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Strangers
Librarian note: an alternate cover for this edition can be found here.
'He was haunted by a feeling of invisibility, as if he were a mere spectator of his own life, with no one to identify him in the barren circumstances of the here and now.'
Paul Sturgis is a retired banker manager who lives alone in a dark little flat. He walks alone and dines alone, seeking out and taking pleasure in small exchanges with strangers: the cheerful Australian girl who cuts his hair, the lady at the drycleaners. His only relative, and only acquaintance, is a widowed cousin by marriage - herself a virtual stranger - to whom he pays ritualistic visits on a Sunday afternoon. Trying to make sense of his current solitary state, and fearing that his destiny may be to die among strangers, Sturgis trawls through memories of his failed relationships and finds himself longing for companionship, or at the very least a conversation.
But then a chance encounter with a stranger - a recently divorced and demanding younger woman - shakes up his routine and when an old girlfriend appears on the scene, Sturgis is forced to make a decision about how (and with whom) he wants to spend the rest of his days . . .
'Each book is a prayer bead on a string, and each prayer is a secular, circumspect prayer, a prayer and a protest and a charm against encroaching night' Hilary Mantel, Guardian
'No one writes with more skill and honesty about the human condition and this book is possibly her finest' Julie Myerson, Observer
'A novel of great stylistic beauty and psychological truth. As great a reflection on fear and regret as Philip Larkin or Beckett' Guardian
'Like Graham Greene, she draws the reader into a world that has a character and signature all of its own . . . Strangers is a novel of sober brilliance, and the unerring, unflinching Brookner is still a much underestimated novelist' Helen Dunmore, The Times
Anita Brookner was born in south London in 1928, the daughter of a Polish immigrant family. She trained as an art historian, and worked at the Courtauld Institute of Art until her retirement in 1988. She published her first novel, A Start in Life, in 1981 and her twenty-fourth, Strangers, in 2009. Hotel du Lac won the 1984 Booker Prize. As well as fiction, Anita Brookner has published a number of volumes of art criticism.
'He was haunted by a feeling of invisibility, as if he were a mere spectator of his own life, with no one to identify him in the barren circumstances of the here and now.'
Paul Sturgis is a retired banker manager who lives alone in a dark little flat. He walks alone and dines alone, seeking out and taking pleasure in small exchanges with strangers: the cheerful Australian girl who cuts his hair, the lady at the drycleaners. His only relative, and only acquaintance, is a widowed cousin by marriage - herself a virtual stranger - to whom he pays ritualistic visits on a Sunday afternoon. Trying to make sense of his current solitary state, and fearing that his destiny may be to die among strangers, Sturgis trawls through memories of his failed relationships and finds himself longing for companionship, or at the very least a conversation.
But then a chance encounter with a stranger - a recently divorced and demanding younger woman - shakes up his routine and when an old girlfriend appears on the scene, Sturgis is forced to make a decision about how (and with whom) he wants to spend the rest of his days . . .
'Each book is a prayer bead on a string, and each prayer is a secular, circumspect prayer, a prayer and a protest and a charm against encroaching night' Hilary Mantel, Guardian
'No one writes with more skill and honesty about the human condition and this book is possibly her finest' Julie Myerson, Observer
'A novel of great stylistic beauty and psychological truth. As great a reflection on fear and regret as Philip Larkin or Beckett' Guardian
'Like Graham Greene, she draws the reader into a world that has a character and signature all of its own . . . Strangers is a novel of sober brilliance, and the unerring, unflinching Brookner is still a much underestimated novelist' Helen Dunmore, The Times
Anita Brookner was born in south London in 1928, the daughter of a Polish immigrant family. She trained as an art historian, and worked at the Courtauld Institute of Art until her retirement in 1988. She published her first novel, A Start in Life, in 1981 and her twenty-fourth, Strangers, in 2009. Hotel du Lac won the 1984 Booker Prize. As well as fiction, Anita Brookner has published a number of volumes of art criticism.
202 pages, Paperback
First published December 2, 2009
About the author
Anita Brookner
62 books672 followersAnita Brookner published her first novel, A Start In Life in 1981. Her most notable novel, her fourth, Hotel du Lac won the Man Booker Prize in 1984. Her novel, The Next Big Thing was longlisted (alongside John Banville's, Shroud) in 2002 for the Man Booker Prize. She published more than 25 works of fiction, notably: Strangers (2009) shortlisted for the James Tait Black Memorial Prize, Fraud (1992) and, The Rules of Engagement (2003). She was also the first female to hold a Slade Professorship of Fine Arts at Cambridge University.
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April 8, 2020
”But life, as he had discovered, was not like a novel. Or perhaps he had mistaken fiction for truth, or, more likely, mistaken truth for a more thrilling, more authentic form of fiction.”
I’ve often thought how easier life would be if I could write the dialogue for the people in my life. They get it wrong so much of the time that I often wonder why I bother with them at all. I can’t fire them, though even if I could, I’d only replace them with other people equally inept at saying the right thing that will keep the plot moving at the proper pace. Life is not a play, a novel, or a movie. It is actually rather messy.
With lots of uhhhhs and ahhhhs and ohhhhs.
Paul Sturgis has managed, not by design, to arrive at retirement without snagging a wife. He has a failing that, though properly identified, mystifies him as to why it is a disqualifying attribute for being one half of a blissful marriage.
”He had acquired girlfriends, for his hawkish looks promised a favourable outcome to each entanglement, and fell in love regularly, though never entirely wholeheartedly, longing for something more extreme, more transforming, than evenings at the theatre, dinners in restaurants, and visits to his flat, which temporary company did little to enhance, until the day, or rather the night when he was told of his failing, a character assassination that seemed to promise a lifetime of loneliness.”
You see Paul’s problem is a dastardly one. It is one that all men, by the time they reach a certain age, realize that, once you have been categorized as such by a woman, it is the kiss of death to a relationship. Yes, when she mutters those terrible words:
You are simply too nice.
In Paul’s case, they usually get hurled at him with a baffling level of anger, as if the woman knows that she is kicking a dog for laying his head on her knee. It is frustrating to women, as well as to “nice” men, reaching this perplexing impasse. Needless say, there are many women, as well, who marry perfectly nice men and are content with their relationship. I’ve never personally met these women, but I’m told they exist. The problem is that nice is perceived as boring, so if nice=boring and this is the dating stage, what would a lifetime of marriage look like? Boring, more boring, head banging against a door boring.
Thank goodness Paul has his books.
”At the sight of a bookshop he felt a desire to be in a closed space and went in, though he had little need for more books. The books he remembered had nothing to do with the life he now led, yet they promised so much in the way of revelation. This too was misleading: revelation only benefited the teller, rarely his audience. Yet such revelations that stayed with him remained his only touchstone of authenticity.”
Novels, and I hate to say this, might be part of Paul’s problem. In the controlled environment of a writer guided plot where all is revealed, the dialogue sparkles, misunderstandings are only plot devices that lead the protagonist to an emotional, music soaring, pulse pounding, sunset setting, lip locking, tongue tangling, boy gets girl (or any of the other numerous variations of hook ups) moment of pure ecstacy. Every loose string of the plot is gathered up in a nice bow. The reader does not have to wonder if Jack rides off into the sunset with Jane or if they will live happily ever after because the writer tells them they do.
Well, not the novels I read, not that I don’t mind some escapism, but I also enjoy novels that reflect real life. Things don’t always work out, and life is full of loose strings. Anita Brookner knows about the foibles of life.
Though I will say, Paul does read Henry James, and James took almost as much malicious joy as George R. R. Martin in torturing his reading public. Maybe if Paul had read Henry James as more of an instruction manual he might have been more prepared for the disappointments of life.
Paul has another problem, besides being too nice. He is in remarkably good health and is staring down the barrel of several more decades of a perfectly safe, boring, lonely existence. To stave off pondering the inevitability of his life Paul decides to shake things up and departs on a vacation to Venice to at least temporarily escape that appalling flat he bought for its trendy location. He has loathed it since the minute he first opened the door to look at it. What a ridiculous thing to find himself stuck in an ugly flat for the remaining days of his life. It is actually oddly humorous.
In Venice, he meets this vivacious divorcee who has spurned her husband because she caught him frolicking with a young woman. It seems like a small basis to throw a marriage away in Paul’s mind, but then he understands the difficulty of obtaining and keeping a relationship. As Paul gets to know Vicky better, he starts to realize how rootless her life is without a proper place to live. She relies on the kindness of strangers (Paul is saddled with bags of her luggage). To set Paul’s teeth even more on edge, she is always scheming about grand plans to go hither or yon without even a proper plan as to how to make it so.
