Och varje morgon blir vägen hem längre och längre And Every Morning the Way Home Gets Longer and Longer
Grandpa and Noah are sitting on a bench in a square that keeps getting smaller every day. The square is strange but also familiar, full of the odds and ends that have made up their lives: Grandpa’s work desk, the stuffed dragon that Grandpa once gave to Noah, the sweet-smelling hyacinths that Grandma loved to grow in her garden.
As they wait together on the bench, they tell jokes and discuss their shared love of mathematics. Grandpa recalls what it was like to fall in love with his wife, what it was like to lose her. She’s as real to him now as the first day he met her, but he dreads the day when he won’t remember her.
Sometimes Grandpa sits on the bench next to Ted, Noah’s father—Ted who never liked math, prefers writing and playing guitar, and has waited his entire life for his father to have time for him, to accept him. But in their love of Noah, they have found a common bond.
Grandpa, Grandma, Ted, and Noah all meet here, in this peculiar space that is growing dimmer and more confusing all the time. And here is where they will learn to say goodbye, the scent of hyacinths in the air, nothing to fear. This little book with a big message is certain to be treasured for generations to come.
“I read this beautifully imagined and moving novella in one sitting, utterly wowed, wanting to share it with everyone I know.”
-Lisa Genova, bestselling author of Still Alice
“Winsome, bittersweet. /.../ Wise and heartbreaking, Backman’s slim novella celebrates the joy of connecting even in the midst of letting go.”
“This is a tiny book made large with wisdom. Its pages are packed full of joy and love and bittersweet heartache. The honest beauty and stark reality of Fredrik Backman’s words will have you laughing, crying, breathing deep and sighing. And Every Morning the Way Home Gets Longer and Longer is a book to read over and over again. I read it twice in the space of two days, and I’ll tell you that the second time was nothing like the first. New dimensions appeared, new depths were uncovered, and Grandpa and Noah wrenched myriad fresh emotions straight out of me. I suspect this is how it will be each read-through. My highest recommendation for this one.”
“Two words for you: Bring. Tissues. Bring a carton of them. That might be enough when you’re reading And Every Morning the Way Home Gets Longer and Longer. And yet, here’s the thing: this book isn’t going to make any sense for you the first time, maybe not even the second but you’ll cry just the same. It’s so lightly nuanced, so subtly told in wispy bits of memory that it feels too dream-like to make sense. It’s not clear at first who’s even who here, but when you’ve finished this book and dried your tears, give it another go. Author Fredrik Backman has another phenomenal story for you – you just have to let it sink in.”
“A novella to be savored and reread about a boy, his dad and his grandpa as they learn to say goodbye. It’s a little book with a big message.”
“[And Every Morning the Way Home Gets Longer and Longer] is both a content-wise important and well-composed story. /…/ Most of all I appreciate the sorrowful music that can be heard in the dialogues between Grandpa and Noah. /…/ When the two with equal effort try to reconcile with the sorrow of what is about to happen, and when they parry the thought of death with the power of humor and imagination – then the book goes from being an admirable initiative to a wonderful read in its own right. ”
“[Fredrik Backman] captures a thousand and yet a thousand more emotions. /…/ [And Every Morning the Way Home Gets Longer and Longer] is a big, pounding heart filled with memories that everyone can translate and make their own. /…/ lingering stories about how it is to forget that you have forgotten, and how it feels to live in a world one cannot recognize anymore and fears.”
- Fredrik Backman
- Reading material
- Rights sold
Canada, Simon & Schuster
Czech Republic, Host
Iceland, Bjartur & Veröld
Norway, Cappelen Damm
UK, Michael Joseph