted people just as they were. Not just Ove. Everyone. The difference between Sonja and Ove in this regard was that Sonia accepted people as they were and found a way to love them, while Ove accepted that people were exactly as they were and most of the time, that meant people were a bunch of idiots. :)
Anyway, I talked about Ove's father and Sonia back-to-back to reach this point: throughout the book, especially in the beginning, you can repeatedly see that Ove doesn't do the right thing because he wants to; he does it because he thinks that if he doesn't do that thing—which is essentially the right thing—Sonja or his father will be disappointed in him, and Ove doesn't want that. Alongside the law, which Ove adheres to dogmatically, he is also bound by what those two expect from him. In situations where there is no law to help him decide what to do, questions like "What would my father do?" or "What would Sonja make me do?" help him distinguish right from wrong.
Ove's father is dead, Sonia is dead, and Ove wants to die too, but throughout the time he is breathing, he lives for these two people. Even after they are gone, Ove still tries to live for them.
Before I go back to my discussion about the book, I want to say one more thing: in terms of character development, the connection I established with Ove, his father, and Sonja was incomparable to the other characters. I'm not saying the characterization of the other characters wasn't good; it's just that these three seemed to be several steps above the rest. I think one of the things that clearly indicates this is Backman's first book. It seems Backman was still uncertain about his writing potential; he only dipped his toes into the water and didn't dare go further. The network of characters formed is really good. Throughout the book, we find out that Jimmy, the chubby neighbor, is a boy whom Ove and Rune helped escape from his mother's awful boyfriend by paying for their house so that Jimmy and his mother could live there comfortably. The house where years later, Jimmy and Mirsad live after their marriage; they adopt a little girl, and every afternoon at three o'clock, Jimmy visits Anita and Rune, who were abandoned by their son. Yeah, the journalist who initially just wanted to interview Ove ends up living with Anders, one of the neighbors with whom Ove had a problem due to his ex-girlfriend, and they later get married. Or Adrian, who loves a girl whose family owns the house where Ove gets stabbed while trying to prevent a burglary, which happens after the radio warned about the increase in home thefts a few chapters earlier. All of this exists, but if you’ve read Backman’s other books, you’ll see that this network of characters is not even close to what Backman usually manages. The characters are well-developed, but by Backman’s standards, they really don’t stand out that much. Maybe that’s why when I wanted to write about the other characters after Ove's father and Sonja, I didn’t have anything special to say. You can write about them, but they don’t have anything particularly noteworthy compared to those three.
However, regarding Ove himself, there are two specific parts that I really like and that made his character interesting for me. One relates to his past; it’s the part where Ove runs out of the locker room without getting dressed to confront Tom and retrieve his father’s watch. The other happens in the present when Parvaneh breaks down crying during her first driving lesson with Ove. When the driver behind them honks, Ove gets out of the car and pulls the driver out to tell him that if he honks again, honking will be the last thing he does. Then he goes back and gets into the car again and calms Parvaneh with what is, for him, a kind of speech. These two parts made me think to myself, ‘This guy is actually cool!’
The thing is, I remember in one of the interviews I watched with Backman a while ago, he described his writing through the words of a colleague: ‘Backman introduces a character at the beginning of the book and then spends the next four hundred pages defending them.’ I think this description holds true, at least for A Man Called Ove and the character growth we see in Ove. By the time the book nears its end, Ove has become a likable character, while at the beginning he was truly unbearable. Even though Ove changes throughout the book, his transformation isn’t as significant as it seems when you compare the beginning and end of the book. Ove is still that same irritable old man who argues with a salesperson over something he doesn’t understand when buying an iPad; he is still strictly bound by the law and still feels surrounded by idiots.
So why do the changes in his character seem so striking? Part of it is because the reader has just come to know Ove. They have just understood the reasons behind his behavior and realized what events shaped his current personality. Backman’s books, whatever they may lack, always make you regret your hasty judgments. The same thing happens in this book. Ove is judged by the reader, and by the end, the reader regrets having done so and thinks to themselves that they have judged Ove harshly without giving him a chance to be understood. Of course, it’s not like Ove is exactly the same at the beginning and end of the book. By the end, Ove comes to terms with significant changes in his life, and although he may not be satisfied with it, he gets used to the presence of new people and a new life and learns to adapt to them.
