Reviewed by Leah Robinson
Sally Rooney’s Intermezzo invites readers into the deeply introspective world of two brothers, Peter and Ivan, as they navigate the labyrinth of grief, familial tension, romance in adulthood and self-discovery. With her characteristic microscopic lens on human relationships, Rooney masterfully transforms the mundane into profound revelations. From the opening pages, the novel feels both intimate and expansive, exploring love, loss, and identity against the backdrop of modern societal issues.
At its core, Intermezzo showcases Rooney’s ability to dissect relationships with unwavering precision. The narrative centers around thirty-two-year-old Peter, a successful lawyer grappling with the emotional weight of his father’s death and his strained relationship with his younger brother Ivan, an awkward twenty-two year old competitive chess player who still has braces. While the brothers’ grief serves as a unifying thread, much of the novel’s power lies in its exploration of their isolation from one another and their internal struggles. Rooney’s nuanced character studies ensure that even as Peter and Ivan’s flaws come to light, they remain deeply human and relatable. Rooney’s prose remains as evocative as ever, blending the simplicity of everyday moments with strikingly poetic descriptions of all ranges of human emotion. Her dialogue unfolds with a natural and sharp appeal and is laden with subtext, cementing her reputation as a master of interpersonal dynamics.
The novel falls into the genre of contemporary literary fiction, echoing themes of familial estrangement and existential reflection reminiscent of works by authors like Elena Ferrante. Similar to Rooney’s earlier novels, Intermezzo is grounded in realism but imbued with her unique sociopolitical commentary, specifically examining the ways in which socio-economic standings, age and professions impacts the position of power in a variety of relationships. Topics such as wage labor, the housing crisis in Dublin, and modern-day existentialism weave seamlessly into the narrative, offering a textured backdrop to the characters’ personal journeys as well as an additional layer of realism.
Stylistically, Rooney’s use of multiple perspectives stands out as one of the book’s most compelling features. While multi-POV narratives can often feel disjointed, Rooney’s execution is clearly intentional and effective. Each character’s voice, Peter’s stream-of-consciousness thoughts, Ivan’s methodical and introspective reflections, and Margaret’s quiet self-awareness, feels distinct yet interconnected. These shifts in perspective illuminate not only the characters’ individual struggles but also the unspoken tensions and misunderstandings between them. However, Margaret’s inclusion within Ivan’s chapters feels less integrated, detracting slightly from the otherwise seamless narrative. Another notable aspect of Rooney’s writing is the lack of punctuation. The Irish author’s previous novels, such as Normal People and Beautiful World Where Are You, also lay claim to this distinctive stylistic choice as this has become a trademark of Rooney’s writing. This choice to neglect quotation marks allows the dialogue and internal monologues to seamlessly blend, creating an experience that further invites the reader into the point of view of the characters.
Rooney’s exploration of Peter and Ivan’s relationship marks a departure from her usual focus on romantic entanglements, although this novel in no way lacks the element of complicated romances. She instead pivots to prioritizing a focus on the complexities of sibling dynamics, depicting moments of vulnerability, resentment, and tentative connection that occur throughout their shared childhood memories as well as brutal adulthood realities. The scenes between Peter and Ivan, in particular, crackle with tension, capturing the fraught push and pull of their relationship. The Koubek brothers’ inability to openly grieve together, despite their shared loss that onsets both of their unraveling, underscores the novel’s central questions: How do we reconcile with loss? How do we confront our own reflections when they feel alien? And what does it mean to rebuild intimacy when it feels out of reach and is it ever truly out of reach?
The novel’s structure reflects the characters’ internal chaos, particularly through Rooney’s attention to language and pacing. Peter’s chapters mirror his frantic, occasionally inebriated thoughts, often meandering yet punctuated by moments of sharp clarity which mirror the brilliance that lies buried within him from years past. Ivan’s narrative, in contrast, is more deliberate, capturing his anxious introspection and struggles to balance the demands of his chess career with his personal life. Ivan’s mind weighs all sides of circumstance, exploring the uncertainties of propulsion into maturity while maintaining the childlike quality of a quick temper and the insecurities of a blooming teenager. This stylistic variation deepens the reader’s understanding of the brothers and their distinct worldviews, evoking sympathy for both sides, even in their darkest moments.
One of Rooney’s strengths lies in her ability to craft flawed yet sympathetic characters. Peter and Ivan are no exception. Peter’s embodiment of privilege and entitlement coupled with his psychologically twisting, illicit affairs make him difficult to root for, yet his moments of self-awareness, loitering thoughts of imposter syndrome and vulnerability redeem him. Ivan’s introspection, while endearing, often veers into self-pity, challenging the reader’s patience and acceptance of him as a mature character. His inability to accept authoritative insistences from relatives and relations nearest to him also incurs frustration, yet is redeemable when the reader is given the opportunity to see through his young eyes. Despite their shortcomings, Rooney’s authorial kindness ensures that both characters remain compelling.
Intermezzo grapples with themes such as big questions about love, regret, and the nature of human connection. Rooney’s exploration of these themes feels both deeply personal and universally resonant. The brothers’ journey toward reconciliation, with themselves and each other, offers a poignant reminder of the fragility and resilience of relationships. The novel’s political undertones, from commentary on labor dynamics to discussions of chronic pain, enrich the narrative without overshadowing its emotional core.
In Intermezzo, Sally Rooney continues to challenge herself and her readers, delivering a novel that is both deeply introspective and socially conscious. While it may not have the allure of a central romantic focus her earlier works contain, its focus on familial bonds and personal growth marks an exciting evolution in her literary career. For fans of Rooney’s ability to dissect relationships with precision and grace, Intermezzo is a must read!