How many authors can continuously churn out books that rake in well more than a 4 star average? Not many, but Fredrik Backman is one of them. He’s a prolific author, and it’s amazing he’s able to have the kind of quality to his writing considering the quantity of work he’s released. I have literally never read a Backman book I didn’t love. And I’ve never read one that didn’t make me cry, that’s for sure. This novel may very well be his best in overall depth of feeling. Like all his others, he crafts a story not with action sequences, thrills, and mysteries. He makes a work of art. Shades of people, light and dark, that all blend together to make something perfect and powerful.
There is a literal work of art at the center of this book, a painting whose fame and notoriety could never fully encapsulate the beauty, anguish, heartache, and joy experienced by the tiny figures that dot the pier of the painting. Most people, the snooty ones especially, think of it as just a picture of the sea. But Louisa sees them, and she feels a kinship to these tiny people she can’t really comprehend. Unwittingly, she finds herself in possession of the priceless painting and on a quest to discover the truth behind its origin and the people who inspired it.
Look… I needed a novel about friendship for my reading challenge, but I would have totally read this one anyway. It just happened to be applicable. And good God, is it applicable. Describing this as a novel about friendship is putting things very simplistically. It’s about the way some friendships are able to shape us, mold us into the humans we become, and in some instances save us from the humans we could become. It’s about the sheer power that exists within the family we choose, and the protection that power can give, even protection against the families into which we had no choice but to be born. Friendships blur all boundaries and can develop in the most unexpected of places and in the most unexpected ways. Love is complicated because people are complicated.
My love for Backman’s work isn’t complicated. I swear, this man must have the highest emotional IQ of anyone else on Earth. His books are a form of therapy for a reader. He makes us face our own fears, insecurities, regrets, and he challenges us to see the beauty in the trauma of living in such an unforgiving and unbelievably marvelous world. Really, I just can’t say enough about Backman. No analysis of plot, character, pacing, language, and all the other bullshit could express how intricately flawless he is in his embrace of the imperfection that is humanity.
Published May 6, 2025 by Simon & Schuster Audio. ISBN 9781668131602. Runtime 13 hrs. 7 mins. Translated by Neil Smith. Narrated by Marin Ireland.
I can safely say this is unlike any other book I’ve read. For being billed an adult novel, it certainly has a very middle-grade children’s book vibe. The story is very sweet but simple and exudes magic from every angle. It imagines a lovely world in which an eager young woman goes to work in a department store that sells dreams. Each night every man, woman, child, and animal can visit and buy dreams of their choosing. They do not remember the purchase, but the dreams are experienced as designed. The cast of characters is as colorful as the cover art, and the concept is extremely compelling. 
This title is probably new to no one, considering the successful BBC adaptation that aired in 2024. Drawing subtly from the real-life murder case of Hae Min Lee, this binge-worthy young adult true crime novel keeps readers on their toes to the very end. And though it seems to be partly inspired by a real case, that shouldn’t sway the reader into thinking they’ll know what happens. Aside from the “girlfriend possibly slain by boyfriend” and “racially motivated witch hunt” aspects, the narrative takes its own twists and turns. 
I am still overwhelmingly behind, the dread of catching up just pushing me to become even further behind. So here I am trying to remedy that. The plan is to do little else than write reviews for the next few days until I’m all caught up. I may as well start with one of my favorites of the last few months. 
I have numerous other reads I finished before this one, but I just completed the audiobook and have a lot of thoughts I’m desperate to get out, so I’m skipping ahead a bit.
I have been very fortunate this year so far in that the book club books chosen by my fellow members just happen to slot into my Reading Challenge. This book, Parable of the Sower, the first book in the Earthseed series, fits into the Banned Books category, which is always a favorite of mine to explore. I wish banned books didn’t exist at all, but they do, and I love seeking them out. It doesn’t take too many pages to see why a certain sector of the population doesn’t want this book within reach of young people. Those young people might actually learn something and, worse, they might even begin to ask tough questions.
I stumbled across this lovely novel when meandering through the local library, which I can often be found doing. I was initially intrigued by the cover and the weighty title, so it wound up going home with me. The novel follows Georgie Bricker, a French professor at a small women’s college in Virginia. A victim of childhood trauma, Georgie’s intense agoraphobia hasn’t allowed her to leave her little cocoon of safety on campus in years. I should note here that this is actually a follow-up novel. The first book, Georgie Girl, takes place when Georgie is young and sets up a lot of what comes later. I picked this book up not knowing there was a first. Thankfully, Wafler does enough looking back to fill in the gaps of what readers may have missed by not reading the first. 
If you, like me, are a child of the 90’s or before, you are quite well-versed in the fact that some children’s programs meant to bring joy and comfort dredged up feelings less desirable, often inspiring regular nightmares and originating new deep-seeded fears. Even shows I adored when I was a kid I can watch today and there’s something unsettling about the characters, costumes, and plot points. Sometimes it’s not overt but just a vague sense that things aren’t quite right. Other times the nightmare fuel is quite in-your-face. 
Tonight both the husband and the boy child are away for the evening, and I have four 10-year old girls singing karaoke at the top of their lungs on the floor below me, so I figured it was a great time to catch up on some book reviews. I’ve had The Wedding People finished for more than a couple of months but haven’t come around to writing the review yet. *wrist slap*
A Librarian and Her Books 