She is a horrid, completely self-centered creature, completely unsuitable for Paul, and yet he can’t spurn her. She may prove to have a rare value indeed. To further complicate Paul’s suddenly topsy turvy existence, an old flame, one of the women who hurled his nice attributes back in his face at the vitriolic level of Taming of the Shrew, falls back into his life, much more subdued and even remembering their time together with some fondness.
So will Paul end up with Vicky or back with Sarah? Or will he catch a midnight train to some remote destination to regain some control back in his life? Loneliness can start to seem like a virtuous, wonderous existence.
Anita Brookner is known for her exploration of characters who feel isolated and abandoned by society. I’ve seen some reviewers who say nothing happens in her novels. I understand that not all great books are for all readers, but who has not experienced loneliness? I’ve always been surrounded by friends and family and well wishers, but regardless of whether I’m sitting in a room full of people or knocking around in the hallways of my own mind in an empty room, I know what loneliness is. A Brookner novel can sometimes be the perfect antidote for my own feelings of seclusion. There are times when I can walk a mile in the shoes of one of the well conceived Brookner characters with ease and too much comfort.
If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
I also have a Facebook blogger page at:https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyKeeten
I’ve often thought how easier life would be if I could write the dialogue for the people in my life. They get it wrong so much of the time that I often wonder why I bother with them at all. I can’t fire them, though even if I could, I’d only replace them with other people equally inept at saying the right thing that will keep the plot moving at the proper pace. Life is not a play, a novel, or a movie. It is actually rather messy.
With lots of uhhhhs and ahhhhs and ohhhhs.
Paul Sturgis has managed, not by design, to arrive at retirement without snagging a wife. He has a failing that, though properly identified, mystifies him as to why it is a disqualifying attribute for being one half of a blissful marriage.
”He had acquired girlfriends, for his hawkish looks promised a favourable outcome to each entanglement, and fell in love regularly, though never entirely wholeheartedly, longing for something more extreme, more transforming, than evenings at the theatre, dinners in restaurants, and visits to his flat, which temporary company did little to enhance, until the day, or rather the night when he was told of his failing, a character assassination that seemed to promise a lifetime of loneliness.”
You see Paul’s problem is a dastardly one. It is one that all men, by the time they reach a certain age, realize that, once you have been categorized as such by a woman, it is the kiss of death to a relationship. Yes, when she mutters those terrible words:
You are simply too nice.
In Paul’s case, they usually get hurled at him with a baffling level of anger, as if the woman knows that she is kicking a dog for laying his head on her knee. It is frustrating to women, as well as to “nice” men, reaching this perplexing impasse. Needless say, there are many women, as well, who marry perfectly nice men and are content with their relationship. I’ve never personally met these women, but I’m told they exist. The problem is that nice is perceived as boring, so if nice=boring and this is the dating stage, what would a lifetime of marriage look like? Boring, more boring, head banging against a door boring.
Thank goodness Paul has his books.
”At the sight of a bookshop he felt a desire to be in a closed space and went in, though he had little need for more books. The books he remembered had nothing to do with the life he now led, yet they promised so much in the way of revelation. This too was misleading: revelation only benefited the teller, rarely his audience. Yet such revelations that stayed with him remained his only touchstone of authenticity.”
Novels, and I hate to say this, might be part of Paul’s problem. In the controlled environment of a writer guided plot where all is revealed, the dialogue sparkles, misunderstandings are only plot devices that lead the protagonist to an emotional, music soaring, pulse pounding, sunset setting, lip locking, tongue tangling, boy gets girl (or any of the other numerous variations of hook ups) moment of pure ecstacy. Every loose string of the plot is gathered up in a nice bow. The reader does not have to wonder if Jack rides off into the sunset with Jane or if they will live happily ever after because the writer tells them they do.
Well, not the novels I read, not that I don’t mind some escapism, but I also enjoy novels that reflect real life. Things don’t always work out, and life is full of loose strings. Anita Brookner knows about the foibles of life.
Though I will say, Paul does read Henry James, and James took almost as much malicious joy as George R. R. Martin in torturing his reading public. Maybe if Paul had read Henry James as more of an instruction manual he might have been more prepared for the disappointments of life.
Paul has another problem, besides being too nice. He is in remarkably good health and is staring down the barrel of several more decades of a perfectly safe, boring, lonely existence. To stave off pondering the inevitability of his life Paul decides to shake things up and departs on a vacation to Venice to at least temporarily escape that appalling flat he bought for its trendy location. He has loathed it since the minute he first opened the door to look at it. What a ridiculous thing to find himself stuck in an ugly flat for the remaining days of his life. It is actually oddly humorous.
In Venice, he meets this vivacious divorcee who has spurned her husband because she caught him frolicking with a young woman. It seems like a small basis to throw a marriage away in Paul’s mind, but then he understands the difficulty of obtaining and keeping a relationship. As Paul gets to know Vicky better, he starts to realize how rootless her life is without a proper place to live. She relies on the kindness of strangers (Paul is saddled with bags of her luggage). To set Paul’s teeth even more on edge, she is always scheming about grand plans to go hither or yon without even a proper plan as to how to make it so.
She is a horrid, completely self-centered creature, completely unsuitable for Paul, and yet he can’t spurn her. She may prove to have a rare value indeed. To further complicate Paul’s suddenly topsy turvy existence, an old flame, one of the women who hurled his nice attributes back in his face at the vitriolic level of Taming of the Shrew, falls back into his life, much more subdued and even remembering their time together with some fondness.
So will Paul end up with Vicky or back with Sarah? Or will he catch a midnight train to some remote destination to regain some control back in his life? Loneliness can start to seem like a virtuous, wonderous existence.
Anita Brookner is known for her exploration of characters who feel isolated and abandoned by society. I’ve seen some reviewers who say nothing happens in her novels. I understand that not all great books are for all readers, but who has not experienced loneliness? I’ve always been surrounded by friends and family and well wishers, but regardless of whether I’m sitting in a room full of people or knocking around in the hallways of my own mind in an empty room, I know what loneliness is. A Brookner novel can sometimes be the perfect antidote for my own feelings of seclusion. There are times when I can walk a mile in the shoes of one of the well conceived Brookner characters with ease and too much comfort.
If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
I also have a Facebook blogger page at:https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyKeeten
May 14, 2017
First of all, huge thanks to Mary for reminding me how wonderful Anita Brookner’s books are and sharing a beautiful story related to one of them. ‘Strangers’ is the fourth novel by this author I’ve read so far. Definitely not the last.
The way Anita Brookner’s books are written makes me think of a tea cozy: pastel and soft outside, dense with boiling emotions inside. Her novels are quiet but you can sense it’s the calm before the storm.
If I had to choose one word that describes best this nostalgic novel and its wistful atmosphere, it would be nebulous. I absorbed fleeting melancholy which surrounded me like fog, and lingered afterwards like a smell of autumn bonfire. ‘Strangers’ is a sad book with conclusions like ‘Life gets lonelier; that’s the truth of the matter’ but Brookner seasoned it with a pinch of ironical humour and a handful of warmth and understanding. She respects her characters even when they behave a bit ridiculously.
As usual, Brookner turns out to be brilliant at creating psychological portraits. Paul Surgis, aged 74, blamed for being too nice, calls himself dull and boring but don’t let him deceive you. He is a typical flâneur, fond of walking, travelling and watching people and the world go by. ‘He made strenuous efforts to live in the present, and sometimes almost succeeded.’ We meet also three women who played a significant role in his life: Helena with her ‘adamantine self-regard’, grumpy Sarah and unpredictable, mysterious Vicky.
Brookner’s style is so fine that the language of the book by a different author I’m currently reading seems rough hewn compared to ‘Strangers’. I should have had some quarantine before I began reading something else. :)
‘Strangers’ is a moving novel about solitude, aging, love, death, our frustrating desire to go back to the past, to name just a few problems. It’s also a book about the role of literature in our lives. Paul Sturgis loves books, he finds consolation and joy in them.
Anita Brookner is not a perfect choice for readers who enjoy only action-packed, fast-paced books with straightforward protagonists and ready answers to all questions you could possibly ask. They might feel exasperated or even furious because of the sluggish plot, droopy characters, constant self-analysis and a repetitive pattern: action moves a millimeter and a few pages of comments follow. Yes, I know, it doesn’t sound very inviting but please, give Anita Brookner a chance anyway and feel how the subtle magic of her prose works.
The way Anita Brookner’s books are written makes me think of a tea cozy: pastel and soft outside, dense with boiling emotions inside. Her novels are quiet but you can sense it’s the calm before the storm.
