4/5 Stars
Fredrik Backman has this magical ability to make you laugh through your tears, and My Friends is no exception. It’s warm, wise, heartbreaking, and quietly hopeful in that very Backman way.
The story follows Louisa, a soon-to-be 18-year-old artist who stumbles upon a mysterious painting with a quiet trio of figures that most people overlook. But Louisa sees something more—and sets off to uncover the story behind it. What unfolds is a beautiful blend of past and present, as we meet a group of teenagers from decades earlier who found connection, healing, and purpose on a worn-down pier by the sea.
The book is less about plot and more about feeling. It’s about how people hold each other up when life gets heavy. About friendship that saves you in small, invisible ways. About the power of art to carry pain and love across time.
It’s gentle but powerful. A little quirky. A little sad. In true Backman fashion, the characters are messy, funny, deeply human, and incredibly lovable. I found myself underlining so many lines—not because they were poetic for the sake of it, but because they felt true.