Thank you to BookishFirst and Houghton Mifflin Harcourt for sending me an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.
The Red Address Book tells the story of Doris, a 96-year-old woman living in Sweden, hours away from her only living relative--a great-niece located in California named Jenny. Doris has watched nearly everyone she cares about pass on, and all she has left is her memories--kept for so long in an address book given to her by her father. The story in this book takes shape in two parts. The first is Doris, in present day, dealing with the reality of death and learning how to say “goodbye.” The second is a journal that Doris is writing to her great-niece (a narrative companion to the red address book), detailing the story of her life and all the people who made a difference in it. What unfolds is a lovely tale of strength, courage, and love that transcends decades.
This book touched a special place in my heart. It’s a sweet, relatively “unromantic” look at old age and the wonderful stories our elders can share. Doris’ life story was engaging, heartbreaking, and remarkable. While the book left me distraught at its finale, the quality of writing and the value of the characters make this a worthwhile read.
As mentioned, the plot of this book is split between past and present. In the now, Doris’ story is told in the third-person, as we watch her encounter a health emergency that reminds everyone of her mortality. In the past, all is told in first-person, capturing the journal pages Doris has typed out for her niece. These separate perspectives broke up the book nicely, and the action and development were well-paced throughout. The flashbacks were full of things happening, while the present provided more character development. This blend made for a well-balanced narrative. While I felt that the plot dealt several harsh blows without much redemption, the overall quality of the storyline is excellent.
I have yet to find a Swedish author who is incapable of writing very real, relatable characters. Lundberg is no exception. These individuals step out of the book and sit down beside you to share their emotions, their thoughts, their struggles. They are real enough to resemble people we actually know, and that makes the book itself that much more palpable. Everyone is perfect in their imperfections, and I found myself wanting to hug them and cry with them through every moment.
As my copy of this book is a translation, I hesitate to critique the writing style too harshly. I believe the translator did a phenomenal job, as the story is eloquent but not heady; however, I cannot honestly report on the quality of the writing in the original Swedish. The English is great, with only a few awkward moments that feel stilted and unusual (there are times when the characters in the story are translating Swedish to English, but we already have the term in English, and so we get something like, “What’s the word for ‘fish?’” “‘Fish.’” Not a big deal, but a little awkward). It’s wonderful to have this book in new and more languages for people to enjoy.
Overall, I think this is a great book with a powerful message, that perhaps dwells too violently on the sad. The American culture does not always value its elders, and so I think stories like this can reveal the importance of sitting down and talking with grandparents and other older relatives. Jenny has no idea about most of Doris’ life until she starts to read the journal Doris has kept for her. Stories like this--people like this--are important, and they have a lot to teach us.
Again, as a whole, the book is wonderful. It has all the qualities of Swedish writing that I love. I do, however, think that the ending isn’t as redemptive as intended. I felt that the conclusion was more heartbreaking and hopeless than perhaps was the goal. The heartwarming “moment” that serves as the climax felt a little stale to me, like a band-aid for a gaping wound.
Regardless, I think this story has value and that people will respond to it in kind. I recommend it to people who have enjoyed Fredrik Backman’s work, or anyone who likes general literary fiction. It’s a good blend for those who enjoy contemporary and/or historical narratives. And, while it has some grit to it, it would fit nicely for the cozy reader as well.
The Red Address Book tells the story of Doris, a 96-year-old woman living in Sweden, hours away from her only living relative--a great-niece located in California named Jenny. Doris has watched nearly everyone she cares about pass on, and all she has left is her memories--kept for so long in an address book given to her by her father. The story in this book takes shape in two parts. The first is Doris, in present day, dealing with the reality of death and learning how to say “goodbye.” The second is a journal that Doris is writing to her great-niece (a narrative companion to the red address book), detailing the story of her life and all the people who made a difference in it. What unfolds is a lovely tale of strength, courage, and love that transcends decades.
This book touched a special place in my heart. It’s a sweet, relatively “unromantic” look at old age and the wonderful stories our elders can share. Doris’ life story was engaging, heartbreaking, and remarkable. While the book left me distraught at its finale, the quality of writing and the value of the characters make this a worthwhile read.
As mentioned, the plot of this book is split between past and present. In the now, Doris’ story is told in the third-person, as we watch her encounter a health emergency that reminds everyone of her mortality. In the past, all is told in first-person, capturing the journal pages Doris has typed out for her niece. These separate perspectives broke up the book nicely, and the action and development were well-paced throughout. The flashbacks were full of things happening, while the present provided more character development. This blend made for a well-balanced narrative. While I felt that the plot dealt several harsh blows without much redemption, the overall quality of the storyline is excellent.
I have yet to find a Swedish author who is incapable of writing very real, relatable characters. Lundberg is no exception. These individuals step out of the book and sit down beside you to share their emotions, their thoughts, their struggles. They are real enough to resemble people we actually know, and that makes the book itself that much more palpable. Everyone is perfect in their imperfections, and I found myself wanting to hug them and cry with them through every moment.
As my copy of this book is a translation, I hesitate to critique the writing style too harshly. I believe the translator did a phenomenal job, as the story is eloquent but not heady; however, I cannot honestly report on the quality of the writing in the original Swedish. The English is great, with only a few awkward moments that feel stilted and unusual (there are times when the characters in the story are translating Swedish to English, but we already have the term in English, and so we get something like, “What’s the word for ‘fish?’” “‘Fish.’” Not a big deal, but a little awkward). It’s wonderful to have this book in new and more languages for people to enjoy.
Overall, I think this is a great book with a powerful message, that perhaps dwells too violently on the sad. The American culture does not always value its elders, and so I think stories like this can reveal the importance of sitting down and talking with grandparents and other older relatives. Jenny has no idea about most of Doris’ life until she starts to read the journal Doris has kept for her. Stories like this--people like this--are important, and they have a lot to teach us.
Again, as a whole, the book is wonderful. It has all the qualities of Swedish writing that I love. I do, however, think that the ending isn’t as redemptive as intended. I felt that the conclusion was more heartbreaking and hopeless than perhaps was the goal. The heartwarming “moment” that serves as the climax felt a little stale to me, like a band-aid for a gaping wound.
Regardless, I think this story has value and that people will respond to it in kind. I recommend it to people who have enjoyed Fredrik Backman’s work, or anyone who likes general literary fiction. It’s a good blend for those who enjoy contemporary and/or historical narratives. And, while it has some grit to it, it would fit nicely for the cozy reader as well.