If I had to choose one word that describes best this nostalgic novel and its wistful atmosphere, it would be nebulous. I absorbed fleeting melancholy which surrounded me like fog, and lingered afterwards like a smell of autumn bonfire. ‘Strangers’ is a sad book with conclusions like ‘Life gets lonelier; that’s the truth of the matter’ but Brookner seasoned it with a pinch of ironical humour and a handful of warmth and understanding. She respects her characters even when they behave a bit ridiculously.
As usual, Brookner turns out to be brilliant at creating psychological portraits. Paul Surgis, aged 74, blamed for being too nice, calls himself dull and boring but don’t let him deceive you. He is a typical flâneur, fond of walking, travelling and watching people and the world go by. ‘He made strenuous efforts to live in the present, and sometimes almost succeeded.’ We meet also three women who played a significant role in his life: Helena with her ‘adamantine self-regard’, grumpy Sarah and unpredictable, mysterious Vicky.
Brookner’s style is so fine that the language of the book by a different author I’m currently reading seems rough hewn compared to ‘Strangers’. I should have had some quarantine before I began reading something else. :)
‘Strangers’ is a moving novel about solitude, aging, love, death, our frustrating desire to go back to the past, to name just a few problems. It’s also a book about the role of literature in our lives. Paul Sturgis loves books, he finds consolation and joy in them.
Anita Brookner is not a perfect choice for readers who enjoy only action-packed, fast-paced books with straightforward protagonists and ready answers to all questions you could possibly ask. They might feel exasperated or even furious because of the sluggish plot, droopy characters, constant self-analysis and a repetitive pattern: action moves a millimeter and a few pages of comments follow. Yes, I know, it doesn’t sound very inviting but please, give Anita Brookner a chance anyway and feel how the subtle magic of her prose works.
July 26, 2021
This is the last of the three Brookner novels I found in the local library, and in some ways may be the best of the three. Her subject Paul Sturgis is not a natural choice for a novel's protagonist - he is a retired former bank employee in his 70s who lives alone in a London flat, and has very few friends. At the start of the book his only regular social contact is with his cousin's widow, but two chance encounters create the story.
The first is with Vicky Gardner, who he meets on a trip to Venice he has made to avoid Christmas. Mrs Gardner is a divorcee whose lifestyle is rootless and itinerant, and Paul is alternately drawn by his interest in her lifestyle and his distaste for the way she exploits him, using his flat as a storage space for her belongings. The second is with Sarah, an old girlfriend of his youth who left him to marry a husband who is now dead. Sarah's acceptance of the limitations imposed on her lifestyle by age also upsets Paul, whose chivalry towards her is only grudgingly accepted.
As always with Brookner, what makes the book enjoyable is the language and the dry humour, and she even manages a surprisingly happy ending that spurns any obvious romantic cliche.
The first is with Vicky Gardner, who he meets on a trip to Venice he has made to avoid Christmas. Mrs Gardner is a divorcee whose lifestyle is rootless and itinerant, and Paul is alternately drawn by his interest in her lifestyle and his distaste for the way she exploits him, using his flat as a storage space for her belongings. The second is with Sarah, an old girlfriend of his youth who left him to marry a husband who is now dead. Sarah's acceptance of the limitations imposed on her lifestyle by age also upsets Paul, whose chivalry towards her is only grudgingly accepted.
As always with Brookner, what makes the book enjoyable is the language and the dry humour, and she even manages a surprisingly happy ending that spurns any obvious romantic cliche.
May 5, 2018
This book made me so sad... It's about loneliness. The main figure is probably the most lonely figure in literature. He's conscious about being lonely but in the main time dreads interference of other people. The two women who cross his path are nearly also as lonely as he is... so not a happy novel to read. Not that they all must be happy. But it has some fatalistic mood hanging over it... But that doesn't mean it wasn't a good book, certainly very good written.
January 8, 2015
I raced to the library just minutes before it closed. I had to get a book, any book and I didn't have time to be choosy. I grabbed five from the first shelf I came to (fiction A-B) and when I went to the check out narrowed my selections to two. Brookner's Strangers was one of those. And look how I rated it. I guess you can't pick a good book in haste.
Though, I hate giving someone who is quite a good writer only one star, but if the emperor isn't wearing any clothes, someone has to say it.
I was highly dissatisfied.
Dreary, dull, no dialogue. Plotless. Repetitious.
This man is old and lonely. Retired. Bored. FOR 235 PAGES. Two women come into his life, one a kind of wandering fly-by-night type (he meets her on a plane) and the other, an old flame (she left him because he was too nice). Yet he can't connect with either of them properly, he wants to, but then again, they irritate him, and then he wants to, but no, it's just too daunting. Back and forth, back and forth. It drove me batty.
Maybe I'm just too American but I couldn't stand the way the characters in this novel were so. . .British. Usually, I'd categorize myself as an anglophile, but not this time around. This man was reserved, reticent, uptight to the point where I was ready to break his neck, or maybe stab the book. Something violent. All the characters pretended they were busy and engaged just because they were too proud to admit that they were lonely. You know the Beatles song, Eleanor Rigby? Just listen to that song and spare yourself the reading of this book. It's no coincidence the Beatles are British. You don't have to be that lonely, unless you're a Brit. I mean, look, if you're well off and bored and need something to do, go work in a soup kitchen or something, make yourself useful. Stop wandering the streets of London pining and feeling sorry for yourself. Or do it, but don't write a book about it. And make us think it's going to be worth reading because you're a former Booker prize winner.
It galls me that this guy pines for connection but then when someone asks him for help (Wander Woman asks him to store a piece of her luggage in his flat, while she jets around elsewhere) this is a MAJOR inconvenience for him. This is unacceptable that she should require so much of him. What? It's asking too much, to store somebody's bag in your house--of course your life is an utter failure if even that much of a commitment does you in.
And then, Sarah, the ex girlfriend has the nerve to ask him to go and make sure a door is locked in her house in the south of France. And he goes over there and checks it and yes, it was locked. But he is disappointed that this adventure didn't fulfill him. Why does he let himself be taken advantage of in these ways? Poor him.
And now I have just described to you the two major things that happen in this book.
The rest are ruminations:
1. he thinks about the house he grew up in
2. he doesn't like his current flat
3. he likes to look at strangers, but he doesn't want to get too cozy with anyone
4. he feels bad he never got married or had children
5. he figures he was just too nice
5. repeat thoughts 1-5 ad nauseam and you have the book
Pointless.
Though, I hate giving someone who is quite a good writer only one star, but if the emperor isn't wearing any clothes, someone has to say it.
I was highly dissatisfied.
Dreary, dull, no dialogue. Plotless. Repetitious.
This man is old and lonely. Retired. Bored. FOR 235 PAGES. Two women come into his life, one a kind of wandering fly-by-night type (he meets her on a plane) and the other, an old flame (she left him because he was too nice). Yet he can't connect with either of them properly, he wants to, but then again, they irritate him, and then he wants to, but no, it's just too daunting. Back and forth, back and forth. It drove me batty.
Maybe I'm just too American but I couldn't stand the way the characters in this novel were so. . .British. Usually, I'd categorize myself as an anglophile, but not this time around. This man was reserved, reticent, uptight to the point where I was ready to break his neck, or maybe stab the book. Something violent. All the characters pretended they were busy and engaged just because they were too proud to admit that they were lonely. You know the Beatles song, Eleanor Rigby? Just listen to that song and spare yourself the reading of this book. It's no coincidence the Beatles are British. You don't have to be that lonely, unless you're a Brit. I mean, look, if you're well off and bored and need something to do, go work in a soup kitchen or something, make yourself useful. Stop wandering the streets of London pining and feeling sorry for yourself. Or do it, but don't write a book about it. And make us think it's going to be worth reading because you're a former Booker prize winner.
It galls me that this guy pines for connection but then when someone asks him for help (Wander Woman asks him to store a piece of her luggage in his flat, while she jets around elsewhere) this is a MAJOR inconvenience for him. This is unacceptable that she should require so much of him. What? It's asking too much, to store somebody's bag in your house--of course your life is an utter failure if even that much of a commitment does you in.
And then, Sarah, the ex girlfriend has the nerve to ask him to go and make sure a door is locked in her house in the south of France. And he goes over there and checks it and yes, it was locked. But he is disappointed that this adventure didn't fulfill him. Why does he let himself be taken advantage of in these ways? Poor him.
And now I have just described to you the two major things that happen in this book.
The rest are ruminations:
1. he thinks about the house he grew up in
2. he doesn't like his current flat
3. he likes to look at strangers, but he doesn't want to get too cozy with anyone
4. he feels bad he never got married or had children
5. he figures he was just too nice
5. repeat thoughts 1-5 ad nauseam and you have the book
Pointless.
