The Red Address Book: A Novel

by Sofia Lundberg, Alice Menzies (Translator)

Overview

The global fiction sensation—published in thirty-two countries. “A warm and tender story about life, memories, and the power of love and friendship.” —Katarina Bivald, New York Times–bestselling author

Meet Doris, a ninety-six-year-old woman living alone in her Stockholm apartment. She has few visitors, but her weekly Skype calls with Jenny—her American grandniece, and her only relative—give her great joy and remind her of her own youth.

When Doris was a girl, she was given an address book by her father, and ever since she has carefully documented everyone she met and loved throughout the years. Looking through the little book now, Doris sees the many crossed-out names of people long gone and is struck by the urge to put pen to paper. In writing down the stories of her colorful past—working as a maid in Sweden, modelling in Paris during the ’30s, fleeing to Manhattan at the dawn of the Second World War—can she help Jenny, haunted by a difficult childhood, unlock the secrets of their family and finally look to the future? And whatever became of Allan, the love of Doris’s life?

A charming novel that prompts reflection on the stories we all should carry to the next generation, and the surprises in life that can await even the oldest among us, The Red Address Book introduces Sofia Lundberg as a wise—and irresistible—storyteller.

“Written with love, told with joy. Very easy to enjoy.” —Fredrik Backman, #1 New York Times–bestselling author of A Man Called Ove

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781328473516
Publisher:	HarperCollins
Publication date:	03/19/2024
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	305
Sales rank:	11,500
File size:	3 MB

About the Author

SOFIA LUNDBERG is a journalist and former magazine editor. Her debut novel, The Red Address Book, was published in thirty-two territories worldwide. She lives in Stockholm with her son.

Read an Excerpt

The saltshaker. The pillbox. The bowl of lozenges. The blood-pressure monitor in its oval plastic case. The magnifying glass and its red-bobbin-lace strap, taken from a Christmas curtain, tied in three fat knots. The phone with the extra-large numbers. The old red-leather address book, its bent corners revealing the yellowed paper within. She arranges everything carefully, in the middle of the kitchen table. They have to be lined up just so. No creases on the neatly ironed baby-blue linen tablecloth.
 
A moment of calm as she looks out at the street and the dreary weather. People rushing by, with and without umbrellas. The bare trees. The gravelly slush on the asphalt, water trickling through it.
 
A squirrel darts along a branch, and a flash of happiness twinkles in her eyes. She leans forward, following the blurry little creature’s movements carefully. Its bushy tail swings from side to side as it moves lithely between branches. Then it jumps down to the road and quickly disappears, heading off to new adventures.
 
It must almost be time to eat, she thinks, stroking her stomach. She picks up the magnifying glass and with a shaking hand raises it to her gold wristwatch. The numbers are still too small, and she has no choice but to give up. She clasps her hands calmly in her lap and closes her eyes for a moment, awaiting the familiar sound at the front door.
 
 

“Did you nod off, Doris?”
 
An excessively loud voice abruptly wakes her. She feels a hand on her shoulder, and sleepily tries to smile and nod at the young caregiver who is bending over her.
 
“I must have.” The words stick, and she clears her throat.
 
“Here, have some water.” The caregiver is quick to hold out a glass, and Doris takes a few sips.
 
“Thank you . . . Sorry, but I’ve forgotten your name.” It’s a new girl again. The old one left; she was going back to her studies.
 
“It’s me, Doris. Ulrika. How are you today?” she asks, but she doesn’t stop to listen to the answer.
 
Not that Doris gives one.
 
She quietly watches Ulrika’s hurried movements in the kitchen. Sees her take out the pepper and put the saltshaker back in the pantry. In her wake she leaves creases in the tablecloth.
 
“No extra salt, I’ve told you,” Ulrika says, with the tub of food in her hand. She gives Doris a stern look. Doris nods and sighs as Ulrika peels back the plastic wrap. Sauce, potatoes, fish, and peas, all mixed together, are tipped out onto a brown ceramic plate. Ulrika puts the plate in the microwave and turns the dial to two minutes. The machine starts up with a faint whirr, and the scent of fish slowly begins to drift through the apartment. While she waits, Ulrika starts to move Doris’s things: she stacks the newspapers and mail in a messy pile, takes the dishes out of the dishwasher.
 
