Fredrik Backman’s Anxious People is a novel that seems, at first glance, to be a comedy of errors. A failed bank robbery. A group of misfit hostages. Two overwhelmed police officers. The premise reads like a farce. But within this chaotic, absurd, and unexpectedly heartfelt story, Backman unravels something much deeper: a meditation on human frailty, empathy, and the invisible threads that connect us.
Through a clever structure and a cast of eccentric, yet deeply relatable characters, Anxious People accomplishes what few contemporary novels manage to do with such balance—it entertains while gently reminding us of our shared vulnerabilities. It makes readers laugh, but also challenges them to consider how little we often know about the people around us.
A Hostage Situation That Isn’t What It Seems
The novel centers on a hostage situation during an apartment viewing. A would-be bank robber, fleeing an unsuccessful attempt at robbing a cashless bank, barges into an open house and accidentally takes the people inside hostage. The police arrive, a standoff ensues, and chaos unfolds. But as the narrative progresses, it becomes clear that nothing is quite as it seems.
There is no real danger. No one is truly in control. And almost every character—from the bank robber to the hostages to the police officers—has their own hidden pain. The hostage situation becomes a backdrop for a broader exploration of anxiety, disappointment, and the struggle to be seen and understood in a fast-paced, judgmental world.
Characters Who Feel Real Because of Their Flaws
Backman excels at creating characters who are defined not by grand traits, but by small, painfully honest details. The people in Anxious People are not heroic or wise. They are flawed, impatient, confused, and often irrational. But that’s precisely what makes them feel so real.
There’s the elderly woman who masks her loneliness with sarcasm. A young couple expecting a child, unsure whether they even want to stay together. A retired couple who argue constantly but are, in truth, terrified of life without one another. And then there’s the bank robber—a character whose backstory is slowly revealed to be more sympathetic than expected, upending assumptions about criminality and desperation.
These are not caricatures. They’re people you might meet at the grocery store, or pass on the street without a second glance. Backman’s genius lies in showing how much complexity lies beneath the surface of everyday lives.
Nonlinear Storytelling That Mirrors Life’s Messiness
The novel’s structure is deliberately nonlinear. It jumps between past and present, shifting perspectives from one character to another. Interviews conducted by the police officers (Jim and Jack, a father-son duo with their own emotional baggage) serve as a framing device. Through these interviews, we see how unreliable memory can be—and how everyone filters events through their own emotional lens.
This storytelling technique reinforces one of the book’s key messages: that life is messy, confusing, and rarely fits into neat narratives. Just as the police struggle to piece together what happened during the hostage incident, readers must wade through contradictions and misdirections to arrive at the emotional core of the story.
Instead of being frustrating, the nonlinear approach enhances the book’s impact. It mirrors the way anxiety disrupts chronology, and how our understanding of others often unfolds in fragments rather than clear lines.
The Power of Compassion in Unexpected Places
At its heart, Anxious People is about the transformative power of compassion. Time and again, characters make small but meaningful choices to help each other—sometimes without even realizing it. A simple conversation becomes a turning point. A moment of honesty becomes a bridge between strangers.
What stands out is that Backman doesn’t romanticize these acts. Compassion isn’t portrayed as easy or magical. It’s awkward. It requires vulnerability. It often comes from people who are themselves struggling. But it’s also portrayed as essential. In a world that feels increasingly disconnected, these moments of human connection are framed as acts of quiet rebellion against cynicism and despair.
The bank robber, who begins the story as a criminal, ultimately becomes a symbol of this theme. Their actions force everyone involved to confront their own assumptions, griefs, and regrets. And in doing so, the characters inch toward something that looks a little like healing.
Humor as a Way Through Anxiety
Backman is known for his use of humor, and Anxious People is no exception. The novel is frequently laugh-out-loud funny, thanks to witty dialogue, absurd situations, and the author’s keen sense of timing. But this humor is never flippant. It serves a deeper purpose.
Anxiety, as depicted in the novel, is both crippling and absurd. It causes people to overthink, to act irrationally, to retreat from others even when connection is what they need most. Humor becomes a way to acknowledge these struggles without being crushed by them.
In one scene, a character panics over whether to remove their shoes during a hostage situation. It’s ridiculous—and entirely human. Backman uses such moments to remind us that anxiety doesn’t always look dramatic. Sometimes, it looks like agonizing over etiquette or replaying a conversation in your head for days. The laughter comes with recognition, not ridicule.
A Novel That Respects Its Readers
One of the most admirable aspects of Anxious People is that it respects its readers’ intelligence and emotional complexity. It doesn’t provide easy answers or simplistic resolutions. Characters don’t always get what they want. Some questions remain unresolved. But what the novel offers is something more lasting: a reminder that we’re all a little lost, and that’s okay.
Backman writes with empathy, not sentimentality. He doesn’t ask readers to pity his characters, but to see themselves in them. The result is a novel that feels like a conversation with a wise friend—one who listens, laughs, and gently nudges you toward a bit more hope.
Finding Order in the Chaos
Anxious People is a novel born from the contradictions of modern life. It’s about people who feel alone in crowded cities, who worry about making the wrong decisions, who long to be understood but don’t know how to ask for it. It captures the quiet panic that often accompanies adulthood—and the grace that can emerge when strangers choose kindness over judgment.
Through its chaotic structure, its compassionately drawn characters, and its disarming humor, the novel illustrates that healing often begins not with answers, but with acknowledgment. That amid confusion, laughter, and vulnerability, people can still show up for one another.
In a time when anxiety feels like a universal condition, Anxious People offers neither a cure nor a solution—but something equally powerful: understanding.
