My Friends: Why Fredrik Backman’s Latest Might Be His Most Brutal Yet

My Friends: Why Fredrik Backman’s Latest Might Be His Most Brutal Yet

You know that feeling when you pick up a book by an author you love, expecting a warm hug, but instead, they sort of punch you in the gut? That’s the vibe with Fredrik Backman right now. If you’ve been following the Swedish maestro of "grumpy old men with hearts of gold," you probably expected his 2025 release to be another cozy cry-fest.

My Friends is definitely a cry-fest. But cozy? Honestly, not always.

It’s been a minute since Anxious People or the conclusion of the Beartown trilogy. We’ve all been waiting to see where he’d go next. Some thought he’d lean further into the sports-drama grit, while others hoped for more of the whimsical magic from My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry. What we got with My Friends is a bit of both—and something entirely more haunting. It’s a story about a painting, a pier, and four teenagers who were basically broken by the world before they even had a chance to live in it.

What is My Friends actually about?

The plot is kind of a dual-timeline puzzle, which is classic Backman. We start in the present day with Louisa. She’s eighteen, living in a foster home she hates, and she’s just lost the one person who actually gave a damn about her—her best friend, Fish.

Then everything gets weird.

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A world-famous artist dies. He leaves his entire fortune, including a legendary, priceless painting of the sea, to Louisa. The catch? She has no idea who he is. Or so she thinks. To figure out why a stranger would hand a homeless teenager a literal masterpiece, she has to trace the story back twenty-five years to a seaside town where four kids—Ted, Joar, Ali, and "the artist"—spent their summers on an abandoned pier.

The four kids on the pier

Backman spends a lot of time in the past, and honestly, that’s where the heart of the book lives. You’ve got:

  • Ted: The one who feels too much. He’s the kind of kid who forgets how to breathe when he's sad.
  • Joar: A boy trapped in a house that feels more like a prison, protecting a mother who can't protect herself.
  • Ali: The one they have to teach to swim, the one who brings a different kind of fire to the group.
  • The Artist: The narrator of the past, who sees the world in colors and shadows that most people ignore.

They call themselves a "chosen family," which sounds sweet until you realize they chose each other because their actual families were, well, pretty terrible. They commit small acts of rebellion. They share secrets that would break an adult. It’s very Stand by Me meets The Goldfinch.

Why My Friends is hitting people differently

If you go on Goodreads or talk to anyone in a book club right now, the consensus is basically "I loved it, but it hurt." Backman has always been an expert at "the messy essence of being human," as the Washington Post once put it. But in My Friends, he doubles down on the trauma.

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Some readers have actually found it hard to get through. Not because it’s bad—it’s actually brilliantly written—but because the "horridness" (as one reviewer Sandy called it) feels so real. We’re talking about child neglect, the failures of the foster care system, and the sheer cruelty of indifference.

It’s a slow burn

Don't expect a thriller pace. Backman is a "trust the process" kind of writer. The first few chapters of My Friends are slow. He’s setting the table, introducing you to the textures of the seaside and the way the light hits the water. If you’re looking for a quick beach read, this isn't it. You have to sit with these kids. You have to watch them fail.

"You have to take life for granted... that’s the only courageous thing a person can do."

That’s a quote from the artist in the book, and it sort of sums up the whole philosophy. To live, you have to assume there’s a tomorrow, even when everything in your yesterday says there shouldn't be.

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The "Backman Verse" and where this fits

Is this better than A Man Called Ove? That’s the big question.

Honestly, they aren't the same species. Ove was about a man finding a reason to live at the end of his life. My Friends is about kids trying to find a reason to start theirs. It feels more like the Beartown books in terms of its weight. There’s a certain "ripples in the water" effect here—how an act of kindness or a shared joke in 2000 can save someone’s life in 2025.

Key themes to look for:

  • The Power of Art: The painting isn't just a plot device; it’s a character. It represents the only thing that lasted from that summer.
  • Inherited Trauma: How Ted and Joar carry their parents' failures like heavy stones in their pockets.
  • The Definition of "Home": Is it a house, or is it a person? For Louisa, home was Fish. For the boys, home was a rickety pier.

Real talk: Should you read it?

If you want a book that makes you feel seen, yes. If you’re currently in a headspace where you can’t handle stories about hurting kids, maybe skip it for a few months.

It won the 2025 Goodreads Choice Award for Best Fiction for a reason. Backman’s empathy is basically a superpower at this point. He writes about teenagers with a respect that most adult authors lack. He knows that when you're fifteen, a friend isn't just a person you hang out with—they’re your entire oxygen supply.

How to get the most out of My Friends:

  1. Read it with a friend. Seriously. You’re going to want to text someone about Joar and Ali.
  2. Pay attention to the chapter titles. Backman is cheeky with his structure; the way he reveals the artist's identity is layered into the very bones of the book.
  3. Keep tissues nearby. This is non-negotiable. Chapter 28 will wreck you.
  4. Don't Google the "ending." The mystery of the painting's origin is worth the 448-page journey.

Once you finish, take a look at your own childhood friendships. The ones that faded. The ones that stayed. We all have a "pier" in our past somewhere.

Next Steps:
Go grab a copy of My Friends at your local indie bookstore or check it out from the library. If you've already read it and need something to fill the void, look into When the Cranes Fly South by Lisa Ridzén—it’s another Swedish gem that Backman himself has been championing lately for its "quiet brutality of love."