Rooney fever: ‘Intermezzo’ is a deep dive into grief and connection in contemporary life

Intermezzo
Sally Rooney
Faber & Faber

In the pantheon of contemporary literature, few writers have captivated the zeitgeist quite like Sally Rooney.

With her unique ability to articulate the complexities of modern relationships, Rooney mirrors our realities, prompting readers to engage deeply with the emotional landscapes she creates. Her novels possess a magnetic pull, drawing readers into a world where philosophical introspection and visceral scene-setting intertwine. You either find yourself enamoured by her style — devouring her pages like a drug — or grappling with the aspects of her work that might leave you cold.

Rooney's fourth novel, Intermezzo, released on September 24, has generated a buzz reminiscent of the Harry Potter phenomenon, with bookstores across the US hosting release parties and exclusive events. In South Africa, Jonathan Ball Publishers is throwing a launch party at Exclusive Books in Sandton, while Book Lounge in Cape Town is organising a quiz night filled with prizes, wine and snacks. For those who resonate with her voice, the excitement is palpable.

Emerging from Dublin, Rooney burst onto the literary scene with her debut novel Conversations with Friends (2017), followed by the critical and commercial success of Normal People, which was later adapted into a celebrated television series. Hailed as the “first great millennial writer,” Rooney deftly explores themes that resonate with young adults navigating their mid-20s and early 30s: questions of identity love, and the often tumultuous nature of relationships.

With each novel, Rooney's craft has matured, and for me, Beautiful World, Where Are You stands as a testament to her evolving voice. Her dialogues are precise and her narratives clear and relatable, encapsulating the essence of contemporary life. However, critics often dismiss her work as a mere reflection of “sad girl” culture, labelling it as a status symbol for those enamoured with melancholic pop icons. The perception oversimplifies her exploration of complex emotions and relationships, which are rich with nuance.

In Intermezzo, Rooney introduces us to Peter, a successful Dublin lawyer grappling with the aftermath of his father's death, and Ivan, a socially awkward chess player navigating his own grief. Their intertwined lives, marked by desire, despair and the search for connection, resonate with the deeply human experiences of loss and longing. The narrative promises to delve into the intricacies of mourning and the transformative potential of relationships, themes Rooney has adeptly handled in her previous works.

Yet, as Rooney's popularity surges, one must ponder whether the adoration surrounding her work has overshadowed its critical examination. Are we embracing a narrative that, while undeniably captivating, risks falling into the trap of glorifying despair without sufficient depth? The discussion around Rooney should extend beyond her stylistic choices — such as her lack of quotation marks in dialogue or her focus on a specific demographic — into the broader implications of her themes.

Intermezzo will surely spark conversations about love, identity and the human condition. For those who find solace in Rooney's words, it offers another chance to immerse oneself in the intricacies of life. For sceptics, it presents an opportunity to challenge their perceptions of contemporary literature and the cultural conversations it ignites.

Intermezzo invites us to reflect on our own narratives, even as we navigate the complexities of our relationships with ourselves and others. Rooney’s work, whether embraced or critiqued, undeniably holds a mirror to our collective experience, illuminating the paths of desire, grief and the possibility of connection. In a world where literature serves as a refuge and a challenge, Rooney remains a vital voice, urging us to consider what lies within the depths of our own lives.