The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared

“For Allan's father, the whole thing had acquired a personal dimension since Lenin had forbidden all private ownership of land the very day after Allan's father had purchased 130 square feet on which to grow Swedish strawberries. ‘The land didn’t cost more than four rubles but they won't get away with nationalizing my strawberry patch,’ wrote Allan's father in his very last letter home, including ‘now it's war!’”

This passage reveals why Allan never allows any form of idealism he encounters—political, religious, or nationalistic—to sway him. Allan’s father is extremely idealistic, which directly results in the loss of his job, causes him to leave Sweden for Russia to overthrow the Czar, and ends with his murder at the hands of two communist guards over his strawberry patch. Throughout the book, conflict and hardship invariably result when people are extremely idealistic. Jonasson conveys that the better-armed idealists inevitably prevail.

“Since his time as an errand boy, Allan had retained his interest in current affairs. At least once a week, he rode his bicycle to the public library in Flen to get updated on the latest news. When he was there he often met young men who were keen to debate and who all had one thing in common: they wanted to tempt Allan into some political movement or another. But Allan’s great interest in world events did not include any interest in trying to change them.”

Jonasson describes Allan throughout the narrative as continually interested in the world but not in taking sides. That he wants to stay current on the news confounds those who presume that individuals interested in world happenings must have idealistic beliefs and strong preferences. As curious as Allan is about the world, he finds politics and politicians consummately boring.

“The police chief had something of a theatrical bent; he was not inclined to understatement. And now Chief Inspector Aronsson had given him just what he needed for today’s show. So the police chief pulled out all the stops during the press conference, before Aronson had time to get back to Malmköping to stop him (which he wouldn't have succeeded in doing anyway). […] There were of course a lot of questions, but the police chief skillfully avoided them. What he could tell the press was that Karlsson and his presumed kidnappers had been seen in the little village of Åker as recently as around lunch time that very day. And he urged the police authority’s best friend—the General Public—to keep their eyes open.”

Except for Chief Inspector Aronsson, Jonasson portrays the police and other official leaders throughout the novel as people who jockey for authority. Their primary concern is how the media reports their work. The legal authorities view reporters as adversaries unless they want some publicity. When the assumptions of the prosecutor and the news media all prove incorrect, the various individuals begin to look for someone to blame.

“So it was that Allan found himself in Spain. It took them three months to make their way down through Europe, and on the way he got to meet more black man than he had ever dreamed up. But after the first one, he lost interest. It turned out that there was no difference other than the color of their skin, except of course that they spoke weird languages, but the whites did that too, from southern Sweden onward. Professor Lundborg must have been frightened by a black man when he was a child, thought Allan.”

Allan’s reference to curiosity about Black people refers to the four years he was an inpatient at the psychiatric hospital run by Lundborg, who assumed he would cure Allan’s hostility by castrating him. Afterward, the researchers judge Allan, who answers all questions honestly, as unchanged. Lundborg continues to probe Allan to determine if he might be biracial or Jewish. As fearful as the Swedish government’s psychiatrists are about Black people, Allan quickly determines that apart from languages, they’re no different than white people.

“Kicki says she's sorry, but she can't figure out where the corpse is gone, the dog handler translated. The dog handler did not convey this message as precisely as he perhaps should have. Chief Inspector Aronsson interpreted the answer is meaning that Kicki had lost track of the corpse as soon as she walked away from the trolley. But if Kicki had been able to talk, she would have told him that the body had definitely been moved a few yards into the grounds before disappearing.”

Several different animals serve as sympathetic characters. The police search dog Kicki does her job so well that her human trainers don’t understand what she’s trying to convey. Kicki, who makes no mistakes in the story, loses her police job to give the prosecutor a reasonable excuse for making wild claims and promises to the public through the media. Jonasson suggests that animals are trustworthy companions and unfailing servants, especially when compared to the story’s blundering cops and robbers.

