Customer Reviews

Summer Book

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The connection between grandmother and granddaughter is a marrow-deep one in "Summer Book." Sophia and her grandmother spend their days exploring, talking about life, nature, everything but their feelings about Sophia's mother's death and their love for one another. And yet, underneath the offhand, and often strange conversations that take place between them, you feel their affection and the concern they feel for one another.

"Summer Book" is a strange and beautiful story. There's no false emotions here, no manipulation for the sake of effect. Just an account of a very real relationship between a child and her grandmother, during the last weeks of the grandmother's life. Very highly recommended.

Based very much upon the late (and yes, great) Tove Jansson`s own family experiences on an island in the Finnish archipelago, this magical, elegiac, very funny, yet - despite its title - autumnal book, subtly draws the reader into the seemingly mundane lives of six-year old Sophia, whose mother has recently died, and `Grandmother` (who could almost be a humanised character from one of Jansson`s immortal Moomin books), as they potter and squabble around their small, idyllic island summer home.
Sophia`s `Papa` never speaks (never? Hm...) but is a silent, prosaic presence throughout, while Sophia is (as her name implies) wise, as well as temperamental, and Grandmother dispenses brief, ironic snippets of wisdom and can be just as prickly. They are a double-act; and, like all the best double-acts, rely on each other - at least for the grateful reader - to each `complete` the other. One feels Grandmother learns from her granddaughter as well as vice versa.
This is a beautiful, thoughtful, unsentimental, deceptively straightforward meander through the summer months with three generations of a grieving family each determined to hang on to their individuality. There are also the occasional - and rarely welcome - visitors.
If I make The Summer Book sound more than simply a light read, it is because even Tove Jansson`s children`s books (of which this can hardly be said to be one) have a tough melancholy strain to them, and a `message` of independence and personal integrity as the sanest way to be.
In its modest, breezy way, this is a great little book. One to treasure.

I rejoice that this short work has come into print again, though it's rather sad that it took the author's recent death to prompt the publishers into action. I'd read an extract in a guide to the top 100 books of the twentieth century and was surprised and disappointed not to be able to get my hands on the full edition.

Jansson has an inate understanding of the wisdom and skewed world-view of children, and manages to capture the fragile - and ephemeral - friendship which can exist between the very old and the very young. There is a freshness about her style which never teeters into whimsy. A rare achievement indeed.

This book was given to me by an uncommon friend and I enjoyed it very much. It is about the friendship between a grandmother and her young grandaughter who live on a bit of an island in Finland (?). The beauty and treasures discovered in the quiet lives they lead, finding joy in simple things and loving each other besides those petty annoyances of personality (they are very much alike). There are many "huggable" humorous moments. I think of one in which they trade cats--their cat is indifferent to the grandaughter's overtures and the one traded was much more warm and cuddly, but then (and I quote from the book).

"Hunt! Do something! Be like a cat!" And then she started to cry and ran to the guest room and banged on the door.
"What's wrong now?" Grandmother said.
"I want Moppy back!" Sophia screamed.
"But you know how it will be," Grandmother said.
"It'll be awful," said Sophia gravely. "But it's Moppy I love."

Yes, this is truly a great work of literature. For one, the unique, intimate descriptions of life on a small island off the west coast of Finland are exquisite. The writing captures so much of this maritime word in such sure, spare language, that the reader is placed there among the nordic flora, tasting and feeling the ocean, the sky. Nature binds this book together.

The other facet of this book is the relationship between the child, Sophia, and her Grandmother. We do not learn anything about the father, other than that he works at a desk, plants flowers, and skeins. We do learn early that the mother has died, but aside from its initial mention, it is never directly addressed again. Instead we get an oblique look at grief through the interactions between the two primary characters -- granddaughter and grandmother. Sophia deals with the loss primarily through questioning the natural world around her, observing and mourning the deaths of other small creatures, like mice and birds. In fact a lot of dead animals make an appearance in this work. The psychological portrayal of Sophia is astute, at times subtle. Perhaps the strongest part of the books is when she dictates a book to her grandmother about the death of a worm, which turns into a free-flow stream of conscious on death in general. Powerful stuff.

The grandmother seems less affected by the loss of Sophia's mother (her daughter-in-law?). She does not seem overly concerned with death, although she has to deal with its imminence daily through her own physical limitations, but more with the emotions of her granddaughter. She proves to be very tolerant and wise.

The book's ultimate power and brilliance rests heavily on the use of an old woman juxtaposed against a child. They are both confronting the mystery of existence, and their conversations and interactions reveal a deep longing to understand the eternal. A great book.

PS -- this reader felt that the illustrations added to the work, however the few with human characters seemed strangely off-putting.

This is a book about Sophia, whose mother has died. She lives with her father, who is a writer, and her grandmother, and they spend their summers on an island. Her father is preoccupied with his writing, and Sophia's grandmother is old and infirm. They do not know it, but this summer marks the last weeks, days, and finally hours of Grandmother's life.

As a child, Tove Jansson lived in summer on islands in the Gulf of Finland, and later she and her partner Tuulikki Pietilä lived on a small island called Klovharu. Jansson wrote many children books, including the Moomin series, and ten books for adults.

The plot of the most famous of her adult novels is very simple; an elderly artist and her six-year-old granddaughter Sophia spend the summer on a tiny island exploring and talking about everything but Sophia's mother's death and their love for each other. They wander, pick flowers, watch storms, take trips in a rowboat. The 22 short episodes create a unity: "On an island," thinks the grandmother, "everything is complete."

