It's not exactly a glowing review that Herman Koch gives about Finland (quote: a village in Finland is a place where the houses are three instead of thirty kilometers apart and at neighborhood parties, people dance in their socks), but that's not the point at all. In Finnish Days, you get a bit closer to what it must feel like for a teenager when your mother passes away. How the soles of your shoes burn, how the balance beam suddenly turns out to be a round tree trunk over a ravine. Struggling and getting out, so to Finland.

Masterfully interspersed with the present and oh, how well Koch can capture uncomfortable situations (like dinners with foreign publishers and journalists). And how much success does this man need before he becomes a little less modest?

Kudos, in short. Also for the design.