The Things We Never Say

by Elizabeth Strout, Robert Petkoff (Narrator)

Pulitzer Prize–winning, #1 New York Times bestselling author Elizabeth Strout’s new novel tells the story of a chance incident that sparks a powerful realization in a beloved teacher’s life—a poignant meditation on loneliness, friendship, parenthood, and the importance of truth in a capsizing world.

Artie Dam is living a double life. He spends his days teaching history to eleventh graders, expanding their young minds, correcting their casual cruelties, and lending a kind word to those who need it most. He goes to holiday parties with his wife of three decades, makes small talk with neighbors, and, on weekends, takes his sailboat out on the beautiful Massachusetts Bay. He is, by all appearances, present and alive. But inside, Artie is plagued by feelings of isolation. He looks out at a world gone mad—at himself and the people around him—and turns a question over and over in his mind: How is it that we know so little about one another, even those closest to us?

And then, one day, Artie learns that life has been keeping a secret from him, one that threatens to upend his entire world. Once he learns it, he is forced to chart a new course, to reconsider the relationships he holds most dear—and to make peace with the mysteries at the heart of our existence.

Elizabeth Strout, as we have come to expect, delivers a moving exploration of the human condition—one that brims with compassion for each and every one of her indelible characters. With exquisite prose and profound insight, The Things We Never Say takes one man’s fears and loneliness and makes them universal. And in the same breath, captures the abiding love that sustains and holds us all.

Genres: Fiction, Literary Fiction, Contemporary, Book Club, Audiobook, Family, Adult

7 pages, Audible Audio

First published May 5, 2026

About the author

Elizabeth Strout is the author of several novels, including: Abide with Me, a national bestseller and BookSense pick, and Amy and Isabelle, which won the Los Angeles Times Art Seidenbaum Award for First Fiction and the Chicago Tribune Heartland Prize, and was a finalist for the PEN/Faulkner Award and the Orange Prize in England. In 2009 she was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for her book Olive Kitteridge. Her short stories have been published in a number of magazines, including The New Yorker. She teaches at the Master of Fine Arts program at Queens University of Charlotte.

Reviews

[Emily May · Rating 5 out of 5]

“You know that saying, ‘No man is an island,’ well, Reg thought that was baloney. He said we were all islands.”

This could be the most feelings I've ever had in 208 pages.

I'm familiar with Elizabeth Strout but I'm way behind on reading her work; something I should probably rectify if this novel is any indication. The Things We Never Say is just a beautiful character/life study, rich with complexity and with a heartbreaking use of prolepsis to foreshadow what is to come.

That quote I opened with is important, because much of this story is about loneliness and alienation in all its forms. Marriages that feel like two unfamiliar people living together, children that have drifted away from their parents, friendships divided by the political climate in the U.S., the understanding that the truths you counted on might be crumbling around you.

Artie's worldview is upended, both by major changes on the political stage and by events in his personal life, making him come to the conclusion that the life he thought he had, the country he thought he lived in, may never have existed at all.

It's not overly sentimental, but I should caution that it is quite depressing. I felt deeply for Artie. He's a very lovable character— a beloved history teacher who truly cares about his students and goes out of his way to help them. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: teachers do not get paid enough.

There are many things that Artie never says, but dispersed throughout are also the unsaid things of many side characters. Strout's talent seems to be in making you care very deeply about her characters in such a short amount of time. I mean this genuinely— I will remember some of the characters that were barely on page in this book more than other ones I've spent 500 pages with.

This is not a book that made me cry, but one where I felt such an overwhelming bittersweet sadness on every page.

[Ron Charles · Rating 5 out of 5]

Every eight months, someone publishes an essay announcing the rediscovery of Stoner. By now, John Williams’s 1965 novel about an English professor has been lost and found as often as my car keys.

I pray Elizabeth Strout’s new novel, The Things We Never Say, enjoys the same cycle of eternal rediscovery. It’s richer for being less self-consciously polished than Williams’s story. Taking place outside the worlds of Olive Kitteridge and Lucy Barton, it’s a slender classic about a high school teacher almost too tenderhearted for this coarsening world. If you’re a teacher, you must get a copy of The Things We Never Say, and if you love a teacher, you must give them one.