Honestly, perhaps this sums up the book quite well: a story about loss and moving on with that void left behind when no reason for continuing can be found. This theme has taken shape in the story of a man who has been lost in life for six months after losing his wife and has been stumbling blindly through it, as he gradually learns how to adapt to his new life and let new people into it. None of these new people fill the void left by someone who has gone, but they have their own place and prove to this man that there are still people who need him, and that is enough for him.
From a distance, this storytelling method seems very simple, doesn’t it? The simplicity of Backman’s stories is one of the characteristics that makes his writing unique. Especially in this book, it feels like everything has come together to constantly remind the reader of this simplicity. Even the titles given to the chapters hint at this point. The name of each chapter is chosen in such a way that it essentially provides a summary of the chapter that is about to be read. As I mentioned earlier, it feels like before the main storyline begins, a map is provided to you. But it’s not just that. The names are such that it seems Backman is telling everyone reading the book: 'Look, don’t forget, this is a story. The story I’m telling you is as simple as the title you read before the chapter starts. What I’m telling you is simply "A Man Called Ove And A Brat Who Draws In Color," "A Man Called Ove And A Whiskey," and "A Man Called Ove."’ Then, as you go further and read the book, you realize it’s not that simple. Stories are never simple, even when they are. (Did I come up with a selection of my favorite chapters? Yes. Did I intentionally leave the last one with a title that is not only the name of the book but also the same as two of the most important chapters? Maybe.)
Now, with all that I’ve said so far, I have to say that A Man Called Ove is relatively... cliché compared to Backman’s other books. The love that the book is built upon is between a man who loves cars, loves construction, fixes houses, and builds cradles for his child, and a woman who loves music, reads books, and tends to her plants. The man fights for his love, builds for her, and protects her; the woman loves and allows herself to be protected.
A boy is judged for wearing eyeliner, another boy for having tattoos. A neighbor is judged for being overweight, another because he can’t open a stuck window without falling off a ladder. A woman is expected to be emotional because of her gender, while a man is expected to know repairs because of his gender.
All of this exists, but that man who has fallen in love builds a library for her books, constructs a ramp so she can do what she loves: teach children whom everyone has given up on how to read Shakespeare’s sonnets.
The boy who wears eyeliner is given a place to sleep when his father throws him out of the house. Later on, that father is invited for a glass of whiskey, which leads him to seek out his son so they can talk about hopes, disappointments, and "manhood." Years later, that father tries to give a speech at his son’s wedding to another man but becomes emotional and instead names one of his sandwiches at his café after his son-in-law, who loves food. The overweight neighbor gains enough trust to be taken along as a guide to help buy the best iPad for a seven-year-old girl. The woman who was expected to be emotional is told in a stationary car at a red light that unlike most people, she isn’t a complete fool. The man who didn’t know repairs gets advice on what car to buy.
Most importantly, the man who lost the chance to be a father becomes a grandfather and has colorful drawings and a photo of a happy family playing in water on his fridge, along with a cat that always stares at him judgmentally.
And this is the story of a man called Ove.
And before I get to the main review, let me confess something first: while reading "A Man Called Ove," I caught myself thinking that if someone doesn't read this book, they won't understand what Backman’s books are really about. It’s true that this book isn’t the best one Backman has ever written. Almost all of his other books are better than this one, and you know what? That's a good thing because it shows that Backman has progressed in his writing and storytelling. If his first book remained his best, it would be truly sad. Then, Backman wasn't really Backman at all.
So yes, I admit that this book can be boring, and I have never recommended it to someone who is just starting to read Backman’s works, nor will I. However, I am also confident that this book cannot be ignored just because it isn’t his best or doesn’t suit everyone’s taste. This book paved the way for Backman’s writing journey and, in my view, very straightforwardly shows what Backman wants to convey as a writer, how much he values the connection between the reader and the book as well as the network of characters, and most importantly, that he doesn’t write just for the sake of writing something. Additionally, Backman is a writer who clearly creates his characters by drawing inspiration from those around him, and while his other books encompass a range of people who may inspire at least part of a character, "A Man Called Ove" gives me the impression that it is about Backman and his wife. Other characters come and go, and there are other people mentioned, but ultimately the story revolves around one man and the woman who brought him to life.
That’s why I think if you want to read Backman’s writings, reading this book is a must—not just because it’s one of the books the author has written.