“Allan asked Julius if he had any ideas which, unlike previous attempts, would not make The Beauty even angrier. Julius answered that the only way they could save the situation was by inviting the beauty to partake in some sort of part ownership of the suitcase. Allan agreed, although he pointed out that no good would come of telling a new person each day that they had stolen someone’s suitcase, killed that person when he wanted to get it back, and sent the corpse to Africa pack neatly in a steel cylinder. Julius thought Allan was exaggerating. So far only one person had paid with his life and surely he got what he deserved. If they could just stay hidden until things calmed down, then nobody else needed to meet the same fate.”

This passage illustrates several of the novel’s persistent motifs. Throughout the present narrative, Allan’s accomplices grow in number and soon share his matter-of-fact attitude. As a result, they have casual conversations about startling subjects, such as the accidental death of Bolt. The Beauty, who’s initially angry when she discovers that the police are searching for her three guests, eventually adopts the same relaxed attitude. As the group proceeds, moving from one location to another, fate answers all their desires.

“From 1943 on, extremely strict security restrictions came into force at Los Alamos. The scientists had been given a secret mission by President Roosevelt to create a big bomb: a bomb that, Allan guessed, could destroy ten or even twenty Spanish bridges with a single explosion. Someone needed to help out on even the most secret activities, and hugely popular Allan was given the highest security clearance. […] By April 1945, they were almost there. The researchers—and for that matter Allan—knew how to achieve a nuclear reaction, but they didn't know how to control it. The problem fascinated Allan, and when he sat in the library in the evenings he worried away at the problem that nobody had asked him to worry about—and he solved it.”

Jonasson uses the accidental nature of this event, along with those before and after it, to demonstrate the capricious nature of massive historical developments. After a forgetful civil servant leaves Allan locked up for four years, this undocumented alien slides effortlessly into the highest security realms strictly as a convenience to those doing the most pivotal work. His brainstorm discovery, which he lets slip out subconsciously while pouring their coffee, not only changes the course of human history but marks him for the rest of his life.

“Bucket was driving too fast, and before he realized it the track had come to an end and was replaced by a little yard. And if he had been driving just a little faster, he wouldn't even have had time to stop but would have driven straight into the old man who was standing there feeding an …an … elephant? Allan had quickly found a new friend in Sonya. They had quite a lot in common. One had climbed out through a window one day and thus given his life a totally new direction, while the other had waded out into a lake with the same result. And both of them had—before that—been out and about and seen some of the world. Furthermore, Sonya had deep furrows on her face, more or less like a centenarian, Allan thought.”

This passage illustrates two important elements of Jonasson’s writing style. First, he often surprises his characters, here with the unexpected appearance of an elephant. He surprises the sleuths by confounding their assumptions and the world leaders through the simplicity of Allan’s outlook on life. Second, he employs numerous cliff-hangers. Often, he puts Allan in a precarious position—either in the historical chapters or in current events—and inserts an entire chapter or an extended descriptive passage, as here, before resolving the crisis.

“As a child, Allan had been taught to be suspicious of people who didn't have a drink when the opportunity arose. He was no more than six years old when his father laid a hand on his little shoulder and said:

—You should beware of priests, my son. And people who don't drink vodka. Worst of all are priests who don't drink vodka.

Acting on his own counsel, Allan's father had certainly not been completely sober when one day he punched an innocent traveler in the face, upon which he was immediately fired from the national railways. This in turn caused Allan's mother to give some words of wisdom of her own to her son:

—Beware of drunks, Allan. That's what I should have done.

The little boy grew up and added his own opinions to those he had acquired from his parents. […H]e did agree with his father that reliable people didn't drink fruit juice. And he agreed with his mother that you had to make sure you behaved, even if you had drunk a bit more than was wise.”

