Sally Rooney's Characters Discuss Rooney's "Intermezzo" - And then...
Remember the night attacks of the screaming Rikusentai?
Conversations with Friends (2017):
Frances – A low-energy, introspective mumbler who navigates complex, detached relationships in a low-energy, whinging way.
Bobbi – Frances’ confident former lover. He’s confident, and therefore an ex in the physics of a universe that needs to equalize its entropy toward limp, hunching wimpiness and confusion.
Nick Conway – A limp, wimpy and emotionally passive married actor, caught between desires and obligations in his affair with Frances.
Melissa Conway – Nick’s sharp and observant wife, grounded—despite the wimpy tornado of emotional fecklessness around her.
Normal People (2018):
Marianne Sheridan – Smart yet socially isolated, a confused, complicated promoter of unproductive complications.
Connell Waldron – A listless and confused young man from a lower class background, who tries, weakly, to evolve.
Lorraine Waldron – Connell’s grounded, stable mother.
Beautiful World, Where Are You (2021):
Alice Kelleher – A successful yet confused, aggressively whinging novelist, in no way like Rooney as a recent New York Times opinion writer complained in a “Leave Brittany Alone!” moment. Kelleher struggles to reconcile fame and private life, and guess what, she feels lost.
Eileen Lydon – Alice’s best friend, navigating uncertainties, seeking clarity, lost while not fully lost.
Felix Brady – A direct and pragmatic warehouse worker, who (surprise) sometimes exhibits low energy.
Simon Costigan – Emotionally complex, but grounded in his complex emotions.
Also:
TWO MYSTERIOUS INTERLOPERS IN THE KITCHEN…
Book Group Discussion on Sally Rooney's Intermezzo
The group uses a small bust of Karl Marx to indicate whose turn it is to speak.
Frances (holding the bust thoughtfully):
“I think Intermezzo taps into the same kind of existential questions as Rooney’s earlier work. There’s this sense that relationships, while important, don’t really provide resolution. Peter feels empty, like he’s searching for something that isn’t there. I could relate to that. Like, the desire to want more, but not even knowing what ‘more’ would be.” She passes Marx to Bobbi.
Bobbi (tossing Marx lightly in her hand):
“Frances, you’re always so deep about these things. Honestly, I just found it exhausting. Everyone in Intermezzo is always so… introspective. I mean, they’re just wandering around not talking to each other. Rooney’s done this before, right? The whole ‘we’re all broken’ thing.” Bobbi hands the bust to Nick.
Nick Conway (holding the bust gently, avoiding eye contact):
“Yeah, maybe, but… I don’t know. I felt like Rooney captured something really… quiet. Peter’s stuck, sure, but… it’s the way she shows his indecision. Like, not being able to choose, not knowing if he’s supposed to… even care. I think a lot of people feel that way, like they’re just kind of… drifting.” Nick passes Marx to Marianne.
Marianne Sheridan (clutching Marx close):
“I think so too. Peter reminded me of… well, how it feels when you’re trapped inside your own head. It’s like you want to escape, but you don’t know how. I’ve felt that. A lot. Rooney’s good at capturing how people are… trying, but they can’t… quite manage it. It’s frustrating, but it’s real.” She passes the bust to Connell.
Connell Waldron (resting Marx on his knee, looking down):
“Yeah… but it’s hard to watch, you know? Like, Peter’s just messing up, and he knows he’s messing up, but he keeps doing it anyway. Rooney writes it well, but it’s like… do you ever want to just tell them to get it together? I don’t know.” Connell passes the bust to Alice.
Alice Kelleher (lightly balancing Marx between her fingers, looking a bit detached):
“I see what you’re saying, Connell. But, maybe, I don’t think Rooney’s interested in showing us people who get it together. I think that’s not what she’s writing about. It’s more about the gaps… the moments between decisions, where people are just… living. In that way, Peter and Ivan are… realistic. Messy, but… true.” Alice hands the bust to Felix.
Felix Brady (tossing the bust between his hands):
“Yeah, but I don’t have time for all that. I mean, honestly, how long can you sit around feeling sorry for yourself? At some point, you just gotta get up and deal with it. Peter’s overthinking everything. Just get out of your own head for a minute, you know?” Felix tosses the bust lightly to Simon.