But about the book itself! This time I would like to use a new method to advance my review, which is to utilize the titles of the chapters to create a relatively clear path in this text because the titles have been chosen in such a way that when you put them together, it feels like you have a map of the entire book.
The chapters of the book follow a specific pattern in their titles: each begins with either "A Man Called Ove" or "A Man Who Was Ove." Clearly, the chapters titled "A Man Who Was Ove" are flashbacks in the story, and this different beginning is a method by which Backman advances two different storylines side by side. However, it’s not just that the difference between these chapters ends with their titles; even the writing style of the chapters is different. The present-time chapters, or those starting with "A Man Called Ove," are written in present tense, while the chapters titled "A Man Who Was Ove" are in past tense. Overall, the number of chapters related to Ove's past and memories isn’t that high compared to the chapters of the main story, but it is still important for these two types of chapters to be distinguished. Because while the story may ultimately be about one common character, the Ove we see in the past chapters directly influences the Ove whose story is told in the present; however, these two Oves are not the same. Therefore, "A Man Who Was Ove" and "A Man Who Became Ove," is still a man called Ove. Why should both storylines be read together? The answer lies within the book itself: "If you don't know the story, you don't know the man."
For me, the order of the chapters was interesting. I mean in a way that these two categories are arranged side by side. It seems like a simultaneous combination of following a pattern at first, but then the pattern breaks away. There’s a part of the book where these chapters alternate between the past and the present; in fact, in this part of the book, we have three chapters that are titled in this order: "A Man Called Ove And A Cat Annoyance In A Snowdrift", "A Man Who Was Ove And A Cat Named Ernest," and "A Man Called Ove And A Cat That Was Broken When He Came." For me, the way we moved from the present to the past in these three chapters and then returned to the present was interesting. However, ultimately, there is no discernible pattern in where each chapter is placed; where we delve into the past or where we return to the present. Whenever the story needs it, any part of the narrative is addressed as necessary. In fact, I’m looking at it now, and the first chapter that deals with Ove's past doesn’t even start with "A Man Who Was Ove." That chapter is titled "A Man Called Ove"; simple and concise.
We have two chapters titled "A Man Called Ove" in this book. The fact that one is positioned at the beginning of the book and the other at the end is beautiful. It creates a good contrast. The first chapter of the book is about Ove's early life, and the last chapter is close to the end of his life. One of the chapters is about a family that Ove had and lost, while the other is about a family that he perhaps didn’t want but gained. One is about the boy that Ove was, and one is about the man he became. Two of my favorite chapters in the book, perhaps even two of the best chapters in the entire book.
Now that I’ve mentioned these two chapters, I want to take this opportunity to discuss a character that made that chapter "A Man Called Ove" at the beginning of the book endearing to me: Ove's father.
I really liked this man, even though he doesn’t have a long presence in the book. Whenever I reached the parts related to Ove's father, I felt a strange sensation; a mix of respect, envy, and other feelings I couldn’t quite identify. This character was a quiet man who was more about action than words, which made his words even more valuable. It didn’t matter who he was dealing with; Ove’s father treated everyone with respect and would never turn someone away if they asked for help. However, his love was ultimately reserved for a few people: Ove and his mother. Everything he had was for these two. An example of this is when the wedding car of the daughter of the railway director where Ove's father worked broke down, and they sent for Ove's father; he arrived on his bicycle with a toolbox, fixed the car, and when they invited him to join them at the wedding celebration, he declined by saying, “A man whose hands and clothes are greasy doesn’t belong among dignified people at a wedding.” But in exchange for their thanks, he accepted bread and meat for his son who was at home. When that night Ove and his father ate bread and meat instead of their usual boiled potatoes and sausage, Ove felt like he had attended a royal banquet. This part was truly impactful for me, and I remember when I read it again, I stared at the wall for a moment and thought to myself: “Holy f***!" Right? What he did is simple but significant. Very significant. Because making your son happy with food is simple, but loving him in such a way that he feels like he’s attending a royal banquet is something every father can’t accomplish.
And well, I think that’s what made Ove more endearing to me as well. Because one of the things we know about Ove is that he's trying to minimize the difference between himself and his father as much as possible. (At the end of the book, in a part where Backman thanks those involved with the book, the last two lines are: “Ralph Backman. My father. Because I hope the difference between you and me is as minimal as possible.” I’m fine. I’m calm. I didn’t stare at the wall at all after reading those two lines. Not at all.)