Alcohol consumption, particularly of vodka, is prevalent throughout the narrative. The nursing home’s prohibition of drinking is one of the reasons that Allan runs away. Many decisions, good and bad, by Allan and others throughout the narrative, result directly from consuming alcohol. Jonasson makes a point of including one trustworthy character, Benny, who doesn’t drink alcohol, holding him up as an exception to Allan’s principle of not trusting teetotalers.

“He introduced himself as Kevin Ferguson, an Anglican pastor who had been in Iran for twelve years searching for lost souls to recruit to the truth faith. And where did Mr. Karlsson stand? Allan answered that in a purely physical sense he was lost, since he had no control of where he stood, but that didn't mean he was spiritually lost. Allan had always reasoned about religion that if you couldn't know for sure then there was no point in going around guessing.”

Allan’s interaction with the priest is like his encounters with Estabán, the Spaniard who takes him to the Spanish Civil War, and the three Iranian communists who devoted themselves to transforming Iran into a communist nation. All these individuals attempted to convert Allan—and all ended up dead in the service of their causes. Allan’s understands that contrary to political conversion, which appeals to one’s sense of truth and rightness, religious conversion comes through an appeal to faith, accepting what one can only assume. Since one can only assume which religion is correct, he argues, the wisest course is to wait until one meets God and discovers the truth firsthand.

“Dr. Eklund was utterly dumbfounded. Did the Prime Minister think that a waiter who had dropped out of school before he was 10 years old could be put to use to build atomic bombs for Sweden? […] Allan sat there in silence for a moment, and wondered whether he ought to point out to the doctor that, unlike all of Dr. Eklund's academics, and probably Greta too, he actually knew how to build an atomic bomb. But then Allan decided that Dr. Eklund didn't deserve his assistance if he hadn't the sense to ask the question. Besides, Greta's coffee tasted like dishwater.”

The underlying dynamic in this passage is that Allan simply doesn’t like Eklund and doesn’t feel he can trust Eklund’s team with nuclear weapons. He develops a similar attitude upon meeting Stalin and intentionally insults him, which results in Allan’s imprisonment. Allan silently evaluates every person he meets for the first time, determining the degree to which he’ll allow himself to trust and share with them. Confirming his judgment about Eklund and his team, Allan points out that the coffee made by the unseen servant Greta is tepid.

“And then the prosecutor went through the case again with his chief inspector. First he explained the strategy. He didn't think they would be able to lock up all of them for murder, but there were still other charges—manslaughter, or assistance to commit this and that felony, or causing a death, or protecting a criminal. Even offences against the law concerning corpses could come into play, but the prosecutor would need a bit of time to think that through. Since some of the suspects got involved in the events later than others, and would be more difficult to convict, the prosecutor intended to focus on the man who have been in the thick of it all the whole time, the centenarian Allan Karlsson.

—In his case, I think we will be able to manage a life sentence in the true meaning of the word, prosecutor Ranelid joked.”

Jonasson draws a parallel here between the quasi-competent prosecutor, who makes sweeping assumptions based on a rudimentary awareness of some of the facts discovered thus far, and Dr. Eklund, the head of the Swedish nuclear bomb project in the 1950s. Both jump to conclusions that eventually derail their efforts. The same dynamic is at play repeatedly with many of the historical figures who underestimate or fail to investigate Allan’s abilities.

“But Pike’s anger subsided the moment he found the companion and comrade of his youth. He sat down at the table together with Bosse Baddy and his friends. It couldn't be helped that they had killed Bolt and Bucket. They could sort out the business with the suitcase and everything else the next day. For the moment they were going to enjoy their dinner.

—Cheers! said Per-Gunnar “Pike” Gerdin and fainted, his face landing right in his food.

They wiped the food off Pike's face, moved him to the guest room, and put him to bed. Benny checked his medical state and then gave the patient a new dose of morphine so he would sleep until the next day.”

