Nicolas Lunabba

“Will You Care if I Die? is as uncompromising as that question suggests. It’s an honourable book that aims full tilt for truth and confronts despair, cruelty, waste, rage and pain with a kind of contagious defiance.”
The Guardian (UK)

“Everyone needs to read Nicolas Lunabba’s Will You Care if I Die?. Everyone. […] You become happily immersed by the fine-grained portrayal. But it is also a testimony written in despair. And a well-articulated accusation against Malmö, Sweden and the political situation. […] In [Nicolas Lunabba’s] book, everything finally becomes real. The social reality pours in. What a relief.”
Sydsvenskan (SE)

“[Nicolas Lunabba] is a hero of course, but also a surprisingly driven author. He puts his narrator-self on the line, lets him oscillate between rage and profound doubt and brings forward, with almost an intrusive honesty, all the reservations, the reluctance and sometimes even the disgust that he feels for the gangly boy who suddenly resides in his previously peaceful bachelor pad. […] It is strong and thought-provoking, moving and sometimes even comical.”
Dagens Nyheter (SE)

“Nicolas Lunabba’s Will You Care if I Die? has already become one of the autumn’s most notable books. No wonder, as it is one of the most important and finest things you can read at the moment. […] I did not put down Will You Care if I Die? one single time. I literally read it in one go. Its richness is that it is as much about marginalization as it is about friendship between different generations. About givning a damn. It even allows itself to be a little sentimental, but it doesn’t matter, because it feels so real.”
Barometern (SE)

“It is an impressive read and one is left speechless that someone dares be this brazenly honest. The reason is that the author knows that only total honesty can break barriers and achieve miracles. Only when a boy dares believe in an adult does his self-esteem and belief in his own abilities grow. And miracles happen in plural. Elijah changes and breaks old patterns. […] One is struck by the insight of how difficult it is to save one single person in this context.”
Fagerstaposten (SE)

“I feel bad for the authors who have books coming out at the same time as Nicolas Lunabba. Because from now on everything will be about Will You Care if I Die?.”
Aftonbladet (SE)

“… Nicolas Lunabba is not what contemporary right-wing Swedes have come to label as goodness addict or goodness apostle. He describes his choice not so much as a selfless act to save a young person as a selfish attempt to save himself. Nicolas Lunabba isn’t even sure he wants this. With his human needs, Elijah disturbs him in his own life and habits and of course Nicolas is aware of how shady it looks: why would a grown man offer a teenager to move in with him? […] Nicolas Lunabba has a language that never tries to be sensationalist and his reflections flow between references from Dead Prez to Vilhelm Moberg and Kristian Lundberg. […] Nicolas Lunabba has so much to tell. He has to continue.”
Expressen (SE)

“Nicolas Lunabba’s memoir about how troublesome Elijah moves in with him is well-written, moving and incredibly important.”
Nordvästra Skånes Tidningar (SE)

“A candid portrayal of what it means to take care of someone else’s child, what it is like to really be seen by someone else, but perhaps above all a fiercely urgent testimonial of young people who live in the shadows.”
Norrländska Socialdemokraten (SE)

“One of the most important books of the year! An unusually well-written, but above all touching, memoir. […] Here the words weigh heavy. So read- instead of listening to politicians fish for votes.”
Norra Skånes Tidningar (SE)

“At times, Lunabba cultivates a burning political indignation, which stems from what he sees around him, working in Malmö’s poorest and most violent areas. His opinions are never left hanging in an abstract way, they are always related to concrete events or memories. He alternates his reflections, analyzes and expressions of emotion with depictions of scenes and snapshots, and thus creates – through uncomplicated, straightforward language – a varied and vivid whole. And some chapters are extremely moving. […] Despite the suffering, and despite all the understandable anger and indignation, this ultimately becomes an exceedingly beautiful story rooted in the classic Swedish working-class literature. And the key-words, both socially and humanly, are commitment and solidarity.”
Hufvudstadsbladet (FI)

“This is a book that very few could have written as compelling, harsh, and tender as Nicolas Lunabba has done. […] It is a cliché, but it is and remains one of the most important things that literature can do: show us what lies beyond our own horizon of experience, beyond our categories of what is familiar, simple and safe. […] There isn’t anyone who shouldn’t read this book. Or: everyone should read it.”
Agendamagasin (NO)

“In the very personal story of a friendship and of growing up, the author convincingly weaves in issues of class, the desolate state of almost abandoned schools, and the structural violence of a politics that are not based on basic human needs.”
Morgenpost (DE)

“With an accessible style, [Lunabba] paints a shocking image of the violence and crime that is the everyday reality in neighborhoods Nyadala and Herrgården. […]  Other than portraying a disarming and honest story, Lunabba also offers a fascinating analysis of immigrants’ place in Swedish society. […] This book is strongly recommended if you want a better understanding of how matters such as inclusion and exclusion work at the bottom of Swedish society. […] Who wants to save these young people, and what does it take to do it? Anyone who has a well-grounded or unfounded opinion on this should read this raw report, it is an eye-opener.”
De Volkskrant (NL)

“This book will pull most readers out of their comfortable lives and show that the other world, the one which you sometimes read about in the newspapers, is really there. And it is harsh and unfair. And fortunately, there are people like Nicolas, who care about that other world.”
Tzum (NL)