Simon Costigan (holding the bust carefully, speaking slowly):
“Felix has a point. Life isn’t always this… complicated. But I also get why Rooney writes it that way. Love is messy, and… people aren’t always logical about it. There’s something… raw about how she captures that.” Simon hands Marx to Melissa.
Melissa Conway (balancing the bust on the edge of her chair, frowning slightly):
“But does that make it fun to read? I kept wondering if I even liked these characters. I mean, I get that they’re flawed, but Rooney makes it hard to actually care about them. It’s like they’re too lost in their own problems.” Melissa gives the bust to Eileen.
Eileen Lydon (gentle with the bust):
“Maybe that’s the point, though. We’re not supposed to like them. We’re supposed to… empathize. To understand that their struggles are human, even if they’re frustrating. Peter might be annoying, but… he’s real.” She passes the bust to Lorraine.
Lorraine Waldron (resting Marx on her lap):
“Yeah, and I think a lot of that comes from his relationship with his father. That’s something Rooney does really well, showing how family dynamics… weigh on you, even when no one says anything. It’s like Peter can’t move forward because he’s still… trying to live up to something he doesn’t even understand.” Lorraine hands the bust back to Felix.
Felix Brady (holding the bust loosely):
“Or maybe Peter just needs to stop overthinking and go to therapy.”
Marianne Sheridan (reaching for the bust, but Felix was looking away):
“Maybe he does, but… that’s not easy for everyone. It’s not easy at all.”
At this moment, the door to the kitchen swings open. Norman Mailer strides in, gruff and uninvited, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Right behind him, Marilyn Monroe glides in with effortless grace, but there’s something sharp behind her smile.
Norman Mailer (grabbing a chair, loudly dragging it to the circle, and thumping down):
“Jesus Christ, what are you all talking about? This is what passes for literature now? Intermezzo isn’t a novel—it’s a collection of people who can’t even be bothered to live their lives! Peter? He’s a wet blanket, the kind of character that thinks introspection is the same thing as being alive. You want to write about life, you make people do things. Not sit around whining about how they feel!”
Everyone is momentarily stunned, frozen by Mailer’s bluntness.
Marilyn Monroe (leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, smiling but with a bite):
“Norman’s right, you know. I kept waiting for something to happen, but all these characters… they just float. They’re all so afraid of making a mistake, but that’s what makes life interesting, isn’t it? The mistakes. I’ve made enough of them to know.” She winks, then takes a seat herself.
Frances (handing the bust to Marilyn hesitantly):
“I think… that’s sort of the point, though. Rooney’s characters don’t have grand arcs, they’re just… people, living in the moment.”
Norman Mailer (snatching Marx, exhaling smoke as he waves it around upside-down):
“Living in the moment? What kind of excuse is that? That’s the problem with writing today—it’s all soft. People are scared to make real characters with real guts. You need conflict, not more ‘moments’ where nothing happens.”
Bobbi (laughing):
“You know, Norman, I kind of agree. I love Rooney, but this book—Intermezzo—it’s like everyone’s floating in this sea of indecision. Would it kill them to make a real choice? Or, I don’t know, talk to each other like adults?”
Norman Mailer (blazing):
“You’re the decisive one? ‘Would it kill them?’ Fuuuuck yoooouu. I won’t talk to you like adults. Not one of you would I let piss in the bucket we passed around to cool the cherry-red barrel of our Browning between night attacks of the screaming Rikusentai. Guadalcanal. August fucking 1942.”
Marilyn Monroe (accepting the bust back, spinning it slowly in her hands):
“Everyone of you Rooney types is afraid of saying what they really feel. If Peter were more like Norman here, well… we wouldn’t have much of a book, would we? But maybe it would be more interesting.”
Marilyn tosses the bust to Felix with a mischievous smile.
Felix Brady (grinning, catching the bust):
“Well, at least someone said it. Maybe Peter just needs to get laid and stop thinking so much. He would be more interesting.”
Connell Waldron (laughing under his breath, shaking his head):
“Maybe. But I think it’s more complicated than that. Or maybe we want it to be, so we don’t feel so lame. Why are we so lame?”
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