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A Winter Book
Following the widely acclaimed and bestselling The Summer Book, here is a Winter Book collection of some of Tove Jansson’s best loved and most famous stories. Drawn from youth and older age, and spanning most of the twentieth century, this newly translated selection provides a thrilling showcase of the great Finnish writer's prose, scattered with insights and home truths. It has been selected and is introduced by Ali Smith, and there are afterwords by Philip Pullman, Esther Freud and Frank Cottrell Boyce.
The Winter Book features thirteen stories from Tove Jansson's first book for adults, The Sculptor’s Daughter (1968) along with seven of her most cherished later stories (from 1971 to 1996), translated into English and published here for the first time.
The Winter Book features thirteen stories from Tove Jansson's first book for adults, The Sculptor’s Daughter (1968) along with seven of her most cherished later stories (from 1971 to 1996), translated into English and published here for the first time.
208 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2006
306 people are currently reading
5008 people want to read
About the author
Tove Jansson
877 books3,866 followersTove Jansson was born and died in Helsinki, Finland. As a Finnish citizen whose mother tongue was Swedish, she was part of the Swedish-speaking Finns minority. Thus, all her books were originally written in Swedish.
Although known first and foremost as an author, Tove Jansson considered her careers as author and painter to be of equal importance.
Tove Jansson wrote and illustrated her first Moomin book, The Moomins and the Great Flood (1945), during World War II. She said later that the war had depressed her, and she had wanted to write something naive and innocent. Besides the Moomin novels and short stories, Tove Jansson also wrote and illustrated four original and highly popular picture books.
Jansson's Moomin books have been translated into 33 languages.
Although known first and foremost as an author, Tove Jansson considered her careers as author and painter to be of equal importance.
Tove Jansson wrote and illustrated her first Moomin book, The Moomins and the Great Flood (1945), during World War II. She said later that the war had depressed her, and she had wanted to write something naive and innocent. Besides the Moomin novels and short stories, Tove Jansson also wrote and illustrated four original and highly popular picture books.
Jansson's Moomin books have been translated into 33 languages.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 406 reviews
January 10, 2025
A Winter Book is a collection of Jansson's short stories that were published over the last 30 years of her life. Newly translated into English after the success of The Summer Book, this collection gives me another glimpse into Jansson's life (these stories all have elements of autobiography), her love of the sea and life on her summer island home, and her dry wit.
The editor arranged these stories into 3 sections, the first two told from a child's point of view. Jansson captures that innocence yet with the edge of an adult who knows what's behind the child-like observations. While many of these stories are set on her summer island, several are set during the winter months in Helsinki. Jansson's parents were artists--her father a sculptor and her mother an illustrator. Her story of her parent's "Parties" wryly observes:
"All men have parties and are pals who never let each other down. A pal can say terrible things which are forgotten the next day. A pal never forgives, he just forgets, and a woman forgives but never forgets. That's how it is. That's why women aren't allowed to have parties. Being forgiven is very unpleasant."
Staying in an unfamiliar home:
"The stairs creaked and groaned and made lots of noises that stairs make when a family has gone up and down them for ages. That's good. Stairs should do that sort of thing. One knows exactly which step squeaks and which one doesn't and where one has to tread if one doesn't want to make oneself heard. It was just that this staircase wasn't our staircase. Quite a different family had used it. Therefore I thought this staircase was creepy."
Back on the island, where Jansson's heart clearly lies:
"It was slow work paddling, but we got going. We reached deep water, but that was alright because we had both nearly learned to swim."
Jansson turns the everday into excitement and adventures for her young protagonists, clearly reveling in her setting and experiences.
The stories in the third section are told from a mature (read older) POV and are linked by their themes of relationships, communication, and change.
One poignant passage from the final story:
"I became afraid of the sea. Large waves were no longer connected with adventure, only anxiety and responsibility for the boat. . . It wasn't fair; even in my worst dreams the sea had always been an unfailing deliverance: the danger was after you, but you hopped in and sailed away and were safe and never returned. That fear felt like a betrayal--my own."
Carefully crafted, these stories are deceptively simple. Look deeper, and you'll find Jansson's wisdom. They're all told with a light touch, so I never get bogged down in the potential melancholy. Like any collection, this one is comprised of twenty stories, some stand out more than others. As a whole they almost reach the wonder of The Summer Book (which holds a special place in my heart due to the grandmother-granddaughter connection).
Collection publication 2006, Stories published 1968 to 1998
The editor arranged these stories into 3 sections, the first two told from a child's point of view. Jansson captures that innocence yet with the edge of an adult who knows what's behind the child-like observations. While many of these stories are set on her summer island, several are set during the winter months in Helsinki. Jansson's parents were artists--her father a sculptor and her mother an illustrator. Her story of her parent's "Parties" wryly observes:
"All men have parties and are pals who never let each other down. A pal can say terrible things which are forgotten the next day. A pal never forgives, he just forgets, and a woman forgives but never forgets. That's how it is. That's why women aren't allowed to have parties. Being forgiven is very unpleasant."
Staying in an unfamiliar home:
"The stairs creaked and groaned and made lots of noises that stairs make when a family has gone up and down them for ages. That's good. Stairs should do that sort of thing. One knows exactly which step squeaks and which one doesn't and where one has to tread if one doesn't want to make oneself heard. It was just that this staircase wasn't our staircase. Quite a different family had used it. Therefore I thought this staircase was creepy."
Back on the island, where Jansson's heart clearly lies:
"It was slow work paddling, but we got going. We reached deep water, but that was alright because we had both nearly learned to swim."
Jansson turns the everday into excitement and adventures for her young protagonists, clearly reveling in her setting and experiences.
The stories in the third section are told from a mature (read older) POV and are linked by their themes of relationships, communication, and change.
One poignant passage from the final story:
"I became afraid of the sea. Large waves were no longer connected with adventure, only anxiety and responsibility for the boat. . . It wasn't fair; even in my worst dreams the sea had always been an unfailing deliverance: the danger was after you, but you hopped in and sailed away and were safe and never returned. That fear felt like a betrayal--my own."
Carefully crafted, these stories are deceptively simple. Look deeper, and you'll find Jansson's wisdom. They're all told with a light touch, so I never get bogged down in the potential melancholy. Like any collection, this one is comprised of twenty stories, some stand out more than others. As a whole they almost reach the wonder of The Summer Book (which holds a special place in my heart due to the grandmother-granddaughter connection).
Collection publication 2006, Stories published 1968 to 1998
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September 8, 2024If you liked The Summer Book, you'll love these stories, especially the later ones which, like The Summer Book are set on one of the many tiny islands off the Finnish coast.
Self-sufficiency is the gospel here, quite a fantastic notion now in our fiercely consumer-oriented world of today.
