Reading Can We Be Strangers Again? feels less like diving into a story and more like scrolling through scattered diary entries of a 20-year-old boy. The book isn’t a novel in the true sense—it’s a collection of repetitive thoughts and fleeting feelings without any real narrative or structure to hold them together.
There’s no connection between characters, no depth to their presence, and no meaningful progression. People enter and exit the pages without leaving an impression, as if they are just placeholders for the author’s emotions at the moment. Unfortunately, even those emotions don’t evolve. In almost every chapter, the same tone repeats: his heart is aching, he falls for a new girl, and then the cycle restarts. After a few chapters, it becomes predictable, monotonous, and exhausting.
Rather than capturing the raw beauty of a young mind’s diary, the book turns into a headache of redundancy. With no story, no growth, and no unique insights, it struggles to justify itself as more than scattered notes. If you’re looking for a narrative, character development, or even varied reflections, this is not the book for you.
In short: Avoid this at any cost if you value your time and peace of mind.