The Things We Never Say

by Elizabeth Strout

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 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, Audiobook, Book Club, Family, Adult

206 pages, Kindle Edition

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 3 out of 5]

Every book title has a meaning. Readers will eventually discover this title is no different. It speaks directly to the sometimes tragic silences between people and the unspoken truths that quietly dictate lives.

What happens when secrets kept and a caustic political environment change our view of the world?

I couldn’t wait to read this one. And when it finally came from my local library, I was thrilled.

And then, I began reading.

This book was a quick, fast-paced read at only 203 pages, yet it also felt emotionally draining. It is definitely not my favorite by this author.

Throughout the novel, I found myself constantly wrestling with its tone. The story felt deeply melancholy, steeped in a heaviness that was more depressing than uplifting.

"Do you believe in free will?"

This question is repeatedly (ad nauseam) contemplated and asked throughout the narrative by Artie Dam, the protagonist.

His obsession led me to wonder: what is the best way to describe free will?

Research tells us that humans have the capacity to make genuine informed choices.

So, why is Artie Dam so consumed by this idea?

And why did it matter to me as a reader?

The best answer I can give is this: I wanted to care about Artie Dam. And, at times I did. But I was also concerned and confused by what was happening to him. I kept wondering, with so much seemingly going for him, why did he feel so unhappy?

Was it really about the secret eventually revealed? Because so much seemed to happen to him before the reveal. Or, was it the fundamental isolation of being alive, unspoken grief, unresolved trauma, and a rapidly changing world?

Could I relate, or perhaps be empathetic?

After all, as readers immerse themselves in the narrative, the heavy atmosphere of a changing world filled with societal and political fractures is palpable.

Strout sets the story against the impending 2024 presidential election; while also reflecting on how the pandemic has fundamentally altered the spirit of Artie’s outlook as a well-respected history teacher facing a cascade of personal revelations and disappointments.

Knowing the election outcome as we do, how could we not relate?

Mostly, my struggles were with Artie Dam and his approach to life — even as some of his actions proved wonderfully heartfelt through other characters’ reactions to him.

Because everyone loves Artie Dam, but it is far less clear that Artie Dam loves himself — or his life, for that matter.

And yet, how can that be?

There were occasional moments of relief that may elicit a knowing smile from longtime Strout readers, such as Artie’s reference on page 33 to Strout’s own book, “Olive Kitteridge.” Yet even that moment circles back to one of that book’s heaviest themes: profound loneliness.

That feeling hangs oppressively over both the characters and the beautiful Massachusetts coastal setting.

Some readers may connect deeply with the book’s introspective nature. For me, however, the constant brooding became overwhelming.

Which leads me to share some possible triggers: suicide ideation, social class, bullying, disappointment between parents and children, secret loves, shoplifting and current political climate. References to the aftermath of the 2024 election will likely affect readers differently depending on their own experiences.

“The election came and went. Half of the country was stunned, the other half jubilant.”

Isn’t that the truth?!😳

Ultimately, while I appreciated the themes Strout explored, the novel’s persistent emotional heaviness made this more of a 3-star read for me.

Obviously, I am an outlier. So, please read other reviews to gain other perspectives.

“Olive Kitteridge” review: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...

[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.

[Chris · Rating 5 out of 5]

THE THINGS WE NEVER SAY is a devastating book: devastatingly beautiful, devastatingly smart, and devastatingly kind. Meet Artie Dam, revered high school history teacher in a Boston suburb in 2024, who is just starting to lose his grip. His grown son's marriage is unraveling, his relationship with his own wife has gotten strangely prickly, and some of his students in this post-Covid world have become brittle. Moreover, if he is not clinically depressed, he is beginning to find suicide an increasingly attractive siren. He and his wife and their son are all harboring secrets, things they never say. This novel precisely, beautifully, and with unexpected power captures the fragility within all of us. And that last act? Moving (even gutting), harrowing, and spot-on. As always, Elizabeth Strout really sticks the landing. (Also? I want all of us to start wearing T shirts that say things like, “I stand with Artie Dam,” or “Danny Marino ain’t just a jock,” or “Let’s get to work!” Or, perhaps, a ball cap that says, “I keep my F-U’s here.”)