We’re not in Maine anymore. This story opens in Massachusetts in 2024 as the nation is slipping back into Donald Trump’s maw. Artie Dam, once named Teacher of the Year, has taught 11th-grade history for decades, but the atmosphere in the country and in his classroom seems new and ominous. Although the kids still adore him — “Damn-dam, the greatest man,” they call out to him — they seem frightened and anxious for reasons they can’t articulate.

Artie feels the same way, worse even. The nation’s cruel political rhetoric depresses him. He’s tipped into a slough of loneliness he hadn’t realized was pooling within him. And the departure of a good friend makes him recognize how few he has left. (In a wry meta-reference, Artie remembers reading Olive Kitteridge — “some book about a crotchety old woman from Maine” who understood that people can die of loneliness.) Coming back from a party one....

To read the rest of this review, go to Substack:
https://roncharles.substack.com/p/eli...

[Kevin · Rating 5 out of 5]

It will always be a source of frustration for me that I can love Elizabeth Strout's writing so much but spectacularly fail to explain why.

[Karen · Rating 5 out of 5]

Artie Dam is a long married, 57 yr old high school history teacher who lives near Massachusetts Bay.
He is such an endearing man and his big problem is that he is lonely.
His other problem, like many of us… the 2024 election and what it means for our country.
There is also a family secret that he becomes aware of that would take anyone down… but Artie is so kind and compassionate that he just rides it out.
I love Artie.
I love Elizabeth Strout’s writing every time!

[Angela M · Rating 5 out of 5]

Artie Dam reminds me in some ways of Strout’s Olive Kitteridge. He’s also a teacher who makes an impact on his students, but without the edginess of Olive’s personality. Artie mentions reading a book about a “crotchety old woman from Maine” who understood that people can die of loneliness.” I loved the reference . Artie who seems to bring light to most people around him is living in the darkness of being lonely. I felt for him as he navigates this feeling of despair about what is happening around him and for the personal challenges he endures, contemplating the unspeakable.

For such a short book at just 224 pages, there’s the gamut of many of life’s difficulties that touch people- mental illness, suicides, death, marital infidelity, depression, loneliness. There are references to the state of the country reflected by the election of 2024 without mentioning names, and concerns over the future of our country and the world, antisemitism on the soccer field, anti immigrant sentiments in the classroom.

Artie wants to know if there is such a thing as free will, why people don’t know really each other. I loved Artie’s relationship with his son, and I loved his friendships, most notably with a supportive friend who he discovers doesn’t agree politically with him, yet they are friends . Strout gets us, gets what the human condition is about in so many ways. She takes us to the past and even how things will be in the future in a seamless way. She’s at her best here showing us that the connection people make with each other is the most valuable thing we have.

[Susan's Reviews]

I was too late to get an ARC of Strout's latest novel, but I was pleasantly surprised to be almost first in line for the library edition. I scurried on over as soon as I got my email notice that the hardcover was waiting for me on the holds shelf. Loving it thus far! I truly enjoy Elizabeth Strout's characters. The conversational style always draws me in. I'm inside Artie Dam's likeable brain, coping with his students and his headstrong wife right along with him. Enjoying it already!

[Dave Schaafsma · Rating 5 out of 5]

“I wonder why people never say anything real--” Artie
“To say anything real was to say things that nobody wanted to know.”

Thanks to the author, Random House and Net Galley for the early look at this book, Things We Never Say (May 5, 2026) by Elizabeth Strout. I have at this point read almost every Strout book except the second one (though I have it here!), but this one has several unique characteristics. Though it is not the only stand-alone book in her total output, every book besides this one (I think) has at least some connection to the others*, with characters from the Illinois-Manhattan-Maine locations out of which she creates Her Lucy Barton/Olive Kitteridge world. This one features a new cast of characters from Massachusetts. I think this book is also more overtly political than any other book, and also darker, directly addressing the current administration’s chaos and horror.

Artie, (Damn-) Dam, beloved high school History teacher, known to be kind and affable and smart, thinks about suicide at the opening of the story. He thinks he is just lonely, but otherwise can’t name an actual reason he would end his life. He’s been married to Evie for decades, and has a son, Rob, but feels somehow estranged from them. He doesn’t quite know why (but he will find out!). He has a friend, Flossie, who has moved away. No one seems to talk about the secrets they all have. Well, one past event, not a secret, has shaped things, the tragic death of Rob's girlfriend Heather from a car accident in which the 17-year-old Rob had been driving.

