When I (finally) finished this book (and you can take what you want from that "finally") I was left with such a mixed bag of feelings, it's taken me a while to go through them, and put them in the right place, like unpacking groceries after a visit to the supermarket.

In some ways it was excellent. But in others I just felt like I was plugging on for the sake of finishing something I'd started.

The style of writing posed the most problems for me. It was so minimal and to-the-point I occasionally felt like I was reading a non-fiction account of events. I don't ask for a lot of description, in fact, I'm not a fan of flowery language, but build something in the prose and not just a plot. Tease me. Woo me. Wow me.

I am a huge fan of Swedish minimalism in my living room, but it would seem it's not as pleasing in a novel. Or maybe it was lost in translation?

What I did like was the book's premise; an almost farcical reflection on 100 years of modern history through the life of an old man who stumbled into some of the previous century's defining moments. It surprised me that this was where the novel went, rather than just staying in the present day. Allan's life was wonderfully unbelievable, and Jonasson's subtle digs at foreign policy (by powerful nations in the east and west) are sly and slick. It's the same with his general observations about people and society; they are neatly disguised but still pack a kick.

Of course it was all completely silly. And yet there was plenty to learn too. (I wonder how many people Googled "Did Einstein have a brother?" after reading this book.) And in short, I do not mind suspending belief when something is so blatantly impossible yet dripping in imagination and humour. And I liked what I knew about a cast of downright bizarre and brilliantly flawed supporting characters. But it just went on a bit too long and lacked a bit too much for me to get excited about.

Which is a shame because I really like the author's Goodreads bio.