the next good book

Long Island

By Colm Toibin

8.5/10
(8.5/10)

304 pages

What’s it about?

Colm Toibin returns to the characters he wrote about in his novel, Brooklyn. It is 1974, and 25 years have passed, but Eilis must again make some hard decisions.  Going back to Ireland to visit her mother will give her some time.  But is returning home always the right answer?

What did it make me think about?

Commitment

Should I read it?

What beautiful sparse writing.  I enjoyed this story but the main character of Eilis was too inscrutable for me to warm to. In order to absolutely love a book I need to be emotionally involved.  Eilis keeps us all at a distance.  I do recommend this one – sometimes you don’t have to love it to think it is a book worth reading.

Quote-

“No one really knew anything about her. In this pew in the cathedral, and the ones behind and in front, sat people who lived in the town all of their lives. They did not have to explain themselves. Everyone knew who they had married, the names of their children. They did not have different accents which they used when they met different people. They did not live in a place where their children often tried to speak before they did at a ticket office or in a shop so that their mother’s accent might not become a subject of inquiry. “

What’s it about?

Colm Toibin returns to the characters he wrote about in his novel, Brooklyn. It is 1974, and 25 years have passed, but Eilis must again make some hard decisions.  Going back to Ireland to visit her mother will give her some time.  But is returning home always the right answer?

What did it make me think about?

Commitment

Should I read it?

What beautiful sparse writing.  I enjoyed this story but the main character of Eilis was too inscrutable for me to warm to. In order to absolutely love a book I need to be emotionally involved.  Eilis keeps us all at a distance.  I do recommend this one – sometimes you don’t have to love it to think it is a book worth reading.

Quote-

“No one really knew anything about her. In this pew in the cathedral, and the ones behind and in front, sat people who lived in the town all of their lives. They did not have to explain themselves. Everyone knew who they had married, the names of their children. They did not have different accents which they used when they met different people. They did not live in a place where their children often tried to speak before they did at a ticket office or in a shop so that their mother’s accent might not become a subject of inquiry. “

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