{"id":126,"date":"2024-09-29T03:40:08","date_gmt":"2024-09-29T03:40:08","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/readingwhilewalking.com\/?p=126"},"modified":"2024-10-14T21:08:15","modified_gmt":"2024-10-14T21:08:15","slug":"intermezzo-sally-rooney-review","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/readingwhilewalking.com\/pt\/intermezzo-sally-rooney-review\/","title":{"rendered":"Intermezzo (2024), by Sally Rooney: A Review"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Literature, like all artforms, is subjective. Throughout my long career as a reader, there have not been many times when I used the word \u201cbad\u201d to describe a book. I am steadfast in rejecting the one-to-five stars system as irreflective of a book\u2019s achievements and flaws. So, believe me, I do not say this lightly. Intermezzo <\/em>unequivocally underwhelmed me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Normal People <\/em>was ubiquitous on social media in 2018. People loved it. People loathed it. People complained the Booker snubbed it. I read it in one sitting. A novel that was entrancing, impossible to put down. Its characters magnetic. Its anxieties very similar to some of my own. Conversations with Friends <\/em>was somehow even more accomplished, and it made sense to me when I read that Sally Rooney had written it after Normal People. <\/em>It was more confident in its probing of intimacy, of the uncomfortable material consequences of disregarding the norms of any given social group. Beautiful World, Where Are You <\/em>was challenging; probably because of that, it became my favourite. That Sally Rooney would dare to publish a novel as strange as that after the success of Normal People, <\/em>the TV show, that hinged, in a lot of ways, on people\u2019s obsessions with Paul Mescal\u2019s and Daisy Edgar-Jones\u2019s Connell and Marianne, showed to me that she was willing to write whatever she wanted to, regardless of her reader\u2019s expectations.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was also deeply invested in the juxtaposition between Eileen and Alice\u2019s environmental angst\/existential dread and the marketing campaign around the novel, let\u2019s call it bucket-hat-gate. I talked about Sally Rooney on social media; I published papers on her novels; I bought signed and special editions of her books. With Intermezzo, <\/em>though, something was a bit off from the outset.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Intermezzo <\/em>as a Literary Phenomenon<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Hailed as the literary event of the year, the publication of Intermezzo <\/em>was preceded by a massive marketing campaign. It included the standard sending of advanced reader copies to online content creators and journalists as well as the publication of excerpts from the novel to build anticipation. This Esquire<\/a> <\/em>piece suggests that Faber\u2019s and FSG\u2019s (Rooney\u2019s British and American publishers, respectively) marketing teams were careful not to repeat the blunders of Beautiful World, Where Are You<\/em>: instead of creating a random assortment of merch that may or may not relate to the novel, they focused on sending out copies of the work itself. \u201cSwag\u201d was mostly given out at the bookshop events that took place on publication day and were a lot less conspicuous \u2013 tote bags, special book jackets, bookmarks \u2013 than Lena Durham or SJP in a bucket hat. Still, the ARCs themselves became a coveted item. The reviews also seemed weirdly off. Nobody expects reviews to come out before publication day; even after September 24, however, we had articles like this Guardian<\/a><\/em> piece, which interrogated the reasoning behind Rooney\u2019s absence from the Booker\u2019s longlist without addressing in the review itself the source of her supposed entitlement to it. The reviewer considered this novel to be a step forward for Rooney; she is surely not running against herself, though.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sally Rooney and James Joyce<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Many other reviews focused on comparing Rooney to James Joyce, an intertextual relationship she herself invokes in the Intermezzo<\/em> reading list <\/a>she published through Faber, as well as in the novel itself. Rooney quotes from Joyce. Peter\u2019s perambulations in the first chapter do not shy away from their Ulysses <\/em>affiliation. And yet, besides this initial episode and the occasional Joycean quote, this novel stands as far away from Joyce as it does from Shakespeare in its half-hearted attempt to produce a Hamlet-<\/em>inspired recreation of maternal failure (except for Normal People<\/em>\u2019s Lorraine, Rooney\u2019s mothers are predominantly, and quite pointedly, heartless). From its philosophical enquiries to its experimentations with the sentence itself, Intermezzo <\/em>is a bit of vague effort at reinventing the Rooneyian novel. Some articles have addressed one of the novel\u2019s problems, like its author\u2019s obsession with certain body types and character traits. It is surprising, however, that not much has been said about Rooney\u2019s confusing revisitation of the same characters that she has been exploring since her debut.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We need to talk about Intermezzo<\/em>‘s problems<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Intermezzo <\/em>is a novel of \u201cwhite throats,\u201d \u201cmilky white skin,\u201d \u201cbare white breasts,\u201d \u201cfine white hands,\u201d and even of \u201clips pale,\u201d and \u201cskin white and pearlescent wet\u201d. Sylvia\u2019s hand is \u201cfine small [\u2026] almost weightless\u201d, her hips are \u201csmall\u201d, as are her breasts. Ivan\u2019s face, too, is pale and small. Everybody is \u201cslender\u201d (even Alexei, the dog), or \u201cthin\u201d; everybody wears cashmere all the time, and if they by any chance happen to watch a film on their laptops, it will be a Fred Astaire picture.