'The Anthropologists' by Ayşegül Savaş | Book review

I recently finished The Anthropologists by Ayşegül Savaş, and honestly, it’s one of those rare novels that doesn’t shout, but quietly lingers in your thoughts long after you've closed the final page. It’s a slow, introspective read that invites you to sit with it, reflect, and really observe—which makes sense, because that’s what the whole book is about: observation, belonging, and the quiet rituals of daily life.

The story centers on Asya, a Turkish-born filmmaker, and her husband, Manu, who live in a foreign, unnamed European city. They’re both immigrants—rooted in different homelands but equally adrift—and are trying to find their footing, both physically (they're house-hunting throughout the book) and emotionally. Asya is working on a documentary project about people in a public park, and through this lens, the novel opens up into a thoughtful exploration of how people create meaning, community, and identity.

One of the things that really stood out to me is how The Anthropologists doesn’t follow a traditional plot structure. Instead, it's told through short, vignette-like chapters—almost like journal entries or field notes—which mirrors Asya's observational approach to the world. It’s like she’s an anthropologist herself, quietly studying the people around her, trying to understand their habits, their silences, and their gestures. That structure isn’t just stylistic—it’s deeply thematic. It reflects the way we piece together meaning in our own lives, one fleeting moment at a time.

The Title: “The Anthropologists”

The title is so fitting, and not just because Asya is technically doing fieldwork for her documentary. The real anthropology happening here is emotional and personal. Asya and Manu are constantly studying their environment and the people in it—not out of academic curiosity, but as a way to figure out how they fit in. In a sense, all of us become anthropologists when we live in places where we don’t quite belong—we learn to observe, adapt, and quietly translate. The title also nods to how we sometimes try to make sense of our own lives by stepping back, becoming observers of ourselves.

Themes: Belonging, Identity, and the Everyday

At its heart, The Anthropologists is about displacement—not just the literal kind that comes from living in a foreign country, but also the emotional kind that comes from not feeling fully rooted. Asya and Manu are both gently floating through this city, surrounded by the routines of others, trying to create their own. There’s a lovely, melancholic theme of in-betweenness: between countries, between languages, and between homes.

The book also explores the idea of domestic life as something both deeply ordinary and profoundly meaningful. There’s a lot of emphasis on small rituals—making tea, walking through the park, exchanging pleasantries with a neighbor. These small acts become ways of grounding oneself. Savaş writes these moments with such care that they feel sacred.

There’s rich symbolism throughout the book. The park, where Asya films her documentary, is a symbol of transient community—it’s a shared public space where people gather but don’t necessarily connect deeply. It mirrors Asya’s own feeling of being surrounded by people yet still feeling apart. Apartments and homes serve as symbols of permanence—or the lack of it. Asya and Manu are constantly searching for a place to live, which speaks to their deeper search for stability and identity.

Even the act of filming in the book is symbolic. Asya is always watching, capturing, and documenting but rarely participating. It’s a powerful metaphor for how she moves through life—like an observer, always slightly detached, trying to make sense of things from a distance.

Writing Style and Characters

Savaş’s writing is restrained but so elegant. She doesn’t over-explain or dramatize anything. The beauty is in the quiet. The characters, especially Asya, are introspective and gentle. Manu feels like a counterpart—someone who’s just as quietly lost but supportive. And then there are side characters like Ravi and Tereza, who each add layers to the couple’s experience of community and solitude.

Final Thoughts

The Anthropologists is a novel that rewards patience. If you’re looking for high drama or twists, it’s not that kind of book. But if you enjoy stories that reflect on the human condition with grace and subtlety, this will absolutely resonate. It reminded me a lot of authors like Teju Cole or Rachel Cusk—writers who understand the richness in everyday moments and the quiet ache of modern life.

I’d definitely recommend this to readers who’ve lived abroad or anyone who has ever felt like they’re living just outside the edges of belonging. It’s meditative, moving, and beautifully written. I’d give it a strong 4.0 out of 5 stars.