I’ve only recently discovered the brilliant Swedish author Fredrik Backman. Were I in charge of the world, I’d make his book – A Man Called Ove – compulsory reading for anyone of an age. The story of a 59-year-old curmudgeon hell-bent on killing himself resonates on so many levels that it comes alive. I can’t remember ever laying down a book as often to reflect. Or laugh. Or cry.

Backman’s treatment of death is particularly compelling:

Death is a strange thing. People live their whole lives as if it does not exist, and yet it’s often one of the great motivations for living. Some of us, in time, become so conscious of it that we live harder, more obstinately, with more fury. Some need its constant presence to even be aware of its antithesis. Others become so preoccupied with it that they go into the waiting room long before it has announced its arrival. We fear it, yet most of us fear more than anything that it may take someone other than ourselves. For the greatest fear of death is always that it will pass us by. And leave us there alone.

I found it difficult to think of Ove as 59 though. I’m not far off that myself. I had him pegged in his 70s. But then, I don’t know many Swedes. Maybe something got lost in translation.

I’ve watched Rolf Lassgård in the trailer of the original Swedish movie and he looks older than any 59-year-old I know.

I’ve also watched Tom Hanks in the US version, A Man Called Otto, and it’s been a while since he’s seen his 50s.

Unusually for me, I’m with the movies … Ove/Otto has to be older than 59.

Ove ‘isn’t bloody bitter. He just didn’t go around grinning the whole time.’ I’m with you there, mate!

In his struggle to deal with change, Ove has to navigate newness. The characters around him, from the stray cat to the gay lad in the café, all of them rub off on him and what we see is a slow evolution of a man coming to terms with a new world. A world of one orbiting a world of many.

It’s beautifully written. I loved it. It’ll be a book I read again. And again.

Peter Borland, who acquired United States rights to “Ove” for Atria, said he was struck by the book’s pathos and humor. “It had a great voice, and it was different from everything else I was reading,” he said. “It wasn’t Scandinavian noir; it was Scandinavian” — he paused, searching for the right description — “something else.”

Linn J. Sandberg, KarinLovgren, and Jeff Hearn, writing for the Journal of Ageing Studies, say:

[…] the novel can be understood not only as a cultural representation of ageing, but more specifically a cultural representation of ageing masculinity. […] The novel contains themes such as feeling obsolete post-retirement and fear of dependency, […] but also the need for a purpose, loneliness and lack of social capital and networks.

Were Boss alive, I’d have bought it for him and he’d have loved it, too. I thought of him a lot as I read it and am grateful to have made that connection.

If you’ve not read it, read it. You won’t be sorry.