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sylvia is an academic who was involved a vague accident, suffering life-changing injuries that Sally Rooney\u2019s narrators never take the time to specify. All we ever learn is that she is in pain quite often, that she cannot have penetrative sex anymore, and that this \u201cruined her life\u201d when she was 25, so she broke up with Peter not to ruin his as well. I do understand why an author and a publisher would be wary to name the disability (if this is meant to be read as a disability at all) when the narrative openly declares this person\u2019s life has been ruined by it, but besides the problematic element of it, it is baffling to read of this highly accomplished person. Since she is a professor at age 32, having suffered this terrible accident in her mid-twenties, we must conclude that she managed to pursue a highly competitive career after sustaining her elusive injuries and almost dying. She has recovered enough to achieve all that. However, she will not stay with Peter; it would ruin everybody\u2019s lives, apparently. She is repeatedly described by both Peter and Ivan as a part of their family. Peter, however, only met her as an undergraduate, when he was away in Dublin, and would bring her home for the holidays until they broke up. Their parents were separated, but both were quite fond of her. Then she suffered an accident. This is also a character who is later revealed to have caring parents.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Throughout Intermezzo, <\/em>Peter is meant to be constantly on the verge of a mental breakdown. His father has just died; he drinks too much and does too much coke. He\u2019s dating a 23-year-old who sometimes sells erotic photos online and sometimes doesn\u2019t. She has no job, and he does nothing to help her procure one. The novel vaguely attempts to critique Dublin\u2019s housing crisis, but then it veers away; Naomi is evicted but Peter invites her to live in his flat, then in his father\u2019s house in Kildare (one can only hope her equally homeless friends found a magical solution as well). The thematic thread is abandoned there after Peter complains about it to his friends (never to be seen again). We know nothing at all about Naomi beyond the fact that she goes to college (sometimes) and that she likes to have sex with Peter \u2013 until suddenly they both realise that they love each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Meanwhile, Ivan, chess prodigy who is actually not that brilliant at chess, falls in love with Margaret, age 36 and still married to an alcoholic. They haven\u2019t divorced yet, but you will never learn why. Margaret, who is described by Ivan as \u201call pink and white like a flower\u201d (113) and then much later by Peter as \u201ca woman, yes, white and pink her complexion like a flower\u201d (404), has horrible friends who care more about her former partner than about her. Her mother is a monster (of course), and she talks about middle age a lot. Margaret\u2019s biggest struggle throughout the novel hinges on the value she attributes to other people\u2019s opinions of her. She fears being judged for dating a younger man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The novel\u2019s treatment of romantic\/sexual relationships feels strangely outdated. Sure, ageism is very much an issue, and it is true that 32-year-old Peter would be likely to suffer a lot less for dating 23-year-old Naomi than Margaret for dating Ivan. But it\u2019s all blown out of proportion, and I oftentimes felt dragged back to Normal People<\/em>\u2019s Carricklea, with Peter standing as a Connell Waldron who never matured, remaining obsessed with being perceived as \u201cnormal\u201d (a concern Koubek vocalises in the novel). His arguments with Sylvia often reprise Connell\u2019s with Marianne; miscommunication, seeing other people, dragging others into their messy dynamics. Should we blame the people who asked for Normal People: Series 02<\/em>?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Besides the awkward timelines, sidelined themes and motifs that pile up throughout, and oblique references to literary and philosophical texts (Rooney provides the reader with a guide at the end of the novel), what probably baffled me the most were Intermezzo <\/em>male-gazey sex scenes. That was the case even \u2013 or even specially so \u2013 when we followed a scene from Margaret\u2019s perspective (the only constant being that she wants Ivan \u201cvery deep inside her\u201d). Sex can be awkward, maybe a tad too talkative in a novel like Normal People<\/em>, but it was always well-crafted. Sylvia remains interested in sex. She has sex with Peter during the novel; she masturbates. But she cannot have penetrative sex, and this is what she has to say about it: \u201cYou know, if I can\u2019t do something properly, I don\u2019t want to do it at all. Maybe that\u2019s part of the problem, I don\u2019t know. I think I would find it humiliating, having to negotiate all that with another person. I would feel I was offering something very inferior.\u201d (127-128)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 On his turn, Peter often finds himself fantasising about hurting or humiliating Naomi, his girlfriend who financially relies on him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