I just read and reviewed The Correspondent by Virginia Evans, that features a late-reveal parenting issue that changes everything for the mc, and I appreciated the synchronicity of yet another late-parenting reveal here that is different, but also changes everything, creating (largely unspoken) fissures, ruptures, though also bringing Rob and his Dad closer together. But (see title) no one, even loved ones and close friends, seems to talk about their struggles--divorces, abortions, rehab, depression, political differences. One student is thinking of killing himself; his father finds out his wife is having an affair and mentions it to Artie, but probably no one else.

In truth, many people seem to be suicidal in this book! Some of it seems to be linked to current political events, anger, rage, depression, anxiety, societal and family rifts. Early on, I didn’t like what I thought to be too “on the nose” references to 47 and all the chaos. I too am in a stage of rage and near-despair about it, but it’s everywhere in this book. And then Artie nearly drowns as he contemplates suicide himself, and this seems (almost predictably) to change his life for the better--a changed man?!--and I didn’t initially like what I took to be this slightly sappy, sentimental moment. But I changed my mind about both of these issues over time because I link the political directness of the story to her fictional strategy--she says in her novel what we are not saying enough generally in our art, that we are in deep crisis and continuing danger and many are near despair, and then she makes the link from personal to societal trauma:

”He understood it; his country was committing suicide.”

And I like it that Artie turns out to be more complex than merely healed from his “loneliness” and suicidal tendencies He realizes: “It was a private thing, to be alive. He understood this now.” We don’t even completely know anyone we think we know. And he remains lonely, choosing to not reveal the central secret he has found out. I might have liked a little more history teaching moments from the history teacher Artie, but I--a lifelong teacher--like it that he is a compassionate, empathetic teacher. I like it that he seems to have precognition, too, that’s interesting! Still trying to make out what that's all about.

Ultimately, I came to really admire this ambitious, compassionate, sad book, tapping as it does into the isolation, anxiety and fears of today.

*I did learn of a reference to one of Strout's other books that I had missed in reading this one: Artie mentions that he read a book about a “crotchety old woman from Maine” who understood that "people can die of loneliness.” So Artie had read Olive Kitteridge! Cute! And we get to compare them. Arties is not crotchety like Olive.

[Carol Scheherazade · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have always loved Elizabeth Strout’s writing for the way she captures the human condition with such clarity and compassion. Her books are consistently thought-provoking and remarkably perceptive about what it means to be human. This one was especially beautiful. It felt as though she had been quietly observing all of us over the past several years, taking notes and then shaping those insights into the story. It is timely, deeply emotional, and profoundly relatable. It is obvious she is the master of the human condition, and I look forward to many more books by this author.

[Bruce Katz · Rating 5 out of 5]

I’m so glad to see Elizabeth Strout’s new book, “The Things We Never Say,” getting so many enthusiastic and thoughtful reviews. The ones I’ve read — the Times, Ron Charles, others — capture the depth and character of the book in ways I’ve been struggling to do. You'd probably do well to skip what follows and read what they wrote.

Strout’s protagonist, Artie Dam, is in his late fifties. He’s been married to Evie, a therapist, for more than thirty years. They have a grown son named Rob who’s a software developer. They have a beautiful house on the water, a boat. Artie is a beloved history teacher in a small coastal Massachusetts town high school. Everybody admires and likes him. He seems in every way the exemplar of a good man living a good life.

And yet, when we meet him, Artie has for months been quietly, secretly thinking of killing himself.

Nothing new in this set-up, of course; men leading lives of quiet desperation and all that. But there’s more going on here. Artie’s in pain. He’s profoundly lonely, increasingly cut off from the things and people he used to rely on, and fearful of what might lie ahead. He may not be the Everyman for our time but he does seem the living distillation of how difficult it is to live a life of integrity, meaning, and purpose, in a country where ideas like those have lost currency. Not just lost currency but, it seems, been repudiated.

As Artie’s story unfolds — as we learn more about what he’s going through now and what happened in his past — we see a decent man watching the most important personal connections in his life being strained or severed. “An accretion of loneliness,” Strout calls it. The book opens with Artie saying goodbye to a friend, the only person with whom he could be himself. At home his wife — whom he fell in love with because of her laugh and generosity— is distant, unresponsive. His son too, whom he desperately loves, is also withdrawing. His students have been scarred by the pandemic: “They were anxious, and not argumentative—with him or with one another—as he had known them to be in the past, when there had been lively discussions. It was often difficult now to get them even to talk.”

