# Read the first page of Britt-Marie Was Here by Fredrik Backman Read the opening of Britt-Marie Was Here by Fredrik Backman free, no signup. A prim sixty-three-year-old leaves her marriage and coaches a shabby town's children's soccer team. - Page: https://uncovered.ink/read/britt-marie-was-here-fredrik-backman - Genre: Literary fiction - Year: 2017 - ISBN: 9781501142543 - Read it blind (cover and title hidden): https://uncovered.ink/?b=9781501142543&s=read-page - Buy: https://bookshop.org/a/125786/9781501142543 - Borrow: https://search.worldcat.org/search?q=9781501142543 ## The opening Forks. Knives. Spoons. In that order. Britt-Marie is certainly not the kind of person who judges other people. Far from it. But surely no civilized person would even think of arranging a cutlery drawer in a different way from how cutlery drawers are supposed to be arranged? We're not animals, are we? It's a Monday in January. She's sitting at a desk in the unemployment office. Admittedly there's no cutlery in sight, but it's on her mind because it sums up everything that's gone wrong recently. Cutlery should be arranged as it always has been, because life should go on unchanged. Normal life is presentable. In normal life you clean up the kitchen and keep your balcony tidy and take care of your children. It's hard work—harder than one might think. In normal life you certainly don't find yourself sitting in the unemployment office. The girl who works here has staggeringly short hair, Britt-Marie thinks, like a man’s. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course—it’s modern, no doubt. The girl points at a piece of paper and smiles, evidently in a hurry. “Just fill in your name, social security number, and address here, please.” Britt-Marie has to be registered. As if she were a criminal. As if she has come to steal a job rather than find one. “Milk and sugar?” the girl asks, pouring some coffee into a plastic mug. Britt-Marie doesn’t judge anyone. Far from it. But who would behave like that? A plastic mug! Are we at war? She’d like to say just that to the girl, but because Kent is always urging Britt-Marie to “be more socially aware” she just smiles as diplomatically as she can and waits to be offered a coaster. Kent is Britt-Marie’s husband. He’s an entrepreneur. Incredibly, incredibly successful. Has business dealings with Germany and is extremely, extremely socially aware. The girl offers her two tiny disposable cartons of the sort of milk that doesn’t have to be kept in the fridge. Then she holds out a plastic mug with plastic teaspoons protruding from it. Britt-Marie could not have looked more startled if she’d been offered roadkill. She shakes her head and brushes her hand over the table as if it was covered in invisible crumbs. There are papers everywhere, in any old order. The girl clearly doesn’t have time to tidy them up, Britt-Marie realizes—she’s probably far too busy with her career. “Okay,” says the girl pleasantly, turning back to the form, “just write your address here.” Britt-Marie fixes her gaze on her lap. She misses being at home with her cutlery drawer. She misses Kent, because Kent is the one who fills in all the forms. When the girl looks like she’s about to open her mouth again, Britt-Marie interrupts her. “You forgot to give me a coaster,” says Britt-Marie, smiling, with all the social awareness she can muster. “I don’t want to make marks on your table. Could I trouble you to give me something to put my . . . coffee cup on?” She uses that distinctive tone, which Britt-Marie relies on whenever she has to summon all her inner goodness, to refer to it as a “cup” even though it is a plastic mug. “Oh, don’t worry, just put it anywhere.” As if life was as simple as that. As if using a coaster or organizing the cutlery drawer in the right order didn’t matter. The girl—who clearly doesn’t appreciate the value of coasters, or proper cups, or even mirrors, judging by her hairstyle—taps her pen against the paper, by the “address” box. “But surely we can’t just put our cups on the table? That leaves marks on a table, surely you see that.” The girl glances at the surface of the desk, which looks as if toddlers have been trying to eat potatoes off it. With pitchforks. In the dark. “It really doesn’t matter; it’s so old and scratched up already!” she says with a smile. Britt-Marie is screaming inside. ## Books with a similar feel - [The Borrower by Rebecca Makkai](https://uncovered.ink/read/the-borrower-rebecca-makkai.md) - [Operation Wandering Soul by Richard Powers](https://uncovered.ink/read/operation-wandering-soul-richard-powers.md) - [Fates and Furies by Lauren Groff](https://uncovered.ink/read/fates-and-furies-lauren-groff.md) - [Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri](https://uncovered.ink/read/unaccustomed-earth-jhumpa-lahiri.md) - [March by Geraldine Brooks](https://uncovered.ink/read/march-geraldine-brooks.md) - [Love May Fail by Matthew Quick](https://uncovered.ink/read/love-may-fail-matthew-quick.md) --- Source: Uncovered (https://uncovered.ink). A short sample shown for reading and discovery. Rights holders can request removal at https://uncovered.ink/takedown.