Now that I've written about Ove's father, I should write about Sonja for two reasons: first, because both Ove's father and Sonia had the greatest impact on Ove's life, and second, because Sonia was not only all of Ove's colors but all the colors of the book. The story is Ove's story, and Ove didn't truly live until Sonja came along; even after Sonia, it took time for him to learn how to live again. In fact, this relearning was partly due to Sonja. Ove is the skeleton and body of the story, while Sonia is its soul. You can't help but love Sonja because she is portrayed through the perspective of someone who doesn't like people but has fallen in love with this particular person. It's not like you see the dialogue "Ove was black and white, and Sonia was all his colors" in the book without having evidence to support it.
The truth is that Sonja could have been dark and cold. Life was not kind to her and imposed a lot of pain on her, but Sonia remained light. She remained colorful. She taught troubled kids how to read Shakespeare. She turned her and Ove's house into a home. She hid her hand in Ove's and stroked his palm to calm that grumpy man and alleviate some of his bitterness. Not only that, but another interesting point about Sonja's character, which I think ultimately transferred to Ove as well, was that she accepted people just as they were. Not just Ove. Everyone. The difference between Sonja and Ove in this regard was that Sonia accepted people as they were and found a way to love them, while Ove accepted that people were exactly as they were and most of the time, that meant people were a bunch of idiots. :)
Anyway, I talked about Ove's father and Sonia back-to-back to reach this point: throughout the book, especially in the beginning, you can repeatedly see that Ove doesn't do the right thing because he wants to; he does it because he thinks that if he doesn't do that thing—which is essentially the right thing—Sonja or his father will be disappointed in him, and Ove doesn't want that. Alongside the law, which Ove adheres to dogmatically, he is also bound by what those two expect from him. In situations where there is no law to help him decide what to do, questions like "What would my father do?" or "What would Sonja make me do?" help him distinguish right from wrong.
Ove's father is dead, Sonia is dead, and Ove wants to die too, but throughout the time he is breathing, he lives for these two people. Even after they are gone, Ove still tries to live for them.
Before I go back to my discussion about the book, I want to say one more thing: in terms of character development, the connection I established with Ove, his father, and Sonja was incomparable to the other characters. I'm not saying the characterization of the other characters wasn't good; it's just that these three seemed to be several steps above the rest. I think one of the things that clearly indicates this is Backman's first book. It seems Backman was still uncertain about his writing potential; he only dipped his toes into the water and didn't dare go further. The network of characters formed is really good. Throughout the book, we find out that Jimmy, the chubby neighbor, is a boy whom Ove and Rune helped escape from his mother's awful boyfriend by paying for their house so that Jimmy and his mother could live there comfortably. The house where years later, Jimmy and Mirsad live after their marriage; they adopt a little girl, and every afternoon at three o'clock, Jimmy visits Anita and Rune, who were abandoned by their son. Yeah, the journalist who initially just wanted to interview Ove ends up living with Anders, one of the neighbors with whom Ove had a problem due to his ex-girlfriend, and they later get married. Or Adrian, who loves a girl whose family owns the house where Ove gets stabbed while trying to prevent a burglary, which happens after the radio warned about the increase in home thefts a few chapters earlier. All of this exists, but if you’ve read Backman’s other books, you’ll see that this network of characters is not even close to what Backman usually manages. The characters are well-developed, but by Backman’s standards, they really don’t stand out that much. Maybe that’s why when I wanted to write about the other characters after Ove's father and Sonja, I didn’t have anything special to say. You can write about them, but they don’t have anything particularly noteworthy compared to those three.
However, regarding Ove himself, there are two specific parts that I really like and that made his character interesting for me. One relates to his past; it’s the part where Ove runs out of the locker room without getting dressed to confront Tom and retrieve his father’s watch. The other happens in the present when Parvaneh breaks down crying during her first driving lesson with Ove. When the driver behind them honks, Ove gets out of the car and pulls the driver out to tell him that if he honks again, honking will be the last thing he does. Then he goes back and gets into the car again and calms Parvaneh with what is, for him, a kind of speech. These two parts made me think to myself, ‘This guy is actually cool!’