It’s not just the kids. Artie sees it everywhere and finds himself wondering — sometimes saying out loud — “why people never say anything real” and “why can’t anybody talk about what’s really happening?”

Unarticulated but very present is yet another question: Why can’t we truly see one another? “All of us,” Strout tells us, “live with a huge blind spot before our eyes, meaning that no matter what we think we know we can never fully understand how we appear to others.” (One of Artie's students will, we learn, one day look back at her time in high school and think, "God bless Mr. Dam. So blind we humans are—so blind. To each other and to ourselves, moving through life as though through shadows, putting out a hand in the dark and thinking we have touched someone.")

So Artie lives a “double life.” To all appearances he’s still the same calm, kind, and thoughtful person he’s always been. The guy who won Massachusetts Teacher of the Year a few years back. Yet he’s having dark thoughts, lying on his bed and thinking, “I am lonely enough to die.” He will perplex those around him by asking, as if out of nowhere, “We all think there is free will, but what if there isn’t?”

Of course, none of this is coming from out of nowhere. It comes from Artie's past; it's in the air of the country he moves in, in the loneliness endemic to the time. The more we learn more about his life, the clearer the picture we get of what’s behind the darkness in his soul. Some years back, the car his son Rob was driving was in an accident and his girlfriend was killed. There were questions about what really happened. The family was never the same after that. Artie is haunted by memories of his sister Maria: “And his poor, now dead sister, she lived like a shadow pressed against him all the time.” His mother was been hospitalized twice for psychotic episodes during which she became violent. His father had died, leaving Artie with “practically a visceral sense of longing. Who had his father been?” What kind of father is he? How much control over his life does he really have? The past is a daunting burden to Artie Dam. To there entire Dam family. (Yeah, I know.)

Not just the past, because on top of all this, Artie -- a historian and given to introspection -- is deeply worried about the rapidly approaching presidential election, which makes him “feel as if a noose was tightening each day around his neck.”

Then, as if all this wasn't enough, one day he learns of a secret that will threaten to shatter him and change everything he believes.

The madness of the world slowly, inexorably, leeches into Artie’s daily life. Each year for a long time he’s had his students research the Civil War experiences of someone from Massachusetts. Then one day his principal informs him that some parents are asking why there are no Confederates. A session about Nazi Germany ends with one anxious student opining, “It will be the illegal immigrants this time, not the Jews… The ones with brown skin.” To which another student responds, “Oh, stop it. Jesus, they should be sent back.” Fights suddenly start breaking out at school events. Artie is lectured about the impropriety of addressing his students as “boys and girls” because it's “demeaning”: “There may be students who are neither.” Until finally Artie can’t take anymore.

“The Things We Never Say” is a short book with a big heart and a deep curiosity about our relationships with others and the state of the country. When I was done reading it I found myself thinking how much I cared about Artie, how much of what he felt resonated. Looking back from the end, we see how tightly interwoven are the events in “The Things We Never Say."

Also -- and importantly, I think -- although they might be so easy to overlook, again and again in the book we see acts of kindness and generosity. We see compassion from people we would never had expected, moments that challenge our impulse to reduce people to one-dimensionality. We get quick glimpses of the near future where the love Artie gave his students changed their lives, led them to become good and caring people.

I gather that the final printed edition of "The Things We Never Say" has an afterword that's been criticized by some for its political position. I haven't seen it myself -- it wasn't included in the digital ARC -- so I can't comment on it. I can say, without elaboration, that the book ends with a clear affirmation of Artie's life and the kindness he brought into the world and received back from it in return.

My thanks to Random House and Edelweis+ for providing a digital ARC in return for an honest review.




PS: I don’t want to make too much of it but I was intrigued by the quiet parallels Stout creates between Artie’s mental state and the state of the union, almost like they are in tandem: Artie contemplates killing himself; he believes “his country is killing itself.” Artie wrestles with what it means to be a father; he’s reading a biography of Elon Musk whose “father was an awful man. Elon most likely had Asperger’s and had always been a strange child, and his father had been unspeakable to him. And after the pandemic Elon was becoming more like his father.” And so on. There are others.

