'We've Decided to Go in a Different Direction: Essays' isn't a novel or a story-driven work with traditional 'characters' in the way you'd find in fiction—it's a collection of essays by Richard Roper. But if we're talking about the 'main figures' that pop up throughout the book, it's really Roper himself who takes center stage. His voice is the thread tying everything together, and his personal anecdotes, musings, and reflections feel like the heart of the collection. You get this sense of him as a deeply relatable, sometimes self-deprecating, but always endearing narrator.
That said, the essays do introduce us to plenty of real-life 'characters' from Roper's world—his friends, family, and even strangers who leave an impression. There's a warmth to how he writes about them, like they're not just subjects but people who've genuinely shaped his perspective. One memorable figure is his dad, who pops up in a few essays with this mix of humor and quiet wisdom. Roper’s way of capturing these relationships makes the book feel like a series of conversations with a close friend, where even the smallest stories carry weight.
What I love about this collection is how Roper turns everyday moments into something bigger—whether he’s reflecting on career mishaps, awkward social encounters, or the weirdly profound moments in life. It’s less about a cast of characters and more about the way he frames his experiences, making you laugh one minute and nod in recognition the next. If you’re into essays that blend humor with heartfelt honesty, this one’s a gem.
2026-02-28 03:21:06
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After finishing work for the day, I checked my phone and realized I had been added to a group chat called "Catch the Thief."
The members were my parents, my brother, Brian Wise, and my sister-in-law, Paulene Wise.
I typed a question mark.
Paulene replied instantly.
[My jewelry is missing. I didn't add you here to accuse you or anything. I just wanted to ask what you think. Honestly, there's no use for other people in our family to take my jewelry, so I've been wondering... I'm not saying you definitely stole it. But if you did, you don't have to deny it. I'm willing to give you a chance to make things right.]
My mother said nothing. She just kept tagging me over and over.
I let out a small laugh and typed back.
[Maybe Brian took it and gave it to his side piece. I'm not saying he definitely has someone else. Just that men his age sometimes start looking around. I'm only guessing here. And if he really did mess up, you could give him a chance to make things right, too.]
After we were both reborn, my wife and I decided to part ways and live our own lives.
She went to Newport with Klay Bernhard, the son of a wealthy family, while I went to study at a university in the capital.
By leveraging her past life's experience, she helped her new boyfriend avoid investment risks and devise a brilliant business strategy. It didn't take long before she got everything she wanted in the past life.
Meanwhile, I continued to focus on my studies and was content with living a mundane life.
We met again at a class reunion years later.
I saw her arm-in-arm with Klay. She was showing off the enormous diamond ring she wore.
"It's been ten years, haven't you made anything of yourself?"
All I did was smile and remain silent. That was until a wealthy businesswoman showed up late to the scene and threw herself into my arms.
"You promised me we would go get our marriage license when I come back, you can't go back on your word!"
At that moment, my wife from the past life, who was usually prideful, had a look of sheer disbelief in her eyes.
It finally clicked for her that the reason I was willing to separate from her for so many years was not that I was stubborn. It was because we were through.
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The entire world froze. Overnight, the city plunged to –40 °F.
Yet, in the middle of this frozen apocalypse, my mother, my sister and her son moved into the home I bought for my marriage.
Even my own husband took my sister’s side.
They threw me out into the freezing cold to scavenge for supplies.
I came back frozen half to death, and they had not even saved me a bowl of warm soup.
Then, my sister shoved me straight off the fifth-floor landing. In that bitter cold, my body hit the ground and shattered like glass.
When I woke again, I found myself back in the week before the apocalypse struck.
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"You're doing this just because I stood behind Mandy and not you while we were taking our graduation photos?" he asks.
"Yes," I merely reply.
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Having known each other for ten years and dated for four, Philip is certain that I'll never leave him.
However, he's unaware that the graduation photos are just an excuse.
If I'm capable of taking my graduation photos alone, I can walk my future path alone.
Once I've gone abroad, the sky's the limit for me.
I no longer need him to stand behind me either.
The day my mother brought her childhood sweetheart back to the villa, my father—who had already quit smoking—stood on the balcony and smoked through the entire night.
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But my father never agreed.
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He never expected his words to become prophecy. My mother truly did stop loving him.
Later, when she appeared before the media, arm in arm with that man, my father didn't look back. He boarded a flight overseas and disappeared from our lives.
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On the day we chose our college majors, the influencer who was the school's heartthrob held a livestream and announced that he had decided to lead the anti-rat-race movement and would choose to attend a vocational college.
The whole class followed him.
Seeing the rapidly increasing number of followers, he smiled smugly. "They can do these low-class jobs if they like. I'll change my choice back to Harvard University at the last minute."
I tried to dissuade him, but this would cause network congestion.
My girlfriend slapped me. "You nerd! Who are you to tell our idol, Zach Simpson, what to do?"
In my previous life, I spent half an hour dissuading them, and only then did the students change their college choices.
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The students who had entered prestigious universities collectively vented their anger on me.
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"Why did we follow Zach in the first place? Wasn't it to break this damn rule?"
"Zach was leading us to realize our dreams! If you hadn't interfered, I would already have gone to a vocational college with him!"
They spoke disdainfully of prestigious universities, yet not one of them chose to drop out.
I froze to death in a dark, cold freezer, my eyes wide open.
Years later, they became elites in their respective fields, while my parents could only weep looking at my portrait.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Zach was livestreaming in the classroom.
This time, I promised I would not interfere. Instead, I wished them a happy vocational college experience.
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What’s fascinating is how Patchett turns real people into literary figures without fictionalizing them. Her father, a retired LAPD officer, appears in vignettes that reveal their complicated bond, while her literary mentors (like the late Lucy Grealy) haunt the pages with quiet influence. Even her Nashville bookstore employees become side characters in her life’s plot. The essays about writing—particularly her musings on discipline and creativity—almost make her craft feel like a secondary protagonist. It’s less about who these people are objectively and more about how they live in Patchett’s memory, which gives the collection its tender, mosaic-like quality.
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One standout essay features her hilarious yet unsettling encounter with a home intruder, which becomes a metaphor for internal struggles. Other 'characters' include fleeting figures—neighbors, family members, or even pop culture references—but they’re more like supporting actors in her solo performance. It’s less about who’s in the story and more about how she frames their roles in her existential comedy.
Teju Cole's 'Known and Strange Things' isn't a novel with traditional protagonists, but its essays pulse with recurring figures—both real and imagined. The book feels like a mosaic of encounters: there's W.G. Sebald, whose haunting prose Cole dissects with reverence, and James Baldwin, whose shadow lingers over discussions of race and belonging. Then there's Cole himself, threading through airports, art galleries, and digital spaces, observing everything with a photographer's eye (which makes sense—he's one!). His voice is the true anchor, whether he's analyzing drone warfare or reminiscing about Lagos street food.
The collection's 'characters' are often ideas—migration, memory, the tension between seeing and being seen. I love how Cole treats place as a living entity too; cities like New York and Lagos become protagonists in their own right. It's less about plot and more about the way certain faces—Frantz Fanon's stern gaze, a stranger's smile in a foreign subway—stick with you long after reading. Makes me want to revisit his fiction, like 'Open City,' where this observational magic becomes full-blown narrative.