Review by Scribe After Five
Nov 12I don’t think I’ve ever highlighted a book this much. Anxious People is the first Fredrik Backman book I’ve ever read, and I’m so glad I picked it up.
I try not to read blurbs before starting a book — I like going in blind, without shaping expectations, letting the story unfold naturally. When I first saw this one, the title and cover gave off a bit of a Sally Rooney vibe, so I expected something introspective and quiet. And while it was introspective and deeply relatable, it also surprised me in the best way possible. The tone was nothing like I imagined.
Backman somehow takes the heaviest topics — anxiety, suicide, grief, depression, complicated family dynamics, and the messiness of being human — and delivers them with humor, absurdity, and heart. I wasn’t expecting to find so much light in such dark subjects. His writing is both tender and hilariously self-aware. It’s the kind of storytelling that makes you laugh and then quietly stab you in the chest two sentences later.
The structure of the book is brilliant — especially the interviews between the hostages and the policemen. They’re all a mixed bag of anxieties and contradictions, each one as messy and loveable as the next. Through these fragmented perspectives, Backman explores the wild paradox of being human: how we’re convinced we’re all so unique, yet at our core, we’re achingly similar.
All of the characters carry the story beautifully. Backman is a mastermind in how he weaves their lives together, showing us just how connected we really are. I’ve never been prouder to be one of his “idiots.”
Despite the humor and the chaos, there are moments of genuine tenderness that caught me off guard. Maybe that’s why I found myself underlining entire paragraphs. As someone who struggles with anxiety and tends to overthink everything, I felt seen in so many of these pages. Backman puts words to feelings I’ve never been able to articulate — that sense of knowing exactly what you want to say, yet when you try, everything comes out as word salad.
Reading Anxious People didn’t magically solve anything for me. But it did make me feel a little less alone. Like there’s a small tribe of other anxious idiots out there who understand how I function — not exactly, but enough to make me feel understood.
Out of everyone in the book, Zara and Estelle resonated with me the most. I saw my own stubbornness reflected in Zara, and a quiet compassion in Estelle that reminded me of who I try to be when things get hard. When I think about it, all of the characters carry fragments of my own anxieties — tiny pieces of myself scattered throughout, glued together in a way that feels deeply personal.
I love this book. It’s rare to find something that makes you laugh, ache, and heal — sometimes all on the same page. Anxious People earns a permanent place on my shelf and, honestly, in my life.
Song choice: The Archer by Taylor Swift
I don’t think I’ve ever highlighted a book this much. Anxious People is the first Fredrik Backman book I’ve ever read, and I’m so glad I picked it up.
I try not to read blurbs before starting a book — I like going in blind, without shaping expectations, letting the story unfold naturally. When I first saw this one, the title and cover gave off a bit of a Sally Rooney vibe, so I expected something introspective and quiet. And while it was introspective and deeply relatable, it also surprised me in the best way possible. The tone was nothing like I imagined.
Backman somehow takes the heaviest topics — anxiety, suicide, grief, depression, complicated family dynamics, and the messiness of being human — and delivers them with humor, absurdity, and heart. I wasn’t expecting to find so much light in such dark subjects. His writing is both tender and hilariously self-aware. It’s the kind of storytelling that makes you laugh and then quietly stab you in the chest two sentences later.
The structure of the book is brilliant — especially the interviews between the hostages and the policemen. They’re all a mixed bag of anxieties and contradictions, each one as messy and loveable as the next. Through these fragmented perspectives, Backman explores the wild paradox of being human: how we’re convinced we’re all so unique, yet at our core, we’re achingly similar.
All of the characters carry the story beautifully. Backman is a mastermind in how he weaves their lives together, showing us just how connected we really are. I’ve never been prouder to be one of his “idiots.”
Despite the humor and the chaos, there are moments of genuine tenderness that caught me off guard. Maybe that’s why I found myself underlining entire paragraphs. As someone who struggles with anxiety and tends to overthink everything, I felt seen in so many of these pages. Backman puts words to feelings I’ve never been able to articulate — that sense of knowing exactly what you want to say, yet when you try, everything comes out as word salad.
Reading Anxious People didn’t magically solve anything for me. But it did make me feel a little less alone. Like there’s a small tribe of other anxious idiots out there who understand how I function — not exactly, but enough to make me feel understood.
Out of everyone in the book, Zara and Estelle resonated with me the most. I saw my own stubbornness reflected in Zara, and a quiet compassion in Estelle that reminded me of who I try to be when things get hard. When I think about it, all of the characters carry fragments of my own anxieties — tiny pieces of myself scattered throughout, glued together in a way that feels deeply personal.
I love this book. It’s rare to find something that makes you laugh, ache, and heal — sometimes all on the same page. Anxious People earns a permanent place on my shelf and, honestly, in my life.
Song choice: The Archer by Taylor Swift