[Dee (in the Desert) · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5 stars, rounded down, for Elizabeth Strout’s latest, “The Things We Never Say” which is a departure from her usual “Amgash” characters. Here we have protagonist Artie Dam, a middle-aged HS history teacher who married up with one grown son. Artie could actually be a lot of us right now - struggling with loneliness and despair, wondering about the purpose & meaning of life, worried about current events & the country and hoping that there’s still a future for his son & students. This is a fast-paced and shorter domestic story but it packs quite the punch. Strout also gives us some bread-crumbs and a strong epilogue about the various characters futures. Very moving and well-written, Artie is yet another character that will likely stay with me for a while.

[Margot · Rating 2 out of 5]

If you want strong political opinions permeating just about every page and character, this is the novel for you. Strout clearly feels life as we know it is coming to an end. Not what I read fiction for. I can do sad and depressing but this is so over the top and frankly comes across as a bit ridiculous.

[Jill · Rating 5 out of 5]

If, like me, you’ve read Elizabeth Strout’s prior works, you know that she populates her books with mostly good people. Imperfect, yes. Searching, yes. But underneath their gruff exterior, there is a kindness that shines through. Despite yourself, you like her characters; at the very least, you understand why you don’t.

Artie Dam is a character you will like very much. He’s a high school teacher, voted the most popular teacher, and he cares about those kids. His only son survived a tragic event and Artie is the kind of father you’d want to have around if you were in his son's shoes. He has that special ability to feel people’s pain and to take some of it away. He is the best of all of us.

But, as Elizabeth Strout writes, “So blind we humans are—so blind. To each other and to ourselves moving through life as though through shadows, putting out a hand in the dark and thinking we have touched someone…mostly we travel through life unsighted, grasping only the smallest details of one another’s selves, including our own. Thinking all the while that we can see.”

The Things We Never Say is a poignant book and I daresay, an existential one. I’d also say it’s the most affective and meaningful book this author has written. It dares to ask the question: do any of us really have free will? Does free will even exist? And it explores the fact that held within every single person is a vast, unknowable universe and an entire world that is filled with unspoken truths.

If I had to sum up the theme of this book, I’d say it is both a requiem for our dying world and a love song for those that we still love despite their complexities. As the foundation that makes up our lives begins to capsize — truth, human kindness, second chances, collective goodness — we face one insidious virus after another. The latest virus is the evil in the form of Trump and MAGA and readers who do not recognize they are precisely the audience for this book but probably will give up on it before understanding what we stand to lose -- the kind who say, "how dare a novel get political".

Elizabeth Strout has written an elegy to our times, meeting us where we are now and offering us profound insight into a world going mad. By positioning Artie as a recreational sailor who ventures forth in waters that surprise him by not being benevolent as he expects, she places him at the heart of her metaphor. I felt disquieted after turning the last page of this book, but also elevated that art has the power, even in these uncertain times, to interpret what's at stake.

[Jessica Haile · Rating 2 out of 5]

I picked this up hoping for a poignant, character‑driven read with some insight into human connection, and for the first part, it delivered. The book has some really good nuggets about how little we can ever truly know each other, and how even the people closest to us can feel like strangers. It asks interesting questions about intimacy, loneliness, and the limits of understanding, and those sections really worked for me.
But then the story swerves hard into politics, and that completely lost me. Even if I happen to agree with some of the ideas, the way they’re presented is so on‑the‑nose and polarizing that it felt like being lectured instead of told a story. I read fiction to escape that kind of discourse; if I wanted more “end of civilization” commentary, I could get it for free on Facebook.
The tonal shift from quiet exploration of human connection to overt political messaging was a huge missed connection for me as a reader.

In the end, the thoughtful, intimate moments couldn’t outweigh how didactic and heavy‑handed the political sections felt.

[Lauren W · Rating 4 out of 5]

I expected to be absolutely blown away from all the reviews, yet this was more of a gentle breeze for me. I enjoyed the interconnectedness weaving the characters together. The writing is certainly great. This is a somber, yet honest one.

[Chris Chanona · Rating 5 out of 5]

How I love Elizabeth Strout’s writing. Once again I became totally involved with the lives of her characters, especially iof the main character Artie Dam. This time, the lives of her characters are set against the looming threat of the presidential election which has actually now happened although Trump is not actually mentioned by name. There is a lot of fear at the heart of this novel. Anxieties. But don’t let this put you off for, as always, her writing is spot on, every word counts. I whizzed through this novel and was so disappointed when it came to the finish. I could’ve carried on reading of her world.