March 31, 2024
Brookner's remarkable insights into the human heart and the tyranny of habits and routine always speak to me. I first gave it three stars but on re-reading it some years later, I regard it more highly than before.
December 24, 2011
The work of most great novelists runs hot and cold. Anita Brookner is no exception to that rule. Strangers is a bit of a slog. There is an acuity to Brookner's best work--including Latecomers, Hotel du Lac, Brief Lives, and Incidents in the Rue L'Augier--a charged mastery of subject matter in which nothing escapes her narrator. That mastery is lacking in Strangers. Never does the novel seem to gather itself and sing. There are a few moments where brevity and acuity come together to achieve something we might call the signature Brookner moment. Thematically Strangers is in keeping with Brookner's past work. Though here she deals with an elderly man instead of a woman, Paul Sturgis, who, anticipating death, understands that because he is utterly alone he will soon have to give himself up to those courteous persons he runs into in daily life (waiters, bakers, optometrists, and so on). It is these strangers who he is counting on to put him in the ground. For that reason he pays special attention to weather forecasts, since the weather often constitutes a central topic in chat with such persons. Yes, very sad, but real, and typically Brooknerian. It is this mindset that preoccupies Paul when he bumps into Sarah again, a lover who had long ago discarded him. She has since gone on to marry, become widowed, and to meet up with Paul again decades later. Formerly fiercely independent and critical, Sarah is now a hypochondriac and a whiner, fearing death. Her separation from Paul came when she accused him of being "too nice" and fled, not to be seen again until all those years later. She is still critical, and Paul is still nice. And the basic conflict is still there between them. Yet now there is somewhat more solidarity on her side because of the infirmities of age. Sarah in her frailty needs Paul somewhat more than she did in her free and independent days, but he still drives her up the wall with his kindness. Late in the novel, Paul lets fly a criticism of her house in France, an Art Deco monstrosity which he loathes, and in that moment the reader immediately sees what Sarah finds missing in Paul. Someone who could be far more entertaining, if more caustic. Someone we might feel more on guard around, but someone perhaps worth taking the risk to be around. The other person in Paul's life we might call his opposite. This is Mrs. Gardner. Though not very smart or--better word--very informed, she has an absolutely enviable ability to embrace impermanence. She is essentially homeless, but it doesn't bother her. She simply finds some other friend to impose upon. And yet--somehow--this doesn't seem to immobilize her on the lower level of Maslow's hierarchy. In fact, she may actually achieve self-actualization, though we never see this happen and can only suspect it occurs offstage. Paul finds her annoying and fascinating. He has spent his life making all the safe choices. He worked in a bank for thirty years, advising investors, and is now retired. During his career he made choice investments for himself so that today he has no money worries. Mrs. Gardner fascinates him because she lives hand to mouth, picks up a job when she needs money, and in no way seems hindered or concerned about the highly provisional nature of her existence. She is free, whereas Paul "...was to all intents and purposes a free man, but a man for whom freedom was not entirely comfortable." But then he grasps the essence of his problem and, on a chance trip to France to check on Sarah's house, breaks free of a life of tedium. He finds himself in Paris where he catches "...a bus, not knowing or caring where it takes him" before long realizing that "that life of making do, of making the best of a comfortable but uncomforting existence, could no longer be sustained." In the final pages he finds his freedom and embraces it. The novel recounts his quest to that end.
June 11, 2024
With the telling of this story, Anita Brookner has provided the student of psychology with an in-depth character study. I have frequently compared her observations of the human spirit with those of Ruth Rendell. The latter utilizes these devices in mystery novels, but Brookner features her characteristics mainly as a means to portray how her characters conduct their everyday life. She has deftly explored the depths of unhappiness and loneliness.
Paul Sturgis, the main character is an elderly, solitary man. His isolation is of his own choosing. Wary of strangers and cautious about social intercourse, he maintains a sense of aloofness, lest his interactions are misinterpreted. He is stodgy, set in his ways and prefers propriety in his life. Because of this, he asks little of people, thus receiving minimal exchange with others. Bereft of friends and family, he begins to analyze his actions and his life and yearns for alterations in his existence.
“Even the prospect of returning to his old habits was hedged with uncertainty. He could no longer tolerate his own company. Even the prospect of boring, and being bored by, somebody else seemed preferable to the habitual sameness of his own thoughts.” (p. 126)
“In the absence of comfort he was forced to contemplate his own failure, failure not in wordly terms, but in the reality of his circumscribed life.” (p. 175)
“He was thus a failure by his own standards and only by dint of extreme privacy had he kept this hidden from others”. (p. 187)
At times I felt that descriptions of this characters’s attributes were redundant, but they served to reinforce impressions for the reader. This is not an uplifting tale, but Brookner’s probing expertise and elegant prose has brought depth to the narrative. I was eager to discover the outcome for this troubled soul.
Brookner’s talented efforts in precision and insights are certainly worthy of a four star rating, but the tale itself seems to warrant three stars.
Paul Sturgis, the main character is an elderly, solitary man. His isolation is of his own choosing. Wary of strangers and cautious about social intercourse, he maintains a sense of aloofness, lest his interactions are misinterpreted. He is stodgy, set in his ways and prefers propriety in his life. Because of this, he asks little of people, thus receiving minimal exchange with others. Bereft of friends and family, he begins to analyze his actions and his life and yearns for alterations in his existence.
“Even the prospect of returning to his old habits was hedged with uncertainty. He could no longer tolerate his own company. Even the prospect of boring, and being bored by, somebody else seemed preferable to the habitual sameness of his own thoughts.” (p. 126)
“In the absence of comfort he was forced to contemplate his own failure, failure not in wordly terms, but in the reality of his circumscribed life.” (p. 175)
“He was thus a failure by his own standards and only by dint of extreme privacy had he kept this hidden from others”. (p. 187)
At times I felt that descriptions of this characters’s attributes were redundant, but they served to reinforce impressions for the reader. This is not an uplifting tale, but Brookner’s probing expertise and elegant prose has brought depth to the narrative. I was eager to discover the outcome for this troubled soul.
Brookner’s talented efforts in precision and insights are certainly worthy of a four star rating, but the tale itself seems to warrant three stars.
August 4, 2021
My first Brookner. Loved it and devoured it in one day. I'm a sucker for these depressing, meandering nostalgia novels. Are all her books like this?
April 18, 2023
VARIATIONS ON A THEME
(or THE COOKIE CUTTER NOVELS)
To say that I was surprised by this novel would be an understatement. Reading (i.e. listening to) it has been a grim experience, perhaps the longest six hours of my life!
Having read and enjoyed some of Anita Brookner’s early work a number of years ago and being aware of her reputation as a writer, I was excited about returning to this author. I was not prepared for the dismal, gloomy, almost hopeless ambience of this particular story. I could not reconcile this experience either with my memory of other books by her or with her reputation as a writer.
As is my wont when my own experience of an author’s work deviates from that of the critics and the reading public, I turned to the internet for information. With 24 novels to her credit, an ample supply of reviews is available. Personal interviews, however, are less plentiful. Perhaps the most interesting piece that I have read is Anita Brookner, the final interview , an account of one of her rare interviews. This chat with journalist Mick Brown was conducted in 2009 upon the publication of Strangers and reprinted in The Telegraph on the date of Brookner’s death (March 15, 2016).
I found this glimpse into the physically austere personal world of Brookner, in her own element, to be most informative and perhaps more entertaining than the novel. For me, it validates two of the impressions that I formed while reading Strangers. First, that the story really is Anita Brookner’s own story: Paul Sturgis and Sarah Crawford — and yes, even the flighty, flippant Vicky Gardner — most certainly all represent the person that Brookner was, or would have liked to have been. Second, that the story is meant, on some level, to be amusing, even as Brookner herself responds to serious questions with tongue in cheek and a twinkle in her eye.
It is not necessary for me to provide a précis of the plot or a description of the characters — you can glean this information for yourself. Neither am I qualified to offer a literary critique. I can only reflect on my personal response to the story. Suffice it to say that, as a result of my foray into the imprint that Anita Brookner has left on the world-wide web, I have come to the conclusion that (as confessed by Mark Lawson in his 2009 review, to be found here) when I read those Brookner novels so many years ago, I was simply “too young to get it”.
I confess that I am rapidly approaching the age when the issues with which Brookner’s characters typically grapple are top-of-mind for me also. This little exercise has helped me to acquire a new respect for an author who has been criticized for writing the same story over and over again — the story being her own. I applaud Brookner’s perseverance in her dogged pursuit of self-understanding and her tenacity in repeating the story (and all its variations) of her inner life. It is never easy to reveal one’s doubts, foibles, and vulnerabilities in a public way. Kudos to Anita Brookner! I look forward to exploring her other novels. It may be that I am finally old enough to "get it"!
