Review by zibbi_is_reading - Intermezzo

zibbi_is_reading 's review for:

Intermezzo by Sally Rooney

4.0

challenging emotional reflective sad slow-paced

Plot or Character Driven: Character

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Complicated

Diverse cast of characters: No

Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes

I’ve been meaning to dip my toe into Sally Rooney for quite some time now, and Intermezzo happened to be the book I stumbled into, rather like opening a quiet-looking door and discovering an emotional piano concerto being played directly into your ribcage. Not unpleasant, mind you, but you do come away feeling like someone’s been rummaging around in your heart with soft gloves and a very sharp insight.

Rooney’s prose is understated, a little spare, occasionally so pared down it seems to vanish into the margins but somehow, that makes it all the more powerful. It took me a bit of time to adjust but once I settled in, I found something raw and uncomfortably honest. The audiobook helped, because sometimes a voice helps guide you through all the dialogues without quotations.

At its core, Intermezzo is a tale of two brothers in grief. Peter, the older one with a polished career in law and a brain full of worries, and Ivan, the younger, a competitive chess player with a head full of strategy and a heart that doesn’t know quite what to do with itself. Their father is dead, which is, in the literary sense, where all the interesting trouble starts. But this is not a tale of dramatic reconciliations or tidy resolutions. No, this is a story of two men walking parallel lines, facing the same loss but unable to turn and look at each other, mostly because that would require emotional vulnerability, and we all know how well that goes down in polite conversation.

What struck me most was just how real the characters felt. Rooney doesn’t believe in spoon-feeding backstory. She believes in letting people show you who they are through what they don’t say, which is, let’s be honest, how people tend to behave in the real world when they’re grieving, lost, or unsure whether they’ve made a complete mess of their lives. You feel the full weight of their histories, even when they’re talking about nothing at all.

I found myself wishing for more detail about Sylvia’s medical condition; it felt underexplored, lingering more like a shadow in the background than a fully realized aspect of the story. Similarly, Peter spends a considerable portion of the book engaged in what can only be described as advanced free-form brooding. I also felt unsettled by the mother's character. There’s an inconsistency that's hard to pinpoint, especially in the jarring contrast between how she treats the dog and her moments of empathy toward her sons. At times, the narrative seems less interested in moving forward and more intent on thoughtfully circling around itself.

But then again, grief doesn’t follow a straight line, does it? It loops and folds and sometimes just sits there in silence. And Rooney, to her credit, leans fully into that, letting the story meander in ways that feel less like narrative delay and more like emotional honesty.

Intermezzo didn’t so much blow me away as gently disassemble me, piece by piece, before handing everything back with a quiet, “There, now.” It won’t be the last Rooney I read. I’m far too emotionally entangled now to walk away.

Content Warning: Suicidal Thoughts, Chronic Illness, Death, Grief, Substance Use, Sexual Content, Mental Health Struggles, Animal Cruelty

Content Warnings