There are some out and out gems in this collection — The Squirrel and Travelling Light were my favourites, plus the one about the iceberg. And the final story about accepting the incapacities of old age, along with the losses of freedom they bring, was very sobering.
How can we hope to escape all that if even the intrepid fearless Tove Jansson has to bow to age? But we do, don't we...
Self-sufficiency is the gospel here, quite a fantastic notion now in our fiercely consumer-oriented world of today.
There are some out and out gems in this collection — The Squirrel and Travelling Light were my favourites, plus the one about the iceberg. And the final story about accepting the incapacities of old age, along with the losses of freedom they bring, was very sobering.
How can we hope to escape all that if even the intrepid fearless Tove Jansson has to bow to age? But we do, don't we...
Want to read
October 16, 2023tis almost the season
July 27, 2018
Last July I read Jansson's The Summer Book and then bought this one, saving it for the winter. Not that all of these stories, selected from Jansson's earlier collections and most previously untranslated, are set in winter--or even in the winter of a life, though those of the third, and last, section are.
The stories of the first two sections are the first-person narrations of an unnamed, feisty, stubborn young child. She rolls a huge stone home up the stairs; she tags along oblivious to where she's not wanted; she claims an iceberg as her own. When she is older, she sets out to sail solo around the archipelago, at the wink of her mother, hoping to dodge her father.
The story that leads off the last section, and the only one written in third-person, is my favorite. In "The Squirrel" an aging woman, alone on her island as winter approaches, keeps reminding herself of the supplies she wants to replenish before she can no longer get her boat out. (She has plenty of canned food: she is mostly worried about her Madeira.) She keeps putting off her tasks...and then the squirrel arrives. It's a funny story about accepting and embracing the notion of 'travelling light' (the name of the penultimate story), and even about a sort of 'taking leave' (the title of the last).
The stories of the first two sections are the first-person narrations of an unnamed, feisty, stubborn young child. She rolls a huge stone home up the stairs; she tags along oblivious to where she's not wanted; she claims an iceberg as her own. When she is older, she sets out to sail solo around the archipelago, at the wink of her mother, hoping to dodge her father.
The story that leads off the last section, and the only one written in third-person, is my favorite. In "The Squirrel" an aging woman, alone on her island as winter approaches, keeps reminding herself of the supplies she wants to replenish before she can no longer get her boat out. (She has plenty of canned food: she is mostly worried about her Madeira.) She keeps putting off her tasks...and then the squirrel arrives. It's a funny story about accepting and embracing the notion of 'travelling light' (the name of the penultimate story), and even about a sort of 'taking leave' (the title of the last).
December 13, 2025
//English below
Die Kurzgeschichten aus dem „Winterbuch“ von Tove Jansson vermitteln kein romantisiertes Bild des Winters im hohen Norden, wie ich es mir insgeheim erhofft hatte, sondern vielfältige Perspektiven von Personen jeden Alters auf die Entbehrungen und die Melancholie dieser Jahreszeit.
Dennoch war es eine angenehme Lektüre mit zahlreichen Anlässen zur Interpretation und zum Nachdenken. Jede Geschichte ist wirklich gut geschrieben. Als Leser*in taucht man schnell in die jeweilige Szenerie und Atmosphäre ein.
//
The stories of "The Winterbook" by Tove Janson don't convey a romanticised depiction of winter in the far North, which I secretly had hoped for, but multiple views of people of all ages on the hardship and melancholy of this season.
Yet, it was a pleasant read with numerous opportunities for interpretation and pondering. Each story is well narrated and the reader really gets drawn into the particular setting and athmosphere.
Die Kurzgeschichten aus dem „Winterbuch“ von Tove Jansson vermitteln kein romantisiertes Bild des Winters im hohen Norden, wie ich es mir insgeheim erhofft hatte, sondern vielfältige Perspektiven von Personen jeden Alters auf die Entbehrungen und die Melancholie dieser Jahreszeit.
Dennoch war es eine angenehme Lektüre mit zahlreichen Anlässen zur Interpretation und zum Nachdenken. Jede Geschichte ist wirklich gut geschrieben. Als Leser*in taucht man schnell in die jeweilige Szenerie und Atmosphäre ein.
//
The stories of "The Winterbook" by Tove Janson don't convey a romanticised depiction of winter in the far North, which I secretly had hoped for, but multiple views of people of all ages on the hardship and melancholy of this season.
Yet, it was a pleasant read with numerous opportunities for interpretation and pondering. Each story is well narrated and the reader really gets drawn into the particular setting and athmosphere.
February 26, 2024
I read this for my book group.
Who doesn’t love the Moomins? But, on the basis of this short story collection, perhaps Tove Jansson should have stuck to children's stories.
Fairly early on I concluded this was a collection to be endured rather than enjoyed.
In the hope of having a positive reading experience I decided to read a story, then put it aside and read something else, before returning to the next story. Most of the stories were still a bit meh, feeling slight, inconsequential and a bit pointless. Perhaps they were written for Tove's own amusement rather than for a broader audience?
The spare writing is simple and effective. The stories are brief vignettes with no exposition leaving the reader to fill in the gaps.
There are some interesting insights into Tove's bohemian childhood and a few of the stories landed (The Stone, Albert, and Travelling Light).
Things certainly take a decided turn for the better in the third and final section. Here we encounter adult Tove, now an old person, and it's interesting to observe how the headstrong child has developed into a forthright and playful adult.
The reviews for this collection are generally very positive, so it appears that I am something of an outlier with my slightly grumpy reaction to many of these tales. That said, I still found enough to make this worthwhile, and I'm glad to have found out more about the author of the wonderful Moomin books.
2/5
Following the widely acclaimed and bestselling The Summer Book, here is a Winter Book collection of some of Tove Jansson’s best loved and most famous stories. Drawn from youth and older age, and spanning most of the twentieth century, this newly translated selection provides a thrilling showcase of the great Finnish writer’s prose, scattered with insights and home truths. It has been selected and is introduced by Ali Smith, and there are afterwords by Philip Pullman, Esther Freud and Frank Cottrell Boyce.
The Winter Book features thirteen stories from Tove Jansson’s first book for adults, The Sculptor’s Daughter (1968) along with seven of her most cherished later stories (from 1971 to 1996), translated into English and published here for the first time.
Who doesn’t love the Moomins? But, on the basis of this short story collection, perhaps Tove Jansson should have stuck to children's stories.
Fairly early on I concluded this was a collection to be endured rather than enjoyed.
In the hope of having a positive reading experience I decided to read a story, then put it aside and read something else, before returning to the next story. Most of the stories were still a bit meh, feeling slight, inconsequential and a bit pointless. Perhaps they were written for Tove's own amusement rather than for a broader audience?
