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A review by jessicaxmaria
Intermezzo by Sally Rooney
dark
emotional
hopeful
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
fast-paced
5.0
At first, confusion. Though the rhythm becomes apparent after a few pages, I felt less guided into INTERMEZZO than in Sally Rooney’s previous novels. The stream-of-consciousness writing drops the reader into a funeral from the onset. And so the book begins to reveal the tenuous and complicated relationship between two brothers. Ivan is a 22-year-old chess champion, and Peter an established lawyer ten years his senior, and their father has died.
The novel displays the brothers’ lives in contrast to each other in their grief, and in their romantic interactions with a few women. Rooney is a remarkable writer, and her popularity is probably most associated with the way she writes intimately about her characters. I do think she leveled up in this novel, in getting at the innermost thoughts of two men; outwardly, one seems awkward, the other social and affable. But there’s that inward layer to each that is far more complex and inspected with razor-sharp insight by Rooney. The stream-of-consciousness works not only because it differentiates Peter and Ivan’s chapters, but it adds to the confidential feeling of the narrative itself. The dizzying, exhilarating thoughts captivated me. I came to love both of these men, and the women as well. I don’t think I’ve felt a more resonant character lately than Margaret, someone who has a history and is trying to cultivate a pleasant life for herself–and wondering whether she deserves it.
Rooney’s characters are always of a searching variety, but aren’t we all? Isn’t that what always feels most human about them? We, too, are searching for a nugget, a shred, a sliver of joy–that fleeting feeling of happiness that can power us through the dread, monotony, unjust qualities of modern living. Rooney has a powerful ability to create a sense of wonder about life and relationships and the choices we make. We can mean well and be principled and make mistakes and not be perfect, but we still deserve to feel worthy–to feel love. And that may seem corny, but I have to believe it’s one of life’s truths. I think Rooney must, too.
The novel displays the brothers’ lives in contrast to each other in their grief, and in their romantic interactions with a few women. Rooney is a remarkable writer, and her popularity is probably most associated with the way she writes intimately about her characters. I do think she leveled up in this novel, in getting at the innermost thoughts of two men; outwardly, one seems awkward, the other social and affable. But there’s that inward layer to each that is far more complex and inspected with razor-sharp insight by Rooney. The stream-of-consciousness works not only because it differentiates Peter and Ivan’s chapters, but it adds to the confidential feeling of the narrative itself. The dizzying, exhilarating thoughts captivated me. I came to love both of these men, and the women as well. I don’t think I’ve felt a more resonant character lately than Margaret, someone who has a history and is trying to cultivate a pleasant life for herself–and wondering whether she deserves it.
Rooney’s characters are always of a searching variety, but aren’t we all? Isn’t that what always feels most human about them? We, too, are searching for a nugget, a shred, a sliver of joy–that fleeting feeling of happiness that can power us through the dread, monotony, unjust qualities of modern living. Rooney has a powerful ability to create a sense of wonder about life and relationships and the choices we make. We can mean well and be principled and make mistakes and not be perfect, but we still deserve to feel worthy–to feel love. And that may seem corny, but I have to believe it’s one of life’s truths. I think Rooney must, too.