“Which of us has been abandoned, I want to ask. You’re not the one stuck with a lifetime’s worth of memories in a body that’s slowly withering away.”
Bo is an elderly man receiving round-the-clock care in his home he shares with his dog Sixten, in a small rural village in northern Sweden. His life is made up of others telling him what’s best for him, and of Bo trying to communicate how he’s really feeling, when often his inner world doesn’t match what others see. When Bo’s son Hans tells him it’s time to rehome Sixten, Bo is heartbroken and takes a long look over his life and relationships to figure out what his remaining time means.
Told from Bo’s perspective while talking to the memory of his wife, punctuated by logbook-style entries from his caregivers, When the Cranes Fly South is a quietly crushing novel. Bo’s memories take you through his childhood and into his decision to move away and start anew, the time spent with his beloved wife of many years, the deep bond he shared with his longtime friend Ture, and now his last days in a deteriorating body. As a husband, a father, and a man who used to command respect but has lost his independence and, in turn, his voice, you are given a full and often heartbreaking picture of growing older.
Having cared for and lost elderly family members, this was hard to read, but also cathartic; I could see the gaps in Bo’s memory and clarity, while also empathising with how difficult it must be to lose parts of yourself. Bo’s pain at the thought of losing Sixten—and what that means for the rest of his life—is raw and tender. His desire to mend his relationship with his son Hans is also moving, even as you recognize that too much time has passed to ever heal old wounds, and how people need to live the life they want, even if you don’t agree.
Bo’s love for his wife and the life they built together is a testament to their mutual work and devotion that had its unspoken battles and its deep core. And his friendship with Ture, a gay man living in a time when his sexuality wasn’t always accepted and was often kept private, shows just how life and love endure despite what others say. Bo’s generational language and beliefs color his world, but his relationship with Ture shows his love and compassion for others.
The writing is simple and direct and doesn’t shy away from the realities of dying, even if Bo’s narration is sometimes unreliable. The logs show what truly happened that day on a physical level, while Bo fleshes out the emotional aspect. It’s a clever framing device that reminds you of how fragile life is and how it’s not always pretty and sanitized. As the narrative slips in and out of memory and time, the writing seamlessly transports you, reminding you just how tangled our lives are made up of everything we’ve experienced.
When the Cranes Fly South is not a Hollywood story or a fairytale; it is a profound story of life in all its foibles and bonds, and how those small moments become big ones when looking back in the rearview. It’s not a happy read, but it’s also not a constant misery parade; it’s real, and it takes you on Bo’s journey with a gentle and empathetic hand. It’s a must-read for anyone with ageing loved ones or for those contemplating the realities of growing older. The dichotomy of what is best for someone and what is right is striking, and When the Cranes Fly South explores why we could all use a little more understanding, no matter what stage we’re at in life.
