A charming, wise, and laugh-out-loud funny novel following an American woman competing on a Swedish reality show in an attempt to discover her roots.Paulie Johansson has never put much stock in the idea of she has her long-term boyfriend Declan and beloved best friend Jemma, and that’s more than enough for her. Yet one night on a lark, she lets Jemma convince her to audition for Sverige och Mig, a show on Swedish television where Swedish-Americans compete to win the ultimate a reunion with their Swedish relatives. Much to her shock, her drunken submission video wins her a spot on the show, and against Declan’s advice Paulie decides to go for it.Armed with her Polaroid camera, a beat-up copy of Pippi Longstocking, and an unquenchable sense of possibility, Paulie hops on a plane to Sweden and launches into the contest with seven other Americans, all under the watchful eye of a camera crew. At first, Paulie is certain that she and her competitors have nothing in common besides their passports and views their bloodthirsty ambitions with suspicion. Yet amid the increasingly absurd challenges—rowing from Denmark to Sweden in the freezing rain, battling through obstacle courses, competing in a pickled herring eating contest—Paulie finds herself rethinking her snap judgments about her fellow countrymen, while her growing attachment to her Swedish roots increases her resolve to win the competition herself.Grappling with long-held notions of family, friendship, and love—not to mention her feelings for the distractingly handsome Swedish cameraman who’s been assigned to follow her around—Paulie starts to reconsider her past and rethink what she wants for the future. A fish-out-of-water tale filled with warmth, optimism, and wit, Big in Sweden is at its heart a love love for family, friends, country, and—most importantly—oneself.
My Review:
Big in Sweden comes out next week on July 2, 2024, and you can purchase HERE!
The thing is, unless you get married, buy a house, build an important career, and/or have children, the narrative arc for a thirtysomething woman sort of sputters and stalls. I had recently turned thirty-five, had no career to speak of, and found myself more or less unfit for marriage, property, and procreation, either despite or because of biweekly rummagings through the subconscious in group therapy. I often waxed nostalgic to Jemma about our twenties and the acute sense of purpose that had defined them-the quests for new jobs, new lovers, new dresses and apartments! The delicious suspicion that one's real life was lurking around every corner! I even missed my particleboard bookshelf, which had listed so badly-for years!-it finally collapsed on a guy we called Crotchgrabber while he offered me an unsolicited explanation of cryptocurrency. How he had screamed! It was more emotion than I'd ever seen from him, including the grunt of his orgasm.
Comments
Post a Comment