Novel A Man Called Ove Novels & Stories

Christmas was the reading of the book. This Christmas, Don's book was a novel—Norwegian, which was not a coincidence, a novel by the same writer whose essays were in the Norway reading programme. The novel was called The Dark Year, and it was about a man who spent a winter alone in a cabin in the far north of Norway, experiencing the full darkness for the first time. Don had been saving it since September, when he had finished the essays. He had placed it on the shelf above his desk, the designated holding place for the Christmas book, and had not opened it once.

The soft rustling of leaves in the breeze was the only sound keeping me company, my back was facing the neighbor’s balcony. How could someone be so cruel? I clenched the edge of the book tighter as I thought about how she had been hiding her pain for so long. It was not until the book was no longer in my hands that I snapped out of my daze.I immediately stood up and turned around to see Owen standing there, a mischievous grin on his face as he read the cover. "‘One Hundred and One Ways to Get Your Dream Man’. A book that will help you to find your soulmate" Owen smirked. "Interesting”. He pressed his lips together with raised eyebrows.

Somewhere in the city—several stories above, in a steel and glass building—Julian Blackwood lay in his dark, sleek bedroom, staring at the book she had given him. He'd never intended to keep it. When Lena Carter had offered it to him—those gentle words, that thoughtful crease between her eyebrows—he'd intended to refuse. But something in her eyes had taken away his intention. It was neither flirting nor pretense. It was genuine. Silent. Generous. He hated kindness. It broke things open. Julian gazed down at the book. The cover was unadorned, the title in gold print: *A Man Called Ove*. He remembered Lena's words: