Swedish writers have been pleasantly surprising me lately. Not that I’ve read a lot of them, but first Fredrik Backman became an insanely “tasty” discovery for me a few years ago, and now Jonas Jonasson. There’s something about these Swedes. They seem to write about life, yet they do it lightly, beautifully, and with touches of humor.
For many years Jonas Jonasson worked as a journalist and television producer (just like my wife), and then suddenly decided to drastically change his life and write a book. And that book sold like crazy—first in Sweden, and then around the world.
The book titled The Hundred-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out of the Window and Disappeared really does begin with the main character, the old man Allan—whose 100th birthday is literally minutes away from being celebrated at the retirement home—deciding to escape through the window. And to get far away before anyone notices he’s gone. What follows is a chain of unforeseen events, in which the old man almost immediately finds himself in possession of a suitcase with a million, a whole group of companions, and a small trail of bodies behind him.
That description alone shows the novel is unconventional. The book essentially has two plotlines: the story of the escape and the stolen suitcase, and the life story of the main character from early childhood up to his hundredth year. As I was reading, it felt to me that the author is a great fan of the films Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door, Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, and even Big Fish. Because the novel is like a blend of all of them—“inspired by,” with a Swedish flavor. Except that in Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door the bodies didn’t pile up quite so easily.
The contemporary storyline is a kind of road movie, where the hero simply runs without any particular goal, but having come into possession of a million, he unexpectedly shares it with his newly found companions quite freely, while both gangsters and the police are hot on his heels. Yet this whole story is seasoned with comical situations and the carelessness of both Allan himself and everyone around him.
The parallel part, which tells of Allan’s life before his escape from the retirement home, is a chain of events in which the main character, in his simple-hearted way, turns out to be involved in almost every significant historical fact of the century (well, he did live exactly a century). That’s precisely why I drew a parallel with the film Big Fish. Only there the main character told the story of his life, which everyone took for tall tales, whereas here Allan’s life brings him into contact with a great many famous figures—and, in passing, he turns out to be the cause of many turning-point events (the creation of the atomic bomb, Chiang Kai-shek’s defeat in the war, etc.). And Jonas Jonasson, alongside real leaders, weaves into the book characters closely modeled on real prototypes (although those who knew them personally will easily recognize the “hints,” and the author doesn’t hide it).
Overall, the novel is an easy read; Allan’s heedlessness and behind-the-scenes influence on the history of the entire planet bring a smile. As for a moral, the book is largely without one—unless it’s “let’s just live and enjoy life.” And the suddenly introduced, utterly ridiculous brother of Einstein is a special cherry on top. Just look at this exchange:
‘Your comrade…’ said Mao Tse-tung. ‘He’s not exactly an Einstein, is he?’
‘Don’t say that,’ said Allan. ‘Don’t say that.’
Since I began with a comparison to Fredrik Backman, I’ll end with him as well. No, Jonas Jonasson is not a second Backman—they’re different. In Backman’s books, for all their lightness, very complex problems and relationships are hidden. Jonasson’s aim, it seems to me, is more entertainment. He even says so in the dedication:
No one was better at captivating an audience than Grandpa, when he sat on his favorite bench telling stories, leaning on his walking stick and chewing tobacco.
“But Grandpa … Is that really true?” we grandchildren would ask, wide-eyed.
“Those who only says what is the truth, they’re not worth listening to,” Grandpa replied.
This book is dedicated to him.
But the story really turns out excellent: as you read, you take pleasure both in the adventures and in the language they’re told in. The best way to describe it is again with a quote—this time from a Kvartet I stage show: “Utter nonsense! But the way he tells it!”
So I can honestly say I really liked the book; I’ll definitely put this author on my must-read shelf—especially since, after the rousing success of his first book, Jonas Jonasson managed to write two more in a similar vein, and also released a sequel to Allan’s adventures.
As for a rating, I really wanted to give it the maximum. But I shaved it down slightly because it’s a touch short on depth.
My rating: 4.5/5