The spare writing is simple and effective. The stories are brief vignettes with no exposition leaving the reader to fill in the gaps.
There are some interesting insights into Tove's bohemian childhood and a few of the stories landed (The Stone, Albert, and Travelling Light).
Things certainly take a decided turn for the better in the third and final section. Here we encounter adult Tove, now an old person, and it's interesting to observe how the headstrong child has developed into a forthright and playful adult.
The reviews for this collection are generally very positive, so it appears that I am something of an outlier with my slightly grumpy reaction to many of these tales. That said, I still found enough to make this worthwhile, and I'm glad to have found out more about the author of the wonderful Moomin books.
2/5
Following the widely acclaimed and bestselling The Summer Book, here is a Winter Book collection of some of Tove Jansson’s best loved and most famous stories. Drawn from youth and older age, and spanning most of the twentieth century, this newly translated selection provides a thrilling showcase of the great Finnish writer’s prose, scattered with insights and home truths. It has been selected and is introduced by Ali Smith, and there are afterwords by Philip Pullman, Esther Freud and Frank Cottrell Boyce.
The Winter Book features thirteen stories from Tove Jansson’s first book for adults, The Sculptor’s Daughter (1968) along with seven of her most cherished later stories (from 1971 to 1996), translated into English and published here for the first time.
August 4, 2015
The daughter of creative parents, her father a sculptor and her mother an illustrator, Jansson's imagination had been given full rein in childhood and it comes out in the opening stories of A Winter Book, told from the perspective of a girl, whom I am sure was the author herself. In fact all through the book, I was often left with the feeling I had been reading non-fiction. This selection draws from five collections presenting the best of her short fiction.
In one story entitled Snow, she writes of a girl and her mother being snowed in, the light slowly disappearing as the windows are covered up and expresses her delight in having escaped the outside world, warm in the safe and secure presence of her cheerful mother.
Jansson spent every summer living and working on a tiny island off the coast of Finland, returning to Helsinki for the more difficult months and clearly spent many summers in boats and on the island during her childhood.
Another memorable story was The Boat and Me; she is given her first boat at twelve-years-old and wastes no time in asserting her new-found independence, taking the boat out along the coast to look at her favourite spots from another perspective, with little regard for the hours that pass by or the hearts that might be fretting.
My favourite story though, is the one that follows, in a section entitled Travelling Light, signifying the latter years, where annoyance is more likely the emotion of choice to greet uninvited guests in place of the enthusiasm or delight of her more youthful years. Even when that guest is an island-hopping squirrel.
Either I am incredibly gullible or this story will teach you something new about the intelligence of squirrels, as a reader I was right there with squirrel and hoping for the best, while Jansson was lining up his escape options, ill-inclined to do anything to encourage the lonesome animal to stay.
She didn't care about squirrels, or fly fishermen, or anyone, but just let herself slip down into a great despondency and admit she was disappointed. 'How can this be possible?' she thought frankly. 'How can I be so angry that they've come at all and then so dreadfully disappointed that they haven't landed?'
Not just a quiet, honest collection of stories, but containing wonderful black and white photos that add to the atmosphere the author evokes and make us feel the heaviness and significance of that final story, Taking Leave, the last visit, when the nets have become too heavy to pull, the boat too difficult to handle, the sea too unpredictable for two aging women. It is with a quiet sadness but knowledge that many happy hours were spent, that we turn the last page on that final visit.
In one story entitled Snow, she writes of a girl and her mother being snowed in, the light slowly disappearing as the windows are covered up and expresses her delight in having escaped the outside world, warm in the safe and secure presence of her cheerful mother.
"..we have gone into hibernation. Nobody can get in any longer and no one can get out!"
I looked carefully at her and understood that we were saved. At last we were absolutely safe and protected. This menacing snow had hidden us inside in the warmth for ever and we didn't have to worry a bit about what went on there outside.
Jansson spent every summer living and working on a tiny island off the coast of Finland, returning to Helsinki for the more difficult months and clearly spent many summers in boats and on the island during her childhood.
Another memorable story was The Boat and Me; she is given her first boat at twelve-years-old and wastes no time in asserting her new-found independence, taking the boat out along the coast to look at her favourite spots from another perspective, with little regard for the hours that pass by or the hearts that might be fretting.
I go slowly, hugging the shore, into each creek and out round each headland; I mustn't miss anything out because it's a ritual. Now I'm about to see my territory from the sea for the first time, that's important.
I pulled up the anchor-stone and rowed straight out into the path of the moon. Of course the moon's path is lovely as a picture in calm weather, but when it's rough, it's even more beautiful, all splinters and flakes from precious stones like sailing through a sea set with diamonds.
And at that very moment Dad turned up…
My favourite story though, is the one that follows, in a section entitled Travelling Light, signifying the latter years, where annoyance is more likely the emotion of choice to greet uninvited guests in place of the enthusiasm or delight of her more youthful years. Even when that guest is an island-hopping squirrel.
Either I am incredibly gullible or this story will teach you something new about the intelligence of squirrels, as a reader I was right there with squirrel and hoping for the best, while Jansson was lining up his escape options, ill-inclined to do anything to encourage the lonesome animal to stay.
She didn't care about squirrels, or fly fishermen, or anyone, but just let herself slip down into a great despondency and admit she was disappointed. 'How can this be possible?' she thought frankly. 'How can I be so angry that they've come at all and then so dreadfully disappointed that they haven't landed?'
Not just a quiet, honest collection of stories, but containing wonderful black and white photos that add to the atmosphere the author evokes and make us feel the heaviness and significance of that final story, Taking Leave, the last visit, when the nets have become too heavy to pull, the boat too difficult to handle, the sea too unpredictable for two aging women. It is with a quiet sadness but knowledge that many happy hours were spent, that we turn the last page on that final visit.
January 10, 2021
I read this book in the summer and I’m reviewing it in the winter. In fact, when I said I read I’m also lying to you and to the Goodreads challenge. I previously read “Sculptor’s Daughter”, so I only read those stories in the Winter Book that didn’t feature there. Although I did reread the iceberg because it was so beautiful. It was a childhood story where the narrator becomes mesmerised by an iceberg floating near the shore, but she can’t find the courage to get to it. Instead she throws a torch (that’s a flashlight for the US folk, not an actual medieval torch) into the iceberg grotto and watches it float illuminated by the light. I honestly don’t know why I loved this story so much, but I can’t rid myself of that view of a lit-up iceberg floating away into the dark sea.
The other childhood stories (those that were featured in “Sculptor’s Daughter”) were often like that, the child there was adventurous but somewhat lonely. They were mostly about the narrator’s relationship with nature, rather than other people.
The other stories are a mix of everything the editors managed to find and put together in response to the unexpected success of the earlier published Jansson’s Summer Book.