Another triumph for Elizabeth Strout. I recommend this very, very highly. I received an ARC from the publishers and NetGalley.. this did not sway my opinion as I have read everything that this author has written and really enjoyed every novel.

[Mary Lins · Rating 1 out of 5]

I have been a HUGE fan of Elizabeth Strout’s novels and all the recurring characters that pass through them (Olive Kitteridge, Lucy Barton, and my true love Bob Burgess.) When I heard that her newest novel would introduce us to a new world of unforgettable characters, I couldn’t wait to read it.

So, imagine my utter dismay when, in “The Things We Never Say”, Strout gets political. The novel starts shortly before the 2024 presidential election, and through her characters, Strout makes her political views very clear.

I kept reading, hoping that once she’d “had her say” the book would concentrate more on the characters and plot (which is riveting), but the political doom and gloom continue throughout, and intensifies with the Epilogue.

This is going to be super disappointing for readers who come to Strout’s novels to be uplifted by the humanity of her characters. This is the most depressing novel I’ve read in years.

[Kasa Cotugno · Rating 5 out of 5]

As with many like-minded people in this country, Elizabeth Strout is watching with increasing alarm the ravages of the current administration, and takes to the method she knows best to express her outrage. Instead of returning to the community of recurring characters that have all found their way into a community, she creates a whole new population, imbuing them with her trademarks of empathy and complexity. In Artie Dam she has found a beloved teacher whose affect on his students and family is supreme, gives him a backstory and a history to unravel but through him, shows what she really feels. Some of Strout's readers may not like this approach, but I applaud her.

[K · Rating 5 out of 5]

I tried to take my time reading this eleventh novel by Elizabeth Strout, but instead I devoured it and now I wish I could erase the memory of it so I could read it all over again.

Strout takes her readers out of Maine for the first time and places them in coastal Massachusetts where fifty-seven year old Artie Dam teaches history to eleventh graders. He is loved by his family and friends and colleagues and students and lives in a nice home that overlooks the Massachusetts Bay where he often sails. Life is just about perfect. Except it is not.

As he lay on the bed it came to him with utter clarity: I am lonely enough to die.
...People die of loneliness. It happens all the time.

Strout has a keen understanding of the human condition which is evident in the complex characters she creates. It's not so much that I love her characters, although I do love Artie, but it's that I understand them. There were times I found myself wondering how is it possible that Artie and I have the exact same thoughts and feelings?

As usual for all of Strout's works, I have so many sticky notes sprinkled throughout this novel. I'll close with this passage:

So blind we humans are - so blind. To each other and to ourselves, moving through life as though through shadows, putting out a hand in the dark and thinking we have touched someone.
And maybe we have...
But mostly we travel through life unsighted, grasping only the smallest details of one another's selves, including our own. Thinking all the while that we can see.

[Jaclyn]

I have wanted Strout to cover new terrain and characters for a while now and here she gives us the lovely Artie Dam and a huge array of new people to know and love. It has a melancholic tone with the book placing the current president’s election victory squarely in its centre. As with Lucy and Olive, I love Artie. Simply put, this book is stunning and I adored my time within its pages.

[Tammy · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5 stars. Katie Couric Book Club - May ‘26 pick. Elizabeth Strout is known for writing deeply moving, character-drawn novels and this is no different. The Things We Never Say is a quiet, emotional story that the reader can literally feel a sense of the sadness, loneliness and despair our protagonist experiences. The story follows main character Artie’s life as it unravels after a near-death experience, followed by the reveal of a life-altering secret that his wife kept from him. It prompts him to reevaluate everything in his life, including himself. This is so well done in the way Strout fully fleshes out her main character, and is mindful in addressing mental health. And instead of telling, she shows the complex dynamics of its characters. I was fully invested, so wrapped up in Artie + his students and how this would play out. Such an amazing writer. Am looking forward to her next. 🎧 Pub. 5/5/26

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the arc in exchange for an honest review.

[Chris · Rating 4 out of 5]

4,5
The language is simple and truthful, the thoughts are deep and the characters feel very real. What more can you want from a book? I just love Elizabeth Strout.
Thank you Random House US and Edelweiss for the ARC.

[Kimberlin Whitsitt · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wow. I’m not going to be able to stop talking about this book!

