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If you’d like to see what a novel looks like when no detail is spared, try Collected Works by Swedish author Lydia Sandgren (1987). In contrast to its title, the book spans over 700 pages following the lives of Martin Berg and his children, Rakel and Elis, as they grapple with the absence of their spouse and mother. Given its high ratings on Goodreads, I was eager to find something that would spark my interest, but after finishing it, I can only conclude that this novel was a complete waste of time.

Collected Works is Sandgren’s debut. There are a few similarities to Ian McEwan’s Lessons, as both books attempt to capture the life of a man from youth to later years, dealing with the departure of their partners. The comparison ends there. Sandgren’s language is full of clichés, ostentatious, and uninspired, telling the reader what to expect rather than showing it. The interview blocks at the start of each chapter feel contrived and somewhat predictable. While I appreciated the author’s love for art and literature, particularly for the ‘forgotten’ writer William Wallace, the references often felt forced. The chapters filled with excessive admiration for Paris were a low point.

The story offers recognition, which might explain its success. The style reminded me of Virginie Despentes’ Vernon Subutex, which didn’t teach me anything either. Some topics were dragged in by the hair, and overall, I feel this book would have benefited significantly from a more scrutinising editor who could have cut much of it. Since others have valued this novel much more highly, I suppose it’s a good thing I was not that editor.