NOTE: After having had the time to research and ruminate, I am changing my rating from three starts to four stars.
To say that I was surprised by this novel would be an understatement. Reading (i.e. listening to) it has been a grim experience, perhaps the longest six hours of my life!
Having read and enjoyed some of Anita Brookner’s early work a number of years ago and being aware of her reputation as a writer, I was excited about returning to this author. I was not prepared for the dismal, gloomy, almost hopeless ambience of this particular story. I could not reconcile this experience either with my memory of other books by her or with her reputation as a writer.
As is my wont when my own experience of an author’s work deviates from that of the critics and the reading public, I turned to the internet for information. With 24 novels to her credit, an ample supply of reviews is available. Personal interviews, however, are less plentiful. Perhaps the most interesting piece that I have read is Anita Brookner, the final interview , an account of one of her rare interviews. This chat with journalist Mick Brown was conducted in 2009 upon the publication of Strangers and reprinted in The Telegraph on the date of Brookner’s death (March 15, 2016).
I found this glimpse into the physically austere personal world of Brookner, in her own element, to be most informative and perhaps more entertaining than the novel. For me, it validates two of the impressions that I formed while reading Strangers. First, that the story really is Anita Brookner’s own story: Paul Sturgis and Sarah Crawford — and yes, even the flighty, flippant Vicky Gardner — most certainly all represent the person that Brookner was, or would have liked to have been. Second, that the story is meant, on some level, to be amusing, even as Brookner herself responds to serious questions with tongue in cheek and a twinkle in her eye.
It is not necessary for me to provide a précis of the plot or a description of the characters — you can glean this information for yourself. Neither am I qualified to offer a literary critique. I can only reflect on my personal response to the story. Suffice it to say that, as a result of my foray into the imprint that Anita Brookner has left on the world-wide web, I have come to the conclusion that (as confessed by Mark Lawson in his 2009 review, to be found here) when I read those Brookner novels so many years ago, I was simply “too young to get it”.
I confess that I am rapidly approaching the age when the issues with which Brookner’s characters typically grapple are top-of-mind for me also. This little exercise has helped me to acquire a new respect for an author who has been criticized for writing the same story over and over again — the story being her own. I applaud Brookner’s perseverance in her dogged pursuit of self-understanding and her tenacity in repeating the story (and all its variations) of her inner life. It is never easy to reveal one’s doubts, foibles, and vulnerabilities in a public way. Kudos to Anita Brookner! I look forward to exploring her other novels. It may be that I am finally old enough to "get it"!
NOTE: After having had the time to research and ruminate, I am changing my rating from three starts to four stars.
February 22, 2011
"And for himself the future held little more than the grim routines that had always sustained him, together with the hope that they would sustain him to the end. Then it would be time to rely on the kindness of strangers, and the hope that this would prove more than a fond illusion."
Anita Brookner is arguably one of the finest prose writers living today. Her keen precision and clean, stark sentences are edged with luminous turns of phrase and biting ironies. Her characters lead insular, lonely lives and rarely do anything optimistic with their existence, no matter how astute their insight.
Retired banker Paul Sturgis is no exception. He is 72 years old and lives a tightly circumscribed life. There is minimal pleasure in his activities, such as frequenting art museums, occasional travel around Europe, visiting his hairdresser, and his obligatory sojourns to a distant relative, Helena. Walking is his favorite activity, and it is during his perambulations that he examines his life in detail.
Paul is in constant conflict with himself. When he meets a woman in Venice, Vicky Gardner, he alternately can't wait to escape her and get to know her better. When they meet up again in London, he allows her to manipulate him and leave her belongings at his house, while she takes off for parts unknown.
Paul has an ex-flame, Sarah, who was exuberant and sensual. After years of separation, they have a chance encounter and renew their bond, but it is one of friendship, not romance. Her health is declining, although her tongue is as astringent as ever. Paul entertains longings and fantasies of marrying Sarah, but he knows it is illusory. She is reproachful and inscrutable, and he cannot conquer the walls between them.
Paul is one of those neurotics whose basic mantra toward others would be, "I would die to have you, and kill you to get away." He is a passive man who has never been able to negotiate strong women, although he admires them. He is in perpetual battle with his own desires, and his contradictory thoughts are often serially juxtaposed, one warring thought after another. That is part of Brookner's wit and wisdom, her almost-aching but caustic acumen in matters of human psychology.
The drawback of this story is its torpor. Although the author has an infinite supply of description and inner dialogue for Paul's endless indecision and confusion, it begins to wear on the reader. It becomes repetitious, irritating, monotonous. Eventually, it devolves into a long-winded soliloquy. In lesser hands, I wouldn't have even finished it. But Brookner's magic with language kept me hanging to the bitter end. This would have worked better as a novella, reducing the pages by half.
I am a sturdy fan of Anita Brookner, and because of my familiarity with her work, I remained fastened to the narrative. I will read her for the scintillating prose, for her intoxicating metaphors. If you are unfamiliar with her work, start with her Booker winner Hotel Du Lac, her shattering Look at Me, or her stunning Brief Lives. Brookner's elegiac prowess captivates with her story and character in most of her novels. But STRANGERS is not her finest achievement, nor one I would highly recommend to other readers.
Anita Brookner is arguably one of the finest prose writers living today. Her keen precision and clean, stark sentences are edged with luminous turns of phrase and biting ironies. Her characters lead insular, lonely lives and rarely do anything optimistic with their existence, no matter how astute their insight.
Retired banker Paul Sturgis is no exception. He is 72 years old and lives a tightly circumscribed life. There is minimal pleasure in his activities, such as frequenting art museums, occasional travel around Europe, visiting his hairdresser, and his obligatory sojourns to a distant relative, Helena. Walking is his favorite activity, and it is during his perambulations that he examines his life in detail.
Paul is in constant conflict with himself. When he meets a woman in Venice, Vicky Gardner, he alternately can't wait to escape her and get to know her better. When they meet up again in London, he allows her to manipulate him and leave her belongings at his house, while she takes off for parts unknown.
Paul has an ex-flame, Sarah, who was exuberant and sensual. After years of separation, they have a chance encounter and renew their bond, but it is one of friendship, not romance. Her health is declining, although her tongue is as astringent as ever. Paul entertains longings and fantasies of marrying Sarah, but he knows it is illusory. She is reproachful and inscrutable, and he cannot conquer the walls between them.
Paul is one of those neurotics whose basic mantra toward others would be, "I would die to have you, and kill you to get away." He is a passive man who has never been able to negotiate strong women, although he admires them. He is in perpetual battle with his own desires, and his contradictory thoughts are often serially juxtaposed, one warring thought after another. That is part of Brookner's wit and wisdom, her almost-aching but caustic acumen in matters of human psychology.
The drawback of this story is its torpor. Although the author has an infinite supply of description and inner dialogue for Paul's endless indecision and confusion, it begins to wear on the reader. It becomes repetitious, irritating, monotonous. Eventually, it devolves into a long-winded soliloquy. In lesser hands, I wouldn't have even finished it. But Brookner's magic with language kept me hanging to the bitter end. This would have worked better as a novella, reducing the pages by half.
I am a sturdy fan of Anita Brookner, and because of my familiarity with her work, I remained fastened to the narrative. I will read her for the scintillating prose, for her intoxicating metaphors. If you are unfamiliar with her work, start with her Booker winner Hotel Du Lac, her shattering Look at Me, or her stunning Brief Lives. Brookner's elegiac prowess captivates with her story and character in most of her novels. But STRANGERS is not her finest achievement, nor one I would highly recommend to other readers.
February 21, 2022
This very good novel is about Paul Sturgis, a well off retired 74 year old who was a banker and never married. He is living in an apartment in London in a quiet neighbourhood. This novel is about loneliness, ageing and relationships. This is not a plot driven book. The novel’s main focus is on the issue of what is a satisfying way to live when you no longer work and the acquaintances you had have gradually disappeared from your life.
Paul's only social contact is a widowed cousin who he visits every Sunday. Paul meets an old girlfriend, Sarah, who is 69 and a widow. Paul and Sarah meet occasionally but Sarah finds Paul dull and finds reasons to see him infrequently. On a visit to Venice he meets Mrs Vicky Gardner, a mid 50s divorcee who is very independent and appears at his apartment unexpectedly on a number of occasions. He admires her independence and willingness to take things on and actively pursue possible opportunities. She is looking for work.
I enjoy the author's carefully written, gentle style of writing and will read more of her novels over the coming years.
