“Someone else will take care of Sixten. Someone other than me. But I'm the only one who knows how he likes his ears squeezed.”
I knew from that line this book was going to make me sob. And it really did.
This is one of those quiet books that slowly creeps up on you, settling somewhere deep before you quite realise what’s happening. By the end, I was ugly crying, the kind where you have to put the book down for a moment and just sit with it.
At the centre of the story is Bo, an elderly man whose world has gradually become smaller. His days are punctuated by visits from his home care team, and much of his life now takes place in memories. His most constant companion is Sixten, his beloved Elkhound.
But Bo’s son Hans believes Bo is no longer capable of caring for the dog and wants to take Sixten away. (I know, I know, grab a tissue.)
What might seem like a practical decision opens something much deeper. For Bo, Sixten isn’t just a dog. He’s routine, companionship, purpose. He’s the one living thing left that still feels entirely his.
And losing that feels like losing everything.
Reading this as a dog lover was emotional enough, but what struck me most was how tenderly the book explores ageing. Bo is painfully aware of his body changing and his independence slipping away. There’s a heartbreaking vulnerability in the way he reflects on everyday things most of us take for granted.
“No one has ever told me that it's normal for a person's eyes to well up so easily as they age, for the tears to find a foothold in virtually every memory.”
The book is filled with moments like this, small, simple observations that somehow carry weight.
What makes the story particularly moving is the way it’s told. It unfolds through Bo’s own thoughts, reflections and memories of his wife, Frederika. She now lives in a dementia care home and no longer recognises him, creating a kind of living bereavement that sits at the heart of the story.
Bo struggles to articulate what he feels even to the people he loves most. As he grows frailer, those unspoken emotions begin to surface, as though he’s trying to make sense of everything before it’s too late.
You can really feel the tension, the complicated love between Bo and Hans, the quiet heartbreak of trying to do the right thing for someone you care about, even when it clashes with their dignity and independence.
It left me thinking about my own parents getting older. About the fragile, human reality that we all depend on care and kindness eventually.
If you love emotional literary fiction this is 100% worth picking up. Just maybe keep a box of tissues nearby and your loved ones on speed dial.
Written by
Amy @inkwells_bookshelf
A thirty-something, bookish, gingham-and-gaudy-mug-obsessed girl, and a firm believer that the best stories are read under a cosy duvet, with a strong coffee and a sleepy dog at your feet.
