Tag Archives: Linda Olsson

Blasts from the Past: Astrid and Veronika by Linda Olsson (2005)

Cover imageThis is the latest in a series of occasional posts featuring books I read years ago about which I was wildly enthusiastic at the time, wanting to press a copy into as many hands as I could.

Linda Olsson’s Astrid and Veronika is as near as it gets to a perfect read for me: lean, elegantly beautiful prose which shows never tells all topped off with a gorgeous jacket fitting the novel beautifully. Books rarely move me to tears – it’s cinema that reduces me to a sniveling mess – but this one did.

In the hope of coming to terms with the death of her partner, Veronika has rented a small house in the Swedish countryside in the middle of a bleak, harsh winter. She wants to be alone, seeking the quiet stillness needed for thought, contemplation and writing. Her arrival is watched by Astrid, her reclusive elderly neighbour, who tentatively reaches out to Veronika, cooking her delicious meals, Theirs is difficult friendship which takes time to root itself but when it does these two find an affinity, confiding past loves, losses and secrets.

Astrid and Veronika is such a beautiful book. Olsson’s descriptions of the Swedish countryside are lyrical and poetic; her depiction of these two women, both immersed in sadness, heart-wrenchingly poignant. I wish I could urge you all to take yourselves off to the nearest bookshop and buy a copy but sadly, for UK readers anyway, it’s out of print here. The rest of you might have better luck.

What about you, any blasts from the past you’d like to share?