Mixed feelings abound for this one. It made me genuinely tear up a few times in the beginning, but I really despised it by the end.

Fair warning before anyone considers picking this up (which, spoilers, I don't recommend doing): do NOT read this if you're in the middle of a depressive episode or if you're in any kind of emotional turmoil about the state of the world (and the US specifically) right now.

Which begs the question: Who isn't in a state of emotional turmoil? Which leads to my main question upon finishing the novel: Who the hell is this book for, exactly? People who want validation that the world sucks and that the way they feel is "normal", and that nothing you can do will prevent the coming fascist storm, and that having hope for the future is stupid, but also so is being depressed and wanting to die about it? Fence-sitters who, at the first sign of discomfort, will put this book down anyways? MAGA freaks who will probably never pick up a book written by a woman to begin with?

(Okay, on second thought, maybe I have a bit more vitriol toward this book than I thought I did 💀 Also, mild spoilers ahead for some "reveals" later in the novel, but I don't recommend that you pick this up anyways).

I actually think The Things We Never Say had a strong start. The synopsis purposefully keeps things vague, and I will as well; all you need to know is that the novel follows an older middle-aged man named Artie, a beloved high school history teacher who, at the start of the school year and the weeks leading up to the (heavily implied) 2024 presidential election, is having some serious concerns about the way the country is heading (despite it having been heading in a bad way long before that, but. I digress 🤪).

At the beginning, the book is focused far more on our protagonist's relationships and his own state of mind. This is where the novel really shone for me initially, but it takes a turn around a third of the way in to something else; not completely different, as it still focuses on Artie's relationships with his students, his family, and himself, but different enough to where the tone and main priorities of the novel change, and it just all goes downhill from there.

My main issue with this novel is the fact that it is so obviously targeted at white liberal doomerists who just want an excuse to throw their hands up and give up. It spends the entire word count validating this response, while offering no perspectives from or empathy for the marginalized people inside and outside of the country who have already been living with the reality and consequences of American imperialism and fascism for decades (centuries, really). It's painfully out of touch and lacking in true emotional intelligence despite so clearly wanting to be moving and honest, and once I realized that, I was checked out completely. I was absolutely seething reading this after about the halfway point.

Nowhere is this obliviousness more obvious than in the way it handles specific political discussions. We can all agree that Elon Musk is a complete laughingstock nutjob, especially because he's autistic (yes, the novel actually points this out 💀)! But, oh, the "issue" of the genocide in Gaza is a little more complicated 🫤 A minor side character who is revealed to be protecting an immigrant family from ICE offs himself after the pressure of being put under investigation by the FBI; we're meant to feel bad for him, but the fate of the family is never given a second thought by the narrative or our protagonist. Every female character in this book is a bad person (except for maybe two, and one of them Artie admits to secretly disliking for years before completely reneging on that opinion later with NO acknowledgement from the other characters or himself 😭) and that's never explored or deconstructed. Artie's buddy who is later revealed to be MAGA is given far more grace than any woman in this book is (if I didn't know otherwise, I would have thought this was written by a man 💀). The book clearly wants to be political, but it doesn't want to rock the boat in any way, so it ends up saying literally nothing of substance and in so doing gives in to the fascist rhetoric it claims to condemn.

There were a few times during my reading experience where I had to pull away from the novel and ask myself if my ongoing feelings towards it were reactionary or, perhaps, were even the intended response. There's nothing that irritates me more than pieces of fiction being dragged through the mud for daring to confront the reader; depiction does not always equal endorsement. But after chewing on it and looking at the way the book is being marketed and reviewed, I don't think The Things We Never Say is meant to be a condemnation of white liberal pessimism and inaction: it's a validation of it. It gives permission for the reader to continue doing nothing, to continue wallowing in self-pity while those who are far more at risk continue to suffer. The fact that this is longlisted for a major literary award while being touted as emotionally resonant and poignant is troubling and bleak. A book that is so genuinely alarming in its message that it half-pulled me out of a depressive spiral and made me confront my own sense of hopelessness, which is about the only "positive" thing I can say about it.

1/5.