Review: ‘Olive Kitteridge' fans will love Elizabeth Strout's new hero
"Tiny interactions are antidepressants," someone says in the new Maria Bamford documentary, "Paralyzed by Hope." That sentiment kept sneaking into my head as I read Elizabeth Strout's glorious new novel, "The Things We Never Say."
Like all of the books by Strout, who won the Pulitzer Prize for "Olive Kitteridge," "The Things We Never Say" is full of tiny interactions that buoy her characters. For the first time in a Strout book, those characters don't live in her native Maine but in Massachusetts. But Strout fans will recognize her protagonist: a teacher named Artie Dam who has, by most measures, a terrific life, but who feels vaguely discontented with it.
"The Things We Never Say" gently looks at why that is. As the title hints, the people in "Things" - like people in real life - tend not to unburden themselves of their feelings; they clench them in. And, not surprisingly, that's not healthy. Over the course of the novel, Artie learns about an unspoken family secret he probably could have guessed. He also grapples with the reverberations of a long-ago tragedy - his son was the driver in an accident that killed a young woman and that has affected many of the other characters.
One of the book's main themes is that trauma and damage, like red hair or skill with animals, can be handed down from one generation to the next. Artie becomes aware of this over the course of the novel, particularly in conversations with his son Rob, who worries that Artie is contemplating death by suicide (an alarming number of Strout characters do) and who implores him not to proceed, using the example of robots that NASA rocketed into space before sending humans.
"That's what you're like for me, Dad. You're my explorer, so if you ever did that it would mean that I could do it too, and so you can't," Rob says.
That's about as boldly as anyone in "The Things We Never Say" expresses themselves. Strout never overreaches with her writing, which is built on the emotional progress her characters achieve when they genuinely connect. "Argument" is too strong of a word for the delicacy of Strout's prose but her notion in "Things" is that secrets are almost the same as lies, that failing to confront major life events is exactly the same as lying by omission.
Strout is not a sentimental writer. The folks in her books don't automatically become happy because they open up to each other (Olive Kitteridge, who has been in three Strout books and is obliquely referred to in "Things," has sanded off a few edges but she remains the same crotchety, difficult person she always was). But Strout does offer her characters hope.
As Artie re-calibrates his bonds with his son and his wife, Evie, he finds a true north in the high school history classes he teaches. He's a compassionate teacher who sees potential in the most challenging young people, even when they disagree with his liberal politics (the book is set in 2024) or insult him. Strout indicates that their potential will be fulfilled in short, jump-ahead passages - one of the passages reveals that Artie inspires an awkward girl named Rhonda to help other people by becoming a minister. We may have screwed up in the past, Strout seems to believe, but we have a chance not to wreck the future.
"It's partly up to all of you," Artie tells a classful of students. "You will be in charge very soon, so take that responsibility very seriously."
The Things We Never Say
By: Elizabeth Strout.
Publisher: Random House, 203 pages.
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This story was originally published May 6, 2026 at 4:31 AM.