As newspapers begin to publish the year’s most notable books, Irish author Sally Rooney’s Intermezzo will be hard to ignore. Author of bestsellers such as Ordinary People, Rooney is often called “the voice of a generation.” But one has to ask how Rooney’s books cross Irish borders and find their way onto these international book lists and into the hearts of thousands of young Indians.
Ireland and India’s shared colonial history results in a hereditary resentment that young people can relate to. Still rebelling against the colonial bonds that govern our language and system of government, Rooney is able to tap into this world with her Trinity College-educated characters who, like their radical forebears, challenge the norm. For example, in Intermezzo, Ivan, a 22-year-old chess genius, is a conscious environmentalist who economizes on his clothes, and Peter, his brother and a successful barrister in his thirties, joins his childhood love Sylvia and an unconventional group. His 23-year-old girlfriend Naomi.
Rooney’s characters constantly act against expectations, which can be liberating for the reader. But the problem arises when there is a disconnection. While Rooney cracks the formula by including Irish young adults who reflect a jaded, love-hungry, and purpose-seeking global audience, she fails to include the nuances of context. Global issues related to women’s rights, the environment, and the housing crisis are tackled in chapters, if not lines. It’s glib and grossly problematic. When Rooney’s books are removed from the quaint town of Sligo or the bustling city of Dublin, the context becomes watered down. What the audience is fed is that complex situations can be solved simply. Our society can be quickly removed from the intersections of religion, class and gender. Because if it can happen in Rooney’s Ireland, it can happen anywhere else in the world – India included, right? The unfortunate commodification of this utopia becomes a reductive stand-in for reality.
In Intermezzo, the watered-down narrative of politics is a particularly hard pill to swallow. Peter is an idealistic human rights lawyer who, unlike his introverted brother, interacts and fights for women in court. Evan says things that could be considered anti-feminist, such as “Women lie about being sexually assaulted.” Peter is initially revealed to be in a relationship with Naomi, characterized by financial transactions and sexual relations, creating an unequal power dynamic between them. When Naomi later faces eviction, Peter decides to take her in, imagining the task of providing a young woman who fits the alpha male cast. Ivan is redeemed when he begins a relationship with Margaret, a thirty-year-old woman who works at an art center. Evan now plays a role that is similar to Peter’s – that of a man who cares for his female partner in a way that removes her agency and makes her feel superior. Insights into the brothers’ monologues in the book outline a dangerous issue – that if men show basic decency they can be considered feminists when it is, in fact, in the service of toxic masculinity.
Rooney also fails to capitalize on many of the important themes outlined in the book. The Kaubeck brothers are the sons of Polish immigrants and it is surprising that Peter manages to fit into their privileged legal circles, given Ireland’s predominant ethnic and religious homogeneity. There are hints of Peter’s assimilation when he overhears his colleagues talking about vacations to expensive vacation spots in their youth – something Peter can’t relate to. The burden of being weird is easily erased. Instead, Rooney illustrates how Peter fits into this context by being subservient. The hard and fast binary leaves maps that need to be understood in the gray spaces where real conversations take place.
But as a devoted Rooney reader, I have to give credit where it’s due. Watching Rooney bring to life Evan and Peter’s brotherhood, their sad and beautiful love stories, and what they really want to live, is undoubtedly heartwarming. But for the Indian reader, I share a warning, preferably not in your rearview mirror: “The reality on these pages is far from what they seem”.
The writer is an intern at The Indian Express