This scene reflects the degree to which Allan’s passive philosophy of accepting whatever life brings overtakes his entire group of associates. They hadn’t even confiscated Pike’s gun and didn’t try to overpower or disrupt his intentions. As in their encounters with Pike’s henchmen, serendipitous intervention enabled the group to find a safe solution—in this case, healing Pike and welcoming him.

“Allan was of course never asked whether or not he was grateful, but the verdict did undoubtedly have some good aspects. First, the accused would live, which was rare when you have been classified as a dangerous element. And second, he would be going to the gulag camp in Vladivostok, which had the most bearable climate in Siberia. […] So Allan had been lucky, and now he was pushed into a drafty freight car with about thirty other unfortunate dissidents. This particular load had also been allocated no fewer than three blankets per prisoner after the physicist Yury Borisovich Popov bribed the guards and their immediate boss with a whole lot of rubles. The boss of the guards thought it was weird that such a prominent citizen would care about a simple transport to the gulag camps, and he even considered reporting this to his superiors, but then he realized that he had actually accepted that money so perhaps it was best not to make a fuss.”

Whenever Allan encounters the legal system, whether in Sweden, Russia, Iran, or the US, he finds that authorities seem to administer justice arbitrarily. Allan learns to count on going to prison. Indeed, nowhere in the story do legal authorities properly follow constitutional processes. This may be the reason for Allan’s willingness to consort with individuals who operate outside the law.

“The Korean Peninsula was kind of left over when the Second World War ended. Stalin and Truman each occupied a bit in brotherly agreement, and decided that the 38th parallel would separate North from South. This was then followed by negotiations lasting forever about how Korea should be able to govern itself, but since Stalin and Truman didn't really have the same political views (not at all in fact) it ended up like in Germany. First, the United States established a South Korea, upon which the Soviet Union retaliated with a North Korea. And then the Americans and Russians left the Koreans to get on with it. But it hadn't worked out so well. Kim Il Sung in the north and Syngman Rhee in the south, each thought that he was best suited to govern the entire peninsula. Then they started a war. But after three years, and perhaps four million dead, absolutely nothing had changed. North was still the north, and the south was still the south. And the 38th parallel still kept them apart.”

Jonasson’s book is, in a sense, a treatise on the futility of war, partisanship, and idealism to make positive change in the human condition. His restatement of historical facts, such as the deaths of 4 million Koreans, Chinese, and Americans in the Korean War, bolster his casually stated observations. When mediating the lifelong dispute between Benny and his brother, Bosse, Allan comments that discussing the matter over a bottle of vodka—and then in the morning deciding how to proceed—would have settled many historical matters and saved many lives (191-92).

“Did the two gentlemen mean that he—Marshal K.A. Meretskov—should enter Vladivostok on foot wearing nothing but underpants? Allan answered that it would be difficult to enter Vladivostok at all, as the town was at that moment burning down, but otherwise that was more or less what he and his friend Herbert meant. The gentleman would of course be given a couple of sets of inferior black-and-white prisoners’ clothes in exchange, and in any case the nearer they got to Vladivostok—or whatever one should call the cloud of smoke and ruins over there—the warmer it would get. […] Allan wished the marshal farewell and said that he didn't need to look so angry, because Allan was quite sure it wouldn't help at all. Besides, it would be soon spring, and spring in Vladivostok was ... well, perhaps it wasn't. Anyway, Allan encouraged the marshal to think positively, but added that it was of course entirely up to the marshal himself.”

While Allan often makes quick-witted decisions when armed, hostile authority figures confront him, this is the only time that he holds a gun on others. The situation reveals Allan’s genuine, gracious nature. He has no intention of harming Meretskov—or anyone who can’t harm him—regardless of their intent. His good-hearted nature, however, belies the reality implicit in the story that he helped create the atomic bomb.

“Well, the man had read all the articles in the local paper and thought very carefully about what happened. While he didn't have as much information as the chief inspector, it seemed to him that the police hadn't picked up properly on the foreigner.