Paul's only social contact is a widowed cousin who he visits every Sunday. Paul meets an old girlfriend, Sarah, who is 69 and a widow. Paul and Sarah meet occasionally but Sarah finds Paul dull and finds reasons to see him infrequently. On a visit to Venice he meets Mrs Vicky Gardner, a mid 50s divorcee who is very independent and appears at his apartment unexpectedly on a number of occasions. He admires her independence and willingness to take things on and actively pursue possible opportunities. She is looking for work.
I enjoy the author's carefully written, gentle style of writing and will read more of her novels over the coming years.
March 7, 2021
I’ve got to be honest - Anita Brookner novels fill me with dread about getting old. I still love them.
February 10, 2017
It's a good thing I don't require any plot. This novel is completely devoid of one. It is the mental meanderings of Paul Sturgis, a 73-old bachelor who considers his present life, recalls his memories of his past, and ponders his future. He is alone and lonely. The early concern is if his demise is like Stendhal's, who fell dead on the pavement and where he was first tended to by strangers. And so, he contemplates that his life is only one of greeting strangers.
He hates his flat - that which he expected to love. He lamented the sorry condition of his flat often enough that I wanted to shout "buy some paint." There are encounters with three women: the widow of a cousin, an old love, and a younger woman who he meets on the plane to Venice. Are these also strangers?
Twenty years younger and I might have gotten too bored with this to finish it. However I'm nearly as old as Sturgis and the problem of aging is certainly one I can relate to. I am in fine health and have no anticipation of death, but I am all too aware that I have far fewer years in front of me than behind me. Each of us will deal with that realization differently. I appreciated this story as at least one take on the subject. I can't help it rise to 4-stars, but it is another of late that sits toward the top of the 3-star group.
I rarely think about the lens of the author as a story is being written, but I realized when I picked this up, that Anita Brookner died earlier this year at the age of 87, so she was at least in her late 70s when she wrote this. Was she too contemplating that her future was short?
He hates his flat - that which he expected to love. He lamented the sorry condition of his flat often enough that I wanted to shout "buy some paint." There are encounters with three women: the widow of a cousin, an old love, and a younger woman who he meets on the plane to Venice. Are these also strangers?
Twenty years younger and I might have gotten too bored with this to finish it. However I'm nearly as old as Sturgis and the problem of aging is certainly one I can relate to. I am in fine health and have no anticipation of death, but I am all too aware that I have far fewer years in front of me than behind me. Each of us will deal with that realization differently. I appreciated this story as at least one take on the subject. I can't help it rise to 4-stars, but it is another of late that sits toward the top of the 3-star group.
I rarely think about the lens of the author as a story is being written, but I realized when I picked this up, that Anita Brookner died earlier this year at the age of 87, so she was at least in her late 70s when she wrote this. Was she too contemplating that her future was short?
October 25, 2012
Surprisingly, Anita Brookner's Strangers didn't make me immediately conclude, "Omg, I have to go get married and have an enormous family that will take care of me and structure my days in my old age so I don't die ALOONNNNEE!" I say "surprisingly" because Brookner seems to have cornered the market on writing about loneliness and meaning (or lack thereof) in relationships, and Strangers is without a doubt a melancholy read about aging and social isolation.
But I came away from Brookner's latest novel with a sense that her characters' sad, pathetic, pretense-filled lives are *not* inevitable; that really, people let pride and social convention get in the way of genuine connection and honesty in their relationships, especially later in life. Sure, it's possible to read Strangers as a kind of horror story about aging, but it's also possible to read it as an anti-model, a script not to follow. There are a number of places in the (meandering, repetitive, rather plot-less) story where the walls the characters have built around themselves could come down, but then of course you'd have a happy ending, not a proper 21st-century literary novella.
I still adore Hotel Du Lac, and I'll probably keep working my way through the Brookner oeuvre, but Strangers was a bit of a miss for me. (Aside from one valuable life lesson: don't let random people you've just met leave their luggage at your flat for months on end. You'll trip over it and just generally hate yourself for it, apparently.)
But I came away from Brookner's latest novel with a sense that her characters' sad, pathetic, pretense-filled lives are *not* inevitable; that really, people let pride and social convention get in the way of genuine connection and honesty in their relationships, especially later in life. Sure, it's possible to read Strangers as a kind of horror story about aging, but it's also possible to read it as an anti-model, a script not to follow. There are a number of places in the (meandering, repetitive, rather plot-less) story where the walls the characters have built around themselves could come down, but then of course you'd have a happy ending, not a proper 21st-century literary novella.
I still adore Hotel Du Lac, and I'll probably keep working my way through the Brookner oeuvre, but Strangers was a bit of a miss for me. (Aside from one valuable life lesson: don't let random people you've just met leave their luggage at your flat for months on end. You'll trip over it and just generally hate yourself for it, apparently.)
February 29, 2020
It's taken me months to finish this two hundred page novel, partly because of life, partly because this is not a book you necessarily devour. With so much of the novel consisting of an interior monologue from the main character -Paul, a London retiree of several years - it is quite exhausting to read, particularly as much of what Paul thinks about is so very melancholy. When he interacts with the few other characters in the novel, there is actually some light relief that other voices will be heard and there will be dialogue. His meditations on growing old, the past, the future, relationships etc are all meaningful and accentuated by the uneasy realization that this will be the lot of many of us as we age; it is just that the repetitious nature of these thoughts begins to try the patience that is needed when reading such a novel.
The character of Vicky Gardner provides a kick up the backside to Paul's apathy in contrast to cousin Helena and old flame Sarah who provoke more melancholia, yet none of these women are appealing. Paul may often come across as a sad case yet you cannot help but cheer him on towards a different life, to making a decision not to simply fade away in the company of strangers and so in this, Anita Brookner has succeeded yet I still don't know what rating to give as I write this. Can I give 3.5 stars?
The character of Vicky Gardner provides a kick up the backside to Paul's apathy in contrast to cousin Helena and old flame Sarah who provoke more melancholia, yet none of these women are appealing. Paul may often come across as a sad case yet you cannot help but cheer him on towards a different life, to making a decision not to simply fade away in the company of strangers and so in this, Anita Brookner has succeeded yet I still don't know what rating to give as I write this. Can I give 3.5 stars?
January 18, 2022
The characters are fairly deep and well constructed, there are several references to Proust and some other great authors, some philosophical meanderings; this seems like the kind of book I should have enjoyed greatly. Unfortunately I found it as exciting as boiled potatoes. It hit the target with a glancing blow but in the end a miss is a miss and I’m relieved to move on from it.
February 7, 2010
This is a depressing analysis of a man, aging and alone, who wants a human connection from life before it is too late, but his opportunities are bleak and discouraging. The author's writing style is a major hindrance in reading--some paragraphs are Faulknerish, a page or two long, making reading difficult. Plot? None. Dialogue? Little. For a novel set in London and France, the description is as lonely, sterile, and careful as 75-year-old Paul Sturgis, the protagonist. The author herself is quite advanced in years, and she makes a valid point in the book about aging and living alone. Regardless, the book is not interesting reading.
February 5, 2014
Well, Paul Sturgis was a bland, indecisive, frustrating character. I want to shake him into action. The novel had a circular quality because he just kept having the same internal conversation with himself. He was the quintessential Mr Milquetoast. The effect on my husband and I as we listened to the recorded version while we drove, was a confirmation that we are not going into old age like THAT. Paul S's most daring act was to hang up the phone.
February 16, 2016
A beautiful book that examine aging, loneliness, lost love and the change to regain it from the viewpoint of a man now in his 70s who is coming to terms with his life and his past.
April 13, 2012
Paul Sturgis is a elderly man retired banker that lives alone in his flat in London. He does not have many associates or friends, but only people he occasionally meets he calls "Strangers". His future is not as bright, he does not have much to look forward too,besides his ultimate demise. Helena his nearest living relative he visits frequently, cures his loneliness temporarily but her health is decaying. In addition he sets of on a trip to Venice where he meets Ms Vickie Gardner who is twice as younger as He is, but he is attracted to her beauty and her intriguing personality. Although she is divorced and at a low point at her life, he is confused about her intentions as a friend. After a few coffee dates, he wonders if he can spend a life with her. Upon returning to London England, he comes in contact with his ex Sara who previously ended things with him because he was too nice and she wanted excitement, which Richard provided for her but now they are divorced and she lost her spark. Depending on Paul is her only hope, but he is not willing to commit to anything serious. Now Paul is caught between two woman, deciding who to spend his life with, but he is unsure if they want more than a platonic relationship.
