October 1, 2016
Update: I had planned to leave this post as it is, but after seeing the continued kind responses, I thought it best to inform you that my grandad passed away just before Christmas. Thank you to everyone who commented about this review and about him, but it seemed wrong to not let you know. It's always hard to lose someone who has been such a huge part of your life from day one, but please know that he died a happy old man, peacefully, surrounded by his family. And isn't that the best any of us can ever hope for?
~ Emily ♥
.......................................................................
I'm going to share something with you.
My grandad is the very definition of curmudgeonly. He's an eighty year old man who likes to complain about anything and everything: youth today, UK politics, my dad, the weather, technology... you name it. He calls me and my siblings up most days to tell stories punctuated with rants and numerous "bloody hell"s. I'm not worried about him seeing this post because he doesn't trust computers and hasn't even grasped the concept of the internet. Most new technology is referred to as "those bloody things", except for FaceTime, which he has recently taken a liking to. He makes use of it by popping up on my iPhone multiple times a day to deliver a bout of doom and gloom in which I see nothing on the screen but his chin.
All my friends are a little afraid of him and are never quite sure when he's joking. He is nothing short of a grumpy old man. Except, in truth, that's only half of it.
The other day I opened the mailbox to find an envelope which contained this picture of me and him from my graduation:

And with it came this note:

Thing is, behind whatever my grandad may seem on the outside, he is a loving man who lost his wife - my grandmother - several years ago. He bugs us constantly with his moaning about life because he's lonely and because he misses us. He has a heart and he has a sense of humour, even if most people don't really get it. And it was in Ove, the protagonist of this novel, that I recognized pieces of my grandad.
I loved Ove. Parts of this novel punched me right in my emotions. I think I would have been okay if this novel was merely a sad, moving tale about a man who has to get on with his life after his wife died. I could have shaken off the emotional manipulation - as I did with The Fault in Our Stars - and not shed a tear. But this story is so much more than a tearjerker.
Ove shouldn't be a character we love; he's so miserly and grumpy and skeptical of everything... but he's also hilarious. He charms us with his completely uncharming ways. Because, though I don't share his worldview, what he says actually makes sense and sometimes it's really funny. Take this:
“Ove glares out of the window. The poser is jogging. Not that Ove is provoked by jogging. Not at all. Ove couldn’t give a damn about people jogging. What he can’t understand is why they have to make such a big thing of it. With those smug smiles on their faces, as if they were out there curing pulmonary emphysema. Either they walk fast or they run slowly, that’s what joggers do. It’s a forty-year-old man’s way of telling the world that he can’t do anything right. Is it really necessary to dress up as a fourteen-year-old Romanian gymnast in order to be able to do it? Or the Olympic tobogganing team? Just because one shuffles aimlessly around the block for three quarters of an hour?”
Plus, there's a wonderful cat who our lovable protagonist grudgingly befriends, which just improves this book even more.
I think perhaps the saddest part of this book is not found in the most obvious place. Ove's loss of his wife touched me, but I was even more affected by the underlying tale of old age and how many old people can be left feeling lonely and out of place towards the end of their lives. How difficult it must be to live alone in a world that becomes more foreign to you every day, with its new gadgets and trends that you don't understand or care to entertain. It was moving and thought-provoking.
I'm going to call my grandad now.
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~ Emily ♥
.......................................................................
I'm going to share something with you.
My grandad is the very definition of curmudgeonly. He's an eighty year old man who likes to complain about anything and everything: youth today, UK politics, my dad, the weather, technology... you name it. He calls me and my siblings up most days to tell stories punctuated with rants and numerous "bloody hell"s. I'm not worried about him seeing this post because he doesn't trust computers and hasn't even grasped the concept of the internet. Most new technology is referred to as "those bloody things", except for FaceTime, which he has recently taken a liking to. He makes use of it by popping up on my iPhone multiple times a day to deliver a bout of doom and gloom in which I see nothing on the screen but his chin.
All my friends are a little afraid of him and are never quite sure when he's joking. He is nothing short of a grumpy old man. Except, in truth, that's only half of it.
The other day I opened the mailbox to find an envelope which contained this picture of me and him from my graduation:

And with it came this note:

Thing is, behind whatever my grandad may seem on the outside, he is a loving man who lost his wife - my grandmother - several years ago. He bugs us constantly with his moaning about life because he's lonely and because he misses us. He has a heart and he has a sense of humour, even if most people don't really get it. And it was in Ove, the protagonist of this novel, that I recognized pieces of my grandad.
“People said he was bitter. Maybe they were right. He’d never reflected much on it. People also called him antisocial. Ove assumed this meant he wasn’t overly keen on people. And in this instance he could totally agree with them. More often than not people were out of their minds.”
I loved Ove. Parts of this novel punched me right in my emotions. I think I would have been okay if this novel was merely a sad, moving tale about a man who has to get on with his life after his wife died. I could have shaken off the emotional manipulation - as I did with The Fault in Our Stars - and not shed a tear. But this story is so much more than a tearjerker.
Ove shouldn't be a character we love; he's so miserly and grumpy and skeptical of everything... but he's also hilarious. He charms us with his completely uncharming ways. Because, though I don't share his worldview, what he says actually makes sense and sometimes it's really funny. Take this:
“Ove glares out of the window. The poser is jogging. Not that Ove is provoked by jogging. Not at all. Ove couldn’t give a damn about people jogging. What he can’t understand is why they have to make such a big thing of it. With those smug smiles on their faces, as if they were out there curing pulmonary emphysema. Either they walk fast or they run slowly, that’s what joggers do. It’s a forty-year-old man’s way of telling the world that he can’t do anything right. Is it really necessary to dress up as a fourteen-year-old Romanian gymnast in order to be able to do it? Or the Olympic tobogganing team? Just because one shuffles aimlessly around the block for three quarters of an hour?”
Plus, there's a wonderful cat who our lovable protagonist grudgingly befriends, which just improves this book even more.
I think perhaps the saddest part of this book is not found in the most obvious place. Ove's loss of his wife touched me, but I was even more affected by the underlying tale of old age and how many old people can be left feeling lonely and out of place towards the end of their lives. How difficult it must be to live alone in a world that becomes more foreign to you every day, with its new gadgets and trends that you don't understand or care to entertain. It was moving and thought-provoking.
I'm going to call my grandad now.
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