—And I am certain that is where you will find the real villain, said the man.

—Foreigner? said Chief Inspector Aronsson.

—Yes, I don't know whether he is called Ibraham or Muhammed, because the newspapers called him the ‘hot-dog-stand proprietor,’ as if we don't know that he is a Turk or an Arab. No Swede would open a hot dog stand proprietor. That would only work if you're a foreigner and don't pay any taxes.

—My, said Aronson. That was a lot all at once. But you can be a Turk and a Muslim at the same time, or for that matter and Arab and a Muslim, in fact that is quite likely.

—So he's a Turk and a Muslim! Even worse! Then check his background thoroughly! And his damn family’s. He'll have one hundred relatives here, and they'll all be living on public assistance.

—Not a hundred, said the chief inspector. The only relative he has is actually a brother....”

Jonasson is unsparing in his critical observations about Sweden. Through various decisions and events—such as Allan realizing after the Spanish Civil War that he has no reason to return to his home nation, to his perception that Sweden’s leaders aren’t ready to possess the atomic bomb, to comparing the foolishness of the Swedish police to that of Swedish criminals, to this conversation mocking anti-immigrant Swedes—the author comments on the shortcomings of his homeland.

“The less their party could devote itself to politics, the better. They discussed how to finance their campaign. According to Amanda, they wouldn't have a lot of dollars left when the campaign was over, because it was expensive to win. What did Herbert think? Herbert replied that he was certain that Amanda was the one in the family who best understood that matter. There wasn't much competition, admittedly.

—Great, said Amanda. Then we'll use one third of our capital for my election campaign, one-third for bribes for the heads of the election districts, one-third for muddying the reputation of our main opponent, and then we'll keep one third to live on if things don't work out. What do you think?”

When Herbert Einstein says, “There wasn’t much competition,” he isn’t referring to the other candidates his wife is facing. Rather, he’s admitting that he isn’t capable of making the necessary political judgments. What starts out as a political lark—the rather dim, renamed bride of Herbert Einstein seeking the governorship of Bali—plays out successfully. Jonasson depicts a pervasive political reality: unqualified individuals ascending to positions of power when the only salient quality they share is possessing more money than their opponents.

“Prosecutor Ranelid interrupted the inspector’s report and told him despairingly that victim number one had been found dead in Djibouti, and victim number two in Riga, and that the chain of circumstantial evidence was disintegrating.

—Djibouti? said Chief Inspector Aronsson. Where is that?

—I have no idea, said Prosecutor Ranelid, but as long as it is more than 12 miles from Åker’s foundry village it weakens my case traumatically. Now, you have to find victim number three! At that very moment, a newly awoken Per-Gunnar Gerdin stepped out onto the veranda. He nodded politely but somewhat warily toward Chief Inspector Aaronson who stared at him wide-eyed.

—I think that number three has just found me, he said.”

The grandiose aspirations of Prosecutor Ranelid evaporate in this chapter, not because of Allan and his associates’ careful planning but because of serendipity. The casual attitude of Allan’s group promptly begins to win over the inspector, who, instead of handcuffing Allan, accepts coffee and pastries from him. Empathy toward Allan, however, neglects his being personally responsible for the deaths of Bolt and Bucket, even if in self-defense or unintentional.

“—Did you tell Stalin how to build a bomb? asked President Johnson. I thought you ended up in a prison camp precisely because you refused.

—I refused to tell Stalin. He wouldn't have understood anyway. But the day before with that nuclear physicist I may have gone into more detail than I ought to have done. That's what happens when you drink a bit too much vodka, Mr. President and it wasn't really apparent what a nasty man that Stalin could be, not until the following day.

President Johnson had his palm on his forehead, and pushing his fingers through his hair he thought that the revelation of how you build atomic bombs wasn't something that just happened because alcohol was involved. Allan Karlsson was in fact […]a traitor. Wasn't he? But […] he was not an American citizen so what did you do then? President Johnson needed time to think.”

