I see that a book titled “A Man Called Ove” is a best-seller and has been recommended via a blog by three – now five – people. I looked over at Kindle Books to see a synopsis. This is the first paragraph:

Read the New York Times bestseller that has taken the world by storm!

Meet Ove. He’s a curmudgeon—the kind of man who points at people he dislikes as if they were burglars caught outside his bedroom window. He has staunch principles, strict routines, and a short fuse. People call him “the bitter neighbor from hell.” But must Ove be bitter just because he doesn’t walk around with a smile plastered to his face all the time?

Ove sounds quite a bit like me. Now, apparently, life changes Ove’s outlook, according to the rest of the summary on the Kindle site. Oh, good. And Cinderella marries the Prince. And the Grinch’s heart grew three times its normal size . .

I can tell you right now that I’m more than sure that what happens to Ove is a good thing, a heartwarming thing, a worthy thing, a thing to hope to experience. I can also tell you right now that sometimes a person is so Ove-ized that he/she just wants to say, “This is my pool of self-pity and I’m going to wallow in it.”

I should welcome the example of Ove for this has been a year of sort of dodged bullets, of weeks of tension and worry that turned out much better than it could have. I know, I know; this above expressed angst, irritability and desire to walk up to a wall and kick it needs to be Ove(r). But it hangs around – maybe I am leaving out food for it.

Sigh, I’m going to have to think about this.