The Summer Book (New York Review Books Classics)
In The Summer Book Tove Jansson distills the essence of the summer—its sunlight and storms—into twenty-two crystalline vignettes. This brief novel tells the story of Sophia, a six-year-old girl awakening to existence, and Sophia’s grandmother, nearing the end of hers, as they spend the summer on a tiny unspoiled island in the Gulf of Finland. The grandmother is unsentimental and wise, if a little cranky; Sophia is impetuous and volatile, but she tends to her grandmother with the care of a new parent. Together they amble over coastline and forest in easy companionship, build boats from bark, create a miniature Venice, write a fanciful study of local bugs. They discuss things that matter to young and old alike: life, death, the nature of God and of love. “On an island,” thinks the grandmother, “everything is complete.” In The Summer Book, Jansson creates her own complete world, full of the varied joys and sorrows of life.
Tove Jansson, whose Moomintroll comic strip and books brought her international acclaim, lived for much of her life on an island like the one described in The Summer Book, and the work can be enjoyed as her closely observed journal of the sounds, sights, and feel of a summer spent in intimate contact with the natural world.
The Summer Book is translated from the Swedish by Thomas Teal.
Tove Jansson, whose Moomintroll comic strip and books brought her international acclaim, lived for much of her life on an island like the one described in The Summer Book, and the work can be enjoyed as her closely observed journal of the sounds, sights, and feel of a summer spent in intimate contact with the natural world.
The Summer Book is translated from the Swedish by Thomas Teal.
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Community Reviews
loved how visual the writing was here but i couldnât get into this. surprised me because it seems so up my alley. found the narrative too erratic and the granddaughter too annoying.
From The Pasture:
"Can angels fly down to Hell?"
"Of course. They might have all sorts of friends and neighbors down their."
"Now I've got you!" Sophia cried. "Yesterday you said there wasn't any Hell!"
Grandmother was annoyed and sat up angrily.
"And I say exactly the same thing today," she said. "But this is just a game."
"It's not a game! It's serious when you're talking about God!"
"He would never do anything so dumb as make a Hell."
"Of course He did."
"No He didn't!"
"Yes He did! A big enormous Hell!"
From The Cat:
It was a gray fisherman's cat and it grew fast. One day, it left the cottage and moved into the house, where it spent its nights under the bed in the box where they kept the dirty dishes. It had odd ideas of its own even then. Sophia carried the cat back to the cottage and tried as hard as she could to ingratiate herself, but the more love she gave it, the quicker it fled back to the dish box. When the box got too full, the cat would howl and someone would have to wash the dishes. Its name was Ma Petite, but they called it Moppy.
"It's funny about love," Sophia said. "The more you love someone, the less he likes you back."
"That's very true," Grandmother observed. "And sow what do you do?"
"You go on loving," said Sophia threateningly, "You love harder and harder."
Her grandmother sighed and said nothing.
From The Neighbor:
"My dear child," said Grandmother impatiently, "every human being has to make his own mistakes." She was very tired, and wanted to get home. The visit had made her sad, somehow. Malander had an idea and was trying to work it out, but it would take him time. Sometimes people never saw things clearly until it was too late and they no longer had the strength to start again. Or else they forgot their idea along the way and didn't even realize that they had forgotten."
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