One of my favourite stories was the one about the old woman who moved to a small, deserted island to be alone, only to discover an illegal immigrant in the form of a squirrel. The story was about the woman and the squirrel spending the winter on the island together. Nothing really happened and the squirrel really didn’t give a shit about all the anguish she caused the woman, but I loved it.
If you like stories about islands, small boats, the sea, Scandinavian summers, childhood and old age (the only two stages of human life that seem to interest the author, judging by this collection), give this one a read.
The other childhood stories (those that were featured in “Sculptor’s Daughter”) were often like that, the child there was adventurous but somewhat lonely. They were mostly about the narrator’s relationship with nature, rather than other people.
The other stories are a mix of everything the editors managed to find and put together in response to the unexpected success of the earlier published Jansson’s Summer Book.
One of my favourite stories was the one about the old woman who moved to a small, deserted island to be alone, only to discover an illegal immigrant in the form of a squirrel. The story was about the woman and the squirrel spending the winter on the island together. Nothing really happened and the squirrel really didn’t give a shit about all the anguish she caused the woman, but I loved it.
If you like stories about islands, small boats, the sea, Scandinavian summers, childhood and old age (the only two stages of human life that seem to interest the author, judging by this collection), give this one a read.
March 21, 2016
I wish the short story commanded more respect. We live in a world where anything that isn't a novel is 'a short story'. I doubt one of these, not really a book by Tove Jansson, but a collection of her work put together by others, stands up as a 'story'. It's an odd hotchpotch of pieces. Why isn't that a word used more often for writing? Why can't we have a book of 'pieces'?
Rest here: https://alittleteaalittlechat.wordpre...
Rest here: https://alittleteaalittlechat.wordpre...
March 13, 2016
2/3 not my kind of thing, 1/3 very good. And many of these short stories aren't even set in winter. I’d long thought A Winter Book some kind of blatant cash-in by editors, a bunch of stories from other collections chucked together as an ersatz companion to Jansson’s lovely Summer Book. But it was on a special offer, and it was nearly winter, so I got it anyway.
The stories are divided into three sections: 'Snow', 'Flotsam & Jetsam' and 'Travelling Light'.
The first two lots are semi-autobiographical tales set during Jansson's bohemian childhood, many from The Sculptor's Daughter; her mother was also an artist, a book illustrator. These pieces are what one might aspire to on a short creative writing course. (Though on most only one person – not me – and the tutor, would get close, for they are excellent examples of what they are.) Prettily brittle, plenty of background detail left unexplained, slight melancholy, occasional episodes of magic realism, child narrators; you know the sort of thing. The naive child narrator with limited understanding really didn't work for me; I enjoyed hearing more about Tove Jansson's life, but wanted her reflective adult perspective on these scenes. What I did like here: beautiful nature descriptions; the way she quietly doesn't seem to identify herself with the women or the men, at a time of fairly set gender roles. 'Flotsam & Jetsam' contains mostly summer holiday stories and would have been more enjoyable read outdoors in the sun, and even not all of 'Snow' is explicitly in winter.
'The Stone' - my favourite from these two sections, and the only one I unreservedly liked. The narrator's age is indeterminate, perhaps an artistic, childlike adult. If you have carried big heavy things home through the street, or lived in a block of flats that was a bit too neighbourly for your liking, it may strike some chords. Also contains a lovely idea of making a room for oneself and the thing carried in public, the kind of thing that can be magic or simply psychological technique depending on your perspective. I also appreciated 'Annie', as if exchanging reminiscences with the narrator about an experience few friends share.
I might have liked the story 'Snow' if I hadn't read another (more exciting, less childlike) take on the same subject a couple of days earlier - being snowed in right up to the chimney of the house - 'At the Bottom of the Snow Ocean' by Gunnar Gunnarsson, in the anthology Christmas in Scandinavia.
I was throughly disillusioned, treating this as a book to get finished and out of the way, when there turned out to be three gems in the first half of 'Travelling Light' - the section which has stories of old age.
'The Squirrel' is now my favourite short story I've read this year, and one of my favourites since joining Goodreads. Perhaps this protagonist is an alter-ego of Jansson if she'd been single and less successful. A middle-aged woman living a spartan life alone on a small island, slightly alcohol-dependent, sees a squirrel has arrived on shore on a piece of flotsam. I love the efforts to keep life organised, and the mixed feelings about the squirrel - she is fascinated by this new mammalian company and cares how the squirrel is, yet doesn't want to feel responsible for it or keep it as a pet. I was reminded how intense the relationship-in-one's-head with an animal can be, trying to determine what a creature might think or feel when you can't ask it, how it clicks into the internal working models that textbooks associate with looking after a child. There is also a lovely photograph of the author holding a tame red squirrel.
'Letters from Klara' - hilarious correspondence to various friends and officials from an irascible older woman of literary inclination, as strong-minded and sarcastic as any bookish grumpy old man from a comic novel. I never thought Tove Jansson could be this funny, and I wish there was a whole book about Klara.
'Messages' - is at least as funny. Are these short paragraphs answerphone messages, excerpts from letters, or both? Manufacturers ask about making Moomin loo paper and similarly absurd licensed products. Aspiring writers and kids with homework want her to help them. Her partner leaves notes about popping out on errands. Mad people write mad things. Lonely people write because they mustn't have a friend who'd identify with a thought the way they think Jansson would.
'Taking Leave' is the lovely final piece in which Jansson and her partner come to understand that they are getting too old to manage on the island and say goodbye to aspects of life there.
Inconsistent is perhaps the accepted nature of short story collections, but this one provoked more mixed feelings in me than most. I'm very glad I perservered to the final third and found the wonderful stories there. What I hadn't expected earlier in the book was that it would make me want to read more of Jansson (as long as there is a adult narrator).
The stories are divided into three sections: 'Snow', 'Flotsam & Jetsam' and 'Travelling Light'.
The first two lots are semi-autobiographical tales set during Jansson's bohemian childhood, many from The Sculptor's Daughter; her mother was also an artist, a book illustrator. These pieces are what one might aspire to on a short creative writing course. (Though on most only one person – not me – and the tutor, would get close, for they are excellent examples of what they are.) Prettily brittle, plenty of background detail left unexplained, slight melancholy, occasional episodes of magic realism, child narrators; you know the sort of thing. The naive child narrator with limited understanding really didn't work for me; I enjoyed hearing more about Tove Jansson's life, but wanted her reflective adult perspective on these scenes. What I did like here: beautiful nature descriptions; the way she quietly doesn't seem to identify herself with the women or the men, at a time of fairly set gender roles. 'Flotsam & Jetsam' contains mostly summer holiday stories and would have been more enjoyable read outdoors in the sun, and even not all of 'Snow' is explicitly in winter.
