My Friends by Fredrik Backman (2025): A Review

Title: My Friends

Author: Fredrik Backman

Publication Year: 2025

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Pages: 436

Source: audiobook @storytel.tr

Genre: literary fiction, coming-of-age

Opening Sentence: Louisa is a teenager, the best kind of human. The evidence for this is very simple: little children think teenagers are the best humans, and teenagers think teenagers are the best humans, the only people who don’t think that teenagers are the best humans are adults. Which is obviously because adults are the worst kind of humans.

I’m usually skeptical about best-seller books and tend to approach them with a bit of a reverse bias. But sometimes, you pick up a book and from the very first paragraph, you just know it’s going to be something special—and you’re absolutely right. This was one of those rare books for me. It captures everything I love about books (tragedy and humor) and dislike about people (teenagers). The story centers around an irresistibly annoying yet endearing teenager, teetering on the brink between innocence and experience—although in her case, innocence has long since faded. And then there’s the humor, which grabs you from the start.

The novel follows Louisa and an artist whose paths cross unexpectedly, transforming not only their lives but also those of the artist’s friends. Through these intertwined stories, we delve into the lives of the artist and his circle as Louisa becomes captivated by the story of a painting and its creator. In many ways, this is as much Louisa’s coming-of-age story as it is the artist’s. The book is emotionally intense—at times, it made me want to ugly cry. What sets it apart from other tearjerkers is the author’s masterful blend of humor and tragedy. One moment you’re laughing out loud, the next you’re wiping away tears, and sometimes you can’t even tell whether you’re crying from sadness or laughter. The balance between light and dark is executed with a finesse I haven’t encountered in recent reads. The tragedy here isn’t harsh or melodramatic; it’s gentle, quietly breaking your heart while also warming it. Every character managed to frustrate me with their mischief, but that’s the charm of fiction—you can empathize with these flawed teenagers without having to deal with them in real life. I found myself facepalming at their decisions, asking, “Why would you do that?” and then feeling compassion for their difficult circumstances. It left me wondering whether friendships like theirs exist beyond the pages of a book.