Carrying the weight of high expectations, Intermezzo by Sally Rooney was set up to either succeed or falter. Celebrated as the voice of her generation and as a Jane Austen for Millennials, Rooney’s every move is met with intense scrutiny and anticipation. So, the question was whether Intermezzo would rise to the challenge or buckle under the pressure of comparison to her earlier success. So far, audiences and critics have responded positively, praising the author for her nuanced storytelling and her exploration of contemporary relationships and identity in the age of late capitalism.

Over six years after the critically acclaimed Normal People, Sally Rooney has maintained her fame as a “funny, cerebral Marxist,” as The New York Times once defined her. Her ability to blend biting social commentary with intimate character-driven stories continues to be a defining feature of her writing, evolving into more mature forms in her latest work. Intermezzo captures the complex – and often painful – journey through self-discovery and emotional growth from grief to the faltering attempts at adulthood.

Star-crossed brothers

Set in modern-day Dublin, from September until Christmas, Intermezzo follows the story of two polar opposite brothers: Ivan and Peter Koubek. The first a 22-year-old competitive chess player, a former child prodigy turned burnt-out adult and the other a charming yet troubled 32-year-old barrister with a longstanding history in successful court cases and breaking hearts.

Separated by an unspeakable silence, the two seem to have drifted apart, but they are forced to come to terms with their unresolved hostilities when their father passes away. At the beginning of the novel, only a few weeks after the funeral, the brothers are reeling from losing their father and find themselves grappling with grief and the lingering tension between them. Navigating family drama and the confusing meanders of human and romantic relationships, Intermezzo stands as a slow-burning modern elegy that, in one way or another, calls the readers to question their personal lives. 

“Life isn’t just talking, you know”

The alluring title Intermezzo holds multiple meanings, but one in particular reveals the novel’s events and essence. An intermezzo is often understood as a musical interlude that bridges the acts of a play, but – as the book cover suggests – Sally Rooney alludes to the Italian translation of Zwischenzug, an unexpected in-between move that chess players use to intimidate their opponent and force an immediate response. 

The chess metaphor runs throughout the book, hinting at an emotional limbo where interpersonal ties are always one move away from coming undone. Miscommunication or incommunicability is a recurring trope in the Rooneyverse, which dooms Ivan and Peter to estrangement. The lack of punctuation to mark direct speech can challenge readers, but it is a practical stylistic choice emphasizing the struggle to create meaningful connections. Sally Rooney draws the reader into the characters’ inner world, alternating between a more dense and fast-paced narration to translate Ivan’s overanalytical – probably neurodivergent – mind and a jumbled stream of consciousness that embodies Peter’s dark and disturbed thoughts formed under the influence of Xanax suggesting a deep-seated depression he has yet to unpack. 

Thought rises calmly to the surface of his mind: I wish I was dead. Same as everyone sometimes surely. Idea occurs, that is. Remembering something embarrassing you did years ago and abruptly you think: that’s it, I’m going to kill myself. Except in his case, the embarrassing thing is his life. Doesn’t mean he wants to really. Or even if he does, not as if he would do it.

Literary and cinematographic references

Balancing the universal experiences of unspoken affection, loss, and pain with the slow rhythm of everyday connections, Intermezzo seems to recall Coco Mellors‘ sophomore novel Blue Sisters (2024).

In Mellors’ novel, three estranged sisters get together on the first anniversary of their younger sister’s death, offering a deep and moving portrayal of dysfunctional family dynamics and the flaws that make human relationships feel authentic. Along the same lines, His Three Daughters (2023) directed by Azazel Jacobs tells the story of three sisters reuniting after many years to be by their father’s side in his final moments. Left to deal with the consequences of years of silence, they try to make up for the lost time and eventually understand that what is left unsaid leaves far deeper scars than honest confrontation.   

To be foolish and in love

For the first time, Sally Rooney shifts her focus away from the intricacies of romantic relationships. In Intermezzo, she uses them as a lens to give insight into the brothers’ psyche and their relationship with each other and their parents. It is a Freudian ensemble, one could say, exploring the themes of family, identity, and unconscious desires. 

While struggling to pay rent, Ivan engages in casual data analyst jobs and chess workshops where he simultaneously plays and wins against many people. During one of these events at an arts center, he meets the director of the venue, Margaret, a 36-year-old woman who has recently been divorced from an abusive and alcoholic husband. Despite the problematic age gap, the boy becomes infatuated, finding in her the care and affection that his standoffish mother could not provide. Their relationship evolves quickly but remains as secretive as possible to avoid unwanted judgments. Constantly feeling the odd man out, Ivan is surprised and gratified to discover his charm and desirability. Towards the end of the book, he realizes that this rush of adrenaline, the itch to make impulsive decisions, was driven by his need to overcome the terrible event of his father’s death. 

And nothing will ever bring his father back from the realm of memory into the reassuringly concrete world of material fact, tangible and specific fact: and how, how is it possible to accept this, or even to understand what it means?

An emotional abyss

Not quite the usual coming of age, Ivan is not the only one to meet a woman at a very different stage of life. Peter, too, has a complicated love life, torn as he is between two women. Sylvia was once Peter’s longtime girlfriend, but she left him after a severe accident that took a toll on her health, hoping to spare him from the pain and resentment. Despite the separation, they are still part of each other’s life, sharing an undying love. Peter, with his consuming desire to protect – a responsibility he has long felt towards his mother and brother – also engages in a money-driven yet touching relationship with Naomi, a college student and former sex worker in her twenties, and finds himself falling for her as well. 

This scenario reveals that the two brothers have far more in common than they realize as they deal with the same internal struggle. Yet, by never confessing their vulnerability, they let the emotional abyss between them grow deeper and deeper, ultimately leaving the question unanswered: Will they have the strength to reconnect, or will they die trying?

The all too human ache for connection

I would like he thinks to live in such a way that I could vanish into thin air at any time without affecting anyone and in fact I feel that for me this would constitute the perfect and perhaps the only acceptable life. At the same time I want desperately to be loved.

What makes Sally Rooney resonate so strongly with readers is her ability to speak to all of us unfiltered and unpolished, delving into the cracks of our emotions and relationships with raw honesty. Besides the shared traits that make Rooney’s characters all familiar, Peter, Ivan, and all the supporting characters are far from stereotypical. Their flaws and fragilities make them feel all the more real and human. We connect with their fears and desires, forgive their mistakes, and begin to heal on our own. 

Only in bad novels people always think the right thing, always say the right thing, every effect has its cause, there are the likable ones and the unlikable, the good and the bad, everything in the end consoles.

These words from The Story of the Lost Child by Elena Ferrante align with our author’s intention to unveil the unsettling reality of bereavement and explore where this pain takes us. With Intermezzo, Rooney has not ventured into uncharted territory, but rather has continued to explore recurrent themes with greater depth and maturity, wondering through the characters “what can one life hold inside itself without breaking”.