This is an odd book. It doesn't closely follow any conventional structure. It seems to start off as one thing, and end up as something quite different, via multiple digressions and meanderings. Often you feel the author is about to make a point -- and then he just doesn't. For those reasons, I am surprised it got published -- BUT I am very glad it did, because I found it by turns charming, amusing and interesting. Sjoberg, a dipterologist pursuing his passion for hoverflies on an idyllic Swedish island, reflects on how and why he came to be there, and in the process delivers to the reader fascinating anecdotes and scraps of information about hoverflies and various personalities in the world of Swedish entomology -- leading, unexpectedly, to dodgy dealings in the world of fine art. I realise I'm not selling the book very well -- but that's kind of my point. It shouldn't work, but somehow it does. I highly recommend it if you feel like a gentle, droll excursion into lives you'd otherwise never know about.