Here, Jonasson comments on the conflicts between scientists and politicians. Allan’s experience with Johnson in this passage mirrors the real-life experience of J. Robert Oppenheimer, the lead scientist in the “Manhattan Project” that built the first atomic bomb. Government agents and ambitious politicians probed Oppenheimer’s patriotism. Allan’s fictional Russian counterpart, Popov, though a hero in the USSR, was tethered by security oversight and forced to live under great restrictions. Allan is fortunate to be a Swede because the American government can’t prosecute him for sharing nuclear secrets with Russia.

“Allan said that he wished his friends would stop worrying about every little thing. The newspapers and TV would certainly not leave the group in peace until they had their story. So wouldn't it be better to tell it a solitary prosecutor, than to have journalists all over the place for the next two weeks?

—Besides, we've got all evening to come up with the story, said Allan.

Chief Inspector Aronsson would have preferred not to hear the last bit. He got up from his chair to emphasize his presence and stop them from saying anymore. It was time to call it a day, he said. If Benny would be so kind as to drive him to his hotel, he would be most grateful.”

Here, Allan stops the anxious bickering of his associates by pointing out the benefits of having a conversation with the prosecutor who has already declared them innocent. The most amazing thing about this passage may be the transition in the thinking of the inspector, who showed up in the morning ready to arrest at least four people. By day’s end, however, he’s advising the group on how to avoid legal trouble and asking them for a ride to a local hotel because he’s drunk.

“—It really is you.... Yury already finally managed to exclaim. But... you speak Russian...?

—Yes, I went on a five-year course in your country's language shortly after we last met, said Allan. The school was called gulag. What about that vodka?

Yury Borisovich was a very moral man, and during the last twenty-one years he felt very guilty for having involuntarily lured the Swedish atomic bomb expert to Moscow for subsequent transport to Vladivostok, where the Swede presumably—if not earlier—would have died in that fire that all reasonably well-informed Soviet citizens knew about. He had suffered for twenty-one years, because he had instantly liked the Swede and his—so it seemed—unstoppable ability to look on the bright side.”

As the narrative progresses, Jonasson describes how Allan’s reconnects with many important contacts he previously made, such as Harry Truman, Amanda Einstein, and Yury Popov. His reputation precedes him, such that world-shaping individuals like Mao Zedong and Lyndon Johnson learn of him and respect him. The author demonstrates that the longer people are in contact with Allan, the more they trust, admire, and depend on him. Throughout the narrative, those who know him the longest admire him the most and begin to emulate his accepting, optimistic attitude.

“The little family lived a pleasant and regular life. And this went on until one day it turned out that not only Allan that also Molotov had gotten older. Suddenly, the fox caught up with the cat, and that was just a surprising for the fox and the cat as it was sad for Allan. Allan was more sad than he possibly ever had been earlier in his life, and the sorrow soon turned to anger. The old explosives expert stood there on his veranda with tears in his eyes and called out into the winter night:

—If it's war you want, it's war you'll get, you damn fox!

For the first and only time in his life Allan was angry. And it wasn't dispelled with vodka, a drive (without a driver's license) in his car, or an extralong bike ride. Revenge was a poor thing to live for, Allan knew. Nevertheless, just now that was precisely what he had on the agenda.”

Allan is angry for the first time, and the result (the inadvertent destruction of his home) works as a bit of foreshadowing and supports the theme of the futility of anger, as this is the first time that Allan ever makes a mistake with explosives. The author’s message is that all people, even the sublimely calm Allan, are subject to irresistibly powerful emotions that compel them to act to express their emotions. Indeed, all of the story’s world leaders, civil servants, and minions of lesser significance—including Stalin, the Iranian security officer, Estabán, and Father Ferguson—seem only to succumb to violence, death, and other misfortunate when they are extremely emotional.