Sadly, to me it was Anita Brookner’s worst novel. It dealt with all the Brookner topics again, and this time to a degree that it totally annoyed me. The characters behaved in a way that did not feel real and I just could not care for them.

In her final novels Brookner’s characters seem to live in a frozen state, they are in limbo, not being able to get themselves into action and put their lives back on track. It feels they have almost no desire to lift themselves out of their miserable state. And it irritated me.

Brookner’s strong side was her splendid and immaculate writing style. She was a master of prose and a joy to read for any reader of literature. Her weak point however was her lack of imagination as a writer that resulted in an endless repetition of the same topic over and over again. I wished she had approached her subjects from more angles or in different genres maybe now and then.

"If Henry James were around, the only writer he'd be reading with complete approval would be Anita Brookner."
---THE NEW YORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW

"His doorbell rang before he could entertain further suppositions, or even decide whether or not he was pleased with the prospect of this visit. He had thought earlier that he would devote the evening to Henry James, one of the later novels, which would entail scrupulous attention, a plan appropriate to evenings in which there was no possibility of distraction. Page 53

In this last Brookner book, she points out devastatingly how when we get to be a certain age, many of us find that we are surrounded by strangers. As the book opens, Paul Sturgis is 73, retired, unmarried and alone. He faces the prospect of coming to the end of his life in this very condition, which bothers him greatly. Then two women enter his life and give him hope that something might change for him. But this is Brookner, an author I've come to know very well, and there will be no rainbows and roses at the end of this book. I certainly know that. But in her signature glorious prose, she allows the plot to develop and surround Paul and these two strangers who have come to inhabit his life, in a rather perfunctory way, so of course she keeps us guessing. As he ponders one woman, a distant cousin that he has been expected to visit on a regular Sunday rotation, Brookner gives us this:

"Despite her age, she seemed to behave like a thoroughly contemporary woman, regarding men as indispensable for providing certain advantages, and vengeful in her opinions if these were not forthcoming. He felt sorry for men in this unequal struggle. Women today, he thought, were as indignant as suffragettes, but their indignation had nothing to do with a desire for equality, just the opposite. They wanted preferential treatment and were upset if this was not forthcoming. They had acquired the upper hand and had learned how to play it."

Brookner's no fool. She may see the glass as half empty but she knows exactly what's going on and spells it out for you, albeit in luscious prose. I don't know if it was because I knew this was her last book or if it hit closer to home because I'm old and cranky myself but this book was a very emotional read for me. ( )

This book is so depressing I don't think I'm going to bother fixing it. I no longer care how it ends and just want the old man to die a miserable death. He's already living a miserable life.

He's 72 years old and is looking back over his life with disappointment. Two women come into his life and they're both essentially strangers (hence the title) and still he finds himself actually wondering which one he will marry so he'll have someone to look after him prior to his dying, so he doesn't have to die alone. He does absolutely nothing to better his life (pick up a hobby, for example) ... just continues to contemplate which of these two women he doesn't particularly care for he will marry.

I am positively bored with this book and just want this pathetic man to die already!

Adrianne ( )

A frighteningly vivid depiction of the loneliness possible in old age, especially for someone who has remained single and childless. The Freudian epigraph, while said about England, seems just as true, if not exaggerated, in the U.S. It made me think more deeply about human connections, how and where they take place and sustain themselves -- and how we might better support their incubation and development, individually and in community. ( )

What an odd story! Anita Brookner’s "Strangers" is about a 70 year old man, Paul Sturgis, who is all alone in the world… no family, no friends, and no children. He hasn’t even one or two close friends. He’s retired from a career in banking and has pretty much given up on maintaining any contact with old work associates. And he doesn’t know his neighbors. He is truly alone.

As the story begins, the reader discovers Paul is bored, depressed, and bitter that life has passed him by. The problem with "Strangers" is the meager plot and the small cast of characters (4 people, including Paul). Because those two critical ingredients are minimal, one would expect highly developed characters, but such development does not occur. The reader never learns just what motivates anyone or feels empathy toward them. Thus, none of the characters were remotely likable. And worse, none of them seem like real people. There is no emotion, no humor, and no intimate details. They are almost like modern art- a lot of broad strokes- cold, abstract and elusive.

Anita Brookner makes several references to Proust, as though Brookner is comparing her superficial character Paul to Marcel Proust. In your dreams Brookner! The idea is preposterous. There is absolutely no comparison. Proust was the deepest, most self-analyzed character I’ve ever come across. And regarding other people, Proust was an excellent judge of character. He was highly emotional, passionately analytical, obsessively descriptive, and philosophically thought-provoking. In comparison Paul Sturgis seems like an empty shell of a man.

Anita Brookner won the Booker Prize for her novel "Hotel Du Lac", but this novel falls far short of prize material. The lack of detail and minimal plot leave the reader to wonder why they bothered to finish reading the book. Perhaps that is Brookner’s point- Paul Sturgis lacked any credible personality. It is no wonder he lived such an oddly disconnected life. It reminds me of the Beatles song “Nowhere Man.” Such a subject made for a great song, but for an interesting novel? Not so much. ( )