[Susan's Reviews · Rating 5 out of 5]

I Just turned the last page of The Things We Never Say, by the incomparable Elizabeth Strout. I, like Artie Dam's students, thoroughly loved spending time with this open-hearted, caring man.



At the start of the novel, Artie is unhappy. He attends a pretentious neighbourhood party and becomes tired of all the small talk and inane chatter. People never say what they really want to say: they hide their true feelings and utter inanities instead.



The recent U.S. election is a recurring topic in this novel. The author, through Artie, projects her fear that the U.S. will be forever changed and damaged by this new president's reign. - and I totally agree with her. People have become paranoid. Civil liberties are non-existent. Tyranny reigns where once individual rights and freedoms were paramount. Money is the only thing that matters and the pursuit of wealth and imperialism seems to excuse all kinds of atrocities. Artie at one point comes to realize that when he married his "upper class" wife, he turned his back on his relationship with his beloved working -class father.

We are aware that Artie is deeply unhappy and is contemplating suicide. We feel the heaviness of his disenchantment with the world, but then, thankfully, a certain incident happens, and Artie is reborn - indeed, he is happy to be alive.

But his newfound love for life is threatened when his son, Rob, reveals a secret about his mother, Evie. Artie's peace of mind is once again under attack, but Artie, being the wonderful soul that he is, takes the revelation in stride. I was so proud of Artie! We need decent, good men like Artie in this world. Things become dire for Artie once again. Artie's job is in jeopardy when the principal of the high school where he teaches dies. The new principal does not approve of Artie and the old-guard teaching staff. Artie's resulting depression very likely had a physical component to it, as we discover in the final pages of the story.



I loved this book. Elizabeth Strout bravely spoke her truth through Artie. BRAVO! I'm giving this book 100 Stars, because it takes courage to stand up for what you believe in these days.
Respect!!!!



100 bright and shiny stars for this beacon of truth!

[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. Every 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.

[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.

[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.

[Jodi · Rating 5 out of 5]

For me, reading a book by Elizabeth Strout feels like coming home. The moment I begin to read, I get that warm, comfy–cozy feeling, like curling up in a favourite chair.

The story takes place in 2024, just after the presidential election. Artie Dam teaches high-school History. He’s tremendously popular and won the Massachusetts “Teacher of the Year” a few years prior. He loves his students and they love him back. He’s been married to Evie for more than 30 years and they have one son, Rob. Artie came from a lower-class family but his wife’s family was very well-to-do, and when her parents moved to Florida many years before, Evie inherited the family home and she and Artie have been living in it since early in their marriage. It’s a large, beautiful home overlooking Massachusetts Bay.

Life is good for the Dams but lately Artie’s been wondering why no one says anything “real” anymore. No one speaks with honesty. Banal conversation is all he hears and no one really wants to know when they ask, “So, how’re you doing?”. It makes him feel sad and even lonely. And then… he learns his wife has been lying to him all along—throughout their entire marriage. He’s devastated, of course. He soon realises that everyone is lying about something! It changes him; he no longer feels like himself. Luckily, though, there’s one thing that never fails to bring him happiness. His son. He loves him now more than he ever thought possible.

