The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared
Jonas Jonasson, 2009
Graphic novels & humour Historical fictionContemporary fiction
A centenarian walks out of his nursing home and into a picaresque of vodka, atom bombs and historical cameos—comedy with a straight face.
Feels like wonder, awe and melancholy. About memory, morality and time.
A page from the book
Death as sleep sounds restful until you try to think it through.
Imagine that, death was just like being asleep. Would he have time to think before it was all over? And would he have time to think that he had thought it? But wait, how much do you have to think before you have finished thinking? Jonas Jonasson.Jonasson was a Swedish journalist and media entrepreneur before this debut novel, published when he was in his late forties, became an international bestseller.
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Questions readers ask
- What is The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared like?
- Feels like wonder, awe and melancholy. About memory, morality and time.
- What should I read after The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared?
- If you liked The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared, try Where the Sidewalk Ends (Shel Silverstein), The Wedding People (Alison Espach) and Theo of Golden (Allen Levi).
A taste of the feed
The place past the last streetlight is still waiting for you.
There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind. Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends. Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And watch where the chalk-white arrows go To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Where the Sidewalk Ends · Shel Silverstein
Why we trap a torn ticket stub under glass.
How is it, Theo wondered, that a piece of paper - a letter, a photo, a ticket stub, a sketch, a painting - is suddenly transformed by placing it in four bits of wood beneath a pane of glass? What does it mean that we place permanent boundaries around transient moments? What does it say of humankind that we take such trouble to freeze specific memories, that we devote such energy to capturing and preserving the “minute particulars” of our lives?
Theo of Golden · Allen Levi
The end of everything, told without a single note of consolation.
Nothing will remain of the armies of the living and of the dead, of the dreams of the gods and the bravery of their warriors, nothing but ash. Soon after, the swollen ocean will swallow the ashes as it washes across all the land, and everything living will be forgotten under the sunless sky. That is how the worlds will end, in ash and flood, in darkness and in ice. That is the final destiny of the gods.
Norse Mythology · Neil Gaiman
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