Wistful. Wry. Winsome.

The “Florida Man” was a meme amongst the news-addled long before the internet. The concept has its roots in classic journalist speak: “Florida man” is followed by an action – often weather- or animal-related – that is typically a wild and wooly combination of something hilarious, deranged, or otherwise bonkers. What began as an obvious pejorative somehow became a term of rueful endearment before looping back around to being used quite derisively. To that end, it’s become a collective noun used to describe a state that somehow defies description.

Thus, I would like to think that Sun City by Tove Jansson predicted the rise of this phenomenon. First published in 1974, it tells the story of a retirement home in St. Petersburg called The Berkeley Arms. The idea of such a facility fascinated the Swedish-speaking author, as such places did not exist in her home country of Finland. The resulting novel bandies back and forth between three distinct poles: hilarity, regret, and hope.

Reprinted in 2025 by New York Review of Books with the original Thomas Teal translation, this book bounces delightfully between the residents, employees, and associated hangers-on. Most of our characters are women, including Mmes. Peabody, Higgins, Frey, and Rubenstein, but the cantankerous Mr. Johnson provides wacky levity, while the relationship between housekeeper Linda and her born-again Christian boyfriend Joe offers some curious melancholy. These folks are so deeply intertwined into each other’s lives that privacy is simply an illusion, despite the efforts of Miss Frey in the office, which results in frank conversations, warm recollections, and deep companionship.

While the popular idea of a retirement home is often one of sadness, poor quality of life, and the specter of death, Jansson flips that script by injecting massive doses of humanity. The characters go to a community center dance, do their own errands, and visit local attractions, even while spending the bulk of their time sitting in rocking chairs on a veranda, bickering and trading stories. Doused in cracked whimsy, this picture of vibrant older women in 1970s Florida prefers compassion and heart, even as it never shies away from end-of-life concerns. And it doesn’t hurt that Joe and Johnson are inverse versions of the classic “Florida Man.”