This is the latest installment in Elizabeth Strout’s beloved Lucy Barton series and we get the convergence of two of Strout’s iconic characters: Lucy Barton and Olive Kitteridge. Strout’s signature blend of dark and innocent tones is once again at play.
We’re still in Maine, where Lucy has settled with her ex-husband William, leaving behind the familiarity of New York City. As Lucy adjusts to her new surroundings, we see her deepening connection with Bob Burgess—another character familiar to Strout readers. This time, Bob takes on a more central role, and Strout gives us intimate access to his inner life, including his involvement in a local murder case and his complex marriage.
Through the murder case, the book explores themes of childhood neglect, alienation, and emotional damage—territory Strout navigates with characteristic empathy and honesty.
Strout excels at portraying people on the margins: their vulnerabilities, their small dignities, their deep flaws. She never sentimentalises suffering, but she doesn’t turn away from it either.
A key theme in this novel is love… the kind that is not fully realised. It’s not exactly unrequited love, but rather love that goes unspoken, unacted upon. When a connection hovers in a delicate space between friendship and something deeper. The romantic message of the novel is ambiguous and, in some ways, quite innocent.
There’s a sense of paths not taken—of roads that are quietly closed to us, either by circumstance or by choice. Strout’s depiction of these emotional cul-de-sacs is subtle but powerful. Still, I found myself wrestling with the novel’s portrayal of love. There’s something vaguely unsatisfying about it. But maybe the contrast between the world’s harshness and the softness and frailty of human longing is central to the book’s message?
One word: innocent.
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