A man called Ove

Ove is fifty-nine years old, and as far as he's concerned, the world has gone soft and stupid. He drives a Saab. He believes in doing things properly screws over nails, precision over sentiment. Every morning he patrols the small housing association where he lives, checking that no one has parked wrong, that the gate to the storage shed is locked, that the world is still following the rules it's supposed to follow. He is, by every neighbor's account, insufferable.

But Ove has just lost his job of over thirty years, and six months earlier, he lost his wife, Sonja. Now he lives alone in the house they shared. Each morning he visits her grave to give her a report on his day and each night, he tries to kill himself, so he can go be with her. Every attempt is interrupted by something absurd, that almost always involves his new neighbors.