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Rate: 5/5

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Anxious People is a profound outlook on humanity, painting a canvas of love, pain, and adulthood with a single brush. 

“This story is about a lot of things, but mostly about idiots. So it needs saying from the outset that it’s always very easy to declare that other people are idiots, but only if you forget how idiotically difficult being human is.”

It’s very sad for me to admit that Anxious People have been collecting dust on my shelf for quite a while now. Whenever I tried to read it, some force always elicited me to pick up another book, something that I now sincerely regret succumbing to. Though this is a regular occurrence for me as a mood reader, I would’ve loved reading this story just a little bit earlier. 

I believe this sentiment speaks volume to how heartbreakingly beautiful this book is: there is a quality to this tale that has filled a hole in me that I didn’t know existed. Now, this would sound a little bit confusing. How can a book be so special that I feel this way? Though I will elaborate on this later, I don’t have a clear answer except to not hesitate reading this book like I did. 

In hindsight, nothing really happens in Anxious People: an one-line description would be that an attempted robbery brings eight total strangers together, locking them in an isolated place for mere hours. If you just read the blurb, you would not think that it is the book that it is; when you open the pages themselves, that’s when the actual magic unfolds. I think this is why I fell in love with this tale so quickly; the surprising depth of a seemingly normal tale is charming to say the least. 

“Boats that stay in the harbor are safe, sweetheart, but that’s not what boats were built for.”

The main cause of this is how real and tender the characters are. From the unstable father and son relationship between policemen Jack and Jim, to the often hateful disdain of bank manager Zara, every single person we meet is painfully real. Bachman is not hesitant to paint them in their worst light; as a reader, there were countless moments of frustration and annoyance that in turn, made them even more lovable. Take Zara for example. Her constant condescending attitude to others is definitely not a quality I personally enjoyed, but despite that, I couldn’t help but let out some sympathy at her love for loud music and tendency to avoid her mistakes and the hurt she causes. Her handwritten note she always carries and the idea of suicide that permeates her entire story simply broke my heart. 

The book is filled with little gems and details like this: Estelle pretending that her late husband is outside parking the car, married couple Roger and Anna-Lenna compromising so much to keep their relationship going, and the bank robber being pushed to do terrible things because of her love for her children. This book is unmistakably a tale of being human in a world that pushes us to our limits: no one is perfect, and every one of us is just barely getting by to survive and protect the things we love. 

Some may find such depth boring, but it opened my eyes to so much regarding being an adult. As someone who is still yet to experience the pain that comes with adulthood, seeing all of these perfectly normal people suffer, was an extremely helpful and emotional read. To conclude, I would absolutely recommend this book to people of all ages, and best assured I will come back to Bachman’s world once again.

“We don’t have a plan, we just do our best to get through the day, because there’ll be another one coming along tomorrow.”