“Is it cold out?” Doris turns back to the heavy drizzle. She can’t remember when she last set foot outside her door. It was summer. Or maybe spring.
 
“Yeah, ugh, winter’ll soon be here. The raindrops almost felt like tiny lumps of ice today. I’m glad I’ve got the car so I don’t have to walk. I found a space on your street, right outside the door. The parking’s actually much better in the suburbs, where I live. It’s hopeless here in town, but sometimes you get lucky.” The words stream from Ulrika’s mouth, then her voice becomes a faint hum. A pop song; Doris recognizes it from the radio. Ulrika whirls away. Dusts the bedroom. Doris can hear her clattering around and hopes she doesn’t knock over the vase, the hand-painted one she’s so fond of.
 
When Ulrika returns, she is carrying a dress over one arm. It’s burgundy, wool, the one with bobbled arms and a thread hanging from the hem. Doris had tried to pull it loose the last time she wore the dress, but the pain in her back made it impossible to reach below her knees. She holds out a hand to catch it now, but grasps at thin air when Ulrika suddenly turns and drapes the dress over a chair. The caregiver comes back and starts to loosen Doris’s dressing gown. She gently pulls the arms free and Doris whimpers quietly, her bad back sending a wave of pain into her shoulders. It’s always there, day and night. A reminder of her age.
 
“I need you to stand up now. I’ll lift you on the count of three, OK?” Ulrika places an arm around her, helps her to her feet, and pulls the dressing gown away.
 

Editorial Reviews

12/01/2018

DEBUT Lundberg's first novel introduces 96-year-old Doris Alm, of Stockholm, Sweden, who recalls her many years on this Earth. Her lifelong belief is that, above all, love matters most. Reminiscing during her weekly Skype calls to her only living relative, her grandniece, Jenny, in San Francisco, Doris wants to be sure that Jenny, who had a difficult childhood, appreciates her approach to life and her significant relationships. As a young child, Doris was given a red address book by her beloved father, who died shortly thereafter. The book includes many details, about which Jenny is curious. When Doris's health falters, Jenny travels to Stockholm to be with her and learns of her great-aunt's many connections, bonds, and experiences during World War II: working as a living mannequin in 1930s Paris; being rescued at sea by a fisherman; laboring as a housekeeper in Sweden. VERDICT Readers who enjoyed Eleanor Brown's The Light of Paris or Nina George's The Little French Bistro will delight in seeing Doris's life unfold in this charming, tender tale.—Andrea Tarr, Corona P.L., CA

Library Journal

…a colorful page-turner…In our continued craving for all stories Scandinavian, The Red Address Book is just the sort of easy-reading tale that will inspire readers to pull up a comfy chair to the fire, grab a mug of cocoa and a box of tissues and get hygge with it.

The New York Times Book Review - Helen Simonson

09/17/2018
Lundberg’s sometimes overly sweet debut centers on a 96-year-old Swedish woman passing down her life story by remembering the names in her address book. Doris may be old, but she doesn’t want to be treated as such. However, when she ends up in the hospital after an accident, she must face her own mortality and desire for independence. Doris, who has lived a full and colorful life, wants to make sure her American granddaughter Jenny knows all about it before it’s too late. So she sets about writing the story of her life, framed by the names in her address book. One by one she goes through the entries and describes her life at the time she was associated with each person—modeling in Paris, then experiencing the horrors of WWII before moving to Sweden and marrying. While the present-day narrative is often cluttered with overly sentimental dialogue and hampered by an underwhelming account of Jenny’s travel woes as she tries to reach Doris, Doris’s life story is magnetic, and it’s her strong personality and pearls of wisdom (“Start cultivating your talents rather than going through life thinking you aren’t not good enough. In the end, that’s all that really matters. You’re never any more than your soul”) that drive the book. Both story lines become melodramatic during the neatly tied ending, but fans of Fredrik Backman will find much to like here. (Jan.)