Now, I’ve only just skimmed the surface here. If you’ve read Strout before, you know her novels are filled to the brim with interesting little details—the small stories of a life. And this newest novel has those stories in abundance. This might be her best one yet. But you won’t know until you read it! This particular book, IMO, says more about life and about the human condition than any of her others before this. The woman is a wizard, and she’s created something really special with The Things We Never Say. It has my highest possible recommendation. You simply must read it!💗

5 “Standing–alone–is–better–than–standing–with–people–who–don’t–value–you” stars ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

[switterbug (Betsey) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Something is missing within Artie Dam’s spirit. A celebrated high school history teacher, beloved by his pupils, Artie is quietly struggling with suicidal ideation. It’s the summer of 2024, a cloud of dread closely hovering. At home, he doesn’t feel seen by his wife, Evie; his son, Rob, has been distant since a tragic car accident ten years ago. Readers are quickly placed inside the battle of Artie’s depression.

Concerned with whether we have free will, Artie can’t get an answer when he asks friends and family. What he gets in response are blank faces. He’s more temperamental at home, disappointed that people aren’t honest with each other. A shattering family secret has crushed him, and it’s death by a thousand cuts.

When Artie turns to a self-shaming behavior, a kind of “I-don’t-know-what-made-me-do-it” act of defiance, we know. Artie’s emptiness has been filled to capacity. Strout’s themes of loss and the search for connection are well-lit with the grey dimness that she masters so well. Artie’s fragility has been building for years, “an accretion of loneliness.”

Olive-world is either closed or put aside for these new characters and the Boston Bay. Artie is an unsettled Everyman near retirement, who survives one trauma after another. He and Evie now live with a lie, but Evie doesn’t know that Artie knows her deception. After 57 years, Artie’s sense of reality explodes, and he ponders that “...no matter what we think we know we can never fully understand how we appear to others.” But, there’s an upside; the further the distance from his wife, the closer he gets to his son.

Readers who are damning rather than Dam-ing Strout’s latest work have misunderstood. The nation is polarized and fractured, that’s a fact. We re-elected a man who said it is OK to harm women— to “grab ‘em by the pussy. They’ll let you.” That is a fact, that this president said that with glee before his first election.

Despite the shameful outcome of 2024, Artie continues to love his best friend, a Trump supporter, who saved him near the dock of the bay. So for those that slammed this novel (we know you voted against safety for women), you lot have lost the plot. It’s about acceptance; the theme rained on your cringey red hats.

PS. (but truly my life's meaning) My husband is an excellent teacher who sometimes (gulp) wears white socks and black shoes. It would make me cry to lie to him.

[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.

[NILTON TEIXEIRA · Rating 5 out of 5]

“The Things We Never Say”, by Elizabeth Strout

5 brilliant stars! ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

TW: suicidal ideation; marital problems (including cheating), miscarriage

Quote: “It was a private thing, to be alive. He understood this now.”

This is a very sad (may be considered depressing for some), melancholic book, but the writing and storytelling are superb!
I can’t believe this was my first book by this author.
I know that the slow development of the story and the political views will not please everyone (it touches the cultural and political shifts of the 2024 U.S. election).
This is not an action packed or a thriller book, but an amazing well structured story about being human. The complexity of being one (human). The drama that comes with being human and alive. It’s about family, upbringing, relationships, and the personal demons that afflicts us. How we communicate (or the lack of it!) with each others.
This is a character-driven novel that explores profound loneliness and the "unsaid" weights of everyday life.
This book is packed with deep emotions. The story felt very intimate, very personal, as if I was taking part of the story.
Everything was believable and so easy to understand and accept.
As soon as I started reading this book I knew I had a winner in my hands. And while reading it, I did not know if I would be able to express my feelings.
This is definitely a heavy read, but I have no regrets about it.

E-book (Kobo): 224 pages, 59k words, 8 chapters.

[Dee (short hiatus) · 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.

[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.

[Carol · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5 Stars rounded up to 5. “Loneliness does not come from having no people about one”
― Elizabeth Strout, The Things We Never Say

Through the eyes of Artie Dam, Elizabeth Strout creates a story with the loneliness, angst and fears of our current lives. Artie is a teacher beloved by his students, but he often feels disconnected, sad, and contemplates suicide.