The thing is, I remember in one of the interviews I watched with Backman a while ago, he described his writing through the words of a colleague: ‘Backman introduces a character at the beginning of the book and then spends the next four hundred pages defending them.’ I think this description holds true, at least for A Man Called Ove and the character growth we see in Ove. By the time the book nears its end, Ove has become a likable character, while at the beginning he was truly unbearable. Even though Ove changes throughout the book, his transformation isn’t as significant as it seems when you compare the beginning and end of the book. Ove is still that same irritable old man who argues with a salesperson over something he doesn’t understand when buying an iPad; he is still strictly bound by the law and still feels surrounded by idiots.
So why do the changes in his character seem so striking? Part of it is because the reader has just come to know Ove. They have just understood the reasons behind his behavior and realized what events shaped his current personality. Backman’s books, whatever they may lack, always make you regret your hasty judgments. The same thing happens in this book. Ove is judged by the reader, and by the end, the reader regrets having done so and thinks to themselves that they have judged Ove harshly without giving him a chance to be understood. Of course, it’s not like Ove is exactly the same at the beginning and end of the book. By the end, Ove comes to terms with significant changes in his life, and although he may not be satisfied with it, he gets used to the presence of new people and a new life and learns to adapt to them.
Honestly, perhaps this sums up the book quite well: a story about loss and moving on with that void left behind when no reason for continuing can be found. This theme has taken shape in the story of a man who has been lost in life for six months after losing his wife and has been stumbling blindly through it, as he gradually learns how to adapt to his new life and let new people into it. None of these new people fill the void left by someone who has gone, but they have their own place and prove to this man that there are still people who need him, and that is enough for him.
From a distance, this storytelling method seems very simple, doesn’t it? The simplicity of Backman’s stories is one of the characteristics that makes his writing unique. Especially in this book, it feels like everything has come together to constantly remind the reader of this simplicity. Even the titles given to the chapters hint at this point. The name of each chapter is chosen in such a way that it essentially provides a summary of the chapter that is about to be read. As I mentioned earlier, it feels like before the main storyline begins, a map is provided to you. But it’s not just that. The names are such that it seems Backman is telling everyone reading the book: 'Look, don’t forget, this is a story. The story I’m telling you is as simple as the title you read before the chapter starts. What I’m telling you is simply "A Man Called Ove And A Brat Who Draws In Color," "A Man Called Ove And A Whiskey," and "A Man Called Ove."’ Then, as you go further and read the book, you realize it’s not that simple. Stories are never simple, even when they are. (Did I come up with a selection of my favorite chapters? Yes. Did I intentionally leave the last one with a title that is not only the name of the book but also the same as two of the most important chapters? Maybe.)
Now, with all that I’ve said so far, I have to say that A Man Called Ove is relatively... cliché compared to Backman’s other books. The love that the book is built upon is between a man who loves cars, loves construction, fixes houses, and builds cradles for his child, and a woman who loves music, reads books, and tends to her plants. The man fights for his love, builds for her, and protects her; the woman loves and allows herself to be protected.
A boy is judged for wearing eyeliner, another boy for having tattoos. A neighbor is judged for being overweight, another because he can’t open a stuck window without falling off a ladder. A woman is expected to be emotional because of her gender, while a man is expected to know repairs because of his gender.
All of this exists, but that man who has fallen in love builds a library for her books, constructs a ramp so she can do what she loves: teach children whom everyone has given up on how to read Shakespeare’s sonnets.
The boy who wears eyeliner is given a place to sleep when his father throws him out of the house. Later on, that father is invited for a glass of whiskey, which leads him to seek out his son so they can talk about hopes, disappointments, and "manhood." Years later, that father tries to give a speech at his son’s wedding to another man but becomes emotional and instead names one of his sandwiches at his café after his son-in-law, who loves food. The overweight neighbor gains enough trust to be taken along as a guide to help buy the best iPad for a seven-year-old girl. The woman who was expected to be emotional is told in a stationary car at a red light that unlike most people, she isn’t a complete fool. The man who didn’t know repairs gets advice on what car to buy.
Most importantly, the man who lost the chance to be a father becomes a grandfather and has colorful drawings and a photo of a happy family playing in water on his fridge, along with a cat that always stares at him judgmentally.
And this is the story of a man called Ove.