Publishers Weekly

A Publishers Lunch Buzz Book A Library Reads Selection An iBooks Most Anticipated Titles of 2019 A West Virginia Gazette “Books to Check out in the New Year” Pick   “A sweet-tart Swedish romance steeped in memory and regret…The Red Address Book is just the sort of easy-reading tale that will inspire readers to pull up a comfy chair to the fire, grab a mug of cocoa and a box of tissues and get hygge with it.” —Helen Simonson, New York Times Book Review   “Written with love, told with joy. Very easy to enjoy.”—Fredrik Backman, author of A Man Called Ove “Wise and captivating, Lundberg’s novel offers clear-eyed insights into old age and the solace of memory.” —People   "In a reader's lifetime, there are a few books that will be companions forever. For me, The Red Address Book is one of them. It will comfort you, and remind you of all the moments when you grabbed life with both hands. It is also an homage to the wisdom of women who have lived longer than most of us. One is never too old to learn that love is the only meaning of life—let’s listen to these women.”—Nina George, author of The Little Paris Bookshop   “Charming.”—Toronto Star   “In this tender and heartfelt story, Sofia Lundberg offers a reminder that those we too easily dismiss, such as the elderly, have rich histories and lives that we can learn from. Completely engrossing from start to finish, The Red Address Book is a poignant tale of memory and how those things we carry in our heart work together to create our own life stories.” —New York Journal of Books   "The Red Address Book is a love letter to the human heart.  Full of tenderness and empathy, Lundberg has created more than just a novel—she has created a window into the soul."—Alyson Richman, internationally bestselling author of The Lost Wife and The Velvet Hours “Like a cozy conversation with your grandma, The Red Address Book warms your heart and soul.” —BookPage   “A warm and tender story about life, memories, and the power of love and friendship. A novel with heart and humor!”—Katarina Bivald, The Readers of Broken Wheel Recommend “Doris’s life story is magnetic, and it’s her strong personality and pearls of wisdom … that drive the book…Fans of Fredrik Backman will find much to like here.”—Publishers Weekly   “Sofia Lundberg has written a wonderful debut. The story of the life of Doris is told with a whole lot of love. It is full of warmth and compassion.”—Jan-Philipp Sendker, author of The Art of Hearing Heartbeats   “A lifetime of memories [is]…Beautifully brought to life in this sweetly elegiac novel.”—Bridget Thoreson, Booklist   “You’ll be hearing a lot about Sofia in the new year if you’re in the UK, but if you’re in Sweden, France, Spain, Germany, etc, etc, you’ll already know how romantic and fabulous her novel, The Red Address Book is.”—Lucy Dillon, author of Lost Dogs and Lonely Hearts  “Readers who enjoyed Eleanor Brown —

From the Publisher

2018-10-02

Nearing the end of her days, 96-year-old Doris Alm turns the pages of her red address book, a gift from her father decades ago, lingering over names crossed through with the word "dead" etched in the margin.

Impoverished at age 13 by her father's untimely death, Doris is sent by her mother to work as a maid for the glamorous Madame Serafin. Stunned to be thrust into the world so soon, Doris bravely embarks on the first of what will be many adventures in her life. As the third maid, Doris takes on the most unpleasant tasks, but she also meets the artist Gösta Nilsson, a man forced to hide his homosexuality even in bohemian Europe. Gösta and Doris become lifelong friends even as Doris travels with Madame to Paris, where she is sold off to Jean Ponsard and begins work as a living mannequin, modeling clothes in department stores and for magazine shoots. She meets the love of her life, Allan Smith, in the park one afternoon. A whirlwind romance ensues until suddenly Allan disappears, moving to the U.S. to care for his mother. Brokenhearted, Doris plunges into her work, which enables her to care for her younger sister, Agnes, after their mother dies, at least until war breaks out. Just as all hope seems lost, a battered, yellowed letter from Allan arrives with funds to take Doris and Agnes to America, where fresh calamities will keep them apart. In this, her debut novel, Swedish writer Lundberg has created a cast of warm characters, all conjured anew in the eyes of Doris' great-niece, Jenny, who's arrived to sit with Doris in her final days. Reading through Doris' book and hearing her stories, Jenny concocts a plan to reunite the star-crossed lovers.

A charming, fragile romance.

Kirkus Reviews