You can do whatever you want with me, she says. Anything you want, you can do. Tracing her cheekbone he smiles at her irresistibly. You\u2019re so pretty, he says. His hand between her legs then, and she shuts her eyes. Wet and open her cunt. You can do anything you want; she repeats. And he could, he thinks. Turn her face-down, hurt her a little, make her take it, tell him how it feels. Degrading. (141-142)<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Intermezzo <\/em>is not a novel lacking in ambition. Besides the literary tradition Rooney makes a conscientious effort to align herself with, she also sets about to explore a wide array of difficult, complex themes that, due to their sheer quantity and vastness are often only addressed superficially and then dropped. Ivan and Peter\u2019s strained brotherly relationship; their grief, mere weeks after burying their father; Dublin\u2019s housing crisis; the fact that Ivan used to be an incel who hated women, but then he just stopped, apparently; there\u2019s also some passing discussion of religion and faith, but Ivan\u2019s white (what else) ceramic braces get mentioned a lot more often; their mother who \u201cabandoned\u201d them and apparently abused their dog, but then suddenly was kind and caring; chess, chess, chess; substance abuse and mental health with Peter and Ricky \u2013 Margaret\u2019s bogeyman husband who lurks the narrative but never actually makes an appearance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rooney seeks to explore poetic devices and structures in her prose, not unlike many other contemporary Irish novelists (Anna Burns, Eimear McBride, Lucy Caldwell), but does so in a haphazard kind of way. The repetitive use of anastrophe becomes exhausting, especially on a novel of this length (Her head she goes on shaking. Long and glossy blue her black hair<\/em>). When the reader accepts it as a marker of Peter\u2019s chaotic train of thought, it bleeds into Ivan\u2019s section of the novel as well. Intermezzo <\/em>repeats itself and Rooney\u2019s other novels again and again. Its confusion could be justified under the logic that it is supposed to portray an emotional landscape in disarray. To quote from a poet Rooney hates, in her fourth novel \u201cthings fall apart; the centre cannot hold;\/Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world\u201d. I can appreciate that we are meant to follow this main thread; that those men are struggling with the death of their father; that they struggle with the people they are and have been; that they feel lonely, angry, believing that someone (God?) dealt them a horrible hand. The execution, though, is not satisfactory at all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Intermezzo <\/em>is a sketch of a novel. It could benefit from some unpacking, unfolding, developing, revisiting, interrogating. It is simply not done. All characters say the word \u201cobviously\u201d too often. As a literary performance I certainly can grow to respect it. Rooney has recently spoken of her difficult relationship with fame, her hesitancy to contribute to a further deterioration of the literary industry, with the novel becoming a mere commodity. It is true that she no longer does book tours; she deleted her Twitter account years ago; she does a strictly limited number of appearances for each new release. She is thoughtful and uses her platform to amplify important causes that other people often find inconvenient to address. In her recent Irish Times<\/a> <\/em>interview, she said:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I often think it would have been better if I had published my work under an assumed name and stayed out of the public eye,\u201d says Rooney. \u201cIt\u2019s not where I belong. I feel a lot of anxiety about my privacy and the privacy of my family and loved ones. But if I refused to speak to journalists or do any public events in connection with a new book, I think it would look as if I didn\u2019t have faith in the book, and that would feel wrong. So I feel a bit trapped by that. On a personal level I\u2019m just not cut out for life in the public eye. I\u2019m a very private person and I like to go unnoticed. That has become harder in recent years, and I struggle with that.<\/p>Sally rooney<\/cite><\/blockquote><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

I suppose what I do wonder is if the encumbrances of fame hang so heavy upon her to the point of regretting signing her name on her books at all, why not simply release new works under assumed names? Why do events at all, why give interviews. If this level of attention is uncomfortable to her (which I do not at all doubt), it would be extremely easy for her to release a book with low stakes. The reason I am saying this at the end of this review is not to attack Rooney or to suggest she is being willingly hypocritical. It is simply that it does suit her and her team to have the publication of her book as the literary event of the year. I called Intermezzo<\/em> a literary performance, and Rooney\u2019s public persona\u2019s unwillingness to engage is one as well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Like Intermezzo<\/em>\u2019s Margaret, I \u201cagain and dimly feel confused, as if the story fails to cohere\u201d (239). Some of my friends loved Intermezzo<\/em>. A considerable part of the press did too. I wonder if my dislike has to do with a change in myself or in Sally Rooney\u2019s writing. There is certainly a shift in perception. In some level, it is as though she drafted a long essay, a sketch of a thesis, and on second thought decided it would work better as a novel. I\u2019m looking forward to her next one.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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