The novel takes place after the 2024 election. Arti's thoughts and feelings about the changing political climate felt familiar and true, delivering an emotional gut punch.

This novel is sparingly written and intensely truthful, my favorite kind of story. Strout’s prose is always conversational, intimate, and often infused with heartbreaking disclosures. I love this author and how she writes! ** Recommended! ** 

[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.

[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.

[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.

[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.

[Bkwmlee · Rating 5 out of 5]

I didn’t think that I could love another Elizabeth Strout character as much as I love Olive Kitteridge and Lucy Barton but gosh darn it, Artie Dam has definitely earned a place at the top alongside my two favorite characters from the Strout universe!

On the outside, Artie seems to live a happy life – he has a teaching job he loves, a son he adores, a wife with whom he has spent more than three decades, friends and neighbors he often hangs out with, and so much more. Yet on the inside, Artie struggles with a profound sense of loneliness – a feeling that is compounded by the anxiety he feels about the chaotic state of the world (the story takes place around the time of the 2024 election) – all of which combine to push him into what seems to him like a perpetual state of despair and gloominess. Outwardly though, Artie is his usual self – humorous, kind, intelligent, and always making a difference to those around him (especially his students) in one way or another. When Artie discovers a secret that has been kept from him for many years, he is forced to re-examine his life, his relationships, and the people closest to him, leading him to question how it is possible to not actually know someone despite being so close to them for so long.

As is her style, Strout writes movingly yet realistically about the human condition, with its many trials and tribulations, mundanities and cruelties, and both its beauty and ugliness which, more often than not, can co-exist in surprising ways. On an emotional level, I understood Artie in ways I didn’t expect – specifically, his ponderings about relationships and our inability to know each other, even with our closest, most intimate family members. I’ve honestly felt this way with my own family on numerous occasions and as I reflect upon my own relationships with them, I realize how applicable Artie’s sentiment truly is. I also can’t help but marvel at how very aptly the title of the book ties into the story – which, at its core, really is about all the things we never say, whether it’s because we “can’t” or “won’t” say them.

One thing I do have to mention (which I kind of alluded to already earlier in my review) is that our current political situation plays quite a huge role in the story. Now, I’m not normally keen on books that incorporate politics into the story, especially contemporary politics, and usually this is a dealbreaker for me – but this book ended up being an exception. The reason is not because it was written by one of my favorite authors, but rather, the way that the political situation was incorporated made sense within the context of the story and its characters (and it was not heavy-handed, which I appreciate). Of course, everyone’s tolerance of this will be different, which is fine, but I personally did not have a problem with it.

With her latest novel, Strout presents us with an entirely new cast of characters (and a new setting too, as this story is set in Massachusetts rather than her usual go-to of Maine) and I ended up loving this one so much more than her previous novel Tell Me Everything (which I enjoyed, but not as wholeheartedly, as the main highlight of that book for me was the long-awaited meeting between Olive and Lucy, but that was only a small portion of the story) – perhaps because this time around, I was fully invested in not just the story, but also all the characters (both the main characters and the supporting ones). Though with all that said, there IS an Olive-related easter egg in the story, though it’s subtle and can be easy to miss (especially for those who may not be familiar with Strout’s previous works), so Olive fans definitely keep an eye out.

As I was putting my thoughts together for this review, it dawned on me that many of my most favorite contemporary authors (Elizabeth Strout, Ann Patchett, Fredrik Backman, Lisa See, just to name a few) have something in common that is one (though not the only) reason why I love them so much: they all have the distinct ability to write about the human condition in ways that resonate and really hit home. Though I’m not sure if there will be another Artie book (there might not be given what happens in the story), I still look forward to encountering these characters again at some point. Either way though, one thing is for sure and that is, I will continue to read whatever Elizabeth Strout writes, no matter what!

