A Man Called Ove is a strange little story well, about a man called Ove. It’s written by Swedish writer Frederick Beckman. It tells the story of cantankerous old Ove, who lives with his wife. As life goes on Ove is faced with many tragedies and adventures, along the way he befriends his nearest neighbours Parvenah, her daughter and husband and Parvenah’s husband Patrick.
This particular gem of a book fell into the hands of this particular reviewer when it was gifted by a cousin for a birthday. At first gratitude and recognition, (having read something both about the book and the subsequent film) and that was that – until this particular reviewer found himself in hospital; and what do we find lots of time to do in hospital? Assuming nothing life alteringly tragic has occurred of course, yes we find time to read.
Somewhere along the way they, as well as the reader, doesn’t exactly fall in love with Ove; that would be too strong a word. Instead we begin to accept Ove, warts and all. There is no ‘eureka moment’, like in A Christmas Carol for example. Instead you just learn to accept Ove for what he is, which perhaps is what thestory is all about.