The interaction between Sophia and her grandmother is a clash of wills, Sophia stubborn, impetuous and supportive; her grandmother wise, unsentimental, on the edge of exhaustion, dizzy, fearful of losing her balance "the balance between survival and extinction was so delicate that even the smallest change was unthinkable".

"It was just the same long summer always, and everything lived and grew at its own pace."

The book has been a major best seller in Scandinavia since it was first published in 1972. Thomas Teal has produced a wonderful English translation. This new edition from NYRB Classics is beautifully printed and bound. This novel captures a summer growing "at its own pace."

Robert C. Ross 2008

You have to applaud simplicity in writing. It is the hardest thing for a writer to achieve. That sense of keeping the book `small' for lack of a better term, honing the story down to the barest strokes on the canvas. I always thought Hemingway did it beautifully with The Old Man and the Sea. Winesburg, Ohio by Sherwood Anderson is another great `small' book that draws you in with its perfectly simple prose and contstruction.

In many ways, Tove Jansson's The Summer Book is closer to the latter. It is a series of vignettes, rather than flowing narrative. It almost reads like a short story collection with all of the vignettes focusing on young Sophia and her grandmother, de facto stand-ins for the writer herself. At the time of writing, Jansson was a in her sixties, a grandmother, but also had recently lost her own mother (which happens to Sophia at the start of the book). It is this great understanding of both characters that allows her to imbue them with such life. Sophia is a precocious child, prone to fits and bouts of crying, and yet, can switch to being serene and adult. The Grandmother on the other hand is loving and accommodating, constantly nurturing Sophia in her adventures, but then swings into bouts of adolescent anger and bad behavior. The wonderful scene where she breaks into a neighbor's house is a great example.

"In the middle of the gravel was a large sign with black letters that said PRIVATE PROPERTY--NO TRESPASSING.

`We'll go ashore,' Grandmother said. She was very angry. Sophia looked frightened. `There's a big difference,' her grandmother explained. `No well-bred person goes ashore on someone else's island when there's no one home. But if they put up a sign, then you do it anyway, because it's a slap in the face.'

`Naturally,' Sophia said, increasing her knowledge of life considerably.'

`What we are now doing,' Grandmother said, `is a demonstration. We are showing our disapproval. Do you understand?'

`A demonstration,' her grandchild repeated, adding, loyally, `This will never make a good harbor.'"

The interaction between the two is often hilarious and at other times really touching. They constantly swap roles, as in that scene from "The Neighbors," where the grandmother can't help but behave childishly while Sophia grows instantly into an adult. Writing from her advanced age, Jansson is able to look back at the two sides of herself and imbue a sort of rough love between them.

What truly grabs you about The Summer Book, strong characters aside, is its sense of place. It is a book of and about Scandinavian life on a tiny island in the Finnish archipelago. In her introduction, Kathryn Davis describes the book's "unusual point of view, which hovers above and around the island and seems not so much to move from grandmother to granddaughter as to share them." It's imbued with the air, soil, and water of the small archipelago island where the stories are set. It has that contemplation and patience that one finds in Swedes, Norwegians, and Fins. Jansson gives you that sense of awe when viewing the landscape. You can feel yourself amongst the marshes, bilberry bushes, Rosa Rugosa, polished stones on the beaches, wet grass, and dense forests. You can feel yourself floating around in the small boats and feel the wind and rain on your face. You can see the long slow sunsets that last until after 10 pm. In many ways, the characters are small compared to the natural surroundings they walk through. It is a very Scandinavian appreciation of nature and while reading it you get a sense of walking through one of Carl Larsson's watercolors.

While not all of the vignettes in The Summer Book are solid, "Berenice" and "Dead Calm" fall a little flat, the rest more than make make up for the duds. Some are quite funny, such as "The Neighbor," "Of Angelworms and Others," and "The Cat." Others have a wonderful sense of sadness such as "Midsummer" or the closing "August."

"Every year, the bright Scandinavian summer nights fade away without anyone's noticing. One evening in August you have an errand outdoors, and all of a sudden it's pitch-black. A great warm, dark silence surrounds the house. It is still summer, but the summer is no longer alive."

As you keep reading the vignettes in The Summer Book, you always feel yourself there, walking along with Sophia and her grandmother, or floating in the boat, soaking up the atmosphere of the tiny little island in the Finnish Archipelago. It has that same quality that all great paintings from Scandinavian painters have, whether it be Munch or Larsson or Zorn, to instantly give you a sense of that northern lit sky and the serenity of the landscape beneath it.

Mm, this is a beautiful, wonderful little book! It is a collection of little stories of a very small girl and her small grandmother going adventures on their little island in Sweden. So full of green things and little bites of happiness. The grandmother is oh so clever and says so many poignants to the girl. The girl is wise too. So full of joy.

I got this book on a fluke--I had never heard of this author before. And I read it, and then I read it again, and then I mailed it to some friends and then I mailed it to my daughter--and I can`t hardly wait to have it back. It is a book about a woman and her grand-daughter--that`s all it is. The daughter between them has died--that is mentioned in a chapter just in passing, no more. They are on an island for the summer--off the coast of Finnland--and the grandmother is teaching her granddaughter things--about the island, about the plants and where they grow and how, about the sea--Things that will stay with her and teach her about how things grow and die and are reborn. I remember living with my grandmother--and this was the way I remembered it, not in detail, but in the way that alternate generations commune. It is a gift.