ark malixi’s Reviews > Beartown > Status Update

The dramatic irony in this book is suffocating. Everyone in Beartown is celebrating and preparing for the 'best day ever,' while the we (the readers) are just sitting there watching the fuse burn down. It’s a masterclass in tension—not the scary kind, but the 'human nature is disappointing' kind. I’m scared to turn the page.

The Crash. The God Complex turns lethal. Kevin views Maya's 'no' as a malfunction in a world that always tells him 'yes.' The horror is in his entitlement. Amat becomes the witness—the 'Invisible Man' who sees what the town refuses to acknowledge. The hockey story ends here; the survival story begins. Amat now holds the grenade that could blow up the entire town.

The Golden Ticket. Kevin invites Maya and Amat to the party, and the trap is set. For Amat, it's validation; for Maya, it's a dream. But the reader sees the power dynamic: Kevin isn't making friends, he's assembling a court. The party is being planned before the game is even played—proof that to the 'Pack,' the victory is already assumed. The seduction of being included.

The establishment of the Untouchables. We see the town collectively agree to look the other way because they need a win. Kevin and the pack aren't treated as boys, but as protected assets. It illustrates the 'Whale' dynamic perfectly: if you generate enough value, the rules stop applying to you. The silence of the adults here is more terrifying than the noise of the game.

The author reveals the horror of expectation. Beartown strips the humanity from its children to build 'winners.' Amat's promotion isn't a triumph; it's a sacrifice to a machine demanding total submission. The contrast between Sune (humanity) and David (results) highlights the modern trap: we are only loved as long as we are useful. A brutal look at a community valuing victory over breathing.

Seventy pages in, Beartown isn't about hockey; it's about desperation. Backman paints a town that places its entire survival on teenage boys. You feel the pressure radiating off the pages. The town adores them, but only as long as they are useful. That terrifying reality—of affection being conditional on what you can provide—is something I can unfortunately relate to.