While an intriguing premise, The Comfort of Strangers is a monotonous novella following a young couple on holiday whose encounter with a local puts them in the center of a dangerous drama. McEwan's writing is simple and inoffensive, but lacks a degree of vibrancy required to truly engage the reader. While the local couple, Caroline and Robert, are graced with disturbing backstories, the main characters, Mary and Colin, barely feel like real people. The pacing is wildly imbalanced, with the action of the book taking a backseat plain, unembellished description. This, combined with the relatively minimal characterization provided, leaves the ending feeling rushed and underbaked; I still have a lot of questions about how we arrived where we did.

While the ending delivers on the "shocking violence" it promises, there is a notable lack of "breathtaking terror," and despite the lure of "sexual obsession," any sex in this book feels wholly un-erotic and sterile. It was a quick read, and while I didn't hate it, I found myself entirely unaffected by this book.
As always, read the content warnings.