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A review by phidgt
The Summer Book by Tove Jansson
4.0
From the foreword:
“The Summer Book” is impossible to categorise: a work of fiction, adventure, humour and philosophy, its structure a beautifully observed overlapping of the months of summer. It is a life-affirming story of every flower and delicate moss that manages to survive on a remote island in the Gulf of Finland, and of the understated love between an old woman and her grandchild.”
“The Summer Book” follows six year old Sophia, whose mother has recently passed away, as she spends a summer with her Papa and Grandmother. Papa spends most of his days working and is barely a part of the story. Neither of these two characters are given names - we know them only as Papa and Grandmother. Sophia spends her days exploring the island with Grandmother. They tend the gardens, wander through the forest, gather driftwood and other beach treasures, draw, make boats out of bark and discuss Heaven.
What the foreword doesn’t mention is that this book is also partly biographical. Tove Jansson wrote the book in 1972, the year her own mother died.
It’s a sweet little book about a young girl and her relationship with her grandmother. It’s also the perfect book to curl up with on the couch with a nice cup of tea on a cold winter’s day.
“The Summer Book” is impossible to categorise: a work of fiction, adventure, humour and philosophy, its structure a beautifully observed overlapping of the months of summer. It is a life-affirming story of every flower and delicate moss that manages to survive on a remote island in the Gulf of Finland, and of the understated love between an old woman and her grandchild.”
“The Summer Book” follows six year old Sophia, whose mother has recently passed away, as she spends a summer with her Papa and Grandmother. Papa spends most of his days working and is barely a part of the story. Neither of these two characters are given names - we know them only as Papa and Grandmother. Sophia spends her days exploring the island with Grandmother. They tend the gardens, wander through the forest, gather driftwood and other beach treasures, draw, make boats out of bark and discuss Heaven.
What the foreword doesn’t mention is that this book is also partly biographical. Tove Jansson wrote the book in 1972, the year her own mother died.
It’s a sweet little book about a young girl and her relationship with her grandmother. It’s also the perfect book to curl up with on the couch with a nice cup of tea on a cold winter’s day.