I loved the message and the story and the characters! We don’t ever truly know the full extent of people’s lives and stories and why they are the way that they are. Our perception is only what they want us to see. I love the people that Artie found comfort in. Anne, his son Rob, his girlfriend and his best friend Ken. 🥹 Artie’s wife really made me mad and her character drove me nuts but I think she drove Artie nuts too. 😂

I love Artie and his students that he impacted so much! This was full of so much real life and there were times I was in tears. I can’t wait until this book comes out so I can yap about it more!

[Henk · Rating 3 out of 5]

A novel that tries to depict the lay of the land in the ‘20s, where I found the human connections weaker, and the pay off les hopeful, than in other works of Strout
It was a private thing, being alive, and he understood that now

In a way Elizabeth Strout always seems to write the same book, focusing on family secrets coming out and the weight of memories, with generous helpings of small town life and gossip. This stand alone work fits very much in the same mould but grapples with post-election fears a small town history teacher (crowned as teacher of the year by the state of Massachusetts) grapples with. He doubts the relationship with his therapist wife, dreams of what could have been and feels suicidal tendencies that signal a depression. Meanwhile the life of his son, distant since a teenage tragic accident, disintegrates along with his connection with a concert pianist and then we have his students influenced by the manosphere and hopelessness. As also seemingly always there is trauma from a though childhood with a German survivor of the war, reading the biography if Elon Musk and then there is some kleptomania…

I was relating some of the plot points to my partner, and it is too much for my liking combined together in a work of barely over 200 pages. The web of human connections and kindness of strangers is familiar but overall I found this not as satisfying as I had hoped.

Quotes and thoughts:
He loved her but was not remotely in love with her.

Do not ever feel you are superior to someone else, because you are not

His son remained a person deeply inside himself.

Talk to me about that - so simple and brilliant and we almost never say this to anyone

The multitudinous aspect of people

It really captures the feeling of living through the recent years in a way, and it is very hopeless as well…

[Mary Phung · Rating 5 out of 5]

Didn’t want the book to end!

Once again, Elizabeth Strout doesn’t disappoint, and once again I couldn’t help feeling so much tenderness for her main character in this book, Artie Dam, along with Olive Kitteridge, Lucy Barton, and Bob Burgess from her other novels.

And I do wonder about the things that you and I will never say, even if that means we have to live with a perpetual loneliness that could eventually kill us.

[Sophie Gledstone · Rating 2 out of 5]

???? This was the most relentlessly depressing book with absolutely no resolution for any of the characters and so many loose ends. Hello??? Where’s the rest of it??????

[Olivia's Cpt 2 Reviews · Rating 5 out of 5]

FIVE STARS!!!

[Lore · Rating 3 out of 5]

Struggling with this one because Elizabeth Strout genuinely has a lot of interesting things to say about depression, loneliness and connection and in a lot of ways she does that very well. Her characters genuinely make me look inward and question my own feelings about my relationships which is no small feat and as an author. She also made me consider picking up Carl Jung which is a thought so alien to me I was startled.

That being said, I really couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being condescended to the entire book. Artie’s school teacher-dom never quite felt real to me and his interactions with students fell a little flat. And while the depictions of depression and frustration were vivid, her writing style often makes the characters’ feelings feel simple in a way I couldn’t quite like. I think it’s probably why people love her writing, because the characters do often still feel complicated and real despite that, but it just didn’t always work for me.

This book is also deeply deeply depressed about the state of American politics in a really unsolvable way. I don’t expect Strout to have an answer to something that none of us do; but the defeatism of the epilogue almost shocked me. It’s probably very important insight into middle-class liberal America but I could probably have an hour long conversation about what worked and didn’t for me - not inherently bad for a book, but left me conflicted.

The juiciest bit here to me was the relationships between Evie, Artie and their son Rob which did really keep me going past 50%. But even that, by virtue of the book’s fascination with secrets and the ‘unsaid’, often left me wanting more.

[Nancy · Rating 2 out of 5]

I have read all of Elizabeth Strout's books and enjoyed them so much. Sadly, I found this one lacked her usual character development and further was rather hopeless in its message. Not sure I could recommend it.

[Monique Johnson · Rating 1 out of 5]

Started out ok but then turned into pages and pages of anger and negativity. The divisive political views were distracting and not necessary. Boring, depressing and almost DNF but had to read the epilogue which was just ridiculous.

[Susie · Rating 5 out of 5]

It’s Elizabeth. Of course it’s a five.