This is a remarkable novel about loneliness, regret and hope. I wish I discovered Brookner earlier, her writing style is beautiful fill with tranquility and thoughtfulness.
This is a remarkable novel about loneliness, regret and hope. I wish I discovered Brookner earlier, her writing style is beautiful fill with tranquility and thoughtfulness.
April 9, 2014
I don't know how 85 year old Anita Brookner has written over two dozen novels and not slit her wrists in the process. I love an introspective writer, and Brookner is certainly that, but surely she could find SOMETHING positive to contemplate. "The interval of true innocence was, he knew, that brief moment before the onset of disappointment, which in his parents' case was compounded by loneliness...grim and unhappy as they were, [they] had remained faithful to the married state." The aging narrator is just as negative about his own relationships - "The facts were unavoidable: she was no longer desirable, and he had never overcome his initial disadvantages. And that they were old, and that this condition was irremediable...love was by this stage somewhat superfluous, in the sense that it had taken place already. There was no need to go down that road again."
January 4, 2018
This book, while slim, really got in the heart and, more importantly, the mind, of Paul Sturgis, a 70ish man and his life. Reading it may make you want you to go back in your life, have five kids and a passel of friends so you aren't lonely and alone in your elder years. While there was loneliness (if you're the only one left, what happens to you, your money, your home?), it also had some comedic scenes; one who is so used to a daily routine alone, suddenly that is disrupted. Finding a long lost love, realizing that sometimes things never change.
Reading Anita Brookner was one of my reading goals for 2018, which I can now strike off my list. And it started my reading year off with a small, quiet start. I'll be looking for more; I now know why she is so lauded. An uncanny ability to observe, write, and reflect.
Reading Anita Brookner was one of my reading goals for 2018, which I can now strike off my list. And it started my reading year off with a small, quiet start. I'll be looking for more; I now know why she is so lauded. An uncanny ability to observe, write, and reflect.
May 28, 2014
Brookner’s novel is full of good words, words most of which I thought I understood but still felt the need to look up, words like ‘minatory’ which, surprisingly, has nothing to do with the Minotaur and unheimlich which translates as ‘uncanny’ but which Freud put his own twist on. A word she might well have used, and used correctly I have no doubt, would be ‘vacillate’ which has nothing to do with Vaseline and she would’ve know that. Vacillate is what the protagonist of this book does more than any other character I’ve ever read. One minute he’s actively seeking the company of a certain woman, the next she’s exasperating him and he wants to be rid of her only to find when he runs into her later or she turns up unannounced that he doesn’t hate the experience and wonders what it might be like being married to her only to then realise what a bad idea that would be. And his vacillation doesn’t end with women but rather extends to every aspect of his life. He wasn’t always like this although he has always been boring, so boring that he’s never married and now finds himself in his mid-seventies facing the prospect of dying alone, something which makes him shudder.
Paul Sturgis turns seventy-three during the course of this book. He’s a man whose life revolved around work and now any connections to that world have dried up. Days are things to be got through. Luckily his many years working in the banking industry have left him comfortably off but he’s still frugal often taking the bus or walking even though he can easily afford a taxi. He has no family left bar Helena, the widow of a cousin, whom he visits on a semi-regular basis despite the fact it seems to be a strain on both of them but as they’re the only family the two of them have left they feel it’s their duty to make something of an effort, effort being the key word. Paul is an old-fashioned man, a man out of time whose generation is dying out. He’s also a lonely man who spends most of his time in the company of strangers and it really was only a matter of time before Tennessee Williams was quoted although not referenced.
He’s no Blanche DuBois though, far from it. The same could not be said for Victoria Gardner, a woman of about fifty (he never finds out for sure) who he encounters on a flight to Venice and who managed to get at least one claw in him if not a full pawful. She does expect strangers to help her out in her hours of need, is genuinely puzzled when they don’t seem to want to and unwittingly Paul becomes one of seemingly many to do her the occasional wee favour like looking after some luggage. She’s annoying but she can also be entertaining so one can see why Paul might be in two minds about her, one of those women you’re pleased to run into in the street but after five minutes wonder why.
The third woman in Paul’s life is an old flame, Sarah. He runs into her part-way through the book. By this point Helena has died and so Paul’s even more alone than ever, acutely conscious of his own fragility if not mortality and here comes someone only a few years younger than he is and wouldn’t it be sensible if they were to pick up where they left off and take care of each other? Only Sarah’s now a feisty late-sixty-year-old, independent-spirited and although she complains about her health she’s still not ready to give up control of her life.
What these three woman have in common is that they immediately (instinctively?) see that Paul is a soft touch, a nice man. Not that they milk him for everything he’s got, rather they realise he’s limited in his usefulness. All three of them keep the bulk of their lives to themselves in fact it takes Paul practically to the end of the book to even get a phone number out of Vicky and it’s not until after her death that Paul realises (not that he hadn’t already surmised) that the life Helena painted was not the one she was living.
These are odd woman and not very likeable. And, of course, there will those readers who think much the same of Paul and they’re all welcome to each other. But then these people will probably be young. And young people won’t get this book. In his review in The Guardian critic Mark Lawson, who was not an avowed fan of Brookner’s, does a one hundred and eighty degree turn:
Towards the end of the book Paul notes, “Fate is rarely kind, and nature never.” It’s a profound statement. And a sobering one. The book’s opening line is, “Sturgis had always known that it was his destiny to die among strangers.” Although we don’t know how he dies—we are left to wonder on that account—what we do know is that even if he and Sarah do get together after the book’s final chapter (purely for practical reasons you understand) they will still be, as they always have been, strangers. Because everyone in this book is a stranger, at least one step removed from everyone else. Perhaps that’s the cruellest realisation of them all and the one we put of admitting for as long as possible assuming we ever admit it as a possibility.
Yes, there is a tedium to this work and at times it is work—if only because of Brookner’s serpentine sentences—but I found the work worthwhile, much better than Anne Tyler’s Noah’s Compass which I read a couple of weeks ago. This was the book I’d hoped Noah’s Compass would be.
Paul Sturgis turns seventy-three during the course of this book. He’s a man whose life revolved around work and now any connections to that world have dried up. Days are things to be got through. Luckily his many years working in the banking industry have left him comfortably off but he’s still frugal often taking the bus or walking even though he can easily afford a taxi. He has no family left bar Helena, the widow of a cousin, whom he visits on a semi-regular basis despite the fact it seems to be a strain on both of them but as they’re the only family the two of them have left they feel it’s their duty to make something of an effort, effort being the key word. Paul is an old-fashioned man, a man out of time whose generation is dying out. He’s also a lonely man who spends most of his time in the company of strangers and it really was only a matter of time before Tennessee Williams was quoted although not referenced.
He’s no Blanche DuBois though, far from it. The same could not be said for Victoria Gardner, a woman of about fifty (he never finds out for sure) who he encounters on a flight to Venice and who managed to get at least one claw in him if not a full pawful. She does expect strangers to help her out in her hours of need, is genuinely puzzled when they don’t seem to want to and unwittingly Paul becomes one of seemingly many to do her the occasional wee favour like looking after some luggage. She’s annoying but she can also be entertaining so one can see why Paul might be in two minds about her, one of those women you’re pleased to run into in the street but after five minutes wonder why.
The third woman in Paul’s life is an old flame, Sarah. He runs into her part-way through the book. By this point Helena has died and so Paul’s even more alone than ever, acutely conscious of his own fragility if not mortality and here comes someone only a few years younger than he is and wouldn’t it be sensible if they were to pick up where they left off and take care of each other? Only Sarah’s now a feisty late-sixty-year-old, independent-spirited and although she complains about her health she’s still not ready to give up control of her life.
What these three woman have in common is that they immediately (instinctively?) see that Paul is a soft touch, a nice man. Not that they milk him for everything he’s got, rather they realise he’s limited in his usefulness. All three of them keep the bulk of their lives to themselves in fact it takes Paul practically to the end of the book to even get a phone number out of Vicky and it’s not until after her death that Paul realises (not that he hadn’t already surmised) that the life Helena painted was not the one she was living.
These are odd woman and not very likeable. And, of course, there will those readers who think much the same of Paul and they’re all welcome to each other. But then these people will probably be young. And young people won’t get this book. In his review in The Guardian critic Mark Lawson, who was not an avowed fan of Brookner’s, does a one hundred and eighty degree turn:
There are writers we grow into. Brookner's themes—ageing and isolation—seem pointless and self-pitying to a twentysomething reader. But decay and/or loneliness will come to all of us, and pages which seemed opaque eventually become a mirror.I think he hits the nail on the head. I’ve always liked Brookner but then I came to her in my fifties. I’m not sure that a twenty-year-old—or even a thirty-year-old—me would’ve given her the time of day. There are writers you grow into.
