“It’s possible to love your grandmother for years and years, without really knowing anything about her.”

Maybe it’s because I’ve recently found myself curious about the lives of neighbors in a new to me apartment building. Maybe it’s because I am probably the new, curious entity to them, not so quietly living behind a closed door. Maybe it’s because I still believe in fairy tales. Sometimes I think books find us when we need them most. This one did. Backman creates a spellbinding adventure, woven out of grief, where the idea of sorrow comes second place: loss cultivates wonder. I read this book with a consistent combination of wet eyes and roaring laughter.

Backman writes like an origami flower: every flap and petal unfolding creates planes and corners of imagery that left me awestruck. I deeply loved this story. And if I could hold it in my hands like a paper craft rose, or daisy, it’d be frayed and worn with how many times I’d open it, over and over again.

5/5 A simply stupendous story.