[Bonnie G. · Rating 4 out of 5]

In conversation with my GR friend K, I mentioned that all of my reviews of Elizabeth Strout books were 4 or 5-star reviews. Strout is an exceptionally consistent writer. She has a brand, you know you are reading Strout, and many themes are the same from book to book, yet every book feels fresh and offers up lovely surprises to the reader. All that said, though all the books are good, some are better than others. IMO, this was not one of the books that lead the Strout pack.

For some time, Strout has been swimming in the cold waters of Maine with both her Lucy Barton and Olive Kitteridge series (and with The Burgess Boys before that). In her last book, she even found a way to blend the various universes. I love a lot of those books, like really love them, but I was also ready for a change of scenery. I was delighted in this book to follow a new character, Artie Dam, as he struggled to thrive, or even to want to live, in a world that seems to have thrown away all the good things and agreed to be led by a "lunatic". Boy, do I relate to that. I have felt much the same way for nearly two years. I take no joy in this ugly country, and in having to come ot terms with the fact that truths I had been led to believe were self-evident were not truths at all, that people did not care about the rule of law or the advantages of reason and critical thought. I had to accept, and Artie did here, that most Americans were willing to suffer as long as it meant they could watch others suffer more. That acceptance brought with it a deep tunnel of grief. My heart was broken far more comprehensively than it has ever been by a simple love affair's end or even by the death of people I cared about deeply. Nothing I believed in is true, and that makes my whole life pretty useless. So my point is that Artie and I got on just fine. And I liked that Strout created a gaping pit of untruth in Artie's personal life that mirrored the lies many of us Americans told ourselves throughout the last century. I thought it was cool that a sense of love and community was built around the knowledge of the falsity, that separation between the knowers and those in the dark, in both the larger world and between Artie and friends and family. That was really well done.

So there was a lot to like here. What am I complaining about? Can I not just appreciate the gift of a really good book? I can, and I did appreciate this. I enjoyed the read overall. But Strout hits her points too hard, and it starts to feel like one of the boring rants I subject those around me to, and that is no fun for anyone but the ranter. This is never more apparent than in the long and, frankly, exhausting epilogue. Strout is in her 70's now, and I get that she does not want to commit to another lengthy book series. I like to think she is kicking back in the South of France, the Costa de Sol, or on some Uruguayan beach without a laptop in sight. But not planning a sequel does not mean that she has to close every possible road and answer every possible question about all these characters in the epilogue. And the ending story for Arite's son, Rob, was, honestly, overwrought and kind of silly. Overall, I liked the book quite a bit, but it could have been much better if Strout had shown a little restraint and relinquished a bit of control over the characters. Still worth the read for Strout fans. A 3.5, I think.

[dhouse · Rating 2 out of 5]

I was immersed in the beautiful writing until I was yanked right out if the world Strout had created by the political self righteousness. I am so sick of politics and I read fiction to escape the vitriol and posturing. Stephen King feels the need to do the same and it's very distracting from the story. We get it - you are on the "right side of history". Everyone who doesn't agree with you is evil and hateful. And it's apparent that some writers only want to write for the people who agree with them politically. I just wish we could go back to a time where we could read fiction without knowing how the author votes in the current elections. I gave two stars instead of one because the writing is so GOOD. But I could not finish.
This is just my opinion- please don't try and "educate" me. I don't want to read OR DISCUSS politics so I will be busy starting a new novel...

[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.

[Joyce Cummins · Rating 1 out of 5]

If I want political opinions, I’ll watch cable news! In The Things We Never Say, Elizabeth Strout slaps us in the face with her view on the state of our country and the leaders of both industry and nations. I expect more from such a talented author.

[Margee Germain · Rating 1 out of 5]

Why include hate politics and a hopeless outlook for our for our country?

I found the story to be thoughtful and interesting. It could have been so much better if the author had chosen NOT to continually interject the story with hate filled politics and to predict fear of the US government and despair for a country she paints on a downward spiral. Unnecessary. Disgraceful.