My first thought upon closing this book is that it was both sad and sweet, though I suppose the 'sweetness' is really humor, certainly nothing saccharine. And the sadness isn't really in the words either, but in what the reader takes from the words. Understated, subtle book.

Don't read this book if you need a plot or even something to happen (not something I need at all) and I ended up liking the book despite some passages that seemed pointless -- I realized these passages are important to the theme -- and they're beautifully written, so I was never bored with them.

My favorite parts are when the narrator (we're inside his head the whole time) has some engagement (however tentative) with the very few people he does encounter as he walks and drives aimlessly (though not really) around. And I wasn't sure at all how Petterson would end the book (always a plus) but it felt perfect to me.

Quote: "I remember a lot of dreams. Sometimes they are hard to distinguish from what has really happened. That is not so terrible. It is the same with books."