'The Stone' - my favourite from these two sections, and the only one I unreservedly liked. The narrator's age is indeterminate, perhaps an artistic, childlike adult. If you have carried big heavy things home through the street, or lived in a block of flats that was a bit too neighbourly for your liking, it may strike some chords. Also contains a lovely idea of making a room for oneself and the thing carried in public, the kind of thing that can be magic or simply psychological technique depending on your perspective. I also appreciated 'Annie', as if exchanging reminiscences with the narrator about an experience few friends share.
I might have liked the story 'Snow' if I hadn't read another (more exciting, less childlike) take on the same subject a couple of days earlier - being snowed in right up to the chimney of the house - 'At the Bottom of the Snow Ocean' by Gunnar Gunnarsson, in the anthology Christmas in Scandinavia.
I was throughly disillusioned, treating this as a book to get finished and out of the way, when there turned out to be three gems in the first half of 'Travelling Light' - the section which has stories of old age.
'The Squirrel' is now my favourite short story I've read this year, and one of my favourites since joining Goodreads. Perhaps this protagonist is an alter-ego of Jansson if she'd been single and less successful. A middle-aged woman living a spartan life alone on a small island, slightly alcohol-dependent, sees a squirrel has arrived on shore on a piece of flotsam. I love the efforts to keep life organised, and the mixed feelings about the squirrel - she is fascinated by this new mammalian company and cares how the squirrel is, yet doesn't want to feel responsible for it or keep it as a pet. I was reminded how intense the relationship-in-one's-head with an animal can be, trying to determine what a creature might think or feel when you can't ask it, how it clicks into the internal working models that textbooks associate with looking after a child. There is also a lovely photograph of the author holding a tame red squirrel.
'Letters from Klara' - hilarious correspondence to various friends and officials from an irascible older woman of literary inclination, as strong-minded and sarcastic as any bookish grumpy old man from a comic novel. I never thought Tove Jansson could be this funny, and I wish there was a whole book about Klara.
'Messages' - is at least as funny. Are these short paragraphs answerphone messages, excerpts from letters, or both? Manufacturers ask about making Moomin loo paper and similarly absurd licensed products. Aspiring writers and kids with homework want her to help them. Her partner leaves notes about popping out on errands. Mad people write mad things. Lonely people write because they mustn't have a friend who'd identify with a thought the way they think Jansson would.
'Taking Leave' is the lovely final piece in which Jansson and her partner come to understand that they are getting too old to manage on the island and say goodbye to aspects of life there.
Inconsistent is perhaps the accepted nature of short story collections, but this one provoked more mixed feelings in me than most. I'm very glad I perservered to the final third and found the wonderful stories there. What I hadn't expected earlier in the book was that it would make me want to read more of Jansson (as long as there is a adult narrator).
January 24, 2023
ah, tove is always a joy. and i'm very glad i read this and sculptor's daughter in quick succession, as the two collections contain many of the same stories, which may be disappointing to readers who expect this one to be filled with all new tales. but i really enjoyed the fresh material in this one.
"the squirrel" is definitely the strangest tove story i've ever read, and i loved it. alone on her island, she becomes perhaps unhinged in her isolation and rituals, and begins a strange relationship with a squirrel who washes up one day. and i can understand her giving special attention to this relationship, as the only members of their respective species to be found. i did not expect their relationship to evolve into a war, but damn, it makes for a good story.
"traveling light" is interesting as it's the only story that i might not recognize immediately as tove's. her stories have such a distinctive flavor, and this one only has a subtle taste of it. we follow a businessman who is on a long boat journey and who is determined to be wholly independent and free of connections, free of empathy or sympathy for others (of course, a doomed prospect). solitude is a big theme for tove, so this one does fit into her oeuvre, just differently.
and i loved seeing tove's beloved tooti make an appearance in "taking leave." it's a somewhat melancholy story about the two realizing they're getting too old to remain on their island, but they do what must be done, pragmatic as always. i feel like tove's straightforward manner of writing must have been, in part, a reflection on her way of living.
"the squirrel" is definitely the strangest tove story i've ever read, and i loved it. alone on her island, she becomes perhaps unhinged in her isolation and rituals, and begins a strange relationship with a squirrel who washes up one day. and i can understand her giving special attention to this relationship, as the only members of their respective species to be found. i did not expect their relationship to evolve into a war, but damn, it makes for a good story.
"traveling light" is interesting as it's the only story that i might not recognize immediately as tove's. her stories have such a distinctive flavor, and this one only has a subtle taste of it. we follow a businessman who is on a long boat journey and who is determined to be wholly independent and free of connections, free of empathy or sympathy for others (of course, a doomed prospect). solitude is a big theme for tove, so this one does fit into her oeuvre, just differently.
and i loved seeing tove's beloved tooti make an appearance in "taking leave." it's a somewhat melancholy story about the two realizing they're getting too old to remain on their island, but they do what must be done, pragmatic as always. i feel like tove's straightforward manner of writing must have been, in part, a reflection on her way of living.
May 17, 2018
5 stelle alla prima parte, 3 alla seconda, 1 alla scelta editoriale. Totale 3 stelle.
troppo breve, si legge in un amen e quando si inizia ad affezionarsi alla piccola protagonista il libro cambia totalmente stile e personaggio. I racconti poetici dell'infanzia felice della scrittrice lasciano troppo presto il posto, nell'ultimo terzo del libro, a, come dire? post-it, aforismi, lettere, pensieri, schizzi di lei adulta. Non brutti per carità, ma il fatto che Iperborea nella 4 di copertina non ne faccia parola qualcosa vorrà dire. Ho cercato su diversi siti, quasi tutti acqua in bocca. QUindi di un libro già troppo breve di suo, una parte consistente è altro da quello che ci si aspetta.
troppo breve, si legge in un amen e quando si inizia ad affezionarsi alla piccola protagonista il libro cambia totalmente stile e personaggio. I racconti poetici dell'infanzia felice della scrittrice lasciano troppo presto il posto, nell'ultimo terzo del libro, a, come dire? post-it, aforismi, lettere, pensieri, schizzi di lei adulta. Non brutti per carità, ma il fatto che Iperborea nella 4 di copertina non ne faccia parola qualcosa vorrà dire. Ho cercato su diversi siti, quasi tutti acqua in bocca. QUindi di un libro già troppo breve di suo, una parte consistente è altro da quello che ci si aspetta.
December 24, 2023
Not as good as the summer book, some forgettable episodes, but some sparkling with pure Tove joy.