Objectively, Strangers has all the faults my younger self identified: a man and a woman who seem to possess neither genitals or sense of humour fence around each other before accepting disappointment. But the pitiless depiction of the final stages of life—and the refusal to allow her characters any consolation—makes Strangers as great a reflection on fear and regret as Philip Larkin's poem ‘Aubade’ or Beckett's Endgame.
Towards the end of the book Paul notes, “Fate is rarely kind, and nature never.” It’s a profound statement. And a sobering one. The book’s opening line is, “Sturgis had always known that it was his destiny to die among strangers.” Although we don’t know how he dies—we are left to wonder on that account—what we do know is that even if he and Sarah do get together after the book’s final chapter (purely for practical reasons you understand) they will still be, as they always have been, strangers. Because everyone in this book is a stranger, at least one step removed from everyone else. Perhaps that’s the cruellest realisation of them all and the one we put of admitting for as long as possible assuming we ever admit it as a possibility.
Yes, there is a tedium to this work and at times it is work—if only because of Brookner’s serpentine sentences—but I found the work worthwhile, much better than Anne Tyler’s Noah’s Compass which I read a couple of weeks ago. This was the book I’d hoped Noah’s Compass would be.
February 15, 2021
Really the whole book was a male character’s going back and forth between options of unappealing romantic interests and travel options. It is pretty amazing how an entire book can be written about a person wracking their brain on how to make life exciting again. The research question of this book is the following: What would please me? And the questioner pursues the answer through singular thought instead of doing anything. But it’s a good book to relate to in the pandemic. Staying in my house for almost a year now, I also sort of feel old and dissatisfied.
July 26, 2015
Every once in awhile, I'll go to my library and pick up a random book. Anything at all. This was my pick. The story is about a 72-year old, retired bachelor named Paul Sturgis living in a London flat. He's lonely and regretful. The entire book is the thoughts running through his mind (his childhood, work, lost loves) and how two women change him. For the worse, for the better? Go ask Paul.
I've never read Anita Brookner before, as the title of this review states, but she left a very positive, strong impression. There is no arguing over Brookner's talent in weaving language and observing human interaction and behavior. One particular sentence that really struck me was when Paul was discussing if he returned to his childhood home, the magic in his memories would be lost and it would just be any other house. "Only the power of dreams would deliver more to him than had already existed so long ago that he might still have been the age he was then, with a child's perception of size, miraculously recaptured under the influence of the night. It was daylight that restored life to its true proportions and the life he rediscovered on waking that proved deceptive" (Brookner 229). It's brilliant how she manages to capture the magic of daydreams and write them for us to read.
Her characters, mainly four, are very three-dimensional and very believable. I believe that everyone can identify somewhat with Paul and his feelings of isolation. It's quite impressive how the author managed to build an entire past for her character and also has him change his mind about certain memories as his life progresses, much like real life. Her characters are more "Catcher in the Rye" than "Beowulf", if you catch my drift.
Although some words of hers become favorites (you'll know the definitions of "assuage" and "assiduity" and all its forms quite well by the end of the novel), Brookner's vocabulary is astounding and I found myself looking up words I've never even seen before. Even with the high vocabulary, in never once rings pretentious or forced.
However, unlike Brookner's vocabulary, I occasionally had to force myself to complete the book. Her narrator tends to be repetitive about certain aspects of his life and tends to lament about certain topics for pages, only to repeat the same soliloquy a chapter later.
It's because of this that I do not recommend this book for readers wishing to read something simple or for any light reading. The book is short, only about 230 pages with large font, and it took me only a couple of days to read, but I still think, based on the complex language and philosophical mindset, that this book isn't for everyone.
I've never read Anita Brookner before, as the title of this review states, but she left a very positive, strong impression. There is no arguing over Brookner's talent in weaving language and observing human interaction and behavior. One particular sentence that really struck me was when Paul was discussing if he returned to his childhood home, the magic in his memories would be lost and it would just be any other house. "Only the power of dreams would deliver more to him than had already existed so long ago that he might still have been the age he was then, with a child's perception of size, miraculously recaptured under the influence of the night. It was daylight that restored life to its true proportions and the life he rediscovered on waking that proved deceptive" (Brookner 229). It's brilliant how she manages to capture the magic of daydreams and write them for us to read.
Her characters, mainly four, are very three-dimensional and very believable. I believe that everyone can identify somewhat with Paul and his feelings of isolation. It's quite impressive how the author managed to build an entire past for her character and also has him change his mind about certain memories as his life progresses, much like real life. Her characters are more "Catcher in the Rye" than "Beowulf", if you catch my drift.
Although some words of hers become favorites (you'll know the definitions of "assuage" and "assiduity" and all its forms quite well by the end of the novel), Brookner's vocabulary is astounding and I found myself looking up words I've never even seen before. Even with the high vocabulary, in never once rings pretentious or forced.
However, unlike Brookner's vocabulary, I occasionally had to force myself to complete the book. Her narrator tends to be repetitive about certain aspects of his life and tends to lament about certain topics for pages, only to repeat the same soliloquy a chapter later.
It's because of this that I do not recommend this book for readers wishing to read something simple or for any light reading. The book is short, only about 230 pages with large font, and it took me only a couple of days to read, but I still think, based on the complex language and philosophical mindset, that this book isn't for everyone.
August 21, 2016
Paul Sturgis isn’t one of my favourite Anita Brookner characters—I much prefer her female leads, especially Blanche in Misalliance and Frances in Look at Me—but I found the novel strangely poignant, maybe in part because it is Brookner’s last, but also because it seemed to say something important to those of us travelling through the second part of life.
Sturgis is weighed down by lots of things he doesn’t like or need—a flat he can’t stand living in; a second flat and furniture inherited from his cousin Helena; luggage dumped on him to look after by his casual acquaintance, Vicky Gardner; and emotional baggage shoved his way by his putative love interest, Sarah.
However, rather than be smothered by all of this, Paul gets our and I think it’s possible to read the novel as a gentle comedy about old age. I found the ending wonderfully affirmative and felt joy in reading that the character finally breaks free in the end, casts off his cares and possessions, and leaves England to make a new life for himself in Paris. I wonder if in her final novel Dr Brookner was engaging in an act of wish fulfilment as well and leaving her readers with a note of kind encouragement, telling us that it’s possible to reinvent oneself even towards the very end of one’s life.
Sturgis is weighed down by lots of things he doesn’t like or need—a flat he can’t stand living in; a second flat and furniture inherited from his cousin Helena; luggage dumped on him to look after by his casual acquaintance, Vicky Gardner; and emotional baggage shoved his way by his putative love interest, Sarah.
However, rather than be smothered by all of this, Paul gets our and I think it’s possible to read the novel as a gentle comedy about old age. I found the ending wonderfully affirmative and felt joy in reading that the character finally breaks free in the end, casts off his cares and possessions, and leaves England to make a new life for himself in Paris. I wonder if in her final novel Dr Brookner was engaging in an act of wish fulfilment as well and leaving her readers with a note of kind encouragement, telling us that it’s possible to reinvent oneself even towards the very end of one’s life.
September 13, 2012
I'd never read any of Anita Brookner's novels before, saw this one at the library, and decided to give Strangers a try.
It's a well written novel which deals with aging, isolation, loneliness, and depression. Given that, it would take a truly masterful writer to come up with something that wasn't depressing to read. Unfortunately, Anita Brookner isn't that writer. I'm glad I read this book, since it gave me a taste of Ms. Brookner's writing skills, but I have no desire to ever revisit it again.
It's a well written novel which deals with aging, isolation, loneliness, and depression. Given that, it would take a truly masterful writer to come up with something that wasn't depressing to read. Unfortunately, Anita Brookner isn't that writer. I'm glad I read this book, since it gave me a taste of Ms. Brookner's writing skills, but I have no desire to ever revisit it again.
February 14, 2017
2 and 1/2 stars for this novel. Having never read anything by Brookner before, I found her style somewhat unique, and interesting at first, but the repetitiveness soon got to me. I wanted to say "Yeah, OK, I get it, he doesn't like his flat, he doesn't like his Sunday visits with Helena, he misses the house he grew up in, etc. etc. etc. Anita, you don't need to keep telling the reader the same things over and over." DESPITE all that, the story was still of enough interest for me that I finished reading the book. But I doubt I would choose to read any other of Brookner's novels in the future.
June 29, 2010
I shouldn't read so much crap. Except that when I return to Brookner afterwards, it's always such a relief. Brookner brings Paul Sturgis acutely alive, and you care passionately what happens to him, in spite of his faults. (He really is too nice.)
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