February 25, 2024
hele mooie stukjes, voelt alsof er soms veel wijsheid in zit ook juist in het speelse. allemaal losse verhaaltjes bij elkaar geraapt dus daar moet je wel zin in hebben en het ging ook niet per se over winter. wil wel op een Fins eiland wonen nu :)
January 31, 2023
(2.5) It’s the third time I’ve encountered some of these autofiction stories: this was a reread for me, and 13 of the pieces are also in Sculptor’s Daughter, which I skimmed from the library a few years ago. And yet I remembered nothing; not a single one was memorable. Most of the pieces are impressionistic first-person fragments of childhood, with family photographs interspersed. In later sections, the protagonist is an older woman, Jansson herself or a stand-in. I most enjoyed “Messages” and “Correspondence,” round-ups of bizarre comments and requests she received from readers. Of the proper stories, “The Iceberg” was the best. It’s a literal object the speaker alternately covets and fears, and no doubt a metaphor for much else. This one had the kind of profound lines Jansson slips into her children’s fiction: “Now I had to make up my mind. And that’s an awful thing to have to do” and “if one doesn’t dare to do something immediately, then one never does it.” Shame that this isn’t a patch on The Summer Book.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
March 4, 2024
nie wiem
Tove ma zawsze w sobie jakiś urok, ale tutaj podobało mi się tak naprawdę-naprawdę jedno, może dwa opowiadania, reszta była po prostu ok, tworzyły część jakiejś całości raczej, ale tu wypadały chaotycznie i urwanie, po stu stronach byłam zmęczona,
no i zimy prawie tu nie ma
to raczej nie wina Tove, a osób, które stworzyły ten zbiór (już po jej śmierci zresztą)
Tove ma zawsze w sobie jakiś urok, ale tutaj podobało mi się tak naprawdę-naprawdę jedno, może dwa opowiadania, reszta była po prostu ok, tworzyły część jakiejś całości raczej, ale tu wypadały chaotycznie i urwanie, po stu stronach byłam zmęczona,
no i zimy prawie tu nie ma
to raczej nie wina Tove, a osób, które stworzyły ten zbiór (już po jej śmierci zresztą)
November 8, 2020
These are such lovely stories - odd, warm, occasionally spiky and always wise. Jansson writes children and landscape so brilliantly. I want to go and live on a Finnish island after reading this and The Summer Book.
January 12, 2025
★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 5 stars
A few weeks ago an elderly couple entered the bookstore while I was working. They asked me whether we had this particular book, written by the author of the Moomins. We did not have it, the book is quite old and unknown, upon which the woman said: "It is a lovely book. If you ever have the chance reading it... It's comforting. Especially in times like these." For some reason, the words touched me. The woman seemed so genuine in her words, and I kept thinking about the book once in a while. I couldn’t believe my luck when, a few weeks later, I came across a pile of The Winter Book in a bookstore in another city, on the top floor in the clearance section. Although I do not believe in fate, I instantly knew I had to buy this book—a book I had never heard of but was so kindly recommended by that woman, now tucked away somewhere in another random bookstore. And how glad I am that I did, for the stories turned out to be truly lovely, comforting, kind, and sweet—short tales set against a Finnish landscape, many told from a child’s perspective. Reading this book was heartwarming, and I cannot imagine a better way to start the year.
A few weeks ago an elderly couple entered the bookstore while I was working. They asked me whether we had this particular book, written by the author of the Moomins. We did not have it, the book is quite old and unknown, upon which the woman said: "It is a lovely book. If you ever have the chance reading it... It's comforting. Especially in times like these." For some reason, the words touched me. The woman seemed so genuine in her words, and I kept thinking about the book once in a while. I couldn’t believe my luck when, a few weeks later, I came across a pile of The Winter Book in a bookstore in another city, on the top floor in the clearance section. Although I do not believe in fate, I instantly knew I had to buy this book—a book I had never heard of but was so kindly recommended by that woman, now tucked away somewhere in another random bookstore. And how glad I am that I did, for the stories turned out to be truly lovely, comforting, kind, and sweet—short tales set against a Finnish landscape, many told from a child’s perspective. Reading this book was heartwarming, and I cannot imagine a better way to start the year.
April 6, 2018
Bisschen den Winter verlängern. Es hat ein paar sehr tolle Kurzgeschichten drin. Da werde ich die Bücher dazu auch noch lesen.
April 13, 2024
Very fun little book, lots to reflections on human behaviour with lots of joy in there too
April 5, 2018
A Winter Book is a collection of Tove Jansson's short stories. She is of course best known as the creator of the Moomins, but her work for adults has become increasingly appreciated in recent years.
I came to this having read A Summer Book, which although read partly as a series of short stories, centred entirely on a grandmother and granddaughter, and their adventures and relationship on a Finnish island.
It was heavily autobiographical - and A Winter Book also clearly draws much on Jansson's life. But this is a more disparate and diverse work, drawn actually from five different short story collections. And in fact it isn't always set in winter.
It may then lack the cohesion of A Summer Book but nevertheless it has the same capacity to enchant, delight and move.
The stand-out story features a woman alone on a Finnish island who becomes obsessed with a squirrel that has invaded her solitude. At times an irritation, it also becomes a source of consolation and a break into her loneliness. It is one of the best short stories I have read.
Some of the 20 stories focus on childhood, others on old age. There are moments of magic and wonder. At one point a girl drops a lantern into an iceberg, and watches the illuminated block of ice disappear into the night. Another story sees the whole of Helsinki gain the power of flight.
Some are more playful with form - one tale is a series of letters; another appears to be extracts of fan mail and odd requests to the author; another a series of almost poetic messages from a Japanese superfan.
The collection finishes with a poignant and very real-feeling tale of old age. A woman and her partner come to the sad conclusion they are now too frail to continue to spend their summers on their Finnish island home.
But although there is a melancholic note to this and many stories, this is also a book about living and joy. It confirmed to me just what a special talent Jansson was.
I came to this having read A Summer Book, which although read partly as a series of short stories, centred entirely on a grandmother and granddaughter, and their adventures and relationship on a Finnish island.
It was heavily autobiographical - and A Winter Book also clearly draws much on Jansson's life. But this is a more disparate and diverse work, drawn actually from five different short story collections. And in fact it isn't always set in winter.
It may then lack the cohesion of A Summer Book but nevertheless it has the same capacity to enchant, delight and move.
The stand-out story features a woman alone on a Finnish island who becomes obsessed with a squirrel that has invaded her solitude. At times an irritation, it also becomes a source of consolation and a break into her loneliness. It is one of the best short stories I have read.
Some of the 20 stories focus on childhood, others on old age. There are moments of magic and wonder. At one point a girl drops a lantern into an iceberg, and watches the illuminated block of ice disappear into the night. Another story sees the whole of Helsinki gain the power of flight.
Some are more playful with form - one tale is a series of letters; another appears to be extracts of fan mail and odd requests to the author; another a series of almost poetic messages from a Japanese superfan.
The collection finishes with a poignant and very real-feeling tale of old age. A woman and her partner come to the sad conclusion they are now too frail to continue to spend their summers on their Finnish island home.
But although there is a melancholic note to this and many stories, this is also a book about living and joy. It confirmed to me just what a special talent Jansson was.
November 25, 2020
some of the texts turned out to be wonderful, while others were rather boring. all in all, i adore and admire Jansson for protecting her inner child till the very end of her long and busy life.
December 20, 2021
“It's a beautiful thought, to meet a writer only in her books.”
As a Swede, I obviously grew up with watching Moomin. However, I'd never actually read anything by Tove Jansson, even if she do have somewhat of a cult following here. Finally having read A Winter Book I can now understand why us Scandinavians love her so much - her writing is quiet but powerful, narrating the nature and cold with an insight only those who grow up here possess.
A Winter Book is simultaneously both a short story collection as well as a memoir. Jansson writes of her childhood, telling us about the parties her father used to throw and the friends she grew up with while also throwing in some fantastical elements, blurring the line between what really happened and what was just a child's vivid imagination. The result is beautiful, and feels nostalgic in a way that I would think everyone who has been a child can relate to.
Yet, even if I did enjoy the first pretty chapters of the book, my favorite part was definitely the few pages we got to read Jansson's small notes from her daily life as well as her correspondence with a Japanese fan. They felt whimsical in the best way, and I also do think this is where the authors personality shone through the most.
A Winter Book will not be a book for everyone. It's not fast-paced, and I would not say that it's either character- nor plot-driven. It just is. If you do love pretty writing, quirky personalities and vivid descriptions of the environment, this book is for you.
As a Swede, I obviously grew up with watching Moomin. However, I'd never actually read anything by Tove Jansson, even if she do have somewhat of a cult following here. Finally having read A Winter Book I can now understand why us Scandinavians love her so much - her writing is quiet but powerful, narrating the nature and cold with an insight only those who grow up here possess.
A Winter Book is simultaneously both a short story collection as well as a memoir. Jansson writes of her childhood, telling us about the parties her father used to throw and the friends she grew up with while also throwing in some fantastical elements, blurring the line between what really happened and what was just a child's vivid imagination. The result is beautiful, and feels nostalgic in a way that I would think everyone who has been a child can relate to.
Yet, even if I did enjoy the first pretty chapters of the book, my favorite part was definitely the few pages we got to read Jansson's small notes from her daily life as well as her correspondence with a Japanese fan. They felt whimsical in the best way, and I also do think this is where the authors personality shone through the most.
A Winter Book will not be a book for everyone. It's not fast-paced, and I would not say that it's either character- nor plot-driven. It just is. If you do love pretty writing, quirky personalities and vivid descriptions of the environment, this book is for you.
June 26, 2018
I enjoyed the first two parts more as Jansson captures her childhood in some great stories and in the such a believable child then teen voice.
December 20, 2019
It seems that everybody who's heard of Tove Jansson knows her as the author of a series of illustrated books about some Finnish trolls. Though I've yet to fall under their particular spell -- and heaven knows enough people have urged me to -- I've instead been captivated by her writing for adults.
My admiration began with the collection of short stories published in English as Art in Nature and continued with The Summer Book . Now, with the selection of pieces known as A Winter Book, I revisit some of the sense of wistfulness I've noted before, coupled with a fierce independence of spirit that permeates virtually every story.
Though there are references to ice and snow in some of the offerings, this alluring ragbag of writings (selected and introduced by writer Ali Smith) doesn't deal exclusively with winter, but in a series of vignettes it does perfectly sum up that end of year feeling when one looks back to review what one's life has accomplished and what it might all signify.
The three sections are entitled Snow, Flotsam and Jetsam, and Travelling Light, each taking their name from one of the six or seven pieces in that respective part. Part 1 is mostly set in Helsinki, where the author's artistic parents would spend the winter months. These seven tales are partly autobiographical but also partake of that dream world which a solitary and imaginative child would conjure up for herself. Some narratives take on an almost mythic aspect, featuring for example a Sisyphean stone of silver, a mischievous monkey running amuck, flying without wings or a stream which may or may not duplicate gold and jewels thrown into it; yet all are set in a mundane urban environment.
Many of the items in Part 2 move to the island that will be familiar to readers from The Summer Book, when the Jansson family would up sticks to a treeless rock in the Baltic Sea. More realistic though these may be they nevertheless bring out the young Tove's wilful determination to follow her own inclinations where adults are concerned, whether it's sailing solo at night, attempting to board a mini iceberg or playing mind games with unwelcome visitors to the island.
Part 3 skips to the concerns of the adult Tove, the six stories being a mix of semi-fiction and pure creative writing. 'The Squirrel' ruminates on a wild visitor to an island: which is the alien, the animal or the single human? Following on that a trio of pieces feature, first, an imaginary Klara who writes with varying degrees of grumpiness to various correspondents, then a sequence of truncated messages, many quite demented, from Moomin fans and other personages; finally a group of ultimately quite sad letters, from a youngish Japanese admirer, which continue for several years until they end on a melancholy note.
That melancholy infuses the final two pieces too. 'Travelling Light' is about a misanthrope who goes on a cruise to London, hoping to get away from needy friends and acquaintances, but who finds that strangers are even more needy: little touches such as their urge to show family photos merely emphasises that while some ships may pass in the night others insist on travelling in convoy. 'Taking Leave' is an account of the older Jansson and her partner realising that age has rendered island living increasingly impractical, and they formulate plans to vacate the place for the last time.
Anger, melancholy, unsettling visions, the oddities of strangers, the possessiveness of fans -- one could be forgiven for thinking A Winter Book is a depressing read. Yet I found it positive and, above all, a confirmation: that it's not abnormal to occasionally shun company and rely on one's own entertainment; that it's a mark of creativity to see the world differently from others, to have that singular vision which you can, through your art, share vicariously with like minds; that it's not unusual to be moody, to swim against the tide of approved behaviour, to love the exotic taste of beautiful words, to abandon mementos which one once set great store by.
This edition is decorated with exquisite archive photos of the author and her family at various stages in her life. Along with the superbly presented translations by Silvester Mazzarella, Kingsley Hart and David McDuff there are also brief but incisive appreciations by fellow writers Philip Pullman, Esther Freud and Frank Cotterell Boyce. As Pullman rightly observes, these are tales "as tough as good rope" yet as "beautiful as sea-worn driftwood," a real breath of "Nordic summer" -- and of course its seasonal counterpart.
My admiration began with the collection of short stories published in English as Art in Nature and continued with The Summer Book . Now, with the selection of pieces known as A Winter Book, I revisit some of the sense of wistfulness I've noted before, coupled with a fierce independence of spirit that permeates virtually every story.
Though there are references to ice and snow in some of the offerings, this alluring ragbag of writings (selected and introduced by writer Ali Smith) doesn't deal exclusively with winter, but in a series of vignettes it does perfectly sum up that end of year feeling when one looks back to review what one's life has accomplished and what it might all signify.
The three sections are entitled Snow, Flotsam and Jetsam, and Travelling Light, each taking their name from one of the six or seven pieces in that respective part. Part 1 is mostly set in Helsinki, where the author's artistic parents would spend the winter months. These seven tales are partly autobiographical but also partake of that dream world which a solitary and imaginative child would conjure up for herself. Some narratives take on an almost mythic aspect, featuring for example a Sisyphean stone of silver, a mischievous monkey running amuck, flying without wings or a stream which may or may not duplicate gold and jewels thrown into it; yet all are set in a mundane urban environment.
Many of the items in Part 2 move to the island that will be familiar to readers from The Summer Book, when the Jansson family would up sticks to a treeless rock in the Baltic Sea. More realistic though these may be they nevertheless bring out the young Tove's wilful determination to follow her own inclinations where adults are concerned, whether it's sailing solo at night, attempting to board a mini iceberg or playing mind games with unwelcome visitors to the island.
Part 3 skips to the concerns of the adult Tove, the six stories being a mix of semi-fiction and pure creative writing. 'The Squirrel' ruminates on a wild visitor to an island: which is the alien, the animal or the single human? Following on that a trio of pieces feature, first, an imaginary Klara who writes with varying degrees of grumpiness to various correspondents, then a sequence of truncated messages, many quite demented, from Moomin fans and other personages; finally a group of ultimately quite sad letters, from a youngish Japanese admirer, which continue for several years until they end on a melancholy note.
That melancholy infuses the final two pieces too. 'Travelling Light' is about a misanthrope who goes on a cruise to London, hoping to get away from needy friends and acquaintances, but who finds that strangers are even more needy: little touches such as their urge to show family photos merely emphasises that while some ships may pass in the night others insist on travelling in convoy. 'Taking Leave' is an account of the older Jansson and her partner realising that age has rendered island living increasingly impractical, and they formulate plans to vacate the place for the last time.
Anger, melancholy, unsettling visions, the oddities of strangers, the possessiveness of fans -- one could be forgiven for thinking A Winter Book is a depressing read. Yet I found it positive and, above all, a confirmation: that it's not abnormal to occasionally shun company and rely on one's own entertainment; that it's a mark of creativity to see the world differently from others, to have that singular vision which you can, through your art, share vicariously with like minds; that it's not unusual to be moody, to swim against the tide of approved behaviour, to love the exotic taste of beautiful words, to abandon mementos which one once set great store by.
This edition is decorated with exquisite archive photos of the author and her family at various stages in her life. Along with the superbly presented translations by Silvester Mazzarella, Kingsley Hart and David McDuff there are also brief but incisive appreciations by fellow writers Philip Pullman, Esther Freud and Frank Cotterell Boyce. As Pullman rightly observes, these are tales "as tough as good rope" yet as "beautiful as sea-worn driftwood," a real breath of "Nordic summer" -- and of course its seasonal counterpart.
January 31, 2025
This is my third book from Tove’s collection of stories, and I am captivated. Her stories make me laugh and smile, often bringing back memories of my childhood. Very comforting read.
November 22, 2022
After finishing Tove Jansson's The Summer Book in the summer, I was eager to read A Winter Book in the winter. 13 short stories from Jansson's earlier books are collected in A Winter Book, which was just recently translated from Swedish into English (Jansson was a Swedish speaking Finn). Many of these stories were written about the tiny island she shared with her longtime partner and tackle themes of loneliness, tenacity, age, and love. Discussions frequently centre on island life, sailing, and storms.
My favourite story was The Boat and Me, in which a 12-year old girl (Tove?) makes the decision to take a rowboat and spend a full day alone at sea, travelling around an island. She explores her favourite coastal areas and sees things with fresh eyes, until her worried father eventually locates her.
I think I will revisit this book each winter as many of the stories are funny and comforting.
Favourite quotes from A Winter Book:
“Yes, I know; it's true that memory has an unfortunate habit of working backwards at night and knowing its way through everything without sparing the slightest detail - bad you were too much of a coward to do something, for instance; but you made a wrong choice, or were tactless or unfeeling or criminally unobservant - but of course no one but you has given a thought for years to these things which to you are calamities, shameful actions and irretrievably stupid statements! Isn't it unfair, when we're endowed with such sharp memories, that they only function in reverse?”
My favourite story was The Boat and Me, in which a 12-year old girl (Tove?) makes the decision to take a rowboat and spend a full day alone at sea, travelling around an island. She explores her favourite coastal areas and sees things with fresh eyes, until her worried father eventually locates her.
I think I will revisit this book each winter as many of the stories are funny and comforting.
Favourite quotes from A Winter Book:
“Yes, I know; it's true that memory has an unfortunate habit of working backwards at night and knowing its way through everything without sparing the slightest detail - bad you were too much of a coward to do something, for instance; but you made a wrong choice, or were tactless or unfeeling or criminally unobservant - but of course no one but you has given a thought for years to these things which to you are calamities, shameful actions and irretrievably stupid statements! Isn't it unfair, when we're endowed with such sharp memories, that they only function in reverse?”
November 12, 2010
I think -- and believe me, I don't say this lightly -- that Tove Jansson's The Summer Book is my favourite book of all time. So, in all honestly, I couldn't help but come to its twin A Winter Book hoping desperately for the same witty, profound and beautifully observed stories of love, life and growing up. I wasn't disappointed: it really is quietly lovely and, in my opinion, close to perfect.
Much more personal than The Summer Book (although that was based on Jansson's own experiences, too), I felt that you learn more about the author by watching how she and other characters relate to the world and deal with the unexpected. Like Summer, it focuses on young girls and elderly ladies and the differences and similarities between the two. All her stories have such a light-handed touch but still manage to feel infinitely profound, above and beyond many writers with loftier ambitions.
I'm gushing, aren't I? Regardless, I think Tove Jansson is a genius.
Much more personal than The Summer Book (although that was based on Jansson's own experiences, too), I felt that you learn more about the author by watching how she and other characters relate to the world and deal with the unexpected. Like Summer, it focuses on young girls and elderly ladies and the differences and similarities between the two. All her stories have such a light-handed touch but still manage to feel infinitely profound, above and beyond many writers with loftier ambitions.
I'm gushing, aren't I? Regardless, I think Tove Jansson is a genius.
April 8, 2019
Some beautiful shorter stories by Tove Jansson. She really was a